#buck x y/n

[bradshawssugarbaby]

Take Your Time - Evan "Buck" Buckley x Reader

summary: Evan Buckley is getting ready for parent-teacher interviews with the parents of his kindergarten class. He wasn't expecting to hit it off with one of them.

a/n: this is my first 9-1-1 fic (and first non-TGM one in a long time) but I had this idea and after @sarahsmi13s and I discussed it, I went with it!

pairing: teacher!Evan "Buck" Buckley x single mom!reader

warnings/content: mentions of divorce, single parent, Buck getting a crush on reader.

word count: 2k

Evan Buckley let out a heavy sigh as he checked over the schedule he’d made for parent-teacher interviews. Teaching kindergarten was quite the change from the fourth and fifth graders he’d been used to, but so far, the seventeen little darlings in his class had been, for the most part, a refreshing new experience. He’d struggled initially, trying to find ways to entertain a classroom of five year olds, but after a week or two, he’d found his groove, settling in nicely in his new surroundings. The school district he’d transferred to was underfunded, a stark difference from the well-to-do private school he’d worked at for the previous three years, but, he appreciated the change - the private school circuit wasn’t for him, he’d learned, and the longer he stayed, the worse it seemed to feel staying in it. 

Buck looked up at the clock and furrowed his brow. He had exactly 45 minutes before parents and caregivers would start filing in, eager to meet their son or daughter’s new teacher, probably reacting with shock or surprise to learn that a man was teaching kindergarten, like his new co-workers had done when he started. He wasn’t sure what was so strange about the concept, but for some reason, it felt like a lot of people couldn’t wrap their heads around the idea. He sighed as he got up from his desk and headed down the hallway, the sound of his footsteps echoing as he strolled down the empty corridor. 

In the small staff lounge sat a few round tables and aged chairs, upholstered with vinyl and flattened padding, hardly comfortable to sit in for any length of time. On the counter sat a coffeepot that looked to be about as old as Buck was. He’d been hesitant to use it before, questioning both the sanitation and safety of it, but, if he was going to be hosting these interviews until well into the evening, he needed something to get him through the next four and a half hours. He just hoped that coffee would be strong enough. 

Back at the comfortable familiarity of his desk, a mug of burnt, flavourless coffee in hand, he looks around the classroom, surveying the layout in an attempt to determine if he needed to make any last minute changes in the next twenty minutes of free time he had. He sighed, realizing there wasn’t much that could be done to improve the room with the small time-frame and limited budget. Twirling a pen between his fingers, he looked out the window, watching the clouds rolling in the California sky. Focusing his attention for a moment, he looked down at the stack of papers, neatly situated on the desk in front of him. 

“Right,” he said to himself as he started sifting through the papers, ensuring each student was sorted according to the rudimentary schedule he’d made. “You’ve got this, Buck, you can handle it. A dozen and a half kindergarteners and parents. It’s fine.” 

Right on cue, the first parent entered the room at 4 pm, escorting their young daughter in the doorway, ushering her to a seat. Buck stood from his seat for a handshake, awkwardly accepted by the parent. He sat back down and nodded his head. It was going to be a long night.

“Alright, Holly, are you ready to for Mommy to meet your teacher?” you asked your five-year-old as you stood in the hallway outside of her classroom. 

It was later in the evening, the 7:45 slot being the only one you could make work with your hectic work schedule. Holly nodded her head excitedly, tugging on your hand as she tried to pull you into the classroom. You started cycling through a dozen of scenarios in your head, each one playing out how the parent-teacher interview was going to go. You knew very little about your daughter’s teacher, admittedly. You knew a form had come home with Holly on the first day of school, introducing them, but a coffee spill later, that form ended up in the trash before you had a chance to read it.

“Holly!” her teacher smiled warmly, crinkles by his eyes softening as he looked at your daughter. “I’m Mr. Buckley,” he nodded, extending his hand out to you for a handshake. “Mr. Evan Buckley.” He laughed, his cheeks turning red.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Buckley,” you smiled. His grip on your hand was firm, yet gentle. He dropped your hand after holding it a moment longer than he might’ve needed to, before taking his seat at his desk. 

“Please, you can call me Evan,” He nodded, smiling as he took a seat. He gestured to the empty chairs in front of his desk, “Please, have a seat.”

Once seated, Evan folded his hands neatly over the stack of Holly’s school work. A pair of tired baby blue eyes looked at you, meeting yours with a softened expression. You could tell he’d been at the school for hours, probably wishing he’d chosen another career choice at this stage, having been stuck in this building since at least 8 am. His dark blonde hair was neatly brushed back, strands held in place with styling product. His dark green sweater accented his pale skin, cheeks rosy and pink from a little too much sun, the pale blue collar of his dress shirt laying flat against his sweater’s neckline - he somehow looked exactly how you’d imagined a male kindergarten teacher to look, and nothing at all like how you’d imagined all at once. 

“Holly’s an exceptional student,” he began, nodding his head. “She’s always there to help her friends, and she’s been hard at work practicing the letters of her name. She’s been making some great attempts at writing her name.”  

“She has, has she?” You beamed, looking over at Holly, who was now nodding proudly at you. 

Evan produced a few sheets of paper with Holly’s name sprawled across the page in large, clumsy handwriting, on brand for a five-year-old child. He shot Holly a smile, sharing in the pride she’s showing for her work. 

“It’s been a team effort, but Holly’s been able to write it by herself for a few tries. We just needed to figure out which hand she felt most comfortable trying to write with first, right Holly?” He smiled, flashing a row of perfectly straight, white teeth, a smile you’d expect to see on a poster in your dentist’s office. 

Holly nodded her head in agreement as you and Evan continued to discuss Holly’s progress in school, how you’d been struggling the past six months since her dad walked out, and how you were relieved to hear that it hadn’t impacted her performance in school. 

After what only felt like a few seconds of discussion, you looked over to see Holly yawning, her eyelids looking heavy with exhaustion. The clock on the wall said 8:20 pm - your meeting had gone 20 minutes over the scheduled time, and now, Holly would be getting to bed later than usual.  Quickly, you stood up, shaking hands with Evan once again. 

“It was nice meeting you, thank you for being so supportive of Holly and helping her settle into school.” You started, nodding your head. “I really appreciate it.”

Buck let out a sigh, the clink of metal keys against the ceramic dish on the table by the door echoing throughout his quiet apartment. It was 9pm on a Friday, and instead of going out with his friends, like most late twenty-somethings, he’d be tucked in on the couch within the next five minutes, takeout containers scattered across his coffee table. He set the paper carry bags on the counter while he rummaged around the kitchen for a clean fork. He knew he should have run the dishwasher before he left that morning, but in his hurry to make it to school early enough to allow time to set up for meeting parents all evening, he’d forgotten half a dozen things he’d planned on doing. 

Settling for a plastic fork that he’d found in the back of a drawer, likely stored away from a previous takeout meal, he grabbed his food and sunk down into his couch, a heavy, exhausted sigh drawing from his lips. He began tucking into his dinner, tv remote in the other hand as he shoveled veggie fried rice into his mouth. Sports highlights droned on in the background, something about how the World Series was progressing, two teams Buck didn’t care enough about to pay attention to battling it out for the championship. 

As he flipped through the channels, he found himself unable to focus his attention on anything. Well, almost anything. 

The only thing his mind could focus on was the last parent interview he’d had for the night. The one with Holly’s mother - a newly single mom who was trying her best, but had to balance a hectic work life with an impending divorce and a five-year-old. 

“Thank you for being so supportive of Holly and helping her settle into school, I really appreciate it.” 

The woman’s voice echoed in his head, her gratitude evident on her face as she spoke. Buck couldn’t help but feel his heart swell with joy when he heard how she spoke so positively - a welcome change from the disdain and boredom he was met with from the vast majority of parents he spoke to. Blank stares and uninterested nods, “mhmm”s and a couple of “why are we even doing this? It’s kindergarten.” – but not with you. 

With you, it was entirely different. Smiling and laughing as you talked, a sense of concern for you washing over Buck as he listened to your concerns about Holly’s transition into school now that your ex-husband had taken off. As he watched you talk, the prettiest set of eyes he’d ever seen fixed on him, your perfect pink lips pursing into the sweetest pout he’d ever seen as you thought, mulling over what Buck was telling you about Holly, dewy, sun-kissed skin accented beautifully by your floral print dress, a light, acid-washed denim jacket draped over your shoulders, framing your figure like a work of art. 

The next morning, Buck rubbed his bleary eyes, blinking a couple of times to orient himself. He’d fallen asleep on the couch, again. It wasn’t unusual for him lately, most nights he ended up dozing off before he made it to bed, but usually, he woke up in the middle of the night, making a tired stumble up the stairs to the loft of his apartment where his bed awaited.

He frowned as he looked around the room, sunlight pouring into the living room, washing everything in a bright, golden glow. He sat up on the couch, eyes scanning the room for his phone. He reached down behind a couch cushion, pulling it out with a tired grunt as he stretched muscles that had tensed through the night. His blonde eyebrows furrowed at the time, sighing as he realized the time. He settled back down in the cushions, scrolling aimlessly on social media, trying to catch up on updates he’d missed from friends from past week.

Buck froze when he saw one of the pictures, shared last Saturday, a familiar face smiling at him from the screen. He checked who posted it –- the girlfriend of a friend of his – and his eyes widened as he saw the name of the person tagged. Confirmation that it was, in fact, you. His palms began to feel clammy as he realized you were a friend of a friend, that, if he’d gone out with his friends last weekend, he would have met you under different circumstances, shared a couple of drinks, and, maybe, invited you back to his place if you were interested. 

Now, however, things were complicated. 

Dating the parent of a student wasn’t entirely forbidden, was it?

[firehousefreak911]

Tough Call

It was 12 am. You had been asleep for a few hours when you heard your phone ring. It was your boyfriend, Evan Buckley.

“Hey baby, is everything ok?” You ask still half asleep.

“Oh, fuck, I’m sorry I didn’t realize how late it was, I shouldn’t have called you” he said sounding defeated.

“Evan, baby, whats wrong?” You ask sitting up in bed now worried.

“We had a tough call tonight, I just needed to hear your voice” he said.

“You want to talk about it?” You asked him.

He sighed “no, I don’t want to keep you awake much longer, I’m going to try to get some sleep, I love you”

“You know I’m always here, you don’t ever have to worry about calling me too late, I love you, I will always answer you when you need me, try to get some rest” you admitted to him.

“I know, Good night beautiful, I love you more than you will ever know”

“Be careful, baby, good night I love you” you said still concerned for Buck.

“Always” he said for hanging up.

You sent a quick text to Bobby telling him to keep an eye on Buck because you know how Buck likes to play solo hero when he is upset.

[breezii2176]

Bucky x Reader

18+ Content

Set when Steve is trying to join the military (1940’s).

Y/n’s Pov

“I have to leave quite early tomorrow.” James spoke, wrapping his arms around my waist from behind.

“Don’t speak of such things, all that matters now is you and I. So please don’t ruin this moment.” I whispered, slowly swaying us side to side.

A small flame still danced in our fireplace at this late hour, trying to keep our small house warm. We both watched it flicker in silence and when it finally vanished he spoke once again.

“I don’t want to leave either of you.” James’ voice quivered slightly, his hands moving to hold my still flat stomach.

“I don’t want you to leave either, but you will come back. Now let us enjoy the rest of our night together for who knows how long it’ll be before I have you here once again.” I turned in his hold, leaning up to kiss him.

James smiled before returning the kiss, hoisting me up and holding me in place with his hands on my ass. I quickly wrapped my legs around his waist and gripped his hair, tugging slightly.

“Y/n slow down. I want to draw this out, take our time. I want to remember this exact moment while I’m away, use this memory to help me out later.” He smirked as he smacked my ass.

“Well I’d hope you don’t think of someone other than your wife to help you out.”

“Of course Mrs Barnes.”

He quickly got us to our bedroom and he kicked the door shut. James gently placed me on our bed, crawling over me slowly whilst placing kisses all over my body.

“Sergeant James ‘Bucky’ Barnes, the most handsome man in the world, my husband and the father of my unborn child. Can you please fuck me!” I had had enough of his teasing, craving to feel him inside of me.

“Y/n Barnes, you should watch that vulgar mouth or I will shut it for you.” James smirked whilst he removed my clothing.

As soon as I was naked he placed his right hand between my legs, teasing my soaking folds. James just stared down at me, loving the way I react to his touches.

“James please I need you inside of me now.” I grabbed his wrist trying to guide him but he’s way to strong and pulled back.

“Tsk, you’re so needy doll,” James spoke softly moving his hand back to my core, roughly plunging two fingers in me, “is this what you want? To get any pleasure given by me? Do you want me to use you as my own play thing tonight doll?”

“Yes! I want you to use me! Shit I’m close.”

His fast pace didn’t waver in the slightest, curling his fingers to hit that spongy spot and using his thumb to circle my clit. It was so overwhelming, my orgasm building faster than I could comprehend.

“Cum for me.” James whispered, it pushed me over the edge. My legs shaking and hands clutching onto his arms leaving red streaks on his skin.

“James! James!” His name came from me like a chant.

“That’s right say my name doll, that’s all I wanna hear. Your precious moans and my name coming from those gorgeous lips of yours.” James let me ride out my high, slowly stopping his hands ministrations.

I slowly regained my breath as my high washed away and James undressed himself completely, his clothing being thrown to the floor.

“You look absolutely stunning whilst bathing in the moonlight my love.” He spoke as he crawled onto the bed and positioned himself over me, lining his hardened member up.

James slowly pushed his long length in, only stopping once our hips connected. His strong arms either side of my head as he caged me in and my legs wrapped around his waist.

I rolled my hips to let him know he could move, a small gasp escaping me as he started off slow but rough. His tip prodding at my cervix as he thrusted.

“James,” I moaned, grabbing onto his shoulder like they were my lifeline, digging my nails into his skin slightly.

“So good for me doll, gripping me tightly like this.” James panted as he spoke, a few grunts and groans leaving him here and there.

I clenched even tighter at his words, raking my nails across his skin. My body felt as if it were on fire as James pounded into me. He lay his forehead against mine and our breaths mixed together.

“‘M close James..” I whispered, barely able to think about anything but the man on top of me. His name leaving my lips as if it were a prayer.

“Cum for me doll.” James whispered, moving one of his hands down my body to play with my clit, circling it with his thumb.

I squeezed my eyes shut and clenched around him as I came, his name leaving my lips as a high pitched moan. My push fluttered around him as he continued to chase his own high, his thrusts getting sloppier and more sporadic.

“Fuck y/n,” James groaned as he stilled, his hips flush against mine and his warm seed spilling into me. We stayed connected a little longer as we regained our breaths.

As he pulled out a could feel his cum slowly leak out from me and James just stared before clearing his throat and getting up to walk to the bathroom.

When he re-entered he had a warm washcloth and cleaned us both up. My hips stuttered as he cleaned my sensitive pussy, barely able to handle his light touches.

“I love you and how sensitive you get, let me put this in the wash and then we can sleep hmm?” James whispered, wiping away the stray hairs scattered over my face.

“Love you too James.” I whispered already feeling myself succumb to sleep.

[itsthewritergal]

don't tell Bucky - B.Barnes x reader

Summary: Reader is broke and refuses to tell mob!bucky the extend of it

TW: fluff, happy ending, little swears, mention of money, getting fired, (think that's everything)

ENJOY!!

:)

Y/N was used to the biting cold in her apartment, it had been a long few months with her hours being cut down and bills piling up she was in debt. Badly. She had started cutting costs where possible, heating was the first to go, she had opted for  not turning the heating on despite the freezing temperatures outside, food was the second thing to go, she had starting making meals stretch and eating less and slowly things seemed a little more manageable. The bills continued to pile up, yet things seemed a little easier. Every single penny was put to the side to clear her debt. She had been seeing Bucky as much as possible but she couldn’t talk to him about it, he would just offer to pay her debt off and then she’d owe him for almost the rest of her life. She couldn’t ask him. She wouldn’t. Bucky had picked her up from work, it was a surprise, and something Y/N was grateful for as she wouldn’t have to pay for the bus home. 

“Do you want to stay at mine tonight?” Bucky asked gently pressing a kiss to her cheek as they finished their heavy make-out session in the car 

“I’ve got work in the morning,” She said softly, breath slipping through her lips 

“Call in sick” Bucky said between kisses “You can go without one shift can’t you?” Bucky asked 

“We’re short staffed Buck, I need to be there” She lied easily, 

“Let me come in? I just want to hold you tonight” He said softly pressing another kiss to her lips. Y/N nodded in agreement, how could she ever say no to an offer like that? 

Bucky followed Y/N up the stairs to her apartment, she unlocked the door and was met by an icy breeze. Bucky shuddered. 

“Why is it so cold baby? Your heating broken?” He asked 

“Hmm?” Y/N asked turning around to face him 

“Your apartment Y/N, it’s cold” 

“Oh, sorry Buck I turned the heating off” 

“For good?” Bucky asked closing the door behind him “Or is it broken?” He asked

“Oh, no I just turned it off whilst I was at work” Y/N said softly, 

“Why would you do that?” Bucky asked again pulling Y/N into an embrace 

“It was just while I went to work Buck”

“That’s not safe doll, you should keep the heating on so you don’t get ill, even when you’re not home. You need to come into a warm house” Bucky said, Y/N resisted the urge to cry. 

“I usually do Bucky, it was just a one off” she said. 

Bucky didn’t mention the heating again that night. Y/N was grateful for that small mercy. What he did mention was the mountain of blankets that sat on her bed. 

“Doll?” He called from her bedroom 

“Yeah?” She replied coming into the bedroom, her eyes falling on Bucky’s metal hand clasping three blankets, 

“You coming down with something?” He asked “I can call Banner to come and check on you if you want?” 

“Oh Buck, no I’m ok. Just get cold when you’re not here” She said, it wasn’t a complete lie, just a small one. It made her feel a little better. 

“You know you could just move in with me?” Bucky offered 

“Don’t be silly Bucky, we’ve spoken about this” She said and Bucky stopped himself from starting an argument by pressing his lips to hers. 

— — — 

The next few weeks were tricky. Y/N had started picking up more shifts than she could count which lessened her time to do anything; most of all see Bucky. 

When one fateful day put Y/N’s life into a tailspin, 

“Y/N could you come into my office when you get a moment please?” Her boss’s voice cut through the noise, and Y/N felt a panic run through her body, 

“I’ll come now” She said quickly, hurrying behind the shorter lady, “is everything ok?” 

“Take a seat Y/N” She said, Y/N knew this wasn’t good, she never asked her to take a seat before, this had got to be bad news. 

“Have I done something wrong?” 

“No, Y/N you’re one of the best workers we have here” She said taking a deep breath “but we can’t afford to keep you on, with prices and wages going up we’re cutting down to less staff members and well it’s only fair that we let you go first. You’ve got enough experience to get another job quickly whereas the others don’t” 

“You mean the others are cheaper because they are younger?” Y/N said noticing the true meaning behind her words. 

“That isn’t what we are doing Y/N” her boss spoke halfheartedly 

“When do I leave?” Y/N asked dejectedly, knowing it was a loosing battle 

“Today’s your last shift, you are let go without holiday pay or leave notice” She said passing Y/N an envelope “All the necessary documents are in here, please hand your keys in at the end of the shift” 

“No need to wait” Y/N said, pulling her work keys out her bag and putting them on the desk. Picking up the envelope, Y/N walked out. 

The walk home was a cold one, not only because of the biting wind but Y/N felt empty, numb, like she’d just been caught in the rain. She wanted to call Bucky, but after her neglect of him she knew that he was probably mad at her and calling him to cry would not be the best way to go. However, her ringtone cut Y/N’s moping thoughts short, 

“Hello?” 

“Doll, oh thank god. Steve just told me he passed you on the street, he’s turning around to pick you up so don’t go anywhere. What’s happened?” Bucky asked 

“Nothing Buck, I’ll talk to you later, tell Steve not to worry” 

“No, he’s picking you up and you can come here or go home then come here, or just head home if that’s what you want but I’d rather Steve did it than you walk yourself doll okay?” He said 

“It’s going to happened whatever I say right?” Y/N chuckled halfheartedly, the lack of reply on Bucky’s end confirmed it “I’ll wait for Steve” 

“Good girl, I’ll see you soon” He said ending the call quickly. 

As if on cue Steve’s car pulled into view, 

“Hey Y/N, Buck’s waiting for you” He said opening the door for her, 

“Thanks Steve” 

After a few quiet minutes Y/N answered the question which was burning in Steve's mind, 

“I got fired” She said quietly, 

“They did what? Oh Buck won’t be happy, how dare they” Steve said forcefully, 

“They can’t afford me apparently” Y/N chuckled sadly 

“Bullshit” 

“Promise you won’t tell Bucky?” She asked 

“I won’t lie to him if he asks” Steve said “But I’ll divert attention so he doesn’t ask” Steve agreed quietly 

— — — — — 

Y/N had avoided Bucky for another two weeks, she hadn’t meant to. But she had been sending CV’s, babysitting, dog walking and selling small handmade bits online. Anything possible to make some money, she was yet to receive an interview or even any interest. It seemed that everyone was full of employees or was hiring younger staff, there was no place for Y/N. 

She had been dodging her landlord phone calls, and the electricity company and even a few others who she knew were angry that she hadn’t paid. Stretching her legs out wide on the floor she took a minute away from her laptop screen and picked up her phone. 

“I’m on my way, be there in 15” Bucky had texted around 15 minutes ago, Y/N let out a panicked sigh and started picking up the mess around her to try and make herself look presentable for Bucky, she had to keep up appearances. 

“Doll?” Bucky called through her apartment, 

“In here” She replied quickly shoving some dirty clothes at the bottom of her wardrobe, 

“Hey doll” He said softly pulling her in for a kiss, not seeming to notice her dishevelled state. 

“Hey Bucky” she pressed a kiss to his lips, something she had missed dearly. 

“I need to talk to you” Bucky said pulling her down to sit on the bed, she sat down with his hands gripped in hers as if he was about to disappear. 

“I know I’ve been awful Buck, I haven’t spoken to you and I’ve avoided you, please don’t be mad, I’ve just been so stressed and—”

Bucky quickly cut her off “I’m not breaking up with you Y/N” 

“You’re not?” 

“No, doll I’m not” 

“Oh” 

“I know what’s going on Y/N” he said sincerely 

“Nothing’s going on” 

“Doll I know” 

“Bucky nothing is going on”

“You got fired, you’ve been trying to find another job, you’ve been dog walking, which I’m not happy with because that’s dangerous when you don’t know the dog or the owner, and you’ve been selling your adorably little crochet animals online” Bucky said 

“You got someone to follow me” 

“You started shutting me out” Bucky justified 

“Fair enough” 

“Did I miss anything?” Bucky asked 

“No” Y/N said her eyes welling up with tears, she let go on Bucky’s hand to hide her face in them, 

“Oh doll, come here” Bucky said wrapping his arms around her, letting her cry all her stresses and troubles away onto his shirt, he knew once she had cried they would be able to talk through options properly. 

“I’m sorry” Y/N said with a sniffle 

“Can I finish what I was saying earlier?” Bucky asked, Y/N nodded silently “I’ve paid off all your debts, I did the landlord, electricity, water and that loan you took out, you can pay me back if you want to if you have the money, if not it’s my birthday present to you I know you won’t accept it any other way” He said 

“Bucky please”

“It’s already done” 

“I should be able to do this better,I  should be able to pay my fucking bills” 

“No” Bucky said calmly 

“No?” 

“No you’re not doing that. You are doing as best as you can. And I refuse to listen to that shit. Now put on a nice dress, we’re going out to eat” 

— — — — 

That night when Bucky and Y/N were laying in bed cuddled up to each other, Y/N decided to be brave 

“Bucky?” 

“Yes doll?” 

“Do you think I could move in with you?” She asked pressing a kiss to his chest “I don’t think I want to do this alone anymore” 

“Doll, I’d be delighted” 

[buckyalpine]

Bucky vs Bucky ft smut

Bucky vs Bucky - Smutty edition.

Imagine time travel going wrong only to end up so right when you have present Bucky and 40′s Bucky in front of you. You love your boyfriend with your whole entire heart and being but there's something about that sweet 40′s baby that makes you weak.

Nothing gets by Bucky who notices the way your thighs squeeze together around his former self or the way you get all shy and giggly. The young soldier is no better, eyeing the prettiest doll he’s ever seen, wanting just 1 taste of his future life. You can’t seem to take your eyes off him; imagine your surprise when you walk into you bedroom to find your Bucky lounging on the couch while the other is leaning against your dresser, both with equally devious expressions. You feel hot all over because there is something in the air, filled with thick tension.

“What-what are you both doing” You stutter out, biting your lip when the young soldier approaches you, cupping your cheek. You let out a needy whimper while Bucky smirked from his place on the touch, tugging the waistband of his sweats down, revealing his aching erection. 

“I’m going to sit here and stroke my cock and you’re going to suck his cock like the pretty slutty little princess you are, understand kitten?” He let out a satisfied hum watching you sink to your knees in front of the soldier without a question. 

“You look so pretty sugar” He groaned, unbuttoning his jeans and pulling his cock out, chest already heaving when your lips brush against his wet tip. You were greedy for him, too worked up to tease him with just your tongue. You wrapped your plush lips around his tip, nursing and suckling him, your hand pumping what you couldn’t fit into your mouth. “OH-That’s it sweets, you got a real mouth on you-” 

He didn’t even realize he was rutting his hips into your mouth, chasing the warm wetness of your throat. You grew more desperate, your panties soaked, needing to feel him inside you, tasting him making you more feral than before. You could’ve passed out at the sight of your boyfriend giving himself long languid strokes, flicking at the slit with his thumb, smearing his arousal all over the head. 

“Need something, kitten?” Bucky cocked an eyebrow when you looked over to him with glassy eyes, “You’re little button all tingly baby? You need him to stuff you full, take you right on the floor like the whore you are?” 

You desperately nodded, gasping when the much younger Bucky gently laid you on the floor, undressing you with care before throwing all his clothes off. He didn’t waste a second lining himself up, rubbing his blunt tip through your folds, groaning at the feeling of your dripping cunt. 

“You’re soaked bunny” He started to press his cock in, the tip breeching your entrance, the both of you moaning in unison at the feeling of his stretch, “Shit, I-i won’t last if you keep squeezin’ me doll” 

He rested his forehead against yours, starting off slow, taking your hands and pinning them above your head against the floor. His slow pace only lasted so long; within no time he was fucking into you like an animal in heat, all former composure lost. 

“Fuck s’even better than I imagined” Bucky’s hips lifted off the couch, thrusting into his fist watching you lock your ankles together, moaning like a desperate whore on the floor, taking all the cock the soldier was willing to give you. The soldier himself was no better, equally lost in your tight wet heat, growling at the squelching sound that left you each time he fucked up into you. 

“Sh-shit doll, you’re-god damn” He groaned, lewd and vulture words swimming in his mind, unable to say them out loud. “You got me thinkin’ pure filth bunny” 

“Tell her exactly what she is, she likes it” Bucky smirked, jerking his cock off faster at the sight of your eyes rolling back, loud wanton moans filling the room. 

“You’re a pretty little slut doll, don’t get me wrong, you’re pussy is a dream” One he started running his mouth, he couldn’t stop, babbling to himself while you clenched and clawed at him, your eyes darting between the pretty man making you see stars and the other playing with his cock, both men so pretty making you lose it with their words. 

“What I wouldn’t give to take ya back with me sweets, fuck, to have a sweet housewife to come to with her legs spread for me, letting me pump her up with my load till she’s all round with my kid” 

“She’s a good little kitten, just waiting for cock, isn’t that right baby? Look what you do to us doll” 

“Yeah, I know you’d be so good doll, can tell you’d be so perfect with the way you opened these pretty thighs up for me, letting me shove my cock all the way in you” 

“Didn’t need me to tell you twice to take his cock, hm? Look how quick you spread your legs baby, sucking him like you’ve never tasted cock before” 

“Would you be a good housewife for me baby? Would you cook me dinner wearin’ nothin’ but some pretty heels? Be in bed, waitin’ for me, waitin’ for me to come make that pussy feel all better?” 

“She needs it, that cute pearl between her legs is so fuckin’ greedy, always begging for someone to rub and kiss it all better” 

“Would put a ring on ya finger in a heart beat” He moaned when you clenched at his words, “You like that, huh darlin’” 

Your moans grew more desperate, crying out when he pulled back and sat back on his heels, throwing your legs on his shoulders, watching his cock disappear in and out, pounding into you harder. 

“Go-go a head and rub that pretty pussy for me baby-fuck- that’s it, my slutty slutty bunny” His grip around your hips tightened, slamming you down onto him while you reached down to touch yourself, rubbing fast tight circles. 

“I’m gonna-I’m-fuck-.Bucky-Soldier-I-please-FUCK” You sobbed in pleasure as your orgasm started to wash over, hiccupping between moans when his hips stuttered, losing his pace. 

“FUCK YESSS” Thick warm ropes of cum started to fill your pussy, the hold he had on you softening. 

“Wanna see something pretty?” You could hear Bucky’s footsteps approaching; you whimpered as the soldier pulled out, watching your boyfriend stroke his cock, standing over your face. You opened your mouth, sticking your tongue out as Bucky jerked himself faster, moaning letting his cum shoot all over your face, drops spilling onto your tongue. 

You felt like you were floating, pliant on the floor, a sticky hot mess between your legs, your face wet with his cum. You panted between soft whimpers, the aftershocks of your orgasms unending. Your eyes grew wide when you felt a pair of arms, one warm the other cold, pick you off the floor and toss you onto the bed, your boyfriend and the pretty soldier both standing at the foot of the bed, cocks still hard as ever.  

“Better catch your breath sugar, were not done with you”

“Time for you to take us both, sweetheart” 

[precious-little-scoundrel]

Masters of the Air Fanfic

As requested by sweet @arianatheangel-girl and the subsequent poll for a “Buck Cleven Fic before the series comes out” -and I, being a madwoman with no impulse control and a faint recollection of the book, have delivered…this…whatever this is

Song Challenge: i was challenged by dear @the-ugly-swan for a twenty favored songs challenge and I’m gonna go ahead and make this part of it. August by Taylor Swift informed some of the bittersweet timeline here, with infidelity not being the enemy but rather the lack of possessing oneself fully during wartime to give to another

Spoilers: historical accuracy and inaccuracy abound here so, beware there are some biographical facts about Cleven in here that might count as spoilers to those who wish to watch the series with a blank slate. While to the history purists I must beg for a substantial amount of artistic license to be granted me, and obviously I’ve not seen the show yet and I crunched the timeline to my own will

Reader insert but without the use of “y/n” -I’m utterly fudging a bit on the likelihood of a WAAF lady being part of the American ground crew, however, I had in my minds eye the vision of a greasy mechanic and a glamorous flyboy and it wouldn’t budge, so shhh, go with the vibe

Warnings: mature, 18+. Fluffy smut was requested and while it is very brief and mild in here, not very explicit in phrasing, it’s quite present and a plot point so beware. Also, Virgin!Gale has my heart so we went with that. No shade to dear Marjorie irl, I’ll probably end up writing fics about her once the show gives me Inspo. Some angst due to war, POW’s, etc, mild language

Word count: a monstrous 12k

They came in like locusts at the height of summer, long prayed for, oft cursed in moments of perilous isolation, those ever so intriguingly shiny Americans.

Swarming with a metal buzz over the flatlands of East Anglia, big hulking beasts touched down on fresh tarmacs with more grace than anything that size ought to have, flashing the most bizarre and suggestive paintings on their gleaming fuselages. Flying Fortresses, they were called, and deserved the name. Nothing but the biggest, the loudest, the most alarming machinery would do for the American war effort, and now all this mighty strength was Britain’s too, no longer alone, no longer enduring.

Now the fight could be taken to the enemy in earnest. Out of their flying ships poured the most alarmingly young looking faces, jaunty hats and leather jackets, they looked every bit the sort of fellows war was advertised to.

Farmers in their tractors, mothers with daughters still under their command and RAF veterans all looked askance at such pristine warriors. Had their fertile fields been paved into airfields just for this? Were these gum chewing boys the long expected aid? It wasn’t anti-climactic, nothing American could ever be, it was all just alarmingly fresh. It was understandable then, the initial tentativeness the locals felt towards their new occupants, the way the boys took up such space in the rural villages, made such a racket in the pubs, chased every skirt that swished in the rainy summer breeze, stuck hands out for a shake no matter the introduction. They were a warm, boisterous and confident lot, all much needed attributes in wartime Britain, and soon, the initial distrust of the citizenry thawed, hands were shaken in return and invitations made. An amiable amalgamation eventually occurred, Norfolk never to recover or return to whatever placidity had been her’s before the arrival of the 100th.

Personally, you couldn’t wait to get your hands on them. The planes, that is.

Amalgamation was less a choice for yourself and your service members than a duty. It was abnormal, having a mixed ground crew, British and American servicemen too often clashing in hierarchy disputes for it to be standard, but with deployment rates so high and casualties mounting, ground crew became a case of whichever skilled individuals could be called upon to keep the operation running, the pilots up and the enemy bombed.

You were just glad to be near home, first time back since ‘39 when you’d signed up in the Women's Auxiliary Air Force -even if your rural hometown was now overrun with Americans. They weren’t a bad lot at all, at least not the ones you’d encountered so far on base. Amiable and unexpectedly eager, undeterred by veterans’ grim looks and tales of the woodchipper across the channel, that line of anti-aircraft that shredded anything trying to penetrate the continent.

“Better get crackin’ then.” Was the common response followed by a grin.

Your crew chief sergeant, Ken Lemmons, an American with a forelock of sandy ringlets and the patience of a saint, made the job easier even as every ounce of expertise was exacted from each man -or woman- under him. Feeding a fiery chain of bullets into the turret gun under a hot July sun, you thought your papa may have had the right of it when he tried to dissuade you from choosing the harsher duties of the Auxiliary Force. You could’ve been pouring over a map in the cool of the boardroom right now, or passing on radio messages, even shuttling planes would’ve been more relaxing, but no, you’d spent your life passing him tools in his garage, your papa had been building flying machines when most for these boys were still in diapers, and that path called to you, too. So for you it was grueling maintenance work and the ever present grime of grease on your hands and the awkward reach of twisted metal repairs. Gratefully, after their first mission, there were plenty of them back safe, however riddled their fortresses might’ve been.

It was interesting, the way certain of the flight crew treated the ships. Some were endeared but indifferent to their repairs while others hovered at each hole and tear, like over protective mothers, while you and your mates tried to do your jobs.

Why, one plane in the five assigned to your care was even named “Our Baby”. With such a moniker it made sense that its porcelain faced pilot would caress the shredded wing with a misty eyed frown at each wound, like it were a breathing thing, a race horse, a friend. You didn’t judge it, and he didn’t seem aware of his audience, he’d be back out there doing his own check up after debriefing. Never interrupting your work, always quick to step aside or duck out of the way of a ground crewman’s path, it wasn’t time to chatter or make introductions, although sometimes when the work took long and his reports longer, he’d be there to bid goodnight to you all, soft, American drawl saying “Goodnight, thank ya, goodnight, good work, thank ya” again and again to each.

You grew to recognize them, the ones each mission spared, there were so many and under hats and bundled in leather jackets they tended to blend together, but there were those who made their mark, if not on you then on Dorace in cartography and Eileen at the Red Cross. There was much tittering and speculation, after all, spread thin as their time was, there was also plenty of off time, made all the more charged and anxious as it came in the form of waiting for new orders. The men would be vibrating with nervous energy and generous in the flush of a recent victory and they took it out on the little villagers who in good British fashion took it on the chin and challenged them to a contest of good spirits.

Those were happy days, less anxious than the preceding ones and less heavy than those making up the year after. You dared be roped into the multiple pub crawls, often choosing the most sensible and quiet of the group as your victim and attaching yourself to their side for the evening. This tactic had its fallibility, sometimes those moderates were such a bore as to be unsupportable or hadn’t enough verve to make a full night of it and retired early like respectable, curfew-abiding saps. That’s how you found yourself one night ensconced in a beer pungent corner of Flaggen’s, green leather seats sticky under your palms, with Major Egan fanning out a wad of cash in front of you. It was a blatant attempt to bribe you to clear his aircraft sooner than the last inspection suggested.

“Suggestions” was Egan’s term for regulations.

If you were less tipsy you wouldn’t have giggled at the man’s idiocy, but his arm was heavy around your shoulders and this very cash had bought you one too many gin and tonics. “These regulations keep you alive!” You chided him, shaking your head and feeling the room tip as you did. Truly these Americans could hold their liquor, almost as well as the Polish Squadron when it came to a binge.

“A little flack isn’t gonna keep her down.” he scoffed, “I’ve been grounded for a week now-“

“-I don’t have the authority-“

“-and I’m not gonna sit here while Buck goes up and racks up his number!” Eagen was vehemently slurring and your drunken mind tried to process who Buck was, if not Egan himself.

“Aren’t you Bucky?” you asked, bewildered.

-Americans and their nicknames.

“Yeah.”

“So who’s Buck?” you concentrated very hard on the ancient coaster beneath your latest pint.

“It’s Buck! It’s Gale, Cleven, Major Gale Cleven!” Egan waxed louder and more dramatic with each addition. “You keep clearing his plane! But not mine! Why’s that, huh?”

“How do you know that?” you asked, dubious and only in the raucous of this little pub would his loud voice go unheeded. Compared to the ongoing dart game to the left behind the half wall, an elephant’s trumpeting would be considered bashful.

“ ‘Cause he tells me?” he replied, bewildered at your slowness, “Says you and your crew are little fairies, crawlin’ all over his plane and patching it up better than ever after each mission. And then you clear him. Simple as that.”

“I don’t have authority to clear anyone.” you repeated.

“Huh,” Egan grunted, “how’does he mean then?”

“I don’t know.” you replied firmly, “I doubt I’ve even got your plane, i don’t see you around.”

“I don’t stay around, that’s your job, patching up. I just fly the damn thing.”

“Oh, well.” you shrugged, “I’ve had five, it’s down to three after last mission.” Three years ago the mention of that ratio of losses would’ve sank your mood to the floorboards, by now it’s horrifically routine. “What’s yours called?”

“Mugwump.” he grinned proudly, a flash of white beneath his dark mustache, the man’s face positively shimmered with sweat.

“Serial?” you asked demurely, just to be difficult.

He squinted his eyes shut briefly, head tilted back as if to ask the heavens for help and the recited in a drill master’s staccato “42-30066, ma’am, yes ma’am.”

You giggled again and Egan’s arm jostled your shoulders, smushing you further into him. They were good fun, these boys, didn’t even mind your horrifyingly unflattering uniform with its bulging pockets adding bulk where your curves should take center stage and your stupid pleated cap making you look to be half baker, half doll. You preferred your plain navy coveralls but you’d hardly be let into an establishment in them. Egan’s warm arm didn’t seem to mind the excess poof of the material, he smashed it right down with his hand’s firm grip, he was fun, you decided, no harm in good fun. “Alas, not one of mine.” you sighed, focusing hard on the serial number.

“Damn.” he swore, playing at dejection.

“No,” you went on, “but I’ve got this one, a very spoiled one, maybe you know whose it is. They named it ‘Our Baby’!”

Poor manners and personnel etiquette though it was, you couldn’t say it without tittering.

Egan didn’t laugh, he just looked at you like you’d proved his point. “Yeah,” he replied vehemently, “That’s Buck Cleven’s!”

“Oooh.” -So it was him, the fighting cherub, the walking doughboy, toothpick, baby at wings: there were a dozen or more nicknames you and the ground crew gave the wing-petting Major behind his back. “He always says goodnight to us.” you said instead.

“Is that where he is when I wanna go for a drink?” Egan exclaimed, “Ha! You’d think he was married to the ole ship.”

“He handles her beautifully.” You feel oddly compelled to defend, he’s a master at flight and as someone who must repair each fault of his landings and his leavings and his missions, you feel some loyalty to his finesse. “He handles her so well.” you repeat in the tone of a woman who’s seen some aviation in her time, young though you may be.

“Well let me let you into a lil secret,” Egan smirks and you brace without knowing why, he is, after all, not the respectable and dull men you choose to go out with, he is the dangerous sort you bring those dullards along to deter, “shes the only ‘she’ that boy has ever ‘handled’ -if ya get my drift.”

The sleazy wag of his eyebrows leaves no room for ignorance, you feel your face heat up, wether in prudery for the topic or second hand embarrassment for his friend’s sake, you don’t know.

“Nothing wrong with that.” you reply coldy, only to distance yourself from the road his body language seemed to be hurtling you both down.

“Quite right. Nothin’ at all!” Egan agrees vehemently, his smile easy and his eyes clever “But I’d be a poor friend if I didn't try to remedy his predicament.”

“Telling me is somehow part of this remedy?” you were suspicious, rightfully so.

“Maybe.” Egan drawls it out, shifting in his seat to no longer corner you, his attention drawn to the nearby dart game. The man of the moment, the subject, the handler of planes and none else, was not here. He had such a luminous head of golden hair, it would be a beacon amongst the muddy haired crowd flinging darts. “The thing of it is, dear,” Egan confided, “I've had an absolutely marvelous time since I got here. And I think that’s rather essential, for sanity and for international relations, don’t you? I’ve gotten to know all sorts of wonderful people, lovely people like yourself-“

“-word is, you’ve known them a little too biblically, no wonder Cleven avoids your outings.” You could not help but temper him. “Half of Great Britain has had the privilege, if some are to be believed.”

“And so what if I have? I love dancin’!” he laughed quite happily at your barb and you didn’t have it in you to pull down any further a man who was sacrificing so much day in and out. “Getting to know Great Britain is a better occupation than pettin’ plane wings under the moonlight.”

You tittered again at his words and the oddly endearing memories you had of watching Major Ceven petting and whispering to his plane like she was his long-standing beloved, loitering ground crew unheeded. “He does do that.” you agreed.

“Hey, everyone’s got their method.” Egan insisted in his friend’s defense, “But I have told him, it’s good for the morale to mingle, even if he hates drinkin’.“

You pucker your face at that. “I know he mingles, Violet says he’s a doll when he goes to market.” you point out, small town chatter gets around and while you can’t say you know Cleven, you know he’s mild mannered and precious. And a terribly pretty face too, which isn’t fair, he oughta be an ass which a face that cute. “And he got a tan from somewhere last week.“

“Oh, so ya noticed!” Egan is triumphant, “A bunch of us used our day passes to go messin’ around in boats on the canals.”

“Good for you.” you didn’t know what else to say. “Why are we talking about him? What’s your point? I can ask for your plane to be transferred to my crew, but it won’t get you a sloppy clearance. And if your friend is so socially awkward he can’t even manage a pub night, you can hardly expect me to be flattered that you consider me prime material to throw at him.”

“He’s not awkward.” Egan cut to the chase quite serious, in mission mode, “Buck just had his hopes tangled up back home, and now he’s here he’s finding it hard to accept that hopes were all they were. She’s real moved on.” Well that had hurt, you winced in sympathy. “I warned him, everything during this war has got to be taken as a bit inpermanent. Don’t fall in love with Texas girls when you’re headed to England -via: Louisiana, Indiana, hell, by New York she’d stopped writing.”

“And now the texas girl has-“

“-found a Texan, I guess.” He shrugged and chugged the last of his pint. “She’s gettin’ married, it's really over. So, -“ he made a broad gesture as if to explain his reasoning for this entire segue. “-you like projects, you wouldn’t be in the line of work you’re in if ya didn’t, so whaddya say?”

You looked around the dimly lit pub in search of two things, sunny blonde hair and a clock to tell you how badly you were going to regret this night, come morning. “He’s not even here.” you balked.

“Well, no-“

“-what I say is,” you grinned at him disbelieving, “you owe me another gin and tonic for subjecting me to such inane chatter.”

His grin should have served as warning enough that he would neither drop the subject nor let you off free this evening. In fact, the ticking clock and its late curfew breaking hours became the least of your concerns come morning. The cool wash of bitter juniper blended into the pungent flow of beer, it blurred everything, soon there was a great swelling of pride for your native village, a pub crawl was on, all three visited and drank from, an army Jeep was requisitioned without authority, there was some incident regarding a policeman‘s helmet. The latter being the reason why you found yourself in “jail” the next morning, nursing a raging headache and questioning life decisions while glaring at John Egan’s polished boots.

There was very little talk about bail or Air Force hours being exceptioned, the more pressing concern to the Bobbies who had nabbed you was the coed holding cell. Thorpe Abbotts was a small place, after all, and you liked it that way. If this overly indulgent night could be kept away from the military police, all would be well.

You had one hope: Harry Crosby was sensibly absent from the holding cell, having a keen sense of when to depart from the raucous joyride at the precise moment to save himself a demerit. It was an extreme embarrassment to you that you’d not had the same sense. In fact, fond as you were of a bit of a knees up, you couldn’t quite credit the fact you had allowed yourself such free reign, or accomplished such foolishness. Glowering at Major Egan’s face now, animated with delighted chagrin at your shared plight as it was, you vowed to never again hook your fortunes to his, as it were.

Your resolve, and humiliation, was about to be compounded, exponentially.

There was a bustle of a visitor entering the precinct, easily heard in the small space, followed by the low hum of mild mannered conversation. It went on for sometime, and no amount of straining at the bars and cocking of ears would allow you, Egan or your fellow misfortunates to ascertain the gist of it. Violet’s husband was the main constable, and you were quite certain he’d be moderate in his sentence, he had his helmet back, after all. It was the Air Force penalty of not being on base in time this morning that you feared, a growing nausea that compounded the misery of your aching head. They’d not discharge Egan, they’d probably not even demote him, he was too crucial and he’d done this one too many times for it to be grace alone saving him. When he was needed, really needed, he was there. That’s what counted. The same could be said of you, but that hardly mattered given your low rank.

Violet’s husband, also known as constable Herbert, came in sight and with a jangle of keys and a tap to the side of his nose, swung open the bars of infamy and gestured for you and your fellow inmates to file out.

“All sorted.” He declared. His gaze lingered on you as it had many times in your life when you’d been caught jumping in puddles after church, “Let this be a lesson and a warning to you.”

You tried your best at both obeisance and penitence, both of which were rather natural feelings at the present time, while hurrying past as fast as was respectful, your approaching shift hours making your heart thump in panic.

On the steps outside, your savior was loitering against the wrought iron fence, thumbing at the petunias in the nearby window box. Gale Cleven was a mile long of lanky body in perfectly pressed and tailored Air Force greens, fresh faced as the good conscienced are, hair combed without his cap and a smile on his soft face that was composedly long suffering, rather than endeared, as he watched you miscreants pour out of the modest brick building.

You stumbled to a halt on the first step at the sight of him and allowed your instincts to take over, hands smoothing down hair and skirt with frantic self consciousness. You must’ve looked a rumple.

“I hope last night was worth it.” Cleven drawled in that voice of his, so oddly deep for so fresh a face, his placid smile growing into something more genuinely mirthful as Egan smooched at him in gratitude and swore that he knew his Buck wouldn’t abandon them, that his Buck would pull through for them. “I order a round of toothpaste for everyone and cold showers, you stink.” Gale shied away without any real effort, nodding in greeting to the boys he recognized.

Then, as if in the most painfully slow motion with all the strong string accompaniment of a silver screen scene, his eyes landed on you and an odd ache formed in your chest at the anticipation of his disapproval.

It made you tense and draw yourself up to your full height, looking about as regal as a drenched bantam in your disheveled dignity, but you weren’t about to be relegated to another tier than these boys he so amusedly indulged.

“Y’all know what time it is?” he asked mildy, those azure orbs with their batting dark fringe didn’t waver and you realized he indeed had more guts than you’d given him credit for.

There was a chorus of “no”s and various guesses based on the fast evaporating fog and the lightening sky.

“Zero five thirty.” he ended the suspense with the cock of an eyebrow at you.

“Shit!” Egan was suddenly animated, “Shit, shit-“

“Hey, you keep your swearin’ away from my sweet lil corporal.” Cleven chided, and it took you a brief moment to startle upon realizing he meant you. And he thought you sweet? “C’mon Miss,” he waved you down the steps and for some inexplicable reason you felt very compelled to obey and suddenly stood beneath his gaze like a dutiful child awaiting deliverance or censure, “I’ve only got this bike, petrol allotment ran out when we went to the canals last week. But it’ll get ya back faster than this lot. Reckon you can manage on the handlebar?”

“Wha-?“ you glanced sideways at the bike with its large, sweeping handlebars and second guessed his meaning until he himself was straddling it. His legs required the seat to be hiked up impossibly high and the narrow nip of his waist was accentuated by the posture. Those padded, fleece puffed jackets you had seen him in had done no credit to his form, a toothpick he may have been with how terribly lean he was, but he was firm in all the right places. He was also waiting on you to answer while you ogled him.

“Gosh yes, I can, if you’re sure? Awfully kind of you.” you blathered and moved in a hurry to make up for your stalling, keenly conscious of his eyes on your back as you shimmied your backside up onto his handlebars, feeling the warm press of his hand as he helped steady you from tipping all the way back. You wiggled on the thin metal bar, spreading your legs on either side of the front wheel and doing your best to ignore the raucous commentary of the still tipsy audience of your fellow inmates swaying on the precinct steps. “Y’all just be glad there’s no mission scheduled today.” he snarked to them instead and they chimed up that last night’s idiocy was calculated with that in mind.

“Huh.” Cleven uttered, unimpressed, behind you and it made you shiver, worse than if your father caught wind of this stunt. “Darlin’ put your hands over mine, s’gonna get wobbly takin’ off.” he directed next and you did as you were told, looking back over your shoulder at him with a grateful smile that you were relieved to see returned, pink lips stretching and a freckled nose bunching up sweetly when all of the sudden a rush caught you by surprise and the bike was in motion and you whipped your head back to view the street as it rushed up ahead of you. “See ya boys!” he hollered out as a mutinous babble rose from his friends at being left to jog back.

The young man could put some speed on a bike, uphill too. Or, as much of a hill as could be found this far East. You could hear him chuckle when you squeaked at the first jolt of a pothole, your thumbs hooking under his hands and curling into his palms. They were warm and calloused, dry from the cool breeze and you may have imagined the way he squeezed them in assaurance but you did not imagine the way his voice piped up again, smooth and conversational: “Harry told me if I was quick I could get you out in time, I think we’re gonna make it. S’dont worry, even if Sergeant Lemmons gives ya trouble, I’ll insist.”

“That’s really too kind of you.” The chill of windburn and a substantial amount of remorse made your cheeks glow scarlet. “All of it is. I’m rather ashamed.”

“I didn’t take you for an all nighter sort.” he agreed but followed it with a soothing compliment, “You’ve always been nothin’ but perfect. P-p-perfectly punctual, I mean, and there’s no reason to let Egan’s idea of fun ruin your record.”

“Wasn’t his fault. Not wholly.” you sighed, giving Violet a bashful wave as you passed her opening the shop, a wave which Cleven mirrored behind you and between the two of you letting go the bike, it nearly dumped you both. It was luck and sheer persistence that righted you and kept your balance. “I’m afraid it’s a bit of a bad habit, picked it up at Northolt.”

“Where’s that?” he asked.

“South, by the coast.” you said, unsure why you felt the need to explain your debauchery away, “I was working a ground crew down there for a bunch of Polish Pilots. Spitfires mainly. That squadron nabbed the most kills of any in the RAF back in ‘40. Why, even Churchill visited more times than I can count, he found them good fun. Too much fun, they never went to bed without downing half a barrel. There was dice built into the bottom of the pints at the Black Bull, rather addictive, rolling to see who would buy the next round. —There was always a next.” You added upon reflection.

That was also the year you had lost your brother. The correlation between the habit and the loss wasn’t to be dwelt on.

“Huh,” Cleven let out one of him contemplative hums, “and how do we compare?” he asked surprisingly.

“How?” you laughed, daring to crane your neck back to see him in the early morning sunshine, pretty and sweet and arch in his expression. Dusk had not done his mama’s work on his face any justice, it made you want to pant he was so pretty.

“I dunno, in any way,” he laughed in turn, not even breathless as he sped the bike over the cobblestones, the village barely awake and mostly quiet, “how do we compare?”

“To the Poles?”

“Or the French. Or your own, the RAF ain’t no joke.” he amended, “Whoever is our competition.”

“So it is a competition.” you smirked -how very American of him. “Depends,” you hedged playfully, “Our boys are so very nice, familiar, they never run out the right coinage during a date either. But the French are better flirts while the Dutch are better dancers. But the Poles, they know how to romance. Lots of hand kissing and flowers, so many flowers there had to be rules made for overstocking the billet.”

“Sounds like we gotta step up our game.” he decided.

“Is that what you meant? How you compare? First impressions?”

“I-I- guess, yeah.” he now sounded confused, “I mean, what else? You got scores for aircraft?”

“I do.” you replied, as it was true, “But that’s unfair, you’ve only just arrived. I thought maybe you wanted to know something more -salacious.”

“Like?” His tone behind you was guarded and you doubted if the alcohol of last night were not still buzzing and fortifying your brazenness, that you’d ever go through with what you said next.

“Other performances. For instance, in bed.”

You felt his fingers flutter around the bars beneath your own, you gripped them tighter, not just because the stretch of old road before the air base was ancient and pitted but because you were in an agony of suspense as to how he’d take your forwardness.

“There’s a record of that somewhere?” he asked at last, a beat too long, too delayed for casualness, too morose for flippancy.

“In fact there is.” you responded carefully. “A little diary of rankings, actually, there’s multiple and whenever there’s a grand assembly of the WAAF or the WACs, they’re passed about and tallied.”

“Sweet Jesus.” he swore behind you, “And here I’ve been chalkin’ up railways and munition dump targets like they’re some achievement.”

“Oh it’s all a bit of silliness.” You assured, not intending to make him glum.

“Do-“ he hesitated and you prayed for strength for him to spit it out as the airfield came in sight on the flat plain ahead. He didn’t.

“-Do I what?” you prodded softly.

“Are one of these little tallies yours?” he asked miserably.

You grinned to yourself and felt the sunshine seemed brighter and the air crisper than ever before as it rushed in your face with the slowing speed of his bike. “No, not in the least. I merely keep track of Sally’s ledger. It’s all a bit too -messy, for me.”

You dared peak behind you again and he looked relieved, then blushed furiously at your observance of him. “Well, who does Sally say is winning?” he dared.

“Romania.” you chortled and he did too, in shock if nothing else. “But Egan’s caught wind of it, he’s quite determined to save your country’s dominance, you don’t need to sweat it.”

His frown was back and you had to focus on not falling off as he slowed the bike to a halt, momentum precarious as his long legs kicked out and walked it the last yard to the segregated barracks, you felt his hand again on your waist to steady you. “Does that bother you?” he asked earnestly, sorrow in his blue eyes.

He offered a hand for you as you hopped down and it was you who held onto it long after it was needed. “Bother me?”

“Yeah, him -consortin’…with Sally?” he pressed, hands quite engulfing your one, “Does it hurt you? Bucky, see, he doesn’t mean to hurt, he’s just so-“

“-Blimey, you are a dear.” you marveled and then amended your interruption as your amusement only further creased that sweet face, “If I am ever again in Major Egan’s company, it will only be to escape it just as quickly. I’ve had quite enough of…consorting.”

“That so?” The lackadaisical confidence he exhibited outside of the precinct was back again, a not unattractive smirk plastered on his vulnerable face, a scheme in his guileless eyes. “Had enough of holding cells?”

“Quite.” you smirked back. “A quiet family dinner is more my style, the occasional picnic, even a zip round Oxford as one must show the foreigners about.” you paused and squeezed his hand once more, “And I do enjoy a bike ride.”

You did not know if he cataloged your preferences for an ideal date or not, life was busy, after all, and the momentary frolics in the July sunshine and banter on the tarmac and evenings in the pub were the exception. Time went on. Most of life was spent in the air, in his case, and in yours, beneath the belly of his beast, wrench in hand. But ever after his gallant rescue of you, there was more than the passing “goodnight” paid to you, there were cheerful smiles on his exhausted face when he returned from a mission, as if you were the one face he was coming back to. With an old familiar dread you noticed the way you begin to take each hole and dent and damage to his plane personally, as if it had been exacted on something precious to you. You have begun to care, for him and for his men, and your tired heart could barely do more than dread what that might lead to.

Good fun. That’s what these boys were supposed to be.

Gale Cleven hadn’t proven much fun. And somehow that was worse. It was worse and also unbearably honoring to be the last face he saw before taking it off, flags in your hands waving in front of his hulking bomber, giving the old familiar directions for a perfect takeoff, one he executed sublimely time and again. His sober, purposeful nods to you before he engaged and taxied out for a mission of death was more intense and intimate than any bouquet or even, your thought, a kiss. It was true the donut dollies on the sidelines were often the last faces of home that many of those boys would see. But in the his cockpit, looking down at your shrimp sized figure on the tarmac, both Major Cleven and you knew that for him, it was yours.

Once, there was a scare, in the first days of august. More than a scare if you were being honest, your heartbeat about stopped and didn’t pick back up for a few hours until word came in. The rest of the base wasn’t much better.

Ten planes had not come back. -Among them, Our Baby. And Mugwump. For two officers, so crucial, so senior, idolized and beloved as they were, to not return, was a blow like none other. You weren’t alone in hovering around the control shack, taking license of your friendship with Dorace to get a play by play of any news. When news came, such as it was, it was both relieving and exasperating.

It would seem there was some problem, a defect or too great of a hit. Orders to land in enemy territory were ignored, however, by Cleven no less. He had doggedly pushed on, safely landing them in allied Africa, of all places. It took almost a day for this information to finally be pasted together, by the end of it you were sad, haggard and half useless in your coveralls, stupendously relieved for a man you were supposed to feel professionally about.

Instead, that night, tucked in your own bed after a meal with your parents and little brother, you thanked God for keeping him -them, all of them- safe. And found yourself pondering the tan on him when he got back from his African foray. Some jealous part of you feared he might be kept there but a week later the thunderous hum of approaching bombers buzzed the air overhead of Thorpe Abbotts and the satisfying thwump of wheels touching down brought them back. There was a frenzy of greetings, flight and ground crew eager to welcome them back, the radio operators, too, and even the civilians who’d managed to get on base.

Your little brother among them. Donald wanted to see them back safe and it wasn’t dangerous, and it wasn’t dire, not returning from a mission the planes wouldn’t be in such poor shape. They’d been repaired in Africa, enough to fly them all the way back to England. So little Donald was nearby and when the crowd parted and a bee-line for Cleven became apparent, he took advantage and gave the young man a firm handshake in greeting.

“Hey buddy, thank ya, who do you belong to?” Buck laughed while returning the firm grip.

“I’m her brother.” Donald pointed you out proudly among the dispersing crowd and you rolled your eyes at his expectancy for Gale to know or care about you, more than your most pertinent work on base.

“Oh are ya now, hers, huh?” he grinned at you, “Been talkin’ about me?” he greeted, there was a still healing scrape on his left temple that your fingers itched to soothe. How badly had he hit his head?

“Of course I have.” you defended, happiness bubbling under your lips and threatening to make you smile more than was professional, you could see Sergeant Lemmons observing you from the side and tried to keep some decorum. “We thought you’d died.” You stated plainly, it wasn’t any secret to Donald, as soon as the plane had gone missing and before radio contact had been reestablished, you’d rushed home and made the family pray over supper.

“We’ve been praying for you.” Donald agreed, and you saw Cleven startle, a gasped intake of breath between those lush lips and his eyes seemed to water as he searched first your brother’s face and then your own.

“You have?” he choked out, raspy and touched.

“Yes.” you whispered, mouth twisting in a ugly grimace to hold back your own emotion. It was of little use, something beyond War Effort investment in his well being had been admitted. “We thought you might be dea-“

-you didn’t finish your reiteration of your dread. Your face, a greasy and mist spattered face, was suddenly smushed into the padded leather of his bomber jacket, nose tucked right into the fleece apex where his pale blue scarf always rested on his throat.

He was hugging you, you realized with delayed surprise.

“-even though it made the potatoes cold, Da insisted on prayin’ every night after she told us-“ Donald was waxing eloquent on his own sacrifices of having one added prayer request lengthening his mealtime but you were oblivious to more than the firm press of Cleven’s still gloved hand to the back of your scarf wrapped head, some strong emotion shuddering through his body against your own. A tremor of terror and pain, you suspected, emotions he’d been suppressing all week.

After all, the saved weren’t supposed to be shaken up. They’d been saved, what was there to be off about? You’d seen enough pilots after a close call to know it was every bit as bad or worse than actual disaster. They’d send him right back up again in days, and that was what was expected, demanded, required. He was tremoring against you and you gripped him tighter, sympathetic and aching to cure it somehow. Even for a moment.

“We’ll keep praying.” you assured, and you heard him clear his throat, snotty and rough. “Oh, blast, I’ve positively greased your jacket.” you mourned as he let you go, finally, and you caught sight of the mess your filthy hands and face had imprinted on it during the embrace.

He chuckled as he looked down at the imprint, “S’fine.”

After such an exchange of emotion the air felt charged between you two, without privacy or precedence, it felt unthinkable to linger in that mood. You turned to his plane and pet the fuselage with unstudied fondness, it had been horrid having the old bird absent. You were not above having favorites and the love he poured into his ship, somehow, like some old fairytale truism, made the hulking metal beast lovable, in turn. “How’s our baby, hmm?” you asked him, giving him a sly smile and he took your proffered out seamlessly, joining you in cataloging the damage that had not been deemed severe enough to hamper his return.

“Don’t crawl under here, sir!” you protested as you wiggled under the belly only to find him beside you in the plane’s shadow, “You’ll be a mess!”

“I’ve already got stains.” he brushed your worries off, and you knew it was true. Bloodstains in fact. He had lost a man, the report said, and apparently, judging by his trousers, Buck had held the poor fellow as he bled out. “And I wanna show you the spot I’m worried ‘bout.”

“Alright.” you conceded, allowing him to direct you to the nose. “Watch it Donald!” you had to reprimand your little brother who predictably followed after, “You’ll burn yourself if you touch that, this thing was just running.”

“Careful buddy.” Gale echoed gently beside you and pushed his little head down, more into a crawl. You refused to allow the gentle way he treated the brat to warm you, you refused. Or at least, you refused to let it show, the tingle and heat you felt being all too consuming to be denied.

He was lovely. But you already knew that. He was even more lovely when, upon crawling out from under Our Baby, he took his scarf from around his neck, silk decadently soft, flesh warmed and smelling strongly of his exertions, and swiped it across your greased cheek.

“You’ve got just a lil more…” he practically mumbled and wiped down to your chin, firm, gentle little rubs of the silk which required his other hand to grasp your chin to steady you. You weren’t sure when he’d taken off his gloves, but the feel of his skin on yours was heady.

“It’ll take a couple days.” You predicted regarding the repairs, “Which means you’ll have a few days free, if they don’t drown you in reports.”

“Oh they will.” he laughed, “But s’long as my days are free, means yours aren’t.” he pointed out.

“I guess that’s true.”

“We shoulda thought of that when we chose this line of work.” he joked and your cheeks flamed at the realization he wished to spend time with you. “But you’ll have your nights still, yeah?”

Coming from anyone else, the request for your nights to be reserved would strike you as suggestive indeed. But this was Buck, and when he mentioned nights you imagined nothing but taking him home for a tepid potato and rationed powdered milk supper and the warm reception of your family. His weary eyes suggested how badly he needed that. You could give it to him, and it made your heart glow.

“Yes, I’ll have my nights.” you agreed, “And you can have them, too.”

Sergeant Lemmons agreed with your estimation of Our Baby’s damage the following day and four long days after were spent patching up damage that suggested what a hellish ride that must’ve been. Someone else hosed the blood out of the bay but it turned the puddle on the concrete beside you sickly pink.

To and fro from office to barracks to observation tower, Cleven would stop by to see his ‘baby’ on these occasions. The heckling the ground crew gave you regarding this potential double meaning was agonizing and almost made his attentions not worth it. But then he’d be dropping to a squat to chat with you as you soldered metal, heedless of the sparks, or else bringing scones from the mess to refresh you and, again, wiping your face often with his fancy scarves despite your protests that it was futile.

And at night, on the second day, you made good on yours and Donald’s word and brought him to dinner. It was a quiet walk from the base to the end of the long main road, right to the outskirts of the village, where your family’s unassuming little thatched cottage nestled amongst mama’s victory garden, daddy’s aeroplane hanger and repair shop loomed ugly and dark behind.

The look on Buck’s face when you met him outside the base’s gate at seven in the evening in a dress and heels was worth capturing. But you hadn’t a camera with you and it wasn’t like you were liable to forget. His pure look of awe and appreciation for your cleaned up and girlish state was nearly comic if it weren’t so flattering.

“Darlin-“ he began in a rush but did not finish, only taking you lightly by the fingertips and spinning you slowly, his eyes wide like he was seeing a marvel, which, maybe he was, -your womanly form finally liberated from puffy uniforms and ugly coveralls. Wholesome as your intentions were for the evening, and indeed for him in general, it was some relief and delight to know he was capable of getting hot under the collar. His mama’s well drilled manners soon caught up to his unbridled appreciation and a deluge of charmingly proper compliments rained down on you next until you had to put a stop to his babble by tugging him down the road with the reminder of dinner as incentive.

“You’re sure they won’t mind?” he began his worries again, nervous to meet your parents.

If he’d been like the rest of the boys he’d know just how much mingling was already common. It wasn’t remotely odd to bring him home, not when you lived so near. “Don’t be silly, they’ve been begging to meet you and Donald has plans of torturing you with his plane models and Papa wants to show you his shop and mama thinks you're much too skinny, I’m sure she’s gone to the black market to grab something to fatten you-“

“-how’s she know that?” he interrupted in shock.

“Oh,” you flushed, realizing your misstep, “I’ve talked of you. And she recognized you, she and Violet are thick as thieves and -it’s not like you’re unremarkable. A physical description is rather easy to give when you, well, when you look like…you.”

“What do I look like?” he cried out but his cheeks were smiling despite his outrage, “Malnourished?”

“Like a lanky cherub.” you refuted and were pleased that the late summer sun was still bright enough at this long hour to show his pretty blush.

“A cherub.” he repeated in disbelief.

“Yes.” you were firm, both in tone and the press of your hand in the crook of his offered elbow, “And as we’ve been commended to entertain angels unaware, how much more when we are certain of one?”

“Oh shut up.” he begged you and you two staggered into each other as you laughed your hearts out. It felt good to laugh, for the both of you, and a little too foreign, as well. It left a hollow melancholy in its wake that was soothed by the near and swaying proximity of each other’s body.

“They’ll be glad to have you at the table.” you dared go on, feeling you should prepare him, should the subject arise, “I’ve a brother, you see, an older brother. Rafe, he was stationed in Burma. We’ve not heard of him in over two years. There’s an empty seat at our table, it takes a certain sort of soul to fill it without it feeling like a sacrilege. But you fit the bill nicely, I think.”

“Burma.” he repeated with all the gravity of a man who understood, who knew the ache of almost hoping a dear brother, a beloved son, was dead rather than enduring the slow hell of a Japanese internment camp. How awful to almost wish for a decisive end for one so loved. “No word at all?”

“None.”

“I’m terribly sorry.”

“Thank you.” you whispered, “And thanks for making it back, yourself.” you squeezed his arm jovially and felt his other hand fall atop yours there in the crook of his elbow and a sweetness filled you at the gesture, such as you’d never known before. It was peaceful and lovely and your little village suddenly looked as pretty and idyllic again as it was always supposed to, the routine route home was seen through his eyes, the eyes of a homesick boy with a soft girl on his arm, bound to meet her parents and inspect Donald’s plane models.

Your mother and father loved him, little surprise there, he was a darling and homesick and yours was a happy home, humble and wounded though it may be. Your mother was obnoxious in her delight the moment father took him out back to see where your expertise for welding first began, the little aerodrome, no longer fitted with pleasure craft but now fitted to scrap the more useless casualties. Mother pestered you as you helped clear the table, asking after him and whatever this thing was between you. When you assured her it was only dinner to fill that chair and some unfathomable knowledge that had grown each time you stood before his propeller and waved him off to death, she knew it for what it is.

War and the urgency of living that goes with it, shrinks long emotions into fast passion and steady hearts into foolish daring. Neither of you were the sort to tumble into the passing vogue passions that had seized hold of your friends and comrades. Yours was a quieter path. Even so, after the fourth evening of dinner rations and quiet fireside chatter and the patter of late summer rain on the roof, there was a kiss as he walked you back to base, his jacket over your shoulders, his shirt clinging to him and the sweetest intent etched on his misted features as his lips descended to yours.

“Thank you,” he had said so passionately yet so subdued, a wall of wisteria at your back and his honey blonde hair dripping into his eyes, “I’ve needed this bad.”

His words suggested the family dinners, his scorching lips suggested the molded flesh of your body in his large palms.

“So you’ve wanted this?” your breathed mixed, a hazy little cloud between you in the damp evening air, your little alcove of shelter from the rain under old Mosley’s shed was like another little world entirely, fauna filled and peaceful, even the ever present drone of machinery was drowned out by the downpour.

Your mother had been right, you should've waited longer till the clouds passed but you had both cited curfew -and maybe even subconsciously sought just such a predicament as the one that had you necking Gale Cleven in a wisteria claimed tool shed.

“I’ve wanted you.” he clarified, firm grip on the base of your neck punctuating his turmoil, his lips met yours again and whatever oath of abstinence he had chosen, it did not seem to include kissing. He was soft and persistent and all consuming, those restless hands migrating in an ever mapping caress, making every part of you thrum with butterflies. “Wanted you for a long while.” he spoke into your lips, “I think you’re just great.” And there was happiness then, untinged with anything temporal beyond the feel of warm flesh beneath cold, rain soaked cloth and lips that tasted of honeyed biscuits.

It was impossible to maintain the stoic propriety of behavior you’d once managed before, on base, after that. You knew now how he sounded when he moaned into your mouth and he his stare alone could make you blush, you had spoken to his mother on the phone and he had seen your childhood bedroom. He learned once, laying amongst sea grass on the beach during a cloudy Sunday, the silky moist feel of you beneath your swimsuit, his long, bashful fingers that were ever so fond of petting anything and everything, finally finding a place that responded to his swipes with jolts and gasps and sighs and pleasure. You peaked three times on that sand dune, Buck none the wiser as he had nothing to compare your little deaths to, you kept a firm grip on his forearm and told him he was doing marvelous and that’s all it took for him to be persistent. Persistent beyond what you imagined any other man could be due to cramp. He was getting freckles from so much sunshine, but it was well, the rains would be here soon come autumn.

These happy days had you risking your life to pause your work and watch his pretty form swagger across the asphalt to his next destination and he, ever so right and proper and by the book, became devil enough to lie in wait for you and catch you by the waist when you least suspected it and drag you into some abandoned corner.

Only to kiss you.

To kiss and to ask after your day, as if your evening was not to be spent sat beside him at table or the movies, lying on a picnic blanket with him near or in the back of a jeep on top of Mayberry Rise, the tallest point around where the stars ran into the sea on the horizon.

One of the first days of September, you made good on your promise to Harry and drove with him to muck about Oxford for a day and see the college, the library, too. It was a long ride and as you were at the wheel, Harry was gem enough to allow Gale along, too, and by the end of it, driving back late and in a rush before the headlights would be needed, you were quoting favorite literary passages to each other. As if you were all students, not misplaced youths in the business of killing.

You said as much and in the burgeoning gloom Gale’s rich voice asked if you knew any Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

“Not Wordsworth!” Harry clarified.

“No, I don’t.” You admitted, for all your chiding today of their not being cultured enough, you didn’t know your American writers as you should.

“He’s got a poem for that.” Gale said, “For what you said. Or at least, it makes me think of today -that verse, ‘member Crosby?- the one it goes:

-I remember the gleams and glooms that dart across the school-boy's brain; The song and the silence in the heart, That in part are prophecies, and in part, Are longings wild and vain. And the voice of that fitful song, Sings on, and is never still: "A boy's will is the wind's will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts."

The deafening silence for the rest of the car ride was filled with truth and your own heart was heavy when you bid them both goodnight that evening, headed to your seperate billets. You paused in you departure to turn back once more at the door and holler to Buck in the chilled September air, “That poem, is there more of it?”

“Lots more.” he’d spun round on his heel, pleasantly surprised at your inquiry.

“What’s it called?” you intended to search it out, though it was doubtful that a copy would be found near this remote place.

“How about I write it out for ya?” he suggested as if thinking the same.

“You’ve got a whole damn poem memorized?” you balked, incredulity warring with amusement that you should’ve guessed he’d be the sort.

“I-I-I might.” he stuttered before laughing.

“Then please do.” you grinned and threw him a kiss across the distance which he jumped up and caught from the air in a grand show of dedication. “Goodnight, cherub.” you wished him, “Sleep tight.” He had a mission in the morning, a daylight one.

“Goodnight old Bean.” He teased your accent and the door swung shut behind you blocking out the cold and the retreating sound of his footsteps.

If you’d have known that was the last time you’d hear them you’d have stayed an age out in the cold night listening to him go, memorizing the cadence of his gait, the sway of his shoulders disappearing into the twilight, the turn of his head as he’d throw a glance back at you, sweet and handsome and cheerful despite his ominous itinerary.

If you’d have only known.

It wasn’t like last time, like Africa. There had been no loss of contact. Dorace had heard every awful minute until the clock ran out. They’d been shredded, their precious ship turned into a raging inferno and Major Cleven’s gritted and garbled transmissions left only one hope that some at least had jumped out. Jumped out only to land in Nazi occupied Europe, it was a faint mercy to cling to.

The empty chair sat next to you again at the table and mocked you all. Mocked your hope and your resilience to dare love again. How foolish to bring home a man who belonged to a group they were calling “Bloody”, and not as a curse but an epithet.

The losses had been staggering all summer and now in September they hit close. You were confident that Crosby and Egan were every bit as dismal inside as you felt, Egan’s warm hand had clasped your shoulder like you were a fellow officer and told you he was sorry. You took the condolences and gave them back, a stupid little exchange that only highlighted how unspeakable some pain is.

Three weeks later, Egan’s plane didn’t come back either.

In your more fanciful moments you allowed yourself to imagine Egan and Cleven alive, somewhat whole and reunited. You could almost hear Cleven’s joking welcome, “What took you so long, Bucky?”

You’d indulged these fancies for Rafe, too, until years of silence suggested the worst.

However, this time, well into October and with an entirely new set of planes under your care, word came at last through the Red Cross, and the truth was exactly as you’d dreamed. There was only the paltriest letter back to command but it said they were well, they were alive, together indeed and being moved to the Polish border. Away from their own comrades' bombs. It was more than most ever got, and your family celebrated the news with the gratitude it deserved.

As October turned to November and your gloved fingertips froze as you worked, every sharp needle of chill reminded you of him, how much more awful it must be that far north, snow piled deep and muck everywhere and lice covered blankets and illness left untreated. As the holidays hurtled nearer, days of peace and goodwill you had planned to be spent with him, you were consumed by the dread of losing him to the elements since war had proven too clement. At night you lay abed and reread the one bit of handwriting you had from him, that damned poem he had written out, left under your door in the early dawn that had taken him from you.

My lost youth. That was the title of the thing. It cut like glass every time you read it, but Buck had touched that paper and looped those letters and dotted those i’s and it was precious to you. It became a prayer of sorts.

“There are things of which I may not speak;

There are dreams that cannot die;

There are thoughts that make the strong heart weak,

And bring a pallor into the cheek,

And a mist before the eye.

And the words of that fatal song

Come over me like a chill:—

“A boy’s will is the wind’s will,

And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.”

Strange to me now are the forms I meet

When I visit the dear old town;

But the native air is pure and sweet,

And the trees that o’ershadow each well-known street,

As they balance up and down,

Are singing the beautiful song,

Are sighing and whispering still:—

“A boy’s will is the wind’s will,

And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.”

Then, in January, as if prayers got heard, the most unexpected happened.

Major Gale Cleven, what was left of him after cold, starvation, murder and a treck across Europe, had returned. Things like this, seeing your lost beloved ride up to your workplace in the shotgun seat of a jeep, was the stuff of movies, hopeful propaganda or a woman’s mind that had finally cracked. You just stood there, welding helmet in hand, frozen rain spitting down at you, watching him jump out, watching Harry tear down from the observation tower to embrace him.

Dully, you could hear behind you Segreant Lemmons kind cheer of “so it was true, he got away from the bastards!” and a congratulatory thump between your shoulder blades. It was a moment of truth, to realize how far your faith had dwindled when the very answer to your prayers stood steaming with life in the cold air and yet you still could not accept it as reality.

“Baby.” his hands were warm compared to your damp cheeks and the span of them, so familiar and large, cupping your jaw with the calloused thumbs swiping at your temples, that was reminiscent of August and of happier days. Yet still, you had dreamed of him doing this, dreamed of a million different embraces and each time you woke up. “Baby, I’m back, I came to ya.” his voice was wrecked, from disuse and illness and whatever misery that had subjected him to. That, that was real enough, the rattling cough more so, you’d imagined his suffering in your worst nightmares too, this was something you could believe.

Familiar flesh was gaunt under your touch, gray cheeks where once there’d been freckles and the sinful pout of his once ruby red mouth was a dull violet, as if the vitality had been leached out of him. “What’d they do to my cherub?” you mourned, worst nightmares and wildest hopes blending into this one moment.

“Don’t cry, don’t cry f’me, I’m back. I came back.” he cooed to you, rough and sad himself, and your face was buried again in the placard of his coat, a great woolen overcoat this time, no fleece or any vestige of the swanky finery that got the flyboys ribbed for being soft, fancy, spoiled.

Nothing soft about these men, nothing gentle about their lot, nothing glamorous about being hurled down from the skies in a ball of fire.

“We kept praying for you.” you realized, it seemed important to tell him that however hopeless you all had felt, you’d gone through the motions anyway.

That was faith, wasn’t it? The hope of things not seen?

“I felt ‘em.” he said. “How else you think I managed it?”

It. -had managed it, that tiny word represented a host of terrors and miseries and unforgettable incidents that ricocheted in his brain like the lead fired into his boys head’s when they couldn’t manage a forced march, barefoot and underfed, in the snow.

Christmas had passed but January was not so very advanced, that evening your family turned back the clock and it was a matter of guessing as to who was celebrated more, baby Jesus or Buck Cleven. The two seemed intertwined at this point and in the warm glow of gas lamps and rationed toddy, with Buck’s hollow cheeks beginning to bloom and his dull eyes starting to animate, some part of you finally understood why so many felt worshipful on the holiday. The shit war rations felt like a feast, mama’s canned vegetables being the freshest thing he’d eaten in ages and with him sat at table again, empty chair filled, his hand creeping into your lap to lace with your own, there was peace.

Even the airforce, hard driving and high demanding though it was, took one look at his battered condition and admitted a period of conveyance was due. It wouldn’t do to send up a shoddy pilot, lose another plane, yet another crew or a hero of the hundredth. It’s not every day one of your squadron leaders escapes a POW camp and marches over occupied Europe and fordes the Channel to get back home.

A month was set aside. And you took as many weekday passes as you could during that month, happier than anything that he had been permitted to stay in town, to lodge with one of the locals. Rafe’s room was now occupied by him and mama’s broth was poured down Gale’s throat twice daily and his days kept busy with paperwork and Donald’s math problems. The ticking clock, the passing days, like the evil crocodile gobbling up time, was politely and britishly ignored in favor of enjoying what was. You no longer slept with the tear stained and crumpled poem clasped to your throat but his head lay there often enough instead. The thump of your heart helping him sleep, because exhausted and sick as he was, sleep and solitude were not comforts.

He was wracked with guilt for leaving Egan and his men behind, it had been every man for himself during that brutal forced march, he knew that and yet he’d left a friend behind. Buck waited for news of Egan like you’d waited for news of him. Nameless and senseless guilt ruining much of his own success and peace.

“He’d have expected nothing less of you.” you had taken to reminding him, “He’d be angry if you hadn’t taken the opportunity like you did.”

“I know.” he agreed miserably.

You admitted to him then, the horrid guilt of feeling that somehow, some missed defect or some lousy flaw had been the reason he’d been downed. Your work somehow not sufficient to keep him in the skies. When you’d admitted as much, Sergeant Lemmons had looked at you with all the censure such moronic introspection deserved: “Cleven got bombed to hell. He expected it, daytime raid and all. Blame the Nazis.”

“Blame the Nazis.” you suggested now to Gale as he lay sprawled in your arms, sweaty and feverish but his color was back and he looked pretty as anything so alive and near.

He looked ready to dare something, his face hovering nearer yours and the heavy weight of his limbs suddenly feeling full of intent but then his sparkling eye caught sight of something in the doorway and his lips quirked and his body shifted away.

“Whatcha doin’ sulkin’ out there Donny?” he addressed your brother and sure enough the little scamp emerged from the shadow of the doorway and joined you two on the bed, comic book clutched in his hands. They had a routine, apparently, Papa was no longer the chosen one for bedtime stories. It made you want to wince in anticipation for when Buck would move back to base and things would become full of dread again.

That day came sooner than you’d counted on. A month is not so very long, after all, and it was filled with so much work and business, stolen moments at home hardly being the norm.

“It’s an easy mission.” he’d said at dinner, as if arguing the point to you all. You knew he was trying to convince himself more than anything and so you all let him specify just how easy, how routine, how utterly unworrying tomorrow's flight would -should- be.

If it’s hard to get back into the saddle after being bucked off, how much worse to climb back into a plane after being tossed from the skies.

That evening he lounged on your bed instead of Rafe’s, the house emptied as your mother and father took Donny to the movies, the appeal of a new film finally showing cited as being too alluring to resist. He was lost in his thoughts, watching you go about your little evening routines that you tried to maintain when at home. It was domestic and cozy, warm where the world outside was cold and then there was Buck, golden as anything in the low lamp light, utterly unaware of the figure he cut lying on his side.

“I’ve missed it.” he told you, “Flying, I’ve missed it.”

“Of course you have. You were born for it.” you murmured.

“Ya know,” he reflected, “I signed up for the Air Force before it all got hot, before Pearl Harbor. I was gonna fly no matter what. I remember grittin’ my teeth durin’ training and tellin’ myself it would all be worth it. Just hang in there and it would pay off. I just felt something important would need me. Hell, guess I got more than I ever bargained for, didn’t I?”

“I guess you did.” you agreed.

“I couldn’t do this if I didn’t believe in it.” He insisted and you knew he was talking to himself again, until his face turned towards yours and the softest look of fondness crossed features turning them almost pained when he said next, “I couldn’t do it, get back up there, if it weren’t for love. The rightness of it but -love, for my boys, my family. For you.”

“I know, and we’re terribly lucky to have your devotion. -And…and I love you, too.” you vowed earnestly, then giggled at the absurdity of this being the first time to admit it.

“I’d had my suspicions.” he grinned back, some of that old cockiness returning along with his vigor as he snagged your wrist and pulled you down beside him.

“Do you know why my parents have gone?” you asked him pointedly, turning on your side to face him.

“To see a movie.” His face was so innocently perplexed you almost lost control of yourself and ruined the game right then with something terribly forward.

“My parents aren’t in the habit of seeing movies.” you corrected him soberly.

“No?”

“No.”

“So where’d they go?” Buck asked.

“Oh they’re at the movies.” you smirked, “But they’ve gone for us.”

Gale’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, if not of you then of his own naïveté. “For us.” he repeated and his voice had dropped an octave in the interim.

“Yes. Something about wanting us to have a goodbye.” you quoted.

“I’m not dying tomorrow.” he pointed his finger firmly in your face and it made you smile to see him so fiesty again.

“No,” you agreed with his prophecy, “but I wanted to give you some incentive to hurry back.”

“Oh?” those lips of his puckered again in confusion before his smarts caught up with him and the pink corner tugged up in mischief, “Ooooh.” he repeated, suddenly very close, his energy, his body, his heart, inches from being one with you. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, oh yes.” you confirmed, slotting your lips against his gently only to be met with eager, desperate need in his own kisses.

Your childhood bed was narrow and the counterpane below you familiar and dear, stitched by your mother in colors you’d once wished to update upon entering maturity. Now, laid out in perfect security and familiarity, you watched Buck Cleven dangle a toe off the abyss before diving in, pausing to caress the blanket beside your hip, smiling to himself.

“What?” you were breathless to know every thought in that dear head.

“My mama made me one, looks lots like this.” his eyes were watery soft yet his smile was glad, his hips narrow and sharp in the cradle of your own, stark hipbones not yet padded by your mother’s cooking pressed you down into the bedding, grounded and right. “You’ve made me real at home here.” he whispered and it pleased you ever so much. “Do I dare take this last liberty?” he muttered as if to himself, even as those blue orbs bore into your own, his fingers fiddling with the hem of your skirt and you ached from need long deferred and the weight of remedy lying heavy between your thighs.

“It’s no liberty,” you whispered, catching his dog tags and bringing his face to yours, the size of the man so very apparent now he was hovering above you, “it’s yours.” you watched his pupils blow out at the statement, his ragged breath fanned minty across your face, even angels wield swords. “I’m yours.”

“And I’m yours.” he concluded.

With that exchange of truths something snapped between you, like a ribbon cut, gone was the hesitant cordiality and deference that had marked your courtship. Here now was fierce possession and the gloated satisfaction of those who possess something cherished and are no longer kept from partaking of it, buckles and garters snapped in the quiet room and the rustle of sheets and shirts wafting to the floor made your breaths hitch with anticipation. Precious flesh came into touch with every brush and it was enough for many minutes merely to cling and grasp, imprinting desire into the back and the arms and the throat of each other, like an armor of love against the decay of death.

“Yours, yours.” you swore as his finger played you once more, his breathing hard and rough in your ear, harsh commands for you to say it again and again, reminding you he was fearsome when he wanted to be.

“Don’t look,” he begged when you realized through a haze of joy what he was about, pressing in with all the finesse of a cricket bat knocking at the wicket, hoarse and doe eyed above you, there was only the whine, “please, darlin’ don’t look, just, my eyes, please.”

It was a fumbling entry but nature and pleasure prevailed, as it had since the first couple. And dear boy that he was, he knew you had indulged in a leg up, one or two at least, before he came along but still, he could not bear it for you to see more, not this time. He wanted it just to be the kisses and the sight of your precious face contorting at the fullness of your belly and the force of his hunger for you. All the rest were vulgar details left somewhere under your skirts, and, unbeknownst to him, reflected in your childhood mirror situated on the wall behind his plump arse.

“Oh god.” he had choked out, winded and in awe as his body shook at the feel of you accepting him deep, “You’re a slice of heaven, heaven that’s-that’s what you fee- oh god, oh god.”

He had giggled at the absurdity of this dance and then broke off with a moan that made you giggle in turn and back and forth it went as his body jerked into yours as if he’d no control over it, led quite literally by the part of himself buried inside you. He knew it was foal-like and a poor showing as a lover and he also knew you didn’t care a bit, your eyes wide at the size of the intrusion and captivated by the sight of his newly enlightened face.

“You alright?” he asked urgently, as a sudden and familiar feeling took over his body. The feeling of his brakes giving out, his flaps malfunctioning, the hydraulics failing -it took over him, his spine tingling and his vision beginning to blur and only your punched out gasps and sweet smile wavering on his horizon as the frantic, masculine, natural need to drive in deep enough to puncture your heart seized him and propelled him in you, against you, above you with such force you forgot to breath. For all Egan’s teasing of Buck’s hatred for athletics, the man wasn’t shabby when it came down to it, even after months of internment, or maybe due to that stolen time, his life force seemed to pour out in a torrent and your belly buzzed at the sweet abuse.

“I’m perfect.” you managed at some point, “You’re perfect, so perfect.”

He shuddered at the praise and as if terror struck him then, he was suddenly pulling away and moaning “I should- I shouldn’t -I’m gonna, darlin, I’m gonna lose it-“ and young and sweet and clumsy as anything he rutted against your slick frantically, mouth pressed to yours until the hot gush of his satisfaction spilled out and added to the mind fuzzing feel of him sliding against your little pearl.

You encouraged his shaky limbs to collapse on you, the lanky frame of him a sweet weight, sweaty cheek pressed to your breast, you could feel the dopey curve of his smile against your plump flesh. His hair curled at the nape from the sweat of his exertions, all winter chill forgotten in this bed. War and missions and bombs, too. You petted each other for a while before he raised his head and, gazing at you adoringly, he murmured “thank you.” his nose nudging yours and the steadiest of kisses lingering in the tingly aftermath.

“Darlin?” he broached the subject a while later, cheek again pressed to your chest and his fingers sliding in a hypnotic caress over your thigh.

“Yeah, Buck?”

“Later,” he prefaced, tentative and raw, “when -when the war’s over, and when, well, when I can make my own promises…”

Your heart hammered beneath his ear and you squeezed your legs around him, as if to shore him up enough to say what you wanted him to say so very badly. “Yes?”

“Would you marry me then?” he begged and somehow you knew this, what you had just indulged in, was never going to happen without that hope for him.

Perhaps that’s why it felt so strong, like a communion of souls more than anything else. “I’ve half a mind to make you wait and get my answer when you come back tomorrow.” you teased and his head reared up with a dangerous glint in his eye.

“Don’t you dare.” he warned, grin breaking out despite himself.

The sound of the front latch grating on the door startled you both but he pressed you down when you went to scamper and clothe yourself. “The door’s closed anyway,” he argued in a whisper but you knew he felt as nervous as you at being caught, if not more so, yet still he was a stubborn one. His hand was firm and large clasping your cheek, expression arch and expectant. “Promise you’ll be a good little girl and say yes when I do ask.”

You laughed at his gall, to make you wait, to make you promise when he wasn’t even proposing. But then again -you had said you were his, and he was yours. It had already been done. Sometimes life was as simple as Gale Cleven made it out to be.

“I promise.” you whispered happily, bringing him back down to your embrace and willing away thoughts of tomorrow and flagging him out to danger.

One day he’d come back for good. One you could make promises again. Until then, there was hope.

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed. Feedback is a writers lifeblood, I’d adore hearing your thoughts. 💋

[enchantedbarnes]

Uncle Buck

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Single Aunt!Reader

Summary: You take your nephew to a Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson Q&A event. The mischievous 8-year-old asks if he can get in line to ask a question. Against your better judgement you agree and let him go up by himself.

Word Count: 626

Masterlist: One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six

A/N: I had no intention to write anything on this account but here we are. Excuse the mess.

A young boy - 8 years old, dark hair and eyes full of mischief - walks up to the microphone.

"Hi, I have a question for Bucky..." He asks shyly.

The moderator nods, "What's your question for him, little man?"

The boy looks over at the seats nearby behind him and smirks, turning back to the stage with some more confidence this time.

"Will you marry my Aunt?"

The crowd let's out collective gasps, giggles, and awws. There's some cheering and a loud "OW OWWWW."

You inhale quickly and choke on your own air supply, trying to compose yourself. "BENJAMIN!!!"

You're horrified and shrink down in your seat while pulling your hood up over your head for added cover.

While you contemplate the fastest way to snatch the little traitor and get out of there as swiftly as possible you hear Sam's loud laugh echo through the room.

"I assume that was your Aunt and you're Benjamin?" Bucky asks while smirking.

Tiny traitor nods while grinning ear to ear. "I'm Benji, Auntie's name is Y/n and she thinks you're sooo handsome," he exaggerates with an eye roll, "and she's super fun and pretty and you'd be the coolest unc--"

Exit plan secured you jump out of your seat and rush over to cover his mouth and pull him back from the mic. Your hood still up and head ducked down.

"You said you were asking about the mechanics of his arm, you tiny little punk," you mutter at him but the microphone still picks up what you said.

While you have him secured in a headlock you quickly speak into the mic, avoiding all eye contact. "I apologize, I've never met this child before... I'm going to return him to the proper authorities immediately."

Picking your nephew up as quickly as you can, you toss him over your shoulder. His fit of giggles exploding while he tries yelling out again, "But he hasn't answered yet!"

"He's free later tonight, Aunt Y/n!" Sam shouts while you retreat to the back of the conference room towards the exit. "Your future family seems nice," he jokes while nudging Bucky's arm.

Benji tries to shout back across the room, "SHE IS FREE TOO!! EVERY NIGHT!!"

You shove the exit door open, "You're so dead. On my pick up days for school I will be blasting every embarrassing song I can find with the windows down. I'm going to start saving now and I will be buying every ad space available in your future yearbooks and I will be plastering them with your baby photos. And not the cute ones." Like this kid ever took a photo that wasn't cute.

***

The two of you walk around a food truck area set up outside the conference space. Benji is happily eating a pretzel you only bought so your sister wouldn't kill you for neglecting her child. You grab a seat at a small table to people-watch while he finishes up his undeserved treat.

You let your hood down, setting your vibrant and wild hair free. The color is easy to pick out in a crowd.

Benji is explaining in great detail the plot to a video game he has been playing with his friends and how one level keeps tripping them up.

The chair next to you slides back, "Is this seat open?" A deep voice asks.

Benji grins, "Yes!"

You already know who it is, but you're still startled when you look over and see none other than Bucky Barnes sitting with you and the small trouble matchmaker.

"So... is the potential cool Uncle position still available?" He smirks, hand on his chin looking over at both of you.

This little punk might be getting free pretzels and ice cream for life.

Alright folks! By popular demand, here is part 2!

Uncle Buck Returns

[specialagentlokitty]

Buck x reader - my shield

A Buck (911) shy reader please? His friends thinks Buck is making things up that he has a girlfriend or shy reader picked her best friend to be they godfather of their newborn son who’s a mama boi. Then Buck thought it’s a good idea bringing his friend to the hospital to see his family - Anon💜

Buck smiled down at his phone as he saw the message notification from you, and he opened the text.

“What’s got you so happy?” Eddie asked.

Everyone looked up from where they were sat over to the young firefighter.

“My girlfriend messaged me.” Buck beamed.

“We’re still going on about that? Really?” Chim laughed.

Buck furrowed his brows a little bit.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, we know you, you’ve probably slept with more women then everyone here combined. No offence.” Hen said.

Buck put his phone into his pocket.

“I’m capable of having a girlfriend!”

“We’re not saying that! We’re just saying it’s not likely.” Chin snickered.

Buck stormed away, and when his shift ended he immediately went to your apartment and knocked on the door.

It didn’t take long for you to answer, and one looked at him and you had your arms around him.

Buck hugged you tightly, burying his face into your shoulder as he let out a deep sigh.

You placed your hand on the back of his head and just held him for a few minutes in silence, standing out in the hallway of the apartment complex.

“What’s wrong…?” You whispered.

You pulled away and slowly dragged him into your apartment and closed the door, leading him over to the couch.

Sitting him down, you sat cross legged next to him, taking his hands in yours as you gazed at him.

“I’m.. im so fed up of everyone saying I don’t have a girlfriend!” He exclaimed.

You furrowed your brows a little bit.

“They think because I was a dick when I first joined I still am. But I’ve been trying to tell them for months I’m not like that anymore…” he mumbled.

You gave Bucks hands a small squeeze and smiled softly at him.

“I know you’re not Evan.”

He sighed softly.

“It’s just frustrating you know… I want them to believe me…”

You nodded your head in understanding.

“Well, they’re doing that BBQ tomorrow… right?”

Buck nodded his head and looked up at you.

“I’ll come with you.”

“You don’t like things like that.”

“No. But you do, and then they can see you’re telling the truth.”

You smiled sweetly up at him, and Buck smiled back, leaning down to capture you in a soft kiss before he pulled away.

“You’re amazing…”

He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into him, cuddling you while you guys just watched some crappy films.

When the next day rolled around, you both got ready to go to the station for the BBQ.

It was his day off, but he said he’d go anyways, and since he was going you wanted to go with him to show everyone he wasn’t lying and you were real.

But as you guys drove there, you were nervous. You couldn’t stop fidgeting and when Buck pulled his car into a spot, he stopped and reached over, taking your hand in his.

“You don’t have to do this you know that right?”

He looked at you in concern and you smiled at him, nodding your head.

“I know. But I.. I want to.”

Buck smiled and nodded his head and you both got out of the car, and he took your hand in his, letting you hide yourself behind him slightly.

He smiled down at you.

“When you’re ready to go we’ll go.” He said softly.

“Thank you…”

He led you around the front of the building and you saw a group of people all laughing and talking.

“And he finally shows up!”

“Shut it Chim.” Buck snapped.

You squeeze his hand and he sighed, giving you an apologetic look.

“And he’s brought company, who’s this?” Bobby smiled.

“Guys, this is (Y/N). My girlfriend.”

You gave them a shy wave and all they could do was stare in shock as they looked at you.

You were so different from Buck, shy, quiet, but they could only smile warmly at the sight of you using him as your shield

[mvltisstuff]

hi hi

idk if you’re accepting requests but if you are pls could i request an evan buckley where he has a gf/wife and a baby but the 118 doesn’t know, and maybe one day reader/kid is injured and they either turn up at the fire house or the 118 is called to the scene and buck has to come clean about his secret wife/gf and kid?

thank you bestie, i love your writing <3

lover - e.b

summary: request

evan buckley x reader

gif from @eddiemunsens

a/n: what tswift album do u guys think the 118 are 🤭 also what happens to yn is inspired by an episode of s19 that i love sm it’s so funny :))

buck knew the second y/n got pregnant that he wasn’t leaving. two years of dating is a short time to have a child, but they loved each other more than anyone. they knew they could give a child a good life, so they went with it.

all three of them moved to la, so buck could work with the LAFD and y/n could get to a higher position at work. their life there was immaculate. their little family was thriving, so buck put a ring on her finger. he didn’t even hesitate to buy the biggest one he saw, because he loved y/n the second he met her, and he emotionally couldn’t wait anymore. the words husband and wife rang in his ears, making him drop a dumbfounded grin.

no one at work knew, he didn’t really know what they thought of him. his team knew he was too fine to not have anyone, so they figured he was just with some girls here and there. the last thing they expected was a child and a fiancé along with it. it never came up in conversation, but buck still didn’t bother. he didn’t want to face any judgement from people that he didn’t already get from his family. the constant scrutiny about his age and his girl was exhausting.

now, neither of them would’ve changed it for the world. buck can’t imagine himself happier or in a life without them. it hurts him to even consider what would happen if y/n and his little boy weren’t there. he always gazed at them playing, sometimes just wanting to observe their brilliance.

buck knew he would have to explain to his team that he’s married, and that doesn’t mean he’s ashamed. he wants the world to know, but he doesn’t want y/n to be hurt by opinions from other people. he didn’t realize how soon he would have to until the alarm rang and until dispatch came through with the address. it was their house. the house where buck and y/n raised their son and the one where either could be hurt. every single scenario waved over buck, making him panic more by the second.

“you good, kid?” bobby asks, taking note of his bouncing knee.

“uh.. yeah! yeah, i’m fine,” he lies. buck hasn’t been with them for more than a year, so they just pass it along, not knowing any better. buck climbs out of the truck, grabbing a few tools before sprinting toward the house. now, the teams more alarmed. what is it about this house is making him act like a maniac?

“y/n?” buck calls out, running around trying to find her.

“kitchen!” she yells out, sounded distressed which only makes buck move even quicker. when he walks in, he immediately notices her leaning over the sink, her hand in the disposal. bobby and the rest of his crew walk in behind him, the four of them standing in the kitchen staring at her. “well?”

“oh-“ bobby moves, starting to gather some more tools out of his bag.

“what the hell happened?”

“i dropped my ring down, and i was trying to make him lunch,” she nods to the baby, sitting on the floor happily, clearly having no idea what’s happening. “i don’t even know why i tried to grab it, like some idiot!”

“hey,” buck says, walking over to her and placing a hand on her shoulder. “you’ll be fine, y/s/n is fine, yeah?” she looks up at him and nods, brushing her hair with her free hand.

“should we know the kids name too?” chim asks, giving buck a completely bamboozled expression. y/n passes buck the same face as hen walks over to check her hand. buck can’t get around it this time, and he wants them to know for once.

“um, guys,” he starts. “this is my fiancé, y/n and my son.”

“your what?” hen shouts, peeking her head out from behind y/n’s shoulder. she gives hen an awkward smile and buck stands there stiffly, worried about their reaction. everyone looks around at each other in shock that buck has his own family, and they didn’t even know.

“why didn’t you tell us?” bobby wonders.

“because i didn’t know how you’d react! i’ve heard it all from my parents, i didn’t need any more.”

“buck, we would’ve welcomed you no matter what your home life is. we’d love to get to know you and your family despite how it might’ve happened,” hen tells him, kindly. buck is confronted with immediate love, something he’s not to familiar with other than when his shifts end and he’s in y/n’s arms again. he’s surprised to say the least. he expected at lease some judgement, but there was nothing of the sort in the room.

“i’m thrilled you’re all having a nice moment here,” y/n interrupts. “but can we maybe get my hand out of my sink?”

buck and bobby pull the cabinets open and start drilling at the pipes underneath. buck secures the ring in his fingers before beaming up at y/n, showing her that he found it. “i got it!” he replies excitedly. “thank god, i don’t know if i have insurance for this thing. cost me my left leg,” he whispers to bobby. once they fully disconnect the system, hen slowly drags her bloody hand out and wraps it up. she hisses at the contact of the gauze and antiseptics. chimney starts to clean up the rest of the supplies, as hen treats the wound.

“so,” chimney begins. “when’s the wedding?”

“time and place, chim,” hen tells him. “time and place. but, yeah, are we invited?”

“yes,” buck says, obviously. “you’re invited.” he moves over to scoop his baby off the ground, carrying him over to his friends. they all speak to him in their little baby voices, and y/n watches with a shining smile on her face. buck knows he did the right thing, but he wishes he didn’t wait as long. now, he is certain that he has two solid families.

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

may I request an angst with evan buckley

"keep your eyes on me." promt with an established relationship please! but hes been through a lot give him his happy ending please, i love him so much 🫶🏻

Lightning Strike.

28. "Keep your eyes on me."

Author's Note - this is a drabble written as part of my 500 Followers Celebration!! find that post here. my soft sweet buck. thank you for this request <3

Pairing - Evan Buckley x Female Reader

Age Rating - 18+

Warnings - sad buck. mentions of a sort of panic attack.

Word Count - 500 ish maybe??

Masterlist. 500 Follower Celebration Masterlist.

Buck is the king of putting on a brave face.

Always strong, never faltering. He reassures everyone he's fine time and time again, smiling and cracking jokes. But you see right through him.

You've always been able to read him like a book. You don't even have to try.

After the lightning strike, Buck doubled down on his brave face. He wouldn't let anyone see him upset - not even Eddie. Which is rare. And worrying.

He seems to be coping surprisingly well, desperate to get back to work and resume normal routine. While he's stuck at home, he's been cooking, doing puzzles, watching football. You're greeted with a lovingly cooked meal and a glass of wine every time you walk through the door.

Until today.

Today, you walk into the apartment, and it's dark. No lights on, no TV blaring sound. Nothing.

"Buck?"

Silence.

"Buck? Baby? I'm home," you call.

Now you're worried.

You start striding through the apartment, navigating your way through the darkness. When you hear a sniffle, your head whips around. There's Buck, knees pressed to his chest, jammed in between the nightstand and the wall. He's curled up on the ground, head resting on his arms that are protectively wrapped around his legs.

"Buck? Hey, did something happen?"

"Yeah," he murmurs hoarsely. "I got hit by lightning."

"I remember," you say gently. "Did something happen today?"

"I don't know," he whispers. "I think I've been distracting myself. And today it all came crashing down."

"Talk to me," you urge.

Buck's lip trembles, and so do his hands. Warm, salty tears drip down his face, and his breathing quickens rapidly.

"Hey, hey. Keep your eyes on me, Buck."

He locks his gaze onto yours, and mirrors your breathing carefully. Eventually, he calms down enough to speak.

"I died. I've been so close to death so many times that I'm kinda numb to it. But this time was so real. How am I supposed to go on living my life like nothing happened, when I literally died?"

"You don't have to live like nothing happened, baby," you reassure, moving to sit down in front of him. "No one expects you to do that."

"I just -," he sighs, trying to formulate a coherent thought. "I just don't know how to carry on."

You reach out gently and place a hand on his cheek, wiping away the tears that are spilling over. Your thumb strokes his cheekbone carefully, grounding him back down to Earth.

"I know you're like, totally anti therapy -," you begin, and he laughs. "But talking to a therapist or a trauma counsellor might really help. Or maybe we find a support group. This is LA, there's groups for everything."

"You think there's a lightning strike support group?" he jokes.

"I honestly wouldn't be surprised," you chuckle. "And if there isn't? Well, we'll start one."

"I might be the only person who attends."

"Fine by me," you tease, nudging him lovingly.

You stand up, and offer him a hand. He takes it gratefully, getting up and instantly wrapping his arms around you. He inhales the scent of your vanilla shampoo, and the tension leaves his shoulders rapidly.

"I love you," he murmurs into your hair. "I'm so lucky."

"I'm the lucky one," you reassure. "Well, technically you are, since you got hit by lightning. And survived."

"I've always been one in a million," he chuckles, squeezing you a little tighter.

"Yes, you have. My one in a million, Evan Buckley."

[hotreadingwitch]

Bucky x Reader - Nosebleed

Content Warnings/Kinks: slut-shaming, violence (not during sex), dominance, hickeys, nipple play, finger sucking, cum swallowing, light edging, sub/dom dynamic (collaring), daddy kink, praise kink, fingering, oral sex, unprotected sex 

Nosebleed

"Man, you're dumb letting your girl out of the house in that outfit" a man slurred from the alleyway beside the club they were on their way to.

Bucky stilled, his hand tensing where it was placed on the small of Y/n's back. 

"Bucky don't-" Y/n started.

"Move" he growled, his words harsh, a no-nonsense command. 

She hesitated, on one hand, the guy was being rude but on the other, he was just a stupid asshole...did he really deserve to be beaten up by a super soldier just because of one comment? No, Y/n decided at that moment, she didn't deserve to be slut-shamed and if Bucky wanted to make sure that man never said something vile to another woman then so be it. She pulled herself up and moved aside, nodding at Bucky as she did, indicating that he could get violent. 

Y/n turned, looking away as she heard Bucky's first blow landing and the man's groan of pain in response. 

"Please" the man begged, "I didn't do anything" 

"You didn't do anything?" She heard Bucky chuckle darkly, "You don't count slut-shaming women as doing something asshole?"

"Fuck man" he groaned, "I didn't mean it I swear" 

Bucky punched him again. Hard. 

"Yeah fucking right" 

Y/n turned just in time to see Bucky lift the man up off of the ground and slam him against the wall. 

"Owwww" the man howled. 

"Bucky," Y/n said quietly. 

His gaze flicked toward her, steel blue eyes turned almost grey with anger. Her eyes widened at the sight of his bleeding nose, the other man must have gotten a good punch in. 

"Let's go home" she added, "He's not worth it" 

"Yea man listen to your girl" the man choked out. 

Bucky dropped him, letting go of his collar and turning toward Y/n, taking her hand. 

"Fucking crazy" the man mumbled under his breath. 

Bucky snapped, turning back around and punching the guy so hard he fell onto the ground, knocked out.

"Now we can go" Bucky growled. 

~

Y/n and Bucky walked into Zemo's apartment. It was late so the two other men were already in bed. Bucky gripped Y/n's hand, squeezing it, before asking: 

"Can you help me get cleaned up?"

"Sure" she smiled before leading him to the en-suite bathroom in her room.

Bucky balanced himself against the edge of the sink, leaning back, squinting down at Y/n. She wet a towel and started to mop up the wound on his face that would surely leave a bruise the next morning. 

"You know I didn't need you to defend me tonight" Y/n sighed as she blotted the blood away. 

"I know Y/n but I can't just let people say that kind of thing about you" he sighed. 

"My knight in shining armour" she chuckled dryly. 

"I'm no knight Y/n" he grumbled as she dabbed under his nose. 

"Bucky" she whispered. 

She hadn't realized how close their faces were until then. 

"Yeah?" he whispered back. 

She reached a hand up, tangling it with the hair at the nape of his neck, just above his blood-stained shirt collar. 

"You're a good guy you know?" she stated, a small smile on her lips "I don't want you forgetting it" 

He closed the gap between them, drawing his lips to hers. His were warm and soft, softer than she'd expected. Y/n kissed him back hungrily, gripping his hair, and pulling him closer. 

He pressed up against her, moving her backward into her room, their kisses becoming deeper by the second. Y/n yelped as the back of her knees hit the edge of her bed. Bucky threw her down forcefully before climbing over top of her. His face was inches from hers but not a single part of him touched her shivering body. 

"Can I touch you?" He begged gruffly, a growl forming deep in his throat. 

She nodded, her nose brushing his as she did, the small touch sending a fire through both their desperate bodies.

Bucky slid his metal hand under her back, unzipping her short dress before pulling it entirely off of her, groaning when he saw the lingerie she was wearing underneath. She smirked up at him, pleased that the simple black lace set turned him on. 

"Can you take it off for me doll?" He growled as he balanced above her, taking in her body hungrily. 

Y/n nodded before obeying, not breaking eye contact with him as she undid her bra, throwing it onto the floor. Bucky leant down planting kisses from her jaw down to her neck to her chest, sucking on her sensitive skin. 

"So beautiful" he breathed onto her skin, "So fucking beautiful" 

He continued, slinking lower and lower until he was settled between her thighs. He kissed the bare skin next to her panty line, his warm, red lips making her cold skin shiver. With one swift motion, he ripped her panties off of her. He kissed her inner thighs, again and again, leaving purple marks behind. When he finally reached her pussy she was already aroused, completely ready for him and the pleasure he was about to bring her. 

"Please..." she whined desperately.

Bucky began by tracing lazy circles around her clit, making her hips buck upwards to meet his expert tongue. 

"Mmm," she moaned, tilting her head back in pleasure as her thighs spread open even further, giving Bucky full access to her aching pussy.

Her whimpers and little breathy moans did nothing but turn Bucky on even more. He felt his cock tighten in his pants as Y/n whispered his name and looked down at him with her doe eyes. 

The longer he continued the more she clenched inside, her body begging for an orgasm. 

As if he knew exactly what she needed next, he ran his finger up and down her slit, letting it get soaked by her building juices before slipping it inside her. The initial feeling of Bucky's curling fingers hitting her g-spot made her breathe hitch and a loud whimper escape her mouth. 

"You're so fucking good for me doll" he groaned, the feeling of her clenching around his fingers making his cock harder by the second. 

As he continued lapping circles around her clit and curling his fingers inside her pussy her body reacted to every movement, back arching off of the bed, toes curling. A warmth then spread across her chest as her lower body quivered in anticipation.

"Fuck" she breathed, every single curse word she uttered making him even more aroused. He wanted to get inside her so badly but he knew she needed this, to be warmed up first.

"Mm hm," she mumbled before another louder moan escaped her lips.

Her hips jerked up and down as she came but Bucky held her in place, gripping her thighs tightly, pleasing her through the waves of her release. 

Y/n was wet now, her pussy sticky with cum as she lay breathing heavily on the bed. When she calmed down she slunk her hand down Bucky's chest, unbuttoning his tight white button-up shirt as she did. She threw the blood-stained item to the side, letting herself admire Bucky's taut abs. 

She then gripped the edge of his belt, looking deeply into his eyes before asking: 

"Daddy?" 

She could practically see Bucky's cock jump in his pants. 

"Yes?" He questioned back, his neck visibly strained. 

"Can you fuck me please?"

Bucky complied without another word, sliding a thick finger up her wet slit before shoving it in her mouth, forcing her to taste her own juices. She sucked on it as he unbuckled his belt, sliding it out of the loops and then holding it between his hands. 

"Will you wear this for me doll?" He asked. 

Y/n's eyes widened slightly, she knew wearing a collar was important to any sub/dom couple. She nodded, ready for whatever was to come. 

He slid the leather through the buckle, tightening the belt around her neck causing her to gasp, it was tight but not uncomfortably so. He ran a vibranium finger from the clasp of the belt up to her chin until his cool hand rested on her cheek. 

"Ready?" 

She nodded and Bucky slid into her wet pussy, grunting as he felt her tighten around his cock. It curved perfectly within her, immediately hitting the right spot. When he began to speed up his thrusts her pussy clenched, sucking him deeper inside her, causing him to groan.

She looked up and made eye contact with him as he continued slamming into her making his cock tighten. He leaned forward without looking away, resting his forehead on hers and staring deep into her eyes. Their breaths intermingled, moans practically in sync. Bucky reached his hand down, as he pressed small kisses on her cheeks and temple and then began rubbing her clit, bringing her all the pleasure she needed. 

Y/n sighed, tilting her head back into her pillow as she relaxed into the feeling of his movements on her clit and his rough thrusts. How was it possible that he was so rough and so gentle at the same time?

"Fuck me you feel so good" she groaned, her nose scrunching. 

"My pretty girl's got a dirty mouth huh?" he chuckled before beginning to suck on the crook of her neck. 

"Mmm," she replied, at a loss for words. 

She moved her hips, matching the pace of his hard thrusts, every movement bringing her more and more pleasure. Bucky slid a hand down her body, gripping her outer thigh, likely leaving bruises, pushing her leg up toward her head while the other rubbed fiercely around and around her clit. Every once in a while he'd remove his fingers to spit on them again, edging her, and every time he'd make her beg: 

"You want me to rub that pretty little clit doll?" He cooed the question. 

"Yes, Daddy please" she whined. 

He continued pleasing her as her body ached for the feeling she knew only he could provide. Soon, her body was overwhelmed. Between him fucking her roughly with his perfect cock and him rubbing her clit she was overcome. 

"Fuck I'm close" she breathed before she came. 

"Good girl" he praised as she tensed around his cock, "such a good girl cumming for me"

She came hard as he thrust, her insides squeezing before loosening, going slack on the plush mattress. Waves of pleasure rolled through her body and he fucked her through every one, coaxing her orgasm out of her body with his hard pumping, soft whispers of her name, and sloppy kisses on her sensitive neck. Bucky groaned loudly and the vein in his neck throbbed, she could tell he was close to cumming as well.

"Ahh," she moaned, looking up at him with grateful eyes as she felt his cum splash within her. 

They both panted as he pulled out, the mixture of their cum dripping down onto the mattress. 

"You were such a good girl for me doll" he stated warmly, taking her in his arms and kissing her on the forehead. 

"Thanks" she smiled, her breathing calming down as she lay comfortably on his firm chest. 

[firehousefreak911]

Clumsy

It was probably around 8 in the morning. You heard the bedroom door close. It was Buck, your boyfriend, you heard him shuffling around the dark.

*thud* “Fuck!” You heard Buck yell, you saw his shadow figure grab his foot. He had hit it on the dresser by the door. You reach over and turn your lamp on.

“Are you ok? Why do you always hit that thing?” You ask, trying not to laugh. But every time he tries sneaking to bed after a night shift he hits some part of his leg or foot.

“I’m glad you think my pain is funny” he says with a smile. He sits on his side of the bed. He had already discarded his clothes. He crawls in and kisses you on the lips. You curl up in his arms.

“Damn I missed you!” He mumbled, he was rubbing his head in your hair. He gently placed a kiss.

[buckleyx]

pls a fic about buck from 911 with reader who is v short (like 5'2) and he likes to cuddle on her chest lots of fluff thanks

CUDDLES AND KISSES

the gif i used is not mine! all credit goes to the owner! - This is such a pretty Gif <;33

Author’s note: Hello it is I. I'm back baby!! NEW EPISODES NEW ME YEAHH. Enjoy my friend as I feed you with this content.

I was really inspired by this request so thank you, thank you, thank you anon.

Evan buckley x gender!neutral reader

Warnings: FLOOFFF and cuddly Buck but also mentions of the coma he has in season 6

masterlist

"I'm cold." You whined, pulling the blanket closer to your chest. Buck smiled, stretching his arms before moving closer to you. The couch made a funny sound as he smoothly tried to scoot over. You giggled at the action which made him crack a smile of his own. The corners of his mouth curled up, the sound of your laughter sounding like heaven to his ears.

Since Buck's accident, he's been pretty much stuck at home. Not that you really minded, helping him recover was one of your top priorities now. You even took some time off of work. Just a couple weeks, just until he was feeling better you promised.

"Feeling better now?" He asked. You pretended to hesitate, nuzzling your face against his chest. "Yeahhhh, I'll be alright." You teased. Another chuckle escaped his lips, pressing a kiss to your head.

Oh, how he wished he could stay in this moment forever. He felt so at ease, so peaceful and safe when he was with you.

You thoughtlessly watched the tv show that was playing while you played with the soft cotton hem of his shirt. Twisting it around your fingers. Unconsciously Buck was doing the same thing but with your other hand. His finger caressing the palm of your hand.

You stayed like this for a couple of minutes before the silence was interrupted by soft yawn. Buck pushed his face to the side before blinking a few times. Evan would feel tired often, something the doctors warned him about after he woke up from the coma.

You noticed it in him too, after a few simple task he would already be feeling sleepy. He hated it. Especially during moments like these. Even after sleeping full hours he still would feel like he hasn't slept a wink. He just wants to be with you, do simple things again with you. But it takes time. Healing takes time.

"I'm I such bad company?" You teased, perking your head up to look at him, a smile plastered on your face. Evan laughed softly while caressing your cheek with his thumb. "You? Never!" He smiled but couldn't help but feel a slight quilt forming about ruining this beautiful moment.

You noticed the shift in his eyes and wanted to tell him for the millionth time that he doesn't have to apologize or feel bad about this. He needs to heal.

Before he could say anything you poked his side, tickling him to take his mind of it. "Hey!" He laughed loudly before tickling you back. You jumped up at his fingers tickling your skin. You playfully fought back, making your way from his chest to his torso. You carefully sat up and strangeld his torso. He rested his hands on your hips to help you sit up as you proceeded to tickle his stomach. A playfull "yelp" escaped his lips as he tried holding your hands, laughter filling the room.

After his failed attempts of winning you over he called for a truce. It fell quiet again as you both tried catching your breaths after all the giggles. Here and there a small giggle manged to escape again, making you both smile like children.

Buck sat up again, positioning your hips so you were sitting more comfortable on his lap. Your legs strangled his torso. His hands grabbed your cheecks. He played with your hair before peppering your face with small kisses. "I'm so lucky to have you." He whispered. You smiled, looking at his lips before giving him a kiss. His eyes fluttered shut, deepening the kiss at your approval.

"I love you." You whispered back after a few seconds. The buckley secured his arms against your back before swiftly switching positions. You were laying with your head against the couch, he gave you a loving smile and a kiss before resting his head against your tummy. He wrapped his arms against your upper body, nestling his nose against your skin just like you did before with him.

He felt so happy, so goddamm lucky to have you. How he wished he could capture moments like this forever. Dream in them away and stay with you forever.

911 Taglist: @roseelone @skz-enhypen @sydneysaldana @bxbyyyjocelyn @teenwolfgirl90 @barzy90 @deetle625 @barzy90 @multifandoms-saidwhat @boomboysimp @jessiroseblud @maddieslaysworld @briannareneea985 @classical-memeician @gingergirl06 @147poundsofteenwolf @alicentt @persie123 @chloepluto1306 @blue-cheeseinmyoffwhites @daphne-turner

My requests are open! :)

Main Taglist: @onlinevampire1898@reality1escaping @musicsavedme98@zombiedixon89 @ladamari68 @angelofbowersgangwifey @incendiotriaaa   @embon   @pansexualmommamess  @mykookieme-blog @sluttyreader  @fairyhope028  @alexxavicry  @alexloveskili @one-sweet-gubler  @attackonnat   @strangersomeone  @ahookedheroespureheart @asimplystrangemisfit @911readercollection

[simonrillleyyysss]

Thoughts on doe!reader dealing with stags!141&könig?

Like them prancing around trying to get the reader interested. Some of them probably sparing to show off their strength. They’re just doing the best to impress you ! My thoughts are clouded by big men with antlers doing the most to impress 🦌

LOVE THISS!!

i love writing hybrids tbh

they’re all so competitive for you!! soap and gaz especially, they love one upping eachother—soap and gaz are so cocky, constantly bashing antlers in a quick rut infront of you just to show off their strength, gaz loves to hear congrats or praises fall from your lips when he wins; how could he not? it’s so addictive! will sometimes get hurt on purpose just to feel your hands patting his soft cheek :((

johnny is definitely the cockiest out of the crew, always sparring with ghost in an attempt to make himself seem much larger and dominant than he naturally is, constantly making witty jokes or wrapping his arm around you, bragging about how he would be the most successful service! will never win against ghost though, he knows his limits; will never refuse a fight though!

simon and sparring are two different things altogether, he will fight like it’s his last day on earth—constantly ruffling with soap and now and again price, who eventually submits and goes for a rest, this man loves to just fight infront of you— rutting his antlers against soaps with no effort, afterwards simon would forsure get you to clean his injuries, his poor bleeding nose, with green and black bruises covering his thighs and chest, he already knows your his, so why are you still fluttering your pretty doe eyes and batting your thick lashes, helping him fix his injured arm into a sling instead of letting him mount u :(

price loves himself, his horns are like no others—matured and experienced,he loves to show you his antlers, letting your hands run over the velvety horn, watching your eyes fixate in awe at the way they curled and bent uniquely, thick lips parted as he ruffled his hands through your hair, confidence bubbling inside the older man as you cooed praises and compliments , holding himself with pride

könig is the calmest, most reserved and poise— yet he will never shy away from another buck, he’s big like simon—well built and pure muscle, he will rarely rut infront of you out of fear of accidentally pushing into you, but he loves to show off his scars and recent marks, covered in a long scar trailing across his cheek—long hair dangled by his shoulders, he’s just a big natural man!

you just need to watch out, they can’t control themselves when it’s rutting season, and neither can you <3

[fandomgirlz01]

You Matter Most  Pt. 1

Evan “Buck” Buckley X reader

Imagine on my fandom instagram?: No

Prompt?: No

Request?: No

Requested prompt?: No

Edited: Yes

Word count: 5,677 

Ko-fi

Masterlist

Warnings here

You can listen to the story be read out loud here.

Post Date: August 24th 2023

Post Time: 10:41 PM

Summary: When a series of freeway accidents lead to a big catastrophe, Buck must worry for his team as he rushes to help them all before it only leads to  an even bigger disaster. All while working on helping his team he worries mostly for his best friend who’s unconscious for most of it. 

Third Person Pov:

“May-day! May-day! Air ambulance two reporting a collapse at the 710 interchange. Firefighters down. Repeat, firefighters down!” A voice comes through Maddie’s coms, making her quickly answer the distress call. 

“Air ambulance two, this is dispatch. Can you reroute to assist?” Maddie asks before pausing, waiting to get an answer. 

“Negative. We have a priority spinal transfer,” the voice solemnly tells her. 

“Do you have a visual on how many firefighters are down?” Maddie asks and there’s a long pause as she waits for the information. 

“All of them— the entire 118. They were on the upper span when it collapsed. They all went down,” the voice tells her in a very worried tone and Maddie’s heart drops. 

Her mind immediately goes to thoughts of her fiancé, brother, and sister-like friend, worried for all three. Her heart beats wildly and suddenly she can hear it in her ears as she types up details on her computer. Tears cloud her eyes for a moment and she tries to will herself not to cry just yet. 

Y/n’s Pov:

I groan as my alarm goes off and roll over onto my back to look at the ceiling. It takes me a few minutes, but soon I’m reaching over to my phone and turning it off. With one last sigh, I push myself up from my bed and start to get ready for the long shift I have to work. 

Once I’m ready, I grab my backpack as well as my morning hot cocoa and keys. I quickly make my way out into the hallway of the complex and lock my door. Just as I lock the bottom lock, I hear Buck’s door open and shut. 

I turn to him and let out a giggle when I see the pure exhaustion on his face. He locks up his door before turning when I giggle and he smiles. 

“You must have had a lousy night, E. You really look exhausted,” I say, using the nickname I’ve had for him forever with humor laced in my tone. 

“Ugh, not exhaustion. More annoyance at the two idiots that won’t make up,” he replies with a roll of his eyes before we both start walking out. 

“I’m sure they’ll make up soon, bubs. Just give it a little more time,” I try to reassure him and he hums, shaking his head at me. 

“Sure. Then maybe I won’t have to deal with Kamron needing me 24/7. Or the smell of pickles. She keeps needing me to open them. Never did I think I’d hate pickles,” he rants with a roll of his eyes and I giggle again. 

“You definitely won’t and I’m sure you’ll like pickles again soon,” I joke with him as I playfully hit my arm against his. 

“Anyway, wanna carpool to work today?” he questions me, now changing the subject. 

“Sure, why not. Anything to hang out with you a little more,” I joke as I bump my arm into his again and he shakes his head, chuckling. 

“As if we don’t already hang out everyday,” he playfully scoffs and I shrug. 

“No, we definitely don’t,” I playfully deny and he chuckles, shaking his head. 

“Ok, dork. Let’s go. Bobby will kill us if we’re late. Again,” he remarks and I giggle. 

“You got that right,” I agree with him as I roll my eyes while we walk out to his car. 

“Breakfast on the way?” he asks and I smirk. 

“You buying?” I ask him with a raised eyebrow and he groans. 

“I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t,” he playfully growls out like he’s angry when I know he indeed isn’t. 

“Then hell yeah. I'm hungry,” I tell him and he groans. 

“Don’t be like Kameron now,” he says as he rolls his eyes and I laugh. 

“What, pregnant? E, I don’t know if you know how that works, but I kinda need to have some relations before that, and you know I’m not seeing anyone right now…” I playfully tell him and he shakes his head. 

“Of course I know how that works? You know I didn’t mean that. I mean, I was a sex addict, remember?” he asks and I giggle, letting my eyes go wide jokingly. 

“Oh I vividly remember, Mr. Do it on the rooftop of the firehouse. Dumbass,” I joke as I smack his arm and he rubs it. 

“Well, what would you have done?!” he fights back and I laugh. 

“Not on the rooftop, that’s for sure,” I joke back and he rolls his eyes. 

“Whatever. Let’s just get the food and get to work,” he tells me and I giggle. 

“Awe, E, I’m just messing with you!” I inform him and he shakes his head. 

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s go, you Gremlin,” he tells me and I giggle, smiling softly at the use of my nickname Buck had given me when we were younger before we split up to get into his Jeep.

“Okay, 118, let’s gather ‘round and settle in. We have some outstanding tasks from our last shift and I’ve got an important announcement about our upcoming weather conditions,” Bobby announces, making me and Buck, who's up on the truck, sit down with our legs hanging off the side. 

“So cute, huh? Oh, wait. I promised her I’d wear it all day. Take a picture so we can…” Chimney talks with one of the other firefighters as they walk out of the locker room. 

“Firefighter Han,” Bobby calls out, cutting Chim off and making him look up from the play ring on his finger. 

“I was gonna save this until the end, but why not make it the first order of business? Congratulations on popping the question,” Bobby announces as he uses his clipboard to point at Howard. 

“Yeah, Chim! Whoo, whoo!” I shout out as everyone else claps while I shake Buck. 

“Ok… ok… a little less shaking, there,” Buck comments as he pushes me lightly, making me giggle softly. 

“Didn’t she do the proposing?” I quietly whisper to Buck, who chortles and nods. 

“She finally made an honest man out of him!” Ravi shouts as he grabs Chimney by the shoulder and shakes him lightly. 

“All right, everybody. Let’s settle down. We still have to get to the weather update,” Bobby calls out and all the laughs die down. 

“All right, apparatus maintenance. Firefighter Diaz will be running point this morning on engine service. We’ll be doing an oil change and a brake fluid change,” Bobby explains as I yawn lightly and lay my head on Buck’s shoulder. 

“Tired?” Buck quietly questions me and I hum at him. 

“Didn’t sleep too well last night. Tossed and turned all night. Don’t know why, just had a weird feeling,” I whisper back to him and he smiles softly before wrapping his arm around my shoulder. 

“Hmm, comfy,” I mummer out as I cuddle in closer and he chuckles softly. 

“Eddie?” Bobby calls out, making us all listen in. “Yeah, cap?” Eddie asks nonchalantly as he looks at his phone. 

“Did Eddie finally find someone?” I quietly question Buck, who shrugs. 

“He didn’t say anything to me if he did,” Buck informs me and I sigh. 

“Then why’s he staring at his phone like a lovesick puppy?” I query and Buck gives a small ‘huh,’ before shrugging. 

“I guess maybe he did. He’ll tell us when he’s ready,” Buck comments to me and I cross my arms. 

“I wanna know now. We’re the three musketeers. Two musketeers can’t just be left in the dust by the other,” I whisper as I cross my arms, pouting and Buck chuckles. 

“You and that impatient ass of yours,” Buck comments and I give him a playful smirk. 

“And you like this ass of mine,” I joke with him, wiggling my eyebrows at him and he shakes his head. 

“Can’t say I don’t,” he plays right back and I giggle before we both turn back to listen in. 

“Apparatus maintenance,” Bobby pointedly comments as Eddie moves into a different sitting position while closing his phone. 

“I’m on it, Cap,” Eddie promises and Bobby nods as Buck’s phone vibrates. 

He quickly silences his phone, but it vibrates again and again. He groans quietly and presses the answer button. 

“Okay. All right, now for the weather update,” Bobby starts as Buck puts the phone up to his ear. 

“Uh, hey, listen, I-I can’t… I can’t talk right now. No, I can’t. Kameron, I don’t know why he’s calling you. Maybe if you answer the phone you’ll find…” Buck talks into the phone and I smirk as Bobby turns around. 

Booby walks over to us on the truck and looks up at us. He gives me an irritated questioning look and I just shrug, making him look at Buck, who trails off. 

“You're in trouble…” I jokingly mutter out as I try to hold in my giggles while poking his side lightly. 

“Umm, I got to go,” Buck tells her and I hold back a giggle at his ‘oops’ tone before hanging the phone up. 

“Uh- s-sor… sorry, Cap. Um…” Buck stutters out his apology, but Bobby just ignores him and turns back around. 

“Alright, folks, listen up,” Bobby again tries to get to the point. 

“Uh, Cap?” Ravi questions, holding his hand up and Bobby gives him an unamused look that tells him to go on. 

“Can I just say, if Buck needs to get the pregnant lady out of his apartment,” Ravi starts and Buck hops down off the truck before turning to me to help me down real quick. 

“I do have a two-bedroom that’s about to be on the market, so…” Ravi finishes as Buck and I walk towards him. 

“Thank you, Ravi! Maybe a discussion for another time,” Bobby humorously chides as everyone laughs a little bit. 

“118, it’s time to dial it in,” Bobby starts to try and corral us in again. 

“We have a Job to do, but in order to do that job, you have to be here. I need precision, I need focus, but most of all, I need you to be present,” Bobby pointedly announces as Hen cautiously walks in and around him to take a seat. 

“Sorry I’m late, Cap,” Hen quickly apologizes as she sighs. 

“Okay! Let’s get cracking,” Bobby finishes before starting to walk off. 

“Hey, wait. What’s the important weather update?” Chimney asks as Bobby walks past him. 

“There’s a moderate marine layer,” Bobby answers, unamused as he continues to walk away. 

“I’ll see you for lunch?” Buck questions and I nod in confirmation. 

“Yeah. That is, if we don’t get a call before then,” I promise him with a small smile. 

“Don’t jinx it,” Buck jokes, pointing at me with a chuckle. 

“Ok. I’ll see you in a-” I start, but the alarm sounds and Buck groans. 

“You jinxed it!” he shouts, throwing his hands up and I giggle. 

“My bad…” I reply with a shrug and he shakes his head. 

“Come on, dork. Let’s get into our gear,” Buck tells me with a grin. 

We both rush over to our lockers and start to put our gear on before running over to the truck. Buck hops in on the left side as I hop in on the right and we get into our seats as Bobby starts to pull out of the garage. Bobby drives throughout town before coming up to the scene on the bridge. Once the engine comes to a stop, we all quickly pile out and get to work. 

“Hen, Chem. Check the driver of this camper van,” Bobby orders as he points to the van. 

“Buck, y/n Eddie, Ravi, I want you guys to check these surrounding vehicles for injuries. Let’s go,” Bobby commands and we all give him a nod before rushing off. 

Buck, Ravi and I walk around, making sure there's no more injuries. Once we deem there are none, we walk back over to help. We stand back as Chimney and Hen communicate with the girl inside. 

“Cap, second victim in the back. She didn’t have her seatbelt on when the accident happened!” Chimney shouts as he looks around the side of the van. 

“Okay, these back doors are obliterated. I want you guys to pull that windshield,” Bobby commands, making Hen and Chimney nod.  

I quickly rush back to the engine and pull out the windshield suction cups as Ravi grabs the pry bars. Once I have them, I rush back to the van with Ravi in tow. I hand the suction cups to Hen as Ravi gives the pry bars to Buck and Eddie. Hen quickly places the suction cups on the windshield and pulls as Buck and Eddie use the pry bars. Once it comes off, Hen quickly passes the windshield to Buck, who takes it and sets it aside. 

“All right. What’s your name?” Hen asks the frightened girl softly. 

“Jo,” the girl cries out her reply. 

“Jo. Can-can you move?” Hen questions the girl and she looks down at her leg. 

“Um, I don’t know. It’s my leg. I think it’s broken. Um, please help her!” Jo cries out again as she looks up at Hen and Chimney with tears cascading down her face. 

“I'm on it, Jo, but I need to get back there, so we’re gonna pull you out. You might feel a little pain, okay?” Chimney calmly explains to her and he moves aside for Hen to get in a bit more. 

“Buck, can you carry her to the ambulance?” Chimney queries and Buck nods, moving behind Hen and getting ready to grab her. 

“Okay! Ahhh!” Jo agrees before screaming out in pain as they move her. She cries as they pull her out of the vehicle. 

Buck quickly lifts her up and carries her over to the back of the ambulance as Chimney moves into the van. Hen quickly stands up and pushes me along with Buck. 

“Go help him look her over. You have more medical training then he does. I’ll stay with Chim,” she commands me and I nod before rushing off behind Buck. 

I quickly help Buck get her down on the floor so I can look over her leg. In one fast fluid motion, I pull out a tourniquet-like brace and start putting it on her leg along with Bobby’s help as they wheel a gurney over. 

“Cap. We’re going to need an air ambulance. Patient is unresponsive, breathing is weak and she’s lost bladder control. Could be a spinal,” Chimney explains over the radio as we continue to work on Jo. 

“Copy that,” Bobby replies as we start to prepare Jo to get her on the gurney. 

“Spinal injury? Is she okay?” Jo asks me in fear and I look at her. 

“We won’t know until we get her to the hospital,” I inform her as they bring the gurney closer, now ready to get her up onto it. 

“Please, please don’t take me now because I need to see her,” she begs as she grips my hand and I pause as Hen walks up. 

“Hey, hey. You’ll be able to before they airlift her. I promise, okay?” Buck promises her before Hen or I can say anything. 

Eddie walks past us with the backboard, headed towards Chimney and we quickly move Jo onto the gurney. Jo keeps a grip on my hand and I squeeze hers before letting go. 

“Don’t worry. You know the firefighter that told you you’d see her?” I ask her and she nods in understanding. 

“That’s my best friend. I know when he promises something, he keeps it. You’ll see her just like he said,” I promise her softly and she gives me a small thankful smile as she seems only slightly less freaked out. 

“My name's y/n. I’ll stay here till your mom’s out, okay?” I tell her and she smiles a thankful smile at me again.

“She’s not my mom. She’s my mom’s best friend. My, uhh, mom passed away three years ago. Mallory was insistent we take this trip as an honor to my mother…” Jo explains to me and I smile softly at her. 

“I’m sorry to hear about your mom. You're very lucky to have Mallory. That sounds like a lovely plan. I’m sure you two can pick up when everyone is okay again,” I try to comfort her to the best of my ability and she shakes her head. 

“No. I think we’ll find a different way of traveling,” Jo informs me and I nod. 

“I would probably do that too. Nothing wrong with that,” I agree with her and she nods in agreement. 

We wait maybe a few more minutes until we see Chimney come out first. Then Eddie pushes Mallory out and together they lift her backboard onto another gurney that was taken over to them. They then start to roll her over and I move over next to Hen so they can roll her next to Jo. 

“She’s right up here,” I hear Chimney inform Mallory as they get closer. 

“Okay, she’s right up here,” he repeats himself as they get closer. 

“Mallory!” Jo shouts when they get closer before coming to a stop right next to her. 

“I’m so sorry,” Jo apologizes as they both reach out to hold hands. 

“I can’t lose you, too,” Jo continues on the verge of tears and I feel tears well up in my eyes. 

“I’m not going anywhere. We still have a lot of ground to cover, okay?” Mallory asks her as she squeezes her hand. 

“Next time, we’ll take the train,” Jo insists quickly as the others start to load her in the back of the ambulance as air support flies overhead. 

“Air support. You are clear to land,” Bobby gives the okay through his walkie and soon the helicopter is landing. 

Eddie and Chim start to walk her over to the helicopter and I let out a puff of air as my emotions take over. I take my jacket off in hopes a little air is all I need. I quickly try to sober up so I don’t start sobbing before I feel a hand on my back, making me turn to see Buck next to me. 

“Hey. You doing okay? You’re getting fidgety,” he queries with a raised eyebrow and I shake my head before nodding. 

“Yeah. No. I’m fine. Just had a flashback to my sister, that’s all,” I inform him and he nods solemnly at me. 

“I know. She’s watching over you. You know that,” he solemnly tells me, trying to comfort me as he rubs at my back and I nod, sniffling. 

“Thanks for checking on me,” I say in gratitude and I only hope Buck knows just how much I’m thankful for him. 

“Always, you know that we stick together, right?” he asks me and I smile. 

“Right. Stuck together like glue,” I reply to our life long promise we always tell each other and he smiles, nodding. 

“Okay. I’m gonna go help Chim. We’ll talk more about this later, okay?” he questions me and I nod. 

“Yeah. Go. Go. Do our job,” I agree with a soft smile and he nods before rushing off. 

“Possible spinal! She’s coming over now!” I hear him yell to the air tech that gets out of the helicopter.

“Can’t get rid of me, can you, Buckley?” I hear her voice and I immediately recognize Lucy. Red hot jealousy flares up in me, but I push it away. 

“Great to see you again, for real this time!” I hear Buck shout back as he stops to point at her and I huff, rolling my eyes. 

He turns and walks back towards me, but only frowns as I brush him off. I walk over to Bobby just as Eddie walks up. 

“Hey, Cap, think there’s a propane stove in the van. I’m gonna go check it out,” Eddie explains to him as he walks up to us. 

“Good thinking, Eddie. Y/n, go with him,” Bobby commands me and I nod. 

“Actually Bobby, can I have a quick moment with her?” Buck asks and Bobby shakes his head. 

“I guess. One minute, then back to work. Got it?” Bobby asks and Buck nods. 

“No, yeah, I promise,” Buck informs him and Bobby nods before walking off. 

“Hey, what’s up. Why are you giving the cold shoulder?” Buck asks as he looks at me. 

“It’s nothing, Buck, really. Go back to work,” I play it off and he sighs in frustration. 

“Y/n, I thought we talked about closing up? Talk to me, you know you can,” Buck begs me and I shake my head. 

“Buck. Nothing is wrong, it’s just a hard case. I told you I’d talk with you about it later,” I deflect away from what’s going on. 

“No. I know—” he starts, but gets cut off as the bridge suddenly starts to shake as it cracks down the middle, making both me and Buck fall to the ground with me on top of him. 

There’s more shaking and creaking as the bridge slowly starts to collapse. Buck looks up and suddenly he’s rushing to get up, pulling me with him. 

“Hey. Hey, hey, hey, hey! Let’s move!” Buck yells out as the ambulance comes flying back at us and Buck quickly moves both of us out of the way just in time. 

“Hey!” he continues to shout as the ambulance rushes past us, quickly crashing at an angle. 

Buck quickly maneuvers, but somehow he gets pulled down with the ambulance, making me go with him. He smashes into the ambulance’s windshield and it cracks. 

“Buck!” I yell out as I fly past him, but he doesn’t reply. 

I let out another scream as I come to a landing on a slab of concrete, hitting my head in the process. Pain surges through my side, but I don’t notice it for long as suddenly everything goes black. 

Buck’s Pov: 

I groan as I come to, still laying on the windshield that’s now cracked from me smashing into it. There's a quiet, eerie, metallic creak and it takes me a moment to realize where I am. When I do, I take a moment to push myself up on all fours. I look around in fear for y/n, but there’s no sign of her, so I look into the ambulance next. 

“Hen!” I yell out as I see my friend still strapped into the driver's seat of the ambulance, now unconscious. 

“H-hen, can you hear—” I ask her as I bang on the window. 

“118, report in. I need a headcount,” I talk into my radio, hoping to get any answers. 

“I’m grabbing the ropes,” Ravi radios back first as I look around, trying to assess where everyone could be. 

“I’m in the van. Pretty sure I broke a couple ribs, but this van is about to get pancaked,” Eddie groans out as he radios in and I keep looking around with no sight of y/n. 

“Okay. Eddie, uh. We’re coming to you,” I inform him before taking a pause. 

“Han. What is your status?” I ask into my radio before letting go to get his status. 

“Han, come in,” I practically beg over the radios when he doesn’t answer. 

“Han…” I question again and wait a moment. 

“Han here,” Chimney finally radios in and I throw my head back in relief. 

“Captain Nash, firefighter Maysen, still haven’t heard from either of you. What is your status?” I ask into the radio again, only hoping to get something but nothing comes. 

“Bobby, y/n. Come in,” I repeat through the radio again, but still silence. 

“I see firefighter Maysen! She’s on a slab near you, maybe twenty feet away, just covered by some rubble,” Ravi explains to me through the radio and I sigh in relief. 

“Is she under it?” I question and wait for a moment. 

“No. She’s just close enough to be hidden. She’s out, though, and there’s one other thing…” he voices again though the radio before trailing off. 

“What? Is she okay?” I question him and he takes another pause, making me wait with bated breath. 

“She’s been impaled by a piece of rebar, Buck… right though the side of her stomach. I- if we don’t get to her soon, she might bleed out,” he breaks it to me easily and I sigh, putting my head down for a moment. 

“I’ll get to her as soon as I get Hen and the others out,” I inform him as I make the hard decision to wait, even though I want to rush over to her first and get her out. 

“Ok… only if you're sure. You're acting captain right now,” he informs and I let out a huff before pressing the button on my radio to reply. 

“Yeah, I know. So everyone’s safety is on me right now. Luckily if I can get Hen awake, she can take over. Let’s get to work,” I command before letting the button go, letting out a sigh, and looking down at Hen again. 

“Hen. I’m- I’m coming to you. Just stay right there,” I tell my unconscious friend before I move off the windshield and down the side of the ambulance. 

Very slowly, I make my way to the window and try to shove myself though it. The ambulance starts to tremble as I do, but I keep going. 

“Hen?” I call out to her as I pause for a moment. 

“Chim. Chim! Chim, you back there?” I shout out as I finally slide though the window of the ambulance. 

“I’m alive, but not great,” Chimney calls out in a winded tone. 

“Okay,” I pant out as I move over to Hen. 

“Come on. Hey,” I voice as I try to get Hen to wake up. 

“What happened?” Hen questions as she looks around, confused. 

“Bridge collapsed,” I inform her and her head starts to fall back. 

“Hey, hey, hey. Hen, you with me?” I question her and she squints at me. 

“I’m good. Thank you,” she conveys to me as she starts to reach towards me. 

“You okay?” she asks as she wipes at the side of my forehead. 

“Yeah. Oh. Uh… I mean, physically, yeah,” I tell her, my emotions betraying me ever so slightly as I feel a lump form in my throat. 

“Where is everybody?” she asks me as she continues to clean my face. 

“R-Ravi is up top. Eddie’s in the van. Chimney’s in the back. He needs our help. I’m gonna go up top. Get the ambulance secure. Then we get you out, okay?” I explain to her before asking if she understands. She slowly nods before letting her head fall back a bit. 

“Okay. Where’s Cap? Where’s Bobby? A-and y/n…” she suddenly asks as she quickly lifts her head straight. 

“He’s MIA, and y/n…” I pause and take a deep breath. 

“She’s currently bleeding out maybe twenty feet from us,” I inform her and she just stares at me. 

“You, uhh… y-you’re sure you’re good?” I ask her one last time just to make sure. 

“Yeah. I… I’m-I’m good,” she stumbles out in her shock and pain. 

“Just get some rope so we can get out of here,” she commands me and I nod before starting to try climbing out. 

“Okay, Ravi, I need a line,” I grunt as I call out while climbing out of the window. 

I get about halfway out the window when Ravi throws the rope down to me and I slowly finish pulling myself out. I hold onto the ambulance as I grab the rope before using it to climb back to the front. Once around the front, I continue to climb up the side until I can pull myself up to the top. Ravi hands me a part of the rope and I quickly slide under the engine, tying the rope to the underside of it. I quickly rush back to the side and let out a puff of air when I see what Ravi had seen before. 

The van is under the ambulance and both are close to falling. I let out another breath and close my eyes when I see y/n. She is indeed impaled and blood pools around her as she lays unconscious. 

“Buck, we’ll get to her,” Ravi promises as he puts a hand on my shoulder. 

“Yeah. I know. I’m not letting her go out like this. Not yet. It’s too early and there’s a lot that needs to be said,” I inform as I promise myself in my head that if we make it out, I’ll tell her how I really feel. 

“And it will be said,” he agrees with a head nod before going back over to the truck. 

“Please tell me you made it, Cap,” I whisper to myself as I look out over the scene again. 

“Okay, Ravi. Let’s go!” I shout to him as I turn around, ready to scale the concrete. 

“118, LAPD on scene at the lower level and here to assist,” Athena’s voice comes over the radio just as I hop over, ready to scale down to Hen. 

“118? Captain?” she asks in a scared tone when she gets no response from her husband. 

“Hen! That’s you!” I yell out to her, leaning back a bit. 

“LAPD, this is Wilson. Captain Nash is unaccounted for, we also have one impaled and unconscious. I’m in command. Anything you can do to help survivors on the ground level would be appreciated, ” Hen replies over the radio as I start to quickly scale down with a harness bag. 

“Copy that!” Athena quickly replies again over the radio. 

Once I get down to the ambulance, I set the bag on it and I get closer to the front of it. I quickly tie the rope to the car and pull on it ever so slightly. 

“Hey, Ravi, tension!” I call out to him and I wait a moment before leaning against the ambulance. 

I bounce on it a couple times to see how stable it is and smile when it comes out very stable. I quickly climb back to the top of the ambulance and pull the harness bag in front of me. 

“Okay. Hen, you got a harness and capture strap. Take Chimney and the patient, you send them down,” I explain to her as I throw the strap and harness in the window to her. 

“I’m headed to the van. Then I’ll get y/n. I’ll see you at the bottom,” I inform her of my plan before getting off the ambulance and heading to Eddie. 

It takes me a few minutes, but soon I make it to the van. I come to a stop next to it as Ravi looks over the side. 

“Sending down the saw!” he shouts to me before dropping me the saw bag. 

“Okay, Eddie, you in there?” I ask as I pause and listen in and he gives me a small ‘Yup’ through his groans of pain. 

“Let me get these doors open. Just shield your eyes,” I inform him before I pull the saw from the bag along with the protective glasses and start to saw at the door. 

I work for a few minutes at the door before soon I can start to pull at them. I pull one open and groan as I pause, taking the glasses off to look in at Eddie, who’s trapped under the fridge looking up at me. 

“Hey,” I pant out as I hold onto the door. 

“Any sign of Cap?” he huffs out as he struggles to breathe and I shake my head. 

“How’s y/n?” he asks and I sigh. 

“Currently, she’s bleeding out. I’m getting her next,” I inform him and he nods. 

“Sorry about this,” I apologize as I move closer to him and grab his arms. 

“Yeah. It’s gonna suck,” he comments before I pull on him. 

I pull him out and he yells out in pain as I do. Soon I’m pulling him out of the van all together and he grits his teeth. 

“Okay, I got you,” I comment as I pull him out and quickly we’re climbing down so he can get medical. 

Once he’s down standing on his own feet, some other paramedics come over to us. They get Jo first and Hen groans as she leans over before puking. 

“Hen!” Eddie yells out as we watch her double over. 

“Hey,” Eddie tells me before we both rush over to Hen, who lays flat on top of the truck she’s on. 

“I’m okay. I’m okay. I’m okay,” she groans, waving us off. 

“I’m okay. I’m pretty sure I’m just concussed,” she explains as she sits up and moves her helmet. 

“We got to get Chimney and y/n! We got to get Chimney and y/n!” she suddenly yells out as she looks back up. 

“No. Hey, hey, hey. We’ll get Chimney and y/n. Let’s get you down. Come on,” we both try to stop her as she groans. 

“Come on down. I promise I’ll get him and y/n,” I inform her as we all reach out for her. 

“We got you. We got you. Come on. No rush,” I rant as she finally starts to try and crawl down. 

“Okay. Come on. Let’s go. Let’s go. Let’s go,” Eddie chants as he wraps her arm around his shoulder while she pants out of breath. 

“Eddie, you got her, yeah?” I ask and he nods, giving me a small ‘hmm’ as they continue to walk. 

“Okay. I’m going back for Chim and y/n. I’ll be back,” I promise and he nods. 

Just before I turn, there’s another loud, metallic creaking noise and we all turn around. My eyes widen as the ambulance starts to shake around and the van starts to look like it’ll fall any second. 

To Be Continued…

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Evan Buckley x Reader

Summary: You and Buck get into an argument, but everything stops when you flinch.

Warning: Mentions of an abusive dad, arguing

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"You can't keep doing this shit to me!" You yell back at him. You and Buck were having the same argument you always had; while at work he did something reckless and you had to witness it. He didn't understand the fear that overtook your body everytime he went radio silent. Or did something reckless.

"It's my life! You hear me?" He screams back. He didn't understand why you had to act like this. Sure, he did reckless things, but he always made it out alive.

"Do you know what it's like to be the one waiting on the ground? The one time I ran back into a building when everyone had an evacuation order, how did you feel?" You ask and Buck remembers the nauseating anxiety he had had as he waited for you outside the building.

"This is different," he said before clenching his teeth. It wasn't really different but Buck still told himself it was.

"Look,-" Buck raised his hand to run it through his hair but stopped as you flinched. He saw the brief, but very much real, fear that was in your eyes before you tried to just shrug it off. He saw the way your skin was twice as pale as usual.

"Baby?" He said carefully, all anger from the past argument had left him. He saw the way your eyes were glossy and distant. Like you were reliving a past experience.

He slowly walked over to you. As he approached you snapped out of your hell scape daydream. You wrapped your arms around him as sobs wracked your body.

He held your shaky body tightly as your breathing slowly evened out. You had survived. You were safe now.

"I'm not afraid of your Buck," you say as you explain everything to him. How your dad had been more monster than man. Why Buck had never met your parents. And why you had fled halfway across the country at sixteen.

"I'm sorry," Buck whispered as he held you. You hadn't even noticed you two had made it to his couch.

"You have nothing to apologize for, I'm the one who started the argument," you said back.

"I'll be more careful, I swear," he says and you give him a soft smile.