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The Archer (Evan Buckley) ࣪ 🏹°࿐ ࣪ ᳝۰ ◝

“We’ve both been afraid of losing the things that matter. But maybe this time, we don’t have to.” જ⁀➴

Synopsis: Evan Buckley has always feared people leaving — but the 118 never did. When a new paramedic joins the team, Buck is forced to confront the version of himself he’s tried to outrun. Through quiet moments, late-night calls, and unexpected vulnerability, he learns that maybe, just maybe, love doesn’t have to hurt to be real.

Genre: Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Slow Burn

AU: None

Pairing: Evan Buckley x Afab!Paramedic!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of injuries the usual stuff in 911 episodes, calls and emergencies.

Note: Another fic yet again because these things are literally sitting in my google docs waiting to breathe new life. Thank God for my hyper fixation on this show (I’m still on S6) that I’m putting out fics like a machine. Anyways, if you guys enjoyed don’t forget to like + reblog and leave any comments because they are very much appreciated! Happy reading!

Evan Buckley lived in extremes.

He always had. From the moment he showed up at the 118 — too young, too fast, too much — he’d chased every call like it owed him something. Like if he just ran hard enough, climbed high enough, saved enough, he could outrun the feeling gnawing at his ribs.

He didn’t name it back then.

Didn’t need to.

Because naming it meant slowing down. Meant looking it in the face and admitting that he wasn’t just chasing danger — he was chasing worth.

The job gave him purpose. The team gave him structure. And for a while, that was enough.

Until it wasn’t.

Because when you’re the guy who runs into burning buildings with a smile on your face, people stop asking if you’re the one burning.

He became a legend fast — not in the medals or accolades kind of way, but in whispers around the department.

That’s Buck. He pulled a kid out of a collapsing house. He scaled five stories without ropes once. Total maniac. He hooked up with two EMTs in one weekend.

They weren’t wrong.

Buck didn’t care what people said, as long as they were saying something. Being talked about was better than being forgotten.

And under the bravado, the recklessness, the charm — there was a boy who had been left too many times. By his parents. His sister. Abby. The world.

So he made sure no one could ignore him.

He was the guy who dove headfirst into every call, heart first into every mistake. He was loud. Sloppy, sometimes. He was the kind of brave that bordered on foolish.

Bobby saw it. Hen saw it. Chim tried to buffer him, joke around him, nudge him back into place.

But Buck? Buck was barely holding himself together.

He wasn’t malicious. Just restless. Hungry for connection, for the kind of safety he didn’t believe he deserved. Which is why, when Abby Clarke walked into his life, he latched on with both hands and no helmet.

She was older. Calmer. She saw through the noise and offered him something still. Something quiet.

And he clung to it.

He thought this is it — someone who stays.

Until she didn’t.

And when she left, she didn’t just take her suitcase. She took whatever fragile progress Buck had made believing he was enough for someone to stay for.

He spiraled.

Hard.

Sleeping around. Ghosting shifts. Picking fights with Chim. Pushing Bobby’s patience to its limit. He got suspended. Almost fired. And still, he kept running — from something, toward nothing.

And then he hit a wall.

Not a physical one. But one only he could feel — the kind that comes when the thrill stops numbing the ache.

That’s when Bobby finally sat him down. Really sat him down. No raised voice. No threats. Just a soft, quiet: “Are you done trying to destroy yourself?”

Buck hadn’t answered.

Not that day.

But something shifted.

He started showing up differently. Stayed sober on his days off. Came early. Took care of the new guy, Ravi. Listened more. Talked less. Learned to shut his mouth before the sarcasm slipped out and hurt someone.

It was slow. Uneven. There were backslides.

Nights where he stared at his ceiling wondering if there was anything left for him outside the job. But then came the little wins — Bobby trusting him with a delicate rescue. Hen letting him lead a training. Chim actually saying, “Proud of you, man.”

They were quiet victories.

The kind that didn’t need sirens or spotlights.

And Buck started to realize: maybe being seen didn’t have to mean being loud. Maybe it could mean being real.

And in that stillness, that liminal space between healing and hurt, something — someone — would soon arrive.

But not yet.

Not today.

Today, Buck walked into the firehouse with a steady gait and a thermos of coffee in his hand. He wasn’t running anymore.

He wasn’t fixed. But he was trying.

And as he stepped into the kitchen and spotted Ravi talking to someone new — a face he didn’t recognize yet — he tilted his head, curiosity piqued.

Not because of interest.

But because these days, he paid attention.

Because he knew better than anyone: everyone walks in with a story.

And sometimes, if you’re lucky, you find someone who stays for yours.

The firehouse kitchen smelled like garlic bread and grilled chicken — Bobby’s signature meal for easing new recruits into the fold.

A little comfort food, a lot of subtle observation. It was tradition by now. Buck had seen it play out a dozen times. But tonight, something felt different.

“Alright, everyone,” Bobby called out, wiping his hands on a dish towel.

“We’ve got a new member joining us on rotation. Paramedic. Transferred from Station 136. Came highly recommended — and yes, she’s already survived the paperwork.”

That got a few chuckles.

Buck leaned back in his chair, sipping a beer, eyes fixed on the table — until he heard footsteps and glanced up.

You walked in with quiet confidence, your expression open but unreadable. You gave Chim a nod, bumped fists with Ravi, even managed to coax a small smile out of Eddie. But when your eyes met Buck’s, something sharpened in your gaze.

“Evan Buckley,” you said, stepping forward before Bobby could do the honors. “The man. The myth. The sex swing incident.”

Hen choked on her water.

Buck blinked. “Seriously? That’s still going around?”

“I mean, you got stuck mid-rescue,” you said, grinning. “It’s basically required reading in paramedic group chats.”

“I was saving a guy’s life—”

“While tangled in a very specific apparatus,” Hen added, laughing now. “Classic Buck.”

“Right,” Buck muttered, but he was smiling too as he stood to shake your hand. “Well, glad I could make an impression.”

“Hard not to,” you replied smoothly.

Bobby motioned toward the food. “Grab a plate. Get comfortable. You’re family now.”

You slid into the seat between Buck and Hen — the one always left open for new blood. Buck noticed the ease in your posture, the way you listened when Chim talked about his daughter, how you laughed — really laughed — at one of Ravi’s sarcastic remarks.

You were tuned in. Not trying to dominate the room, just present in a way that made people want to open up.

Hen leaned closer. “So, three years at 136, right?”

“Yup. Two of those mostly on medical calls. Rotated through some tough wildfire seasons last year. Decided I wanted something steadier. A tighter-knit crew.”

Buck tilted his head. “And you think this place is steady?”

You looked at him with a smirk. “Steady’s relative. But I’ve got a good gut.”

Hen raised her glass. “To instincts. You’re gonna fit right in.”

Buck didn’t say much after that. Just observed.

The way you leaned toward Hen when she spoke. The way you passed the salad bowl without anyone asking. The calm energy you brought into the chaos.

And for a guy like Buck — whose life had often felt like a long string of misfires — that calm made him want to stay just a little longer in your orbit.

Later, when you excused yourself to help Bobby in the kitchen, Hen elbowed him. “She’s good.”

“Yeah,” Buck muttered, still watching the doorway you disappeared through. “She really is.”

Something in him stirred — something that hadn’t moved in a long time.

But for now, he kept it buried. One shift at a time.

The sirens wailed as the 118 raced through downtown. Dispatch had flagged it as a ‘multi-casualty trauma,’ and the pit in Buck’s stomach tightened the closer they got.

It was a three-car collision on a bridge, with reports of people trapped, including a child in critical condition. The kind of call that didn’t just test your skills — it tested your nerve.

“Chim, Buck — you’re with me on extractions. Eddie, Y/N, you handle triage,” Bobby directed as the truck rolled to a stop with a hiss of brakes.

Without missing a beat, you grabbed your trauma bag and jumped out of the rig, sprinting alongside Eddie toward the first wrecked vehicle.

Buck watched you go, momentarily caught off guard by the way you moved — focused, fast, in full command of your role.

He didn’t even realize he was smiling until Chim gave him a look. “You gonna stand there or you wanna keep up?”

“Right, yeah,” Buck muttered, snapping into motion.

The scene was chaos. Glass shimmered on the pavement like ice. A woman screamed from one of the cars, her leg pinned beneath the dashboard. A toddler wailed in the backseat. And that was just one of the three vehicles.

Buck was elbow-deep in a door panel when he heard you over the comms.

“Victim 1 has a head wound and possible spinal trauma. Stabilizing now.”

You were crouched beside a man whose forehead was bleeding profusely, calmly applying a C-collar and giving directions to a bystander to help brace him.

It wasn’t just that you knew what to do — it was the way you spoke. Direct, grounding. People listened.

“Y/N, I need a hand over here!” Chim called out from the middle car.

“On it!” You tossed a pair of gloves to the bystander and dashed over.

Buck watched as you assessed a woman’s irregular breathing and slipped a hand behind her neck like you’d done it a thousand times.

You didn’t hesitate. You didn’t rattle. You just moved.

Even Eddie glanced up from where he was wrapping a boy’s arm in gauze and muttered to himself, “Damn. She’s good.”

By the time all victims were stabilized and en route to the hospital, Buck stood near the rig, helmet tucked under his arm, adrenaline buzzing.

You walked over, brushing dust off your sleeves. “You alright?”

“Me? I’m good,” Buck said. “But you—wow. That was incredible. The way you handled the head trauma guy, and that kid who was hyperventilating?”

You shrugged, modest but glowing from the rush. “You do this job long enough, you learn how to find your footing in the chaos.”

Buck stared at you for a second longer than necessary.

“Yeah, but not everyone makes it look that easy.”

Chim joined them, clapping you on the back. “If you keep pulling moves like that, I’m not gonna let Hen take you next shift.”

“Too late,” Eddie said as he came up, peeling off his gloves. “I’m already requesting her.”

You rolled your eyes, but Buck could see the smile tugging at your lips.

Bobby walked over last, clipboard in hand. “Good work, all of you. Y/N, you’re proving to be everything your record said and more.”

“Thanks, Cap,” you said, wiping sweat from your brow.

As the team packed up and got back into the rig, Buck slid into the seat beside you.

“You’re full of surprises,” he said quietly.

You turned to him, brow arched. “Good ones, I hope?”

“The best kind,” he said.

And he meant it.

It was just after sunrise when the 118 pulled back into the station. The adrenaline from the bridge call had faded, replaced by the familiar ache of fatigue and the hum of relief.

The B shift crew was already filtering in — exchanging nods, half-sleepy greetings, and fresh cups of coffee.

Buck scrubbed a hand through his messy curls as he slid off his turnout coat, tossing it into his locker.

You were at the sink in the kitchen, rinsing your hands and scrubbing away the grime of the last twelve hours. Hen passed you a towel and a warm smile as she grabbed her keys.

“You did good today, Y/N,” she said. “For what it’s worth — not many people impress Buck.”

Buck looked up from his locker with a faint scoff. “I’m not that hard to impress.”

“Yes, you are,” Chim and Eddie said in unison as they passed by, drawing a light chuckle from you.

Buck shot them both a look before wandering over to the kitchen. You were drying your hands, your sleeves rolled up, a few strands of hair escaping your bun.

“Hey,” Buck said, leaning a little against the counter. “Shift’s done. You got plans this morning?”

You looked up, curious. “Besides sleeping for five hours and eating my weight in leftover pasta? Not really.”

Buck smiled. “Well… I was thinking coffee. There’s this spot a few blocks down — open early, quiet, and they actually know how to make a flat white. If you’re into that.”

You blinked — surprised, but not unpleasantly. “You offering me caffeine, Buckley?”

“Maybe,” he said, his grin boyish, almost shy.

“Or maybe I’m trying to hang out with the paramedic who saved three people in record time this morning and made Eddie Diaz speechless for a whole twenty seconds.”

You let out a small laugh, reaching for your jacket. “Alright. Coffee sounds good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you said, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “But you’re buying. Hero tax.”

Buck chuckled, holding the door open for you as you both stepped out into the golden, sleepy haze of early morning.

“Deal.”

From the window, Eddie watched the two of you walk off together, shaking his head with a knowing smile. Hen stepped beside him, coffee in hand.

“Told you he’d crack first,” she said.

Eddie hummed. “Yeah, but for once… it’s not just a flirt.”

Hen sipped her drink. “Let’s just hope he doesn’t mess it up.”

The thing no one told you about being a firefighter wasn’t how loud the job could get.

It was the silence after.

The silence when the sirens faded, and the blood was cleaned from your gloves, and the screams stopped echoing in your ears.

That was when the weight crept in — not just from the job, but from who you carried it for.

You had learned early in life not to hold on too tightly. Nothing ever really stayed — not your childhood house, not the friends you thought were forever, not even the people who promised they wouldn’t leave.

Change had always arrived like a storm: without warning, without apology.

So you adapted.

You moved light. You didn’t ask for permanence. You didn’t get too attached.

But then you found the 118.

And somewhere along the line, they became the one place you didn’t have to flinch.

Buck had started as a ripple.

That first coffee turned into a second, then into breakfast runs, then into small moments: him helping you hose down the rig after a muddy call, saving you the last protein bar in the kitchen, walking just a step behind you on every building search like he was quietly, instinctively keeping watch.

He didn’t make it loud, but Buck had slipped into your life like he’d always been meant to be there.

And that terrified you.

Because lately, your heart had begun to stutter every time you lost sight of him during a call.

You started counting the seconds he was out of your line of vision. Every loud crash, every “man down” over comms, had you holding your breath before you even realized it.

You weren’t used to caring this much. Not about someone who ran headfirst into fire.

And today’s call — it shook something loose.

A scaffolding collapse. Six construction workers trapped. One rebar impalement. Two amputations. The kind of call that would drain anyone.

Buck had gone up to the second floor, clearing debris to reach a trapped victim. You and Hen had stayed on the ground level, assisting with triage. You’d looked up once to check on him, just in time to see the beam snap above him.

He’d dodged it. Barely.

He’d waved it off afterward with that crooked smile of his, sweat matting his curls. But your heart had dropped so fast you didn’t even register you were shaking until Hen quietly placed a steady hand on your back.

You didn’t let it show.

Not then.

But later that night, long after the rig was clean and the paperwork was filed, you found yourself lingering in the kitchen as the others filtered out.

Bobby was wiping down the counter, Hen sipped her tea at the table, and Chim leaned back in his chair scrolling through photos of Jee-Yun.

You didn’t mean to say it aloud.

But you did.

“I’m scared.”

The room stilled — not with judgment, but with familiarity.

Bobby set the towel down. “About what?”

You hesitated, swallowing. “About caring too much. About getting used to something good… and having it taken away.”

Hen tilted her head, gently. “You mean Buck.”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t have to.

Chim set his phone down and leaned forward, more serious now. “Buck has that effect.”

“He’s reckless,” you said softly, voice fraying. “He throws himself into danger without a second thought. He laughs it off and keeps going. I’m just— I’m scared one day he won’t come back.”

“Have you told him?” Bobby asked.

You shook your head. “I don’t want to make it about me.”

Hen stood and crossed the kitchen, resting a warm hand on your shoulder.

“Sweetheart, caring about someone doesn’t make it about you. It makes it real.”

Chim smiled, softer this time. “He probably feels the same way. Buck might be reckless with himself, but he’s not reckless with people he cares about. And trust me — he cares about you.”

You looked up, heart pounding. “You think so?”

“I know so,” Bobby said. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you after every call. Like he’s checking to make sure you made it back.”

Hen nodded. “You don’t have to keep carrying the weight of every fear by yourself. You’ve got us. And you’ve got him — even if neither of you have said it out loud yet.”

The silence returned, but this time it was filled with something warmer. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

“Thanks,” you murmured. “I needed that.”

Chim bumped your shoulder with his. “You’re part of this family now. You don’t get to do things the hard way all the time.”

You laughed, finally. “Noted.”

And when Buck walked into the kitchen a few minutes later — face flushed from a hot shower, curls damp, a curious glance cast your way — you didn’t look away.

Maybe things didn’t always stay.

But maybe some people could.

And maybe, just maybe… he was one of them.

It started small.

You used to sit next to Buck on shift, shoulder-to-shoulder at the kitchen table, his leg brushing yours whenever you both leaned in for a bite of something Hen made.

Your jokes came fast and easy. He knew the exact creases in your smile, the way your laugh always started in your chest before reaching your eyes.

But lately?

Lately, you’d been somewhere else entirely.

You’d started riding back with Chim and Eddie after calls, hanging back in the rig longer than usual, sometimes even taking your coffee breaks outside, pretending to answer texts.

When you laughed now, it was still warm — still you — but Buck didn’t feel like the reason anymore.

At first, he told himself it was nothing. Maybe just a bad day. A bad week. Burnout.

But now, two weeks deep into the change, he was starting to feel like an outsider in a story he’d once felt lucky to be part of.

Breakfast runs used to be your thing.

It had started after your second call together — a collapsed balcony with two patients and a lot of adrenaline.

Buck had bought you a coffee to calm your nerves and you’d smiled like it meant more than just caffeine. After that, it became ritual. You even had a usual order.

Now?

You didn’t even ask if he was coming.

Buck found you outside the diner that morning, standing by the curb while Eddie laughed at something Chim said through the window.

You were focused on your phone, but your face was too blank for someone reading a meme. You looked… elsewhere. And that scared him more than anything.

“Hey,” he said, approaching slowly. “Got room for one more?”

You looked up, startled. Your smile was polite. Too polite.

“Of course.”

That should’ve been comforting. It wasn’t.

He slid into the booth beside you once inside — you didn’t protest, but you didn’t shift closer, either. Chim and Eddie talked around you both, but Buck barely heard any of it. His stomach was too twisted.

And when you offered Eddie a bite of your toast with a soft laugh — the same kind Buck hadn’t heard in days — something inside him snapped quiet.

You both ended up walking out together afterward, coffees in hand, the LA morning sun not yet punishing. He waited until you reached the edge of the lot before breaking the silence.

“You’ve been distant.”

You froze just a little — not fully, but enough for him to notice.

“I’ve been tired,” you replied.

“That’s not what I asked.”

You sighed, brushing hair from your face. “Buck, it’s nothing personal.”

“But it feels personal.”

That made you pause. Really pause. Buck looked at you like he was trying to solve a puzzle he didn’t have all the pieces for.

“You used to talk to me.”

“I still talk to you.”

“Not like before.”

That quiet hung between you, longer than it should have. Cars rolled by. Somewhere nearby, someone honked. It all faded into background noise.

“I just needed space,” you said finally. “That’s all.”

“From me?” Buck asked, not unkindly — just hurt. And it was that part of him — the aching, raw honesty he only ever let out with people he trusted — that finally cracked through.

You didn’t answer right away. And maybe you didn’t need to.

“Did I do something?” he asked softly. “Or not do something?”

You looked down at your cup. “It’s not about you, Buck. Not completely.”

“Then help me understand.”

You exhaled. Slow. Heavy.

“I care about you. That hasn’t changed,” you said. “But this job… what we do, what we see — I’m trying to protect myself. And lately, I’ve been feeling things I shouldn’t.”

“What kind of things?”

“I worry about you,” you said.

“Every damn call. Every time you take a risk or crack a joke to hide how much you care. I worry because you act like you’re invincible when none of us are.”

Buck blinked. That was the last thing he expected.

“I worry about you all the time too,” he said.

“You think I don’t notice when you zone out after a call? Or when you touch your shoulder like it still hurts from the collapse?”

You looked at him then, and it was the first time in a while you really looked. Buck felt it in his ribs.

“I didn’t mean to shut you out,” you said, voice quieter now. “I just didn’t know how to make room for… this.”

“For what?”

“For how much I care about you.”

That stopped Buck cold.

For a second, he couldn’t speak — which was rare for him. He ran a hand through his hair, swallowed hard.

“I thought I was imagining it,” he admitted. “When you started hanging around Eddie more, I thought… maybe you were just over me.”

“I needed a breather,” you said gently. “And Eddie’s easy to be around when you’re trying not to feel everything at once.”

Buck nodded. He understood that more than you knew.

“I don’t want to be a distraction,” he said finally. “But I don’t want to be out of your life either.”

“You’re not,” you said quickly. “You’re not. I just need to go slow. For my own heart.”

Buck gave you a smile — soft, genuine, a little sad but somehow still hopeful. “I can do slow. I can do anything, really… just not losing you.”

You reached out and touched his wrist, just briefly, but it sent a warmth through both of you.

“You’re not losing me, Buck,” you said. “Just finding me again. In a different way.”

He nodded.

And for the first time in weeks, the silence between you didn’t feel like a wall.

It felt like a bridge.

The shift was slow.

Rare for L.A. — rare for the 118 — but the quiet was almost a welcome reprieve.

The four of them had just wrapped up restocking the rig after a minor call, and Buck found himself sitting on the tailgate with Eddie, nursing a bottle of water and trying not to let his thoughts spiral.

You weren’t on shift today.

And somehow, that made him more aware of your absence than usual.

Eddie glanced at him from the driver’s side. “You good?”

“Yeah,” Buck said automatically — then sighed, tipping his head back toward the sky. “Actually, no. Not really.”

Eddie raised a brow, folding his arms and leaning against the rig. “Wanna talk about it?”

Buck hesitated. “What’s Y/N been saying?”

Eddie blinked. “That’s direct.”

“Yeah, well. I’ve been going in circles in my head for two weeks, so I figured I’d try a straight line for once.”

That earned a short laugh from Eddie. “She’s… she’s been quieter. But not cold. Still herself, just maybe… more internal lately.”

Buck nodded. “She talks to you though.”

“She talks to everyone, Buck. Just not you the same way right now. You know why.”

He did. But hearing it said aloud still stung.

Hen and Chimney appeared around the corner, Hen wiping her hands on a towel while Chim juggled two protein bars and a Gatorade.

“Talking about Y/N?” Chim guessed with zero subtlety.

“Wow. Okay,” Buck muttered.

Hen smiled knowingly. “It’s not hard to tell. You’ve been sulking like a sad golden retriever since the breakfast run.”

“That obvious, huh?”

“Painfully,” Eddie replied.

Hen sat beside Buck and nudged him with her shoulder. “You wanna know what she said the other night?”

Buck’s eyes narrowed. “You’re just gonna tell me?”

“She said she didn’t know what to do with someone who felt permanent.”

That made the words hit like a sucker punch. Buck’s grip on his water bottle tightened.

“She said,” Hen continued, “that for the first time in a long time, she had something that scared her in a good way. And it scared her so much, she didn’t know if it would survive her fear.”

“She meant me?”

“She didn’t say it. But she didn’t have to.”

Buck went quiet.

Chim leaned against the door, eyes thoughtful. “Y/N’s always been calm in the chaos. But when it comes to people she lets in… she’s selective. You got past the filters.”

“I didn’t mean to overwhelm her,” Buck said, voice low.

“You didn’t,” Eddie said. “But you surprised her. That’s different.”

Buck glanced at all of them. “Why does it feel like I’m the only one who didn’t know what was happening until it was too late?”

Hen softened. “Maybe because you’re not used to something being real, Buck. You’re used to the storm, not the quiet after.”

Buck didn’t say anything for a long moment.

Then: “I think I love her.”

The words felt like oxygen and a confession in one breath.

“I didn’t mean to,” he added quickly.

“I just… it crept up on me. Somewhere between the way she remembers everyone’s coffee order and the way she calms people after the worst days of their lives. Somewhere in how she’s always steady, even when she’s falling apart.”

He ran a hand through his hair, eyes wide now that he’d said it aloud. “I think I love her. And I don’t know what to do with that.”

The group went still for a moment — not shocked, but holding the weight of the moment carefully.

“You don’t do anything,” Eddie said, voice quiet and firm.

“Not right away. You be there. You let her come back to you. And when she does, you make sure she knows it’s safe to stay.”

Buck blinked, chest tightening.

“And if she doesn’t?” he asked.

“Then she wasn’t ready,” Hen said. “But I think she is. I just think she’s scared.”

“And you know what it’s like to love someone who’s scared,” Chim added. “So… don’t rush her.”

Buck nodded slowly.

He looked around at the people who had been his constants — even when he hadn’t been his best. People who saw through the ego, the recklessness, the mess.

He’d never imagined the moment of falling in love would come with so much stillness. But now that he’d recognized it… he didn’t want to run from it.

“I’ll wait,” Buck said. “Whatever it takes.”

Eddie patted his shoulder. “Good. Because she’s worth it.”

Buck looked toward the horizon — where the next call, the next shift, the next chance would come.

And somewhere in all that unknown, he hoped you were waiting too.

It was strange, being off shift and still feeling like you were waiting for something to go off — like a bell, a siren, a call that never came.

You hadn’t been sleeping much.

You hadn’t been talking much either.

At least, not to him.

Not since that breakfast run where Buck had looked at you like you were slipping through his fingers and didn’t know how to stop it.

It had been easier, in a way, to talk to Chim, to Hen, even Eddie — because it meant avoiding the one person who made your heart pace harder than a four-alarm call.

But today, you’d needed something softer.

So you texted Maddie.

Mind if I come by? I kinda miss Jeeyun.

Maddie had responded within a minute:

We’d love to see you. She’s teething like a tiny gremlin but I promise we’ll try to make it fun.

Now, you sat curled up on the couch in her apartment, a blanket half-draped across your legs, a drool-stained burp cloth clutched loosely in your hand, and Jeeyun nestled in your lap like a warm, squirming bundle of grounding energy.

“She likes you,” Maddie said softly from the kitchen, mug of tea in hand.

“She’s a baby,” you murmured. “She likes everyone.”

“No,” Maddie said, settling beside you. “She likes you. Not everyone gets that giggle from her.”

Jeeyun babbled loudly, her fingers wrapped around yours.

You smiled, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes.

Maddie didn’t press. Not at first.

“I’m guessing this visit isn’t just about teething woes and baby cuddles.”

You sighed, brushing a hand down Jeeyun’s back.

“No. I just… I needed quiet. And I needed not to be at the station. Every time I walk in there, I feel like everyone’s waiting for me to say something.”

“About Buck?”

You nodded. “He’s… I don’t know. I don’t know where we stand.”

Maddie watched you carefully.

“Do you want to know what I think?” You glanced at her.

“I texted you, didn’t I?”

She chuckled lightly. “Fair.”

There was a pause, quiet except for Jeeyun’s soft breaths.

“I think my brother can be reckless. Impulsive. Emotionally chaotic. But I’ve never — not once — seen him as focused or consistent as he’s been since you came around.”

You looked away. “He’s… he’s Buck. That scares me.”

“Because you think he’ll mess up?”

“Because I think he won’t. And then I’ll be the one who doesn’t know how to handle it.”

That admission came with a weight you hadn’t expected — a kind of ache you hadn’t named until now. Maddie leaned forward, resting her arms on her knees.

“You’re not the only one who’s scared. Buck doesn’t do vulnerability well, not with feelings like this. But he’s trying. And believe me, I would know.”

You swallowed hard. “I don’t want to be someone he gets tired of. Someone he looks at one day and realizes he wanted something easier.”

“He already had easier,” Maddie said. “And none of it made him feel what he feels now.”

Your eyes burned, but you didn’t cry.

You just looked at the baby in your lap, who cooed and grabbed at your dog tags like she was trying to keep you grounded.

Maddie added gently, “If Buck had to choose between a steady life without you or a chaotic one with you in it, he’d pick the chaos. Every time. I know my brother. And I wouldn’t see him with anyone else.”

That last part — I wouldn’t see him with anyone else — cracked something inside you.

It was one thing to wonder if he felt what you felt. It was another to hear it spoken, with certainty, from someone who knew him best.

You nodded slowly, pressing a kiss to Jeeyun’s hair. “Thanks for letting me come over.”

Maddie smiled. “Anytime. Especially if it helps bring you back to him.”

You didn’t answer.

But you thought about how Buck looked at you like you were something he didn’t want to lose.

And maybe… just maybe… you weren’t ready to lose him either.

There wasn’t a moment he could point to when it began — no grand gesture, no dramatic reconciliation.

But it started, he realized, during a call.

A routine one, even. An apartment fire, thick smoke, elderly couple trapped on the third floor.

Buck was on the hose line, you were searching rooms with Chim, and the second he heard your voice over the comms — calm, clear, certain — something in his chest loosened.

Then, something else happened.

You came back.

Not all at once. But in pieces.

During cleanup, you passed him a water bottle and murmured, “Nice knockdown.” Your eyes met his.

Not too long, not too soft. But you looked, and Buck noticed. Buck felt it.

The next shift, you called out for him during another call — “Buck, left hallway’s clear, I’m heading back out with Hen” — and your voice didn’t sound clipped like it used to.

It was steadier. Almost like… you wanted him to hear it.

He started hearing it more and more.

You began standing a little closer when you briefed with the team. You laughed again — not at him, not because of him — but near him. And it mattered. God, it mattered.

During a high-rise evacuation with B-Shift, you caught his wrist when he was climbing the stairs too fast and simply said, “Don’t push your knee, you’re limping again.”

It wasn’t playful, but it was gentle. The kind of thing you used to say before all the silence.

And Buck held onto it like oxygen.

Hen noticed first.

She leaned into him at the back of the rig as you checked Chim’s minor burn. “You feel that?” she murmured, tilting her head in your direction.

Buck didn’t answer. Just followed the way you were focused on Chim, how your hand moved with practiced ease, how you smiled slightly when Chim made a joke about pain being temporary and dramatic flair being forever.

“She’s softening again,” Hen said quietly. “Good job not screwing it up this time. Yet.”

Buck let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

Later that night, Chim tugged Buck aside while restocking the trauma bags.

“You know she asked about you last shift?”

Buck’s heart thudded. “She did?”

“Yeah. Something about how your wrist was holding up after that fall. Didn’t want to ask directly, I guess.”

Buck couldn’t stop the small smile that crept in.

“She cares,” Chim added. “Still. Maybe more than ever.”

That did something to Buck — not just fill him with hope, but anchor him. Because for the first time in a long time, the thing that had been tearing at him didn’t feel like loss. It felt like a second chance he hadn’t even known he was working toward.

At the next call, he was assigned to your side again.

And when you both cleared the scene, soot-smeared and tired, you nudged his arm lightly with your shoulder.

“Nice teamwork, Buck.” His chest bloomed warm at that.

“Thanks,” he said softly, catching your eyes again. “I missed it.”

There was a pause. You didn’t flinch. Didn’t pull away.

“Me too,” you said. And it wasn’t nothing.

In fact, it felt like everything.

It was after another long shift.

One of those where your muscles ached in ways you didn’t realize they could, but the adrenaline was still running high.

The sun had barely cracked over the horizon when the 118 rolled back into the station, your silhouettes golden in the dawn.

Buck stretched his back with a groan, watching you unclip your radio with one hand and rub the back of your neck with the other.

He was just about to say something — anything — when you turned to him with that same look you used to wear months ago. The one that came with trust.

“Coffee?” you asked. Then — after a beat — “Breakfast?”

His heart did a quiet somersault.

“Yeah,” he said, voice soft. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

You walked a few blocks in comfortable silence. No teasing. No awkward tension. Just footsteps echoing side by side until you found a small diner tucked on the corner of an empty street.

It wasn’t fancy — red booths, yellow lighting, a faint smell of syrup in the air — but it felt safe.

You picked a booth by the window. Sat across from him. And when the waitress poured coffee into your cups, you stirred in sugar like it was second nature.

For a while, it was easy.

You talked about the calls. About Christopher’s latest obsession with stop-motion animation. About Chim’s plan to prank Ravi again and how Hen was already scheming a counterattack.

And then — mid-bite into your pancake — you set your fork down.

“I used to think nothing in my life stayed,” you said suddenly, eyes on your plate. “Family. Friends. I don’t know, stability just… always felt like it slipped right through.”

Buck blinked. Because it felt like you had just cracked something open in him too.

“But the 118… it stuck,” you continued. “And I guess somewhere along the way, you did too.”

Buck’s throat went dry.

“I know we never said anything outright,” you went on, quieter now. “But I felt it. I know you did too.”

“I did,” Buck said, immediately, almost breathless. “I do.”

The way you looked at him then — hopeful, hesitant — it punched through him like nothing else.

“You scared me,” you admitted. “Not because of who you were, but because I didn’t know if I could handle how much I wanted to stay where you were.”

His heart was racing. He leaned in, hands wrapped around his mug to keep them steady.

“I’ve always been afraid of people leaving,” Buck said, voice low.

“Most of them did. Except the 118. Except you. And I was such a mess when we met — sleeping around, numbing out, pretending like nothing mattered. But you…” He exhaled. “You looked at me like I could still be something good.”

You stared at him for a long moment.

“Because you are,” you said.

Silence stretched between you. Not uncomfortable, but full. Full of everything unsaid that no longer needed to be hidden.

Then, softly, you added, “We’ve both been afraid of losing the things that matter. But maybe this time, we don’t have to.”

Buck felt the weight of it — that promise. That hope.

He reached across the table slowly, gently, letting his fingers brush yours. And you didn’t pull away.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said.

You smiled — small, but real.

“Good,” you whispered. “Because I’m tired of running.”

There wasn’t an announcement.

No dramatic revelation. No secret whispers caught in the locker room. But something shifted.

It started small — the way Buck hovered just a little closer to you after morning roll call.

The way your elbow would brush his when you reached for the same granola bar in the kitchen, and neither of you flinched away anymore. The way you’d grab an extra cup of coffee during breaks without being asked.

Hen noticed first.

Of course she did. She always did.

She didn’t say anything at first — just arched a brow and smirked a little to herself when Buck instinctively grabbed the end of a hose line before you had the chance to haul it alone. She made a bet with Chim the moment she saw you both return from a supply run with that familiar soft flush on your faces.

“Twenty bucks says they’re already halfway in,” Hen muttered, sipping her coffee as you and Buck disappeared around the engine. Chimney blinked after you.

“They’ve been soft with each other lately,” he admitted. “Buck didn’t even try to one-up Eddie on that last rescue. That’s growth.”

“Love’ll do that to you,” Hen said with a grin.

Eddie noticed, too — quietly, in the way only Eddie could. He wasn’t surprised. Not really. He’d seen the way Buck looked at you for months now, even before Buck knew what he was feeling. And he’d seen how you looked back like you were trying not to fall but were already halfway there.

He hadn’t said anything, but the first time Buck helped Christopher adjust his helmet during a family BBQ with you smiling in the background, Eddie knew. And he was happy. Genuinely happy.

Bobby didn’t need to say much either. Just gave Buck a knowing pat on the shoulder one day after a call — the kind of gesture that said, I see it. I trust it. Take care of her.

Even Ravi, the last one to catch on, noticed how you leaned into Buck’s side during team lunches. How you laughed easier now. How Buck seemed to listen more — not just with his ears, but with his heart.

It wasn’t just affection.

It was something steadier.

And you felt it too.

For the first time in a long time, you didn’t flinch at the idea of something lasting. You weren’t waiting for the other shoe to drop, or for Buck to disappear when things got too hard. He had been showing up — for you, for the team, for himself — in a way that wasn’t performative. It was real.

You caught Hen watching you one morning in the kitchen. She was grinning.

“What?” you asked, sipping your coffee.

“You just look happy,” she said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You smiled back, a little shy but not scared. “I think I am.”

Buck came up behind you, ruffling your hair with that ridiculous grin of his before stealing a bite of your toast.

“Hey,” you laughed.

“What? We share now,” he teased, mouth full.

Hen just shook her head and muttered something about whipped golden retrievers.

The rest of the day passed like any other — calls, chaos, controlled urgency — but the difference was in the pauses. The quiet in-betweens where Buck would find you, touch your hand briefly, or glance your way like you were the thing grounding him to the world.

And for once, you weren’t afraid of what that meant.

Because he wasn’t afraid either.

This wasn’t the kind of love that burned too fast and too bright. This was the kind that unfolded. That stayed. That chose you every day, in every little moment — even the ones no one else saw.

You were still the same firefighter. Still the same paramedic.

But now, in the laughter around the table, the warmth of the 118’s eyes on you, the feel of Buck’s fingers brushing yours when he thought no one was looking — you felt something new:

Home.

© fordiaz 25’ -. no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any manner without the permission from the publisher.

[valeskalikespickles]

relief

evan buckley x fem!reader

gif by @suledins

PSA IF YOU’RE A MINOR: GET THE FUCK OFF MY PORCH BEFORE I WHOOP YOUR ASS. THIS FIC IS STRICTLY 18+. I RESPECT YOUR BOUNDARIES, YOU RESPECT MINE.

word count: 6,568

warnings: nsfw 18+ only; swearing, inexperienced!reader, mentions of therapy/insecurities regarding inexperience, conversations about sex, heavy petting, fingering

synopsis: buck is a walking golden retriever. when he asks you out for the first time and begins to learn more about his arson-investigating coworker, it’s easy to say he puts that eagerness to use.

a/n: this is the very first smut fic i have EVER written (aside from some old old dirty nsfw headcanons). that being said, please bear with me, because this stuff is hard!! shoutout to all the wonderful writers who do this all the time because phew! 🤧 i am pretty happy with how this turned out, and i’m proud of myself for writing for a new character and trying something totally different from my norm! i had no plan of direction for this fic when i started it, but i hope the end result will resonate with some of you, and if it doesn’t, i still hope it gives you some good feelings and a little escape from this fuck ass world <33

————

Evan Buckley is a hellishly gorgeous man. Oftentimes, you have to remind yourself that he’s real—that he’s not some sort of mirage, a result of your constant sleep deprived state. He’s the kind of breathtaking that you find to be unfair.

You started working for the 118 as their house arson investigator three months ago. Captain Nash soothed every nerve you had going in, showing you to your quaint little office, introducing you to everyone else in the house. You’d definitely needed the comfort of that transition, but hadn’t expected your colleagues to be so welcoming. 

You were transferred as part of a greater Los Angeles initiative to create stronger communication and collaboration between the first responders and specialized investigators, as so much of their jobs go hand-in-hand. Although you’re pretty sure it’s only because the department heads get sick of answering follow-up questions about causes of fires—if people had insurance, if it was an accident or an attack, etc. 

So they split up you and the rest of your original team into varying firehouses so that there would always be an arson investigator on hand. And if there’s any foul play, then the police can be contacted quicker, as the investigator becomes a direct source to target those issues. You’d complain about all these silly loopholes if it weren’t for the fact that you’d gotten a pretty raise for your trouble. 

In truth, working with the 118 is the most useful you’ve felt in a long time. You know you’re good at your job, and you’d tell anyone who asked that you’ve done the work and you know that to be true. This opportunity has allowed you so much more field work than you could’ve imagined, which excites you. And there is the benefit of the eye-candy your coworker provides. 

Which is why, each time Buck approaches you, you have to blink a few times, press your nails into your palm, do something to ground yourself so that you might be able to carry on a conversation with him. Tonight though, he’s managed to sneak up on you, giving you no time to seem more like a sociable human being. 

“Hey, uh, you ever figure out the cause of that house fire from the other night?”

Buck is propped up against the door to your office, the air immediately responding to his presence, making everything feel lighter. 

You look up from your desk, huff out a breath to try and blow the hair away from your eyes. 

“Oh, hey, Buck. The house that the newlywed couple had just bought?”

Knowing him is enough to tell you that this particular fire would be the one to stick in his memory come week's end, the others being much too mundane for conversation.

Buck nods, a mischievous smirk appearing on his face. 

“Yeah, actually,” you say, encouraged to continue. “Turns out the couple started it without even realizing. They didn’t remember everything at first, but after going over there and questioning them some more, they finally pieced it together.”

Buck steps a little further into your office. You watch as he bends at the waist, hands coming to rest on one of the squishy chairs across from you. 

“How do you start a fire in your own house, and not notice?” he asks, that playful lilt to his voice reaching your ears. 

Your cheeks burn, a flush running through your body and turning you hot, head to toe. You tap your pen against your wrist. This isn’t usually the kind of information you’re excited to share with your coworkers—not that they wouldn’t be entertained by it. It’s that they’ll all be too entertained by it. 

“Well,” you cough, “turns out they were having a rather aggressive intimate moment and one thing led to another…” You trail off, hoping you won’t have to say it out loud. It was bad enough being in the room when they described their evening in detail, talking directly to one another like you really weren’t there.

Buck cocks his head at you, like a cat that’s just spotted a bug. “I don’t follow,” he says. His mouth quirks up the slightest bit at the corners. 

You inhale, mustering up enough courage to blurt it out before this becomes any more awkward than it has to be. 

“They were having sex in the kitchen and her ass bumped up against the stove top, turning on the burner. She’d grabbed onto a dish towel, for support or whatever, and when they moved it upstairs, she tossed the towel behind her and…”

“Neither of them noticed the fire because they were too caught up in the heat of the moment,” Buck finishes for you. 

You nod, sucking your teeth just slightly. “Yep. What’s worse is after spending an hour digging around and talking to them, the wife went ‘You know, now that you say all this, I do remember my bum feeling hotter than usual before we made it to the bed.’” You roll your eyes.

Buck drags his hands down his cheeks, straightening. There’s a smile on his face when he says, “Well, I guess they say love makes you do crazy things.”

“I suppose that’s one way to put it,” you say, laughing a little tensely. You chance a bit of eye contact with him, realizing he’d already been staring at you for who knows how long. “Was there anything else you needed? Or just curious about the local arsonists?”

Buck chuckles, turning his face away from you momentarily. 

“Actually, I was wondering if you’d want to go out for drinks tonight.” 

You glance at the clock on the upper right hand corner of your computer monitor. It reads 5:43. “Is it a special occasion or something? I feel like no one’s really done that since Chimney had a kid.”

Buck says your name. A knot forms in your throat. “I didn’t mean with everybody. I meant just the two of us.”

You blink. “Why?” You blurt out, the one syllable making you stutter.

His brows knit together. “Uh, so we can get to know each other better? I mean, I thought it was pretty obvious that I like you.”

You’re pretty sure steam might be coming out of your ears. “Um, well, I don’t like to assume. I mean, you’re a pretty flirty guy, you know?”

He says your name again as he plants his hands on your desk. Your pen falls out of your grasp. You’re mesmerized as you watch him pick it up and place it in the cup over to your left.

“This is Buck 3.0, remember? I don’t just flirt with anyone. Besides, flirting usually comes to me, what with being a sight for sore eyes and whatnot.”

You snort: this cute little laugh that comes straight from the back of your throat that Buck has grown to love. 

Buck decides not to rile you up anymore. “So, drinks or no? I definitely won’t cry myself to sleep tonight if you say no.”

You facepalm. “Yeah, alright. Filling my bloodstream with alcohol might be exactly what I need right now.”

————

Two cosmos in, and you’re feeling a lot better. You’re grateful for having kept a pair of jeans and a relatively-okay-for-going-out top in your locker, allowing you to look somewhat presentable enough to be so near Buck for an entire evening.

So far it’s been pleasant, the both of you making small talk, you showing him pictures of your cat and him listening intently to all the antics said cat gets up to during the night. 

You’re chewing on a bacon covered cheese fry when Buck speaks. “What did you mean earlier, when you said you didn’t like to assume? Like, not assuming a guy would be into you?”

You nod, pausing with your hand in front of your mouth while you swallow. “That’s exactly what I meant. This isn’t something that happens often.”

“You’re fuckin’ with me,” Buck says, taking another swig from his beer. If he’s not careful, he’s going to spill it down his shirtfront. 

Your chest thumps with self-deprecation, the voices from the sides of your head—the ones that create that pressure behind your eyes—telling you this might be a great moment to talk shit about yourself. To air out all your faults to this man you probably don’t even deserve to be sitting across from. God knows he won’t be interested when he really gets to know you. 

You inhale.

You’ve been in therapy long enough to know the power of positive thinking. You know that everyone is on a different, unique timeline—that things happen for everyone at different points in their lives. 

But being inexperienced in all aspects of the romantic world is something you’ve carried shame for practically your entire adult life. Only you promised yourself that you wouldn’t let it consume you anymore. It’s your life, and you have the ability to change the way you think. That doesn’t mean your body doesn’t still react, though, doesn’t still flush with anger at how your life has gone thus far, like your veins don’t thrum as you think of all the vile comments you could say about yourself, the ways you could punish yourself for being the odd one out. 

That’s why being approached by Buck in such a blunt, upfront way was such a shock to your system. That just doesn’t, or rather, it hasn’t ever happened to you. 

And with Buck being who he is, it felt like even more of a fever dream. You almost wanted to spin around and tell them to cut the cameras, the lenses zooming in on your face—mockumentary style. 

“I’m not though,” you say. “Guys don’t usually come up to me and ask me out on a date, or ask me anything really.”

Buck is staring at you intently, and you almost wonder if you went too far by calling this a date. 

“Are you for real?”

“Well, I wish you wouldn’t say it like that, but yeah. I guess there’s just something about me that’s not super alluring to most men? That’s why I was so surprised by you.”

He waves his hands around gently. “I didn’t mean it like a bad thing, I’m just having a hard time wrapping my head around that.”

You eat a few more cheese fries. “Why?”

He stutters for a few moments. “Because you’re just so…so perfect?” You snort, an air of sarcasm to it.  “Like, for one, you’re super hot. You’ve got this whole shy but totally badass vibe about you, and you’re passionate and great at what you do. I guess I just can’t fathom there not being a line of guys wanting to jump your bones if you’ll let them.”

You laugh. It makes Buck smile. 

“I appreciate that you think those things about me. For a long time, I thought that was pretty impossible. Guess when you go twenty four years without anyone actively pursuing you, you start to wonder.”

The table falls silent, and you finish your drink, thanking the waiter when he takes your empty glass, returning with a full cup of water for you.

“So, let me get this clear,” Buck says. Normally those words would freak you the fuck out, but you’re feeling a lot less tense now, less scared of talking about your situation. It’s not what you want, but it’s how it is. “No guy has ever asked you out. So you’ve never had a boyfriend? Never had a first kiss? Never had…sex? Or anything adjacent to it?”

“That’s right,” you say. “And the orgasms I’ve given myself don’t count towards the adjacent. So yeah, you’re right. It’s embarrassing, trust me, I know.”

Buck is still reeling from you saying the word orgasm out loud to him right now, not to mention the images flashing through his mind because of it. He pulls himself together. 

“It’s not embarrassing. Are you embarrassed by it?”

You clear your throat. “I’m certainly not happy about it. Honestly, I’ve spent a lot of time wondering what it is that I’m missing that makes me so behind everyone else. And I’ve spent a lot of time being angry at myself. But it’s not like I can force those things to happen for me, you know?”

Buck gives you this look, and you know exactly what he’s going to say. A small grin makes an appearance on your face. 

“Well, I mean, you could,” Buck says. “But I can see why you haven’t. In my experience, just hooking up with someone to get off, or just say you’ve done something, kinda makes you feel like shit.”

You wrap your hands around your cool glass, running your fingers up and down through the condensation. 

“Unfortunately, I’m also a hopeless romantic. So I’ve thought about just hooking up with someone so that I’m not a virgin anymore, but that’s not what I want. I want a proper relationship and someone that cares about me and wants to be with me. Seems that’s a lot to ask for though.”

Buck reaches across the table and sets his hand on your wrist. “Hey, no, it’s not a lot to ask for. And it’s not bad to be a hopeless romantic! Honestly, I think there are more people like that than we know, but they do whatever to fit in. I am sorry that you’ve felt like this is something to be ashamed of. I can’t imagine how that feels. But I also think it means any relationship you’d have would be more successful because you’ve got your shit together already.”

That makes you laugh, just a little, and Buck is immediately thrilled, fully taking your hand in his. You don’t even have it in you to argue with him. For once, you just listen and try to see yourself through his eyes. 

“Well, I do appreciate you saying all of that, Buck. It’s only that I’ve been patient for so long, and I’m starting to think being wanted isn’t in the cards for me.”

Your gaze has dropped to the glossy table in front of you. You can see the reflections from the overhead televisions, from other patrons walking by, waiters carrying trays of drinks. Buck squeezes your hand in a way that makes you lock eyes with him. 

“So…what is it you think this is then?”

You blink. You have absolutely no response in your brain that would be the appropriate answer for this question.

“You asked me out for drinks.”

His grip on your hand moves up to your wrist, and a shiver runs down your spine when you feel his thumb press into your pulse. This is the most contact you’ve ever had with a man. Suddenly you’re hyper-aware of his skin on yours, the feeling of his calloused palms, shockingly cool and free of sweat, much to the contrary of your own. Your heart begins to race when it finally catches up. Maybe it’s better that this is coming on so unexpectedly.

“And…” Buck says. 

You cough even though absolutely nothing is tickling your throat. “You said you wanted to get to know me better.”

If it’s possible, Buck’s smile gets bigger. “Because?”

“You said you liked me?”

“Atta girl!” He teases. A shock of heat shoots straight from your throat down to your low belly. You pray he can’t see it on your face. Luckily, he continues talking. “So, now that we’re clear on me having a thing for you, what would you like to do with that information?”

You take a quick sip of water, mouth suddenly dry. “Well, my immediate thought is that I should run away and hide because in my head, a potential relationship, or whatever, sounds great but right now? Right here with you touching my hand and looking at me? It sounds kind of terrifying.”

Buck starts with the reading again, sliding his thumb further up until it’s nestled in the center of your forearm. It makes you shiver and his eyes flash. 

“Sounds like we’ve gotta get you out of that head of yours and into the present.”

————

With therapy, you’ve gotten exponentially better at learning how to breathe, how to focus on what’s happening right now, so that you don’t spiral out of control just thinking about what might be happening in a few hours, days, weeks. Being more present is something you’ve learned. That is, in your daily life. But when you’re not used to interacting with men, these feelings are so strange, uncomfortable and scary. 

Your imagination can only take you so far, and you’re accustomed to those limitations. Not knowing what a kiss feels like, not knowing the feeling of anyone else’s touch but your own, not being able to properly picture what might happen to your mind and body when in physical contact with someone you want.

It’s both exciting—sitting here, in Buck’s Jeep, as he drives you home, imagining that those feelings might finally be attainable—and nerve wracking, because how does any of this really work?

Reading about relationships, hearing about your best friend’s escapades, watching a love scene on tv—it’s all different than really experiencing it. Truthfully, it feels like there’s a part of your brain focused on dissociating so that your heart doesn’t fall out of your ass or so that you don’t go into hiding before anything can happen.

By the time Buck pulls into your driveway, you’re feeling like hiding might be your safest bet.

He stops the car, turns off the engine. “Let me walk you to your door?”

You nod, unbuckling your seatbelt with shaky hands. 

Buck follows you up the short sidewalk and up to your little front porch. You both pause under your outside lights, listening to the sound of crickets screeching from the shrubs. He puts his hands in his pockets and starts to rock back and forth on the balls of his feet. 

“So, uh, you were kinda quiet on the way here…did I freak you out earlier? Because if I didn’t, I didn’t mean—”

“No!” you blurt. “You didn’t freak me out, you made me hopeful, actually, I think I’m just afraid of all that romantic stuff because I’ve never done it before…”

He smiles. “Well, yeah, of course it’s a little nerve wracking, but wouldn’t it make you happy to experience those things? Like say, a hug, for starters?”

“Are you trying to hug me right now?” You deadpan, though excitement is thrumming through your veins, blocking out any hesitance. 

“Well, actually, I was hoping to kiss you, but warm up to it first, you know?” Buck says, a teasing lilt to his voice, a naughty smirk playing on his lips. You wish there was another word for it, but there’s not. 

You freeze. Your face has got to be on fire. You bring your hands to your cheeks, covering yourself from his view. 

Buck chuckles. Loosely, he circles your wrists. “Hey, don’t hide. What’s wrong?”

You’ve glued your hands to your face. “You’re making me sweat, Buckley.”

If at all possible, this makes him smile bigger, laugh harder, insanely pleased with himself. You hear the rustling of his coat as he leans down, leveling his lips with the shell of your ear. “Is that such a bad thing?” he whispers. 

You pull away quickly, pointing an accusing finger at him. “Not fair!” you joke. “But, I would like a hug…”

At your consent, he’s on you immediately. If you thought he was big just looking at him, having his body pressed to yours, in the most beautiful bear hug embrace you’ve ever experienced, he seems impossibly huge. It makes it feel like you’re the only person in the world. He’s so warm, so solid. His arms are around your back. He’d helped guide yours around his neck, but you’re so dazed that you hadn’t noticed. 

God, he’s so tall. You can feel the soft of his tummy, and you’re afraid that if you stay like this for too long you won’t ever be able to get through another day without craving the contact. His hair is surprisingly smooth where you feel it against your cheek. His form practically swallows you whole. Not to mention how nice he smells. You’ve never been able to understand those lines in your romance novels, talking about spice and man and ginger whatever. But now you do. He smells like vanilla shampoo and woody body wash. 

“This is so nice,” you mumble into the side of his neck, way before you can talk yourself out of it. You can feel Buck’s laugh against your chest. It feels amazing. It’s like an out of body experience. 

He pulls back just enough so that he can look at you, but he doesn’t remove his arms, only shifts so that his hands are gently grasping your waist. You’ve never felt this way before—like all your nerves are being sent into overdrive. You’re alive with the smallest of touches. 

“I genuinely can’t fathom how any man has ever looked at you and not wanted to make you theirs on the spot. I could scoop you up and keep you all to myself right now.”

This time you manage to maintain eye contact with him. You grin, biting the inside of your lip. “Buck?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m feeling really brave right now so if you were serious about that kissing stuff, this might be the time to act.”

Buck tosses his head back, gleeful laughter filling the small space of your front porch. Even so, his hands move up to the sides of your neck, fingers warm against your skin. “You’re sure?” he asks, his thumb caressing your pulse. He feels a kick of cockiness knowing he’s done that to you. 

“I’m sure,” you say. Nod your head one firm time.

“Maybe your cheek first? As a warm up?”

You nod again. You’ve officially steeled yourself. Buck bends to meet you, tilting your head back just slightly so that he can reach you from a better angle. His hand cups the back of your neck as he presses his lips to your cheek. He’s so sure of himself, so passionate about this small thing, that it feels sensual. It puts you in a trance. His lips remain on your cheek for just a minute, the beginnings of stubble scratching at your skin. You have the urge to giggle like a frenzied teen.

“How was that?”

You bite your lip, hating the way you’re buzzing with adrenaline, filling with excitement at all these new sensations. But more so, you feel so special. So seen. You feel fuller than you ever have before at being treated so gently, being cherished and looked at like you’re this precious being. “I really, really liked it,” you tell him.

“Well, I’m glad.” He winks. “I did too.” He relishes in your little giggle. “How about a real one before we call it a night?”

You’re nodding again. “Yes. I would like that very much. I just want you to know that I might be really bad at it and I’m probably gonna embarrass myself and it’s probably going to be the worst, most awful kiss you’ve ever had and—”

Buck’s lips are on yours, successfully shutting you up. You squeak. 

In truth, it does feel pretty awkward for the first few seconds, buck Buck takes it in stride. Doesn’t make you feel uncomfortable, just takes what you’re giving him and guides you in a better direction. He tips your head back again, slotting his lips over yours and pressing himself to you. Your brain goes completely quiet. You can’t think or feel anything that isn’t Buck. This feeling spreads throughout your body, easing the ache in your chest, making you feel light on your toes.

Relief.

You admittedly have no idea what you’re doing but try your best to follow his lead, trying to kiss him back with as much passion as you’re feeling inside, tentatively threading your fingers through his hair, setting a hand on his chest. At one point, his tongue runs over your bottom lip and you shiver. Buck’s hand flies to the small of your back, keeping you grounded. You let it happen, curious as to how it might feel. You don’t have words. He licks into your mouth, and you giggle. It makes him smile and he separates from you long enough to enquire what’s got you laughing. 

“I just realized what people mean when a couple looks like they’re eating each other's faces. It’s really nice, actually. Not as gross as people make it out to be.”

Buck snorts. “Thanks for the compliment.”

“You’re welcome,” you say, already scrambling to get his mouth back on yours. He doesn’t feel like teasing, letting you pull him down, letting you try and lead this one. You’re so gentle—trying to figure out the right way, the way that works for the both of you, to kiss him. He likes that you treat him so carefully.

When you finally end the kiss, you break the silence created by an intense few minutes of eye contact. “Was I bad? You can tell me, I know I was a little clumsy at the least.”

“Nah, not bad,” Buck says. “You’re a quick learner. I enjoyed it. Ten out of ten, would do it again.”

“Me too. Practice makes perfect, right?”

————

For the past few weeks, things with Buck have been going well. Since that first night out, he’s prioritized getting to know you better, spending time with you that doesn’t revolve around a nasty fire and the plethora of causes it may or may not have had. Time that doesn’t allow for any of your coworkers to pick and tease. 

Buck is starting to feel like one of your best friends. That was cemented the night he watched you play Resident Evil 7: Biohazard, enraptured by how quickly you were solving the puzzles and taking down those grimy basement monsters that, frankly, scared the shit out of him. You only told him that you’d played at least four times at the end of the evening. But hey, all your romance novels have told you that the best relationships are based on solid friendships. 

You’ve had the opportunity to kiss him more, some of it sweet and exploratory, you being courageous enough to ask Buck how he likes to be kissed, if he likes it when you tug his hair, if there’s anything you can change or do differently. He’ll only answer those questions if you do first, telling him what’s working and what you want more of. As useful as all of this communication is, it was tremendously embarrassing to share your intimate thoughts with him at first. 

Some of the kissing has gotten a bit heavier. The first time you sat in his lap ran through your mind constantly for days after, appearing in your dreams, day and night. You couldn’t get over the way he felt beneath you—solid, warm, so real. How he sounded when he kissed you, how his hands felt on your hips and the curve of your ass. How it had felt when he’d encouraged you to grind against him for the first time. You hadn’t meant to moan, but it was like relief had shot through you. Like your imagination was finally getting to take a break because now you were actually doing the things you imagined. You felt so alive, so powerful, feeling him get hard between your legs, hearing the strain in his voice as he encouraged you to keep moving until you finished. 

Tonight is the first night of your long weekend. Neither of you have shifts for the next few days, and you took it upon yourself to ask if he’d like to stay over, maybe get takeout and watch a movie or something. It hadn’t been meant as a request with the hope that it would turn into something more. Frankly, you’ve been feeling more shy since that moment you shared a few weeks ago. 

You hadn’t expected to watch a movie in your bed instead of on the couch, hadn’t expected to pause it halfway through because Buck’s stare was practically burning a hole through the side of your head and you had to figure out what was up. 

“You’re staring, Buck. Is something wrong?”

He’d laughed. It was unlike a laugh you’d heard from him before. It felt sensual. It felt laced with want. 

“Nah, nothing’s wrong. I just can’t get you out of my head.”

Your eyebrows had bunched together. “But…I’m right here. Shouldn’t that help?” That laugh again. 

“That’s not what I mean, sweetheart. I mean that I can’t stop thinking about fucking you with my fingers.”

And that’s how you’d ended up on your back, head pressed to your pillows, with Buck hovering over you. He’s kissing you, dragging his tongue over the sides of your neck and kissing a trail back right back up. His hand is resting on your collarbone, fingers tilting you up to him.

“How’s this feel?” he asks, voice muffled against your shoulder. 

“G-good,” you manage. “Really good.”

He pulls back, sitting back on his knees and setting his hands on your thighs. “Yeah? You’ve been squirming an awful lot.”

The heat radiating off of you, the way you cover your mouth with the back of your hand is enough of a response. Buck doesn’t say anything more, the both of you sitting in silence for a few minutes. He knows you want to say something. But he won’t force it out of you. He’ll wait until you use your words. 

“Buck?” Your voice is a whisper. He hums. You clear your throat, and he bites his lip to hide the pride racing through him at knowing he’s got you all flustered. “What you said before, about touching me? I want you to do it.”

“Yeah?” His smile is so gorgeous, so cocky, and if you weren’t so dazed with lust you might reach out and smack him. 

“Yeah,” you say. You give him your best, pleading eyes. That’s the first time you’ve ever looked at him that way, and Buck knows that he’s gonna give in any time you do from here on out. He leans back down, kissing you again. You take one of his hands and bring it between your legs, encouraging him to cup you. “You’ve been kissin’ me like that for so long…already feel pretty wound up.”

He nudges your nose with his, a smirk playing on his lips. He sets his palm down against you, over your shorts. The heel digs into your clit and he starts rubbing you, slow, but firm enough that you gasp. Your hips buck.

“Honestly,” he says, “I’d thought about teasing you, but I feel like you deserve this, after all that patient waiting you’ve done. Is that what you want?”

His middle finger presses over your hole. You’re so warm. He can feel how damp you’ve gotten, that you’ve started to soak through your panties. 

“Please,” you breathe. “Want you to touch me, so bad, Buck.” You brace your hands on his shoulders, feeling like all this pent up sexual energy is just begging to come out. You feel feral. 

“Okay, baby, okay. Let me get your shorts off, alright?” He taps your hip and you lift up, letting him slide them down your legs.

“Oh, um,” he pauses, a concerned look on his face. “I just wanted to tell you, I-I haven’t shaved or anything. I mean, I trimmed like a week ago, but, if that bothers you, I-” 

“Hey, no big deal,” Buck says. “Doesn’t matter to me. Not ever gonna stop me from making my girl feel good.”

My girl. 

That alone felt like an orgasm.

He pulls your panties down, and you feel heat rising to your face when he marvels at how they stick to you. But the second Buck lays eyes on your perfect little pussy, he’s the one feeling dazed. 

“How no one has ever touched you like this…” He licks a stripe up your inner thigh. “How no one has ever told you how much they fucking want you, never fallen on their knees for you…” He spreads your legs farther, shamelessly trying to memorize every detail of you. “Is beyond me.” 

Buck sets his middle and ring finger on the hood of your clit, starting to rub you in slow, agonizing circles. 

“Because I feel like I could devour you right now.” 

Your feet slide up the bedsheets, legs bending at the knee and allowing Buck to get more comfortable as he settles between them. Buck sets his chin on top of your knee. He’s watching his own hand and how it moves over you. His left hand is pushing up your t-shirt just a little so that he’s massaging the fat of your hip. For a moment he pictures holding onto said hips while he fucks you for the first time, imagines what sounds you might make, and he has to keep himself from letting out a moan.

Buck slides his fingers down to circle your hole, reveling in how soft your skin is, how warm and messy and perfect. He gathers some of your arousal on the tips of his fingers, dragging it up through your lips and over your clit. 

“How’s that feel?” he asks. “Tell me what you need, and I’ll give it to you.”

You swallow hard, looking up at him. “Feels good. When you do t-that—jesus—the up and down? It’s so nice, but the circles, that’s what will get me to—” 

“That’s what’ll get you to come all over my fingers?” 

You moan. It’s high pitched and whiny, a sound you didn’t know you could make. You force the words out of your throat. “Yes.”

“You wanna take a finger now?” Buck kisses your knee. You’re pretty sure he’s sucked a hickey into the skin above it while you’ve been otherwise distracted. 

“Please, please, Buck, I need to know how it feels—fuck!”

Buck’s fingers are bigger than yours. Much bigger. The sight of him hovering above you, his eyes almost black, burning with desire for you, really does you in. He starts slow: a few soft thrusts of his finger rubbing your walls, exploring the inside of you. 

Then he curls his finger upwards. Your eyes roll back in your head and at the same time your body gives away how fucking turned on you are, how desperate you are for him—and it’s loud. 

You’re so wet that your pussy squelches. Something about that sound flips a switch in Buck, and you’re crying out as he adds a second finger, curling them both, clearly enjoying the filthy sounds you’re making. 

Buck pushes your knee down and away, settling completely beside you, propped up so he can see your face properly while he’s fingering you within an inch of your life. The way he’s looking at you tells you that he’s going to make you come soon. He’s making it a mission. He wants your orgasm as much as you do. He needs it.

“You’re so fucking wet, baby. ‘M so glad you let me help out this time. I bet you’ve spent so many nights spread out on this bed, fucking yourself, doing all the work alone.”

Buck’s fingers are making you brainless. You feel blissful, so serene, so calm, so fucking good. He keeps curling his fingers, scissoring them every once in a while. You want to tell him that you can’t usually come just from this, that you need external stimulation. You grab onto his bicep. 

“Yeah, yeah, Buck—I have. You’re takin’ such good care of me.” He slows down his ministrations, letting you take a breather. Letting you gather your thoughts before he pushes you over the edge. You cup his cheek, pull him down for a kiss. He’s practically got hearts in his eyes. 

“Need you to play with my clit, B-Buckley. W-won’t come without it. I wanna come.”

You look down, suddenly entranced by the way Buck’s fingers are moving inside you. He follows your gaze, chuckling to himself. “You like to watch, pretty girl? Guess next time I’ll have to get you a mirror.”

Buck pulls his fingers out of your pussy and you whine. You shiver. You feel so empty. But all is forgotten when he puts the very same fingers that were just inside of you into his mouth. He maintains eye contact with you while he sucks them clean. You moan, despite the fact that he’s not touching you. It’s just so fucking sexy.

His hand returns to your drenched skin, fingers pressing firmly against your clit. 

“Where’s that spot, huh?” he asks. “Show me where it feels the best.” You guide him, a little to your left, that spot on the hood of your clit, not directly on it where the stimulation will be too much, but the spot that has you arching your back, quite possibly more revved up than you ever have been before. 

Buck is quick to begin soothing those precise little circles again, a look of determination on his face. For a moment, neither of you say anything. There’s only the sound of your breathing, the wet, filthy sound of him rubbing at your clit.

That telltale heat spreads its way through your low belly, through the tops of your thighs, through your pelvis, up your spine. It’s right there, you think. 

“Fuck, I’m—” The words are barely out of your mouth by the time your orgasm washes over you, making the room go fuzzy, shrouding you in pure, thoughtless bliss. He fucks you through it, rubbing you until you’re twitching, successfully overstimulated. 

You lay there, covered in a sheen of sweat, attempting to restore your breathing to a normal rhythm when he comes back with a damp cloth. You’d been able to tell him where they were, tell him you could clean yourself up, but he insisted. He wipes you off, gets you clean underwear and a fresh t-shirt. 

You sit on the edge of your bed, taking in your surroundings, taking in your own feelings about what you’ve just done. You feel so nice. So special. Confident in yourself and your body. 

You feel happy. Having this little piece of you cared for so well doesn’t make you whole. You didn’t need the experience to feel complete, or like it made you normal. But you do feel powerful. This was just the icing on top of the cake. Something of a treat. You wish you could think of another way to put it, but you feel like a badass woman. 

Buck’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts. He bumps your shoulder. 

“I was gonna ask if you enjoyed yourself, but…I mean, I did kind of see that you did.”

You laugh, taking his hand in both of yours. “I did, Buck. I’m glad I got to do that with you. It was perfect for me.”

He shoots you a wink. “Good. And I did wanna preface that I’ll be here whenever you’re ready to do all the other stuff.” He watches the way your eyes crinkle up as you smile. 

“I look forward to doing all that other stuff with you. But for now…wanna have a sleepover?”

————

note: none of the gifs or images i use are mine! i get most of my images from pinterest or here, and gifs from about the same. please let me know if i ever don’t credit someone properly!

[valeskalikespickles]

best seat in the house.

blame it on the moustache.

eddie diaz x female reader (nickname - blue)

warnings - smut. cursing. I think the word moustache is in this about 500 times.

word count - 3k

authors note - save a horse, ride a… firefighter. we all know I go feral for a pornstache, so it was only a matter of time before this happened.

masterlist. inbox.

You’re going insane.

You’ve been away for two months, on a placement course with the academy. As a trainee EMT, you’ve been lucky enough to earn your place in the 118, the one firehouse that every firefighter and paramedic in Los Angeles covets. With that comes training days and practical exams and occasionally, a two month placement that you’re scored and assessed on.

You passed with flying colours, of course - no one doubted you for a second. You’d expected to cruise back into your firehouse after some time away like you’d never left, everything exactly the same as it was.

Except, you’re going insane.

Eddie Diaz has a moustache.

A full on 80s inspired pornstar brush of a moustache.

It suits his face beautifully, accentuating his dark features and those big brown eyes. It’s made him ten times more attractive - which you didn’t think was even possible. You’ve had a harmless crush on him ever since your first day, and the moustache seems to have accelerated it tenfold.

“Are you okay?”

A heavy arm is slung around you, pulling you into the side of a solid body. You know who it is based on his cologne. You relax into him, resting your head on his shoulder.

“Yeah, I’m good.”

He looks at you skeptically, eyebrows raised.

“Blue.”

“Buck.”

“You’ve been kinda spacey these last couple of days. What’s the deal?”

“There’s no deal. Just tired, I guess.”

“You’d tell me if something was wrong though, right?”

You look up at him, heart melting at the genuine concern in his eyes.

“Of course I would,” you reassure. “Love you.”

“Love you,” he mumbles into your hair, pressing a kiss onto your head. “Even if you are stubborn as hell.”

You chuckle, burrowing further into his side and getting comfortable on the couch. You both sit like that for a while, praying the alarms don’t sound so you can enjoy your peace a little while longer.

“Hey, Blue?”

The source of all of your stress comes striding up the stairs, all bright eyed and gorgeous.

“Eddie.”

He takes a seat on the other side of you, pressing his thigh into yours. You will yourself to take a deep breath and calm down, before he feels all of the tension in your body.

“Chris has been counting down the days until you came back. You wanna come over for dinner tonight? He’s missed you like crazy.”

“I’d love to,” you breathe, grinning at him like an idiot.

He grins right back, squeezing your thigh quickly. You determinedly ignore the way electricity zips through your veins at the action.

“Alright, I’m gonna workout for a while. Let’s hope we don’t get a call when I’m mid weight set,” he laughs, winking at you cheekily before heading down the stairs.

Heat blooms across your chest as you bite your lip, trying to stop yourself from beaming from ear to ear. As soon as he’s gone, Buck grabs both of your shoulders, shaking you like a maniac.

“Oh. My. God.”

“What? Buck, what? Jesus, what?”

You grip onto his wrists, willing him to still his movements.

“That’s what’s gotten into you! It’s Eddie!”

You choke on your words, struggling to get any out - so you punch his leg as hard as you can, giggling when he yelps. Buck swings his arm around your neck, catching you in a headlock and pulling you into his lap. All you can do is try to wriggle out, smacking any of his body parts you can reach. Eventually you separate when you both crash onto the floor, laughing and out of breath.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he pants, lying next to you on the ground.

“Tell you what, Evan?”

“That you’re in love with Eddie.”

Your eyes go wide as your jaw drops open, alarm bells going off in your mind.

“Woah- that’s, yeah, uh… no.”

“Okay, not love, then. But you’ve got the hots for him. Big time.”

You sigh in defeat, head dropping back onto the wooden floor.

“He’s a handsome man.”

“I know,” he agrees. “All of us would agree with you on that.”

You lie in silence for a moment, praying that no one comes up the stairs and finds you here. Buck intertwines his fingers with yours, squeezing reassuringly.

“It’s the moustache,” you whisper. “The goddamn moustache.”

“Oh, you like a man with some facial hair?” he smirks, propping himself up on his elbow.

You sit up, leaning back against the sofa and dusting yourself off.

“I do. I like you better when you have a little bit of stubble going on.”

“Noted,” he winks. “You should tell him.”

“Huh?”

“That you like the moustache. He’ll appreciate it.”

“Yeah. No. Not gonna happen.”

“You never know… something good might come of it.”

“Evan. Are you hearing yourself?”

“Loud and clear, Bluey. Listen, you’re a beautiful girl. You tell Eddie you like his moustache… he tells you he likes your entire face… and boom. Fireworks.”

You throw your head back as you cackle, laughing with your full chest.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m just saying! You never know what might happen.”

“And I’m just saying… you’re ridiculous.”

You’re startled suddenly by the bells ringing and lights flashing, both of you jumping up and running down the stairs towards the truck.

“Saved by the bell,” Buck grins, winking at you.

Saved by the bell indeed.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

An evening with Chris is exactly what you need.

Only… that’s not what you get.

“He got invited to a birthday party at the movies last minute. I didn’t have the heart to tell him you were coming over. I should have called, Blue - I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you soothe, kicking off your shoes by the door like you’ve done so many times before. “I brought wine, anyway. Just in case.”

“You’re the best,” he chuckles, heading to the kitchen to get some glasses. “You and I can catch up tonight. I want to know all about your assessments.”

“It wasn’t that exciting, really. Lots of time in a classroom listening to some old dude talking.”

You get comfy on the couch, tucking your legs underneath yourself and happily accepting the glass of wine that Eddie holds out to you. He takes the cushion next to you, turning so his body’s facing yours.

“Did they let you drive the ambulance?”

“Yes! We had driving lessons, which were hilarious. There were some people there I wouldn’t trust to drive a golf cart, never mind an ambulance with a dying patient in.”

He cackles, knocking his knee into yours. All you can think about is how good he smells, all woody and musky and masculine.

You launch into a story about an emergency amputation on a plastic doll to distract yourself, which ends in both of you in fits of laughter, tears dripping down your faces.

The bottle of wine goes down too smoothly over the course of the evening, both of you a little tipsy. You’ve inched closer, legs tangled as you lean into each others sides. You can’t stop giggling, warm and flushed and happy to be in one another’s company.

Eddie’s phone vibrates, both of you scrambling around the cushions to find it. Eventually, he finds it, both of you chuckling at the theatrics of it all.

“Hello? Oh, hi Jenna. Yeah, sure. No worries, that’s fine. Give me a call if he needs anything, alright? Okay, tell him I say goodnight. Thanks, Jenna.”

You raise your eyebrows in question.

“Chris is going to stay the night at Cameron’s. His mom was just checking it’s okay.”

“He’s so grown up now,” you sigh. “Where does the time go?”

“I wish I had the answer to that,” he says as he throws his phone onto the coffee table. “I’ve got no idea.”

You lean against the back of the couch, resting your head on top of your arms. Eddie stares at you with the softest look on his face that you’ve ever seen, mirroring your posture.

“We all missed you,” he murmurs. “The 118 wasn’t the same with you gone.”

“I missed you. All of you. I was counting down the days until I could come back.”

He smiles at you all gentle and honey sweet, and you’re surprised you don’t melt into a liquid on his nice couch. Your heart is thumping against your chest, working overtime to keep you upright and breathing.

It’s never been like this with Eddie. Or maybe it has. You’ve always been able to tamper down your feelings, keep them buried and in check - so much so that a beautiful friendship has blossomed over time. You don’t want to ruin what you’ve built by admitting you’ve got some silly school girl crush on him and his moustache. It’d kill you if you lost him - Christopher too.

“Have you done something different?”

His buttery voice breaks you out of your daydream.

“Hmm?”

“You look… different. In a good way. Beautiful.”

He’s rambling, trying to cover his tracks so it doesn’t look like he’s coming onto you. You smile, shaking your head.

“Thank you, but I don’t think so. Oh wait, I have a new blush on my cheeks. Maybe it’s that?”

“Suits you.”

You bite your lip to stop yourself from grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

“If I ask you a question, will you be honest with me, Blue?”

“Always.”

“What do you think of the moustache?”

Oh no. You pause, trying to formulate an appropriate answer quickly.

“I… like it.”

“You don’t sound like you do,” he chuckles.

“No, I do. I like it.”

“I thought you promised to be honest.”

His hand is resting on your knee, settled and comfortable. You’re not sure when he put it there, but you’re not complaining.

“I am being honest.”

“Look me in the eye, then.”

You hadn’t even realised you’d been avoiding him, too busy worrying about keeping your heart rate steady. You finally catch his gaze, those big brown eyes staring straight into your soul.

“Blue?”

“Eds?”

Your voices are low and cautious, careful not to disrupt the atmosphere you’ve created. You’re both wine drunk and warm, giddy off of the happiness of being reunited with one of your best friends.

“Tell me what you really think about the moustache. I trust you to be honest - if you think it’s terrible, I’ll shave it off right now.”

“Don’t shave it,” you say a little too quickly. “I meant it when I said I like it. Promise.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You look good. Fuck, you look good.”

The wine is making you too honest, but it’s too late to turn back now. He wanted the truth… he’ll get the truth.

“Oh. You like it, don’t you?”

He’s got this cocky smirk on his face, arrogant and self assured. You wish you hated it, but you don’t. Unfortunately.

“So what if I like a man with facial hair? Is that a crime?”

“It’s not a crime,” he laughs. “Just didn’t think the pornstache would be your kind of thing.”

“Well I didn’t think it’d be yours either, but here we are.”

He looks at you with nothing but mischief in his eyes, gaze raking up and down your body slowly. A shiver runs down your spine, the hairs on your arms standing up in anticipation. You sit in the quiet for a moment, waiting for Eddie to make the next move - you’re worried that your raging crush means that you’re misreading the atmosphere of the room.

“You wanna take it for a spin?”

Time stands still for a moment, both of you holding your breath.

“I- I- you… Eds, I- what?”

He chuckles all low and slow, like butter wouldn’t melt.

“You wanna take it for a spin?”

You’re looking at him with your jaw hinged open, blinking like a deer in headlights. When you don’t say anything, Eddie speaks again.

“You wanna sit on it?”

You’re quite convinced you’re in another dimension, catapulted into an alternate reality all of a sudden. An alternate reality where Eddie Diaz is… asking you to sit on his face?

“I- what, um… where has that come from?”

You’re only now noticing the blush on his cheeks, unable to tell if it’s from you and the close proximity or the bottle of wine that now sits empty on the coffee table.

“You like the moustache. And I like you.”

He looks almost sheepish, like he didn’t mean to confess out loud.

“I… do like the moustache. And I do like you.”

He grins at you all bold and beautiful, and you can’t help but grin right back.

“I had a dream last month that you sat on my face,” he murmurs, leaning in so he’s talking right into your ear. “I can’t get it out of my head. It’s like it plays on repeat.”

You clear your throat, attempting to get words out.

“Tell me more.”

“It was the hottest thing I’d ever seen in my life. It felt so real, Blue. I swear I could taste you on my tongue when I woke up.”

You’re almost gasping for breath, heart working overtime in your ribcage as you pant.

“Well I guess I better… how did you say it? Take it for a spin?”

He quirks an eyebrow at you to ask are you sure?, which has you smirking at him with nothing but deviance in your eyes.

“It’d be rude not to, Eddie. Seeing as you asked so nicely. And seeing as the universe is sending you psychic, prophetic, sexy dreams about me.”

He doesn’t waste another second, shuffling down the couch so he’s lying flat. When you don’t move, he props himself up on his elbows, looking at you expectantly.

“You can’t sit on my face from all the way over there, Bluebird.”

Laughing in disbelief, you crawl your way up his body, stopping when you’re straddling his waist. You lean down, pausing so you’re nose to nose as you breathe each other in.

“Can I kiss you?”

He looks confused that you’re asking but nods eagerly, softness written all over his face. You kiss him gently, carefully, sweetly. You’re figuring each other out, not wanting to push any boundaries too far too soon.

Eddie slips his tongue into your mouth eagerly, hips bucking up into yours. It’s all teeth and lust carnal need, years of built up longing bubbling to the surface. When you’re both so out of breath you’re lightheaded, you pull away, pecking his lips quickly before standing up to shimmy your shorts and panties down your legs. Eddie looks drunk - not on the wine, but on you.

You climb back on top of him, shuffling up his chest so you’re hovering over his face. You’re completely sure you want this, but there’s a tiny little inkling of anxiety that’s spreading through your veins, lighting up your nerves.

“I’ll take care of you,” he promises, looking up at you with nothing but love in his eyes. “Always.”

“I know,” you smile, gently moving a stray strand of hair away from his eyes. “Show me what you’ve got, Diaz.”

With that, you quit the hovering and sit down exactly where he wants you, throwing caution to the wind.

Eddie takes it slow at first, taking mental notes. It’s all careful and loving and considered, both of you holding back. He’s kitten licking, sucking gently, savouring the taste of you while he can. Eventually, you get a little impatient, accidentally bucking your hips into his face.

“S’that what you want?” he mumbles from underneath you. “Use me, Blue. Take what you need.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice, as you instantly grind your hips forward. He slips his tongue inside you, your back arching when the gorgeous slope of his nose bumps against your clit.

“Oh, fuck,” you breathe, tangling your fingers into his hair to use as leverage. “Right there, Eds. Keep doing that.”

He does exactly as he’s told, curling his tongue just right as you rock forwards and backwards, taking control of the situation. He’s groaning beneath you, clearly enjoying this just as much as you are. When you let out a particularly pornographic moan, his hips are bucking up into the air, desperate for any kind of friction.

“Close,” you mumble, fingers tightening in his hair. “So close, Eddie.”

His hold on your thighs only gets firmer, his grip bruising as he digs his fingertips into your flesh. As if he knows you need a little push, he smacks your ass hard with an open palm, the unexpected jolt of it sending you flying into your climax.

Eddie works you through it, tongue never ceasing its movements until you’re tugging him away and shuffling down so you can collapse against his chest. He wraps his arms around you, drawing patterns on any skin he can reach to calm your racing heart. There’s not an inch of space between you, bodies plastered together on his couch.

“You okay?” he’s asking all muffled into the top of your head.

“Never better.”

You feel his laugh rumble through your bones, making you chuckle.

“So… you don’t want me to shave the moustache?”

“You’re annoying,” you grumble, looking up at him with stars in your eyes. “But don’t you dare.”

“Yes ma’am,” he teases, pressing a kiss into your hair. “Loud and clear.”

You’re not sure how long the two of you lie all tangled up on the couch together. It doesn’t matter.

Tonight, you have all the time in the world.

[valeskalikespickles]

Sorry about the lack of writing :/ I've been unmotivated to do literally anything and can barely get myself out of bed. Love you guys, I promise i'm trying to get through requests.

[valeskalikespickles]

Mustache Eddie?!??? I’m wet. Sorry what I meant to say was I’m wet. Whoops, my bad I meant to type I’m wet. Whoa spellcheck is a bitch I’m trying to communicate that I’m wet. No no no I’m wet. Sorry. I’m wet. No that’s not—I’m wet goddamnit I’m trying to say that I’m w—

[valeskalikespickles]

SEX POLLEN

request by anon

word count: 941

summary: Eddie and reader were locked in a room with a scientist who died from a major heart attack. When reader knocks over a jar of sex pollen she and Eddie can't hold back anymore.

DISCLAIMER: I don't usually write smut.. so i'm terribly sorry if this is bad. I did enjoy writing this though, it was a fun experiment. Whoever requested it thank you!

Gender: FEMALE

Eddie Diaz X fem! reader

Warnings: SMUT MDNI

So being locked in a room with Eddie after being exposed to sex pollen was not on my 2024 bingo card. 

We were helping this scientist who had a major heart attack, I turned around too fast and knocked over a small jar. Eddie yelled at me but how the hell was I supposed to know it would just make us horny as shit? The victim died, we were doing cpr for about 25 minutes and Eddie ripped me off of the guy after saying he was gone. I never do well when we lose someone. Kind of makes me feel like I failed at my job. When I tried to kick out of his arms, that's when I knocked the jar over. We went to leave and found that it was completely locked down. Dude had like 6 million different security measures and the team was working to get them down. We put him under a sheet and slid him into a different room so we wouldn't have to stare at a dead body for God knows how long.

About twenty minutes after I knocked it over I rolled my head back, I could definitely feel the effects. I was trying not to pay attention to it, the burning sensation in my core but to be honest it was getting harder and harder. My cunt had never been this soaked, looking over and seeing Eddie with his head thrown back as he also tried to fight it didn’t help. My hand reached down, slipping into my pants and into my panties.. Slowly working around my clit. Eddie was staring now, looking at me with a look I’d never seen on his face before. “May I?” He made his way over to me and I nodded, he slid his hand into my pants and let out a quiet groan. 

“Shit you’re so wet.” He whispered, I reached over and palmed at his bulge. “What if they find us too soon?” I moaned out quietly as he stuck a finger into me as I jolted backwards. “I don’t even care.” He whispered, kissing my neck slowly. 

“You- You're supposed to be mad at me for this.” I stammered, hands finding their way into his dark hair. He shook his head against the crook of my neck. “I can’t be mad when the only thing I’m thinking about is fucking you senseless.” 

He removed his hand and I let out a small whine. “Hold on, sweetheart. I’m just getting you more comfortable.” He slid my pants off along with my panties. He grabbed me by the waist, picking me up from the ground and sitting me on the counter, positioning himself in between my legs and throwing each one of my legs over his shoulders. He slowly licked the slick off of my cunt, looking up at me as he did so. 

“Look at me, amor..” He whispered, the vibrations of his voice sending a shiver down my spine. I looked down at him, I swear I could’ve came right fucking there. His eyes were brown but they were always the prettiest eyes I’d ever seen. 

He held eye contact with me, licking and sucking at my clit. I closed my eyes for a moment and he stopped, “Fuck.” I whispered, looking back down at him. “Keep looking at me, I wanna see those pretty eyes when you cum.” He spoke softly, his voice rugged. I nodded weakly, looking into his eyes as he continued to suck on my clit. He slid his tongue into me and I yelped, “E-eddie.” I whispered, grinding against his face. Before I knew it I was sweating and I was pushed to my max. My back arched and my mouth flew open, a loud moan leaving my mouth as he continued to tongue fuck me while I rode out my high. I pushed his head back with a shaky breath. He looked up at me, his mustache soaked with my slick.

He stood up and immediately started kissing me, making me taste me on his mouth. I moaned against him as he slid his belt off with ease, he took his cock out and pumped it a few times. “What do you need?” I whispered, taking his cock in my hand. “Your mouth or to be inside of you.. I don’t even care.” I could’ve sworn he whimpered a little bit. “How about both?” I lowered down to my knees, “Just this first because I need to taste you.” I licked the head of his cock, his head lolling back and I stopped. 

“If I had to look at you, you have to look at me.” I licked at the large vein in his dick, him whimpering again and nodding as he maintained eye contact with me. His eyes were enough to make a girl weak in the knees.. If I wasn’t already. I took as much as I could of him into my mouth as possible, bobbing my head as his large hand entangled into my hair. 

At some point, he was a moaning mess, “I’m gonna cum.. Please.” 

I gave him a look of ‘do it’ and he did, his cum shooting into my throat in warm ropes. He decided he wanted to fuck the shit out of my on the counter, which I let him do but shit he was so pretty when he came. 

Eventually we finished and got dressed, I walked over to him and kissed him slowly. “We should do that again sometime.” I laughed and he rolled his eyes. “Let me take you out on a date first.”

[valeskalikespickles]

OUT OF MY LEAGUE

Request by Anonymous

EVAN BUCKLEY X READER

Word count: 1.7k

Summary: Reader likes Buck and isn't too confident about it. She tends to get jealous. Buck and reader get into an argument.. then booyah idk they want each other. I kind of just wrote out of my ass. But thank you so much for requesting!!

Gender: Female

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Having feelings for my best friend probably wasn’t my smartest idea.. Especially because he is literally the furthest anyone could be out of my league. But I like to torture myself so.. Here we are! I mean I know I’m not ugly per say, but I’m definitely not pretty enough for Buck. 

I was standing with Bobby and Hen when Buck walked over holding his bag over one of his broad shoulders and his phone in the other hand. “Another DXA scan and guess who dropped another half percent?” Buck had a goofy smile on his face and I rolled my eyes. “What?” Hen looked confused but I had been hearing about his stupid obsession over his body fat even though he was literally already perfect. 

“A DXA scan, it measures your body fat.. You can see your percentage in every part of your body.” He said proudly, showing her the screen. “Oh yeah? To measure the fat in your head?” Chimney walked over with a goofy, proud smile on his face. “See that would be funny but right now we’re about a week away from submissions being due for the hot day smoldering nights men of the LAFD wall calendar and I’m already at my goal weight so it seems my head is clearly.. Working perfectly.” I laughed lightly, Hen spoke up.. Rambling about how sexist this whole thing was. 

I zoned out on my phone, another perfect girl showing up on my Instagram feed. God really chooses favorites doesn’t he? Chimney broke me out of my trance, “Okay, that is a beautiful man.” I looked up from my phone to see a newbie, a bit shorter than Buck, brunette, brown eyed, hispanic, the complete opposite of Buck. Alright, why am I comparing them? Buck doesn’t like me like that. “Where’s the lie? And I like girls.” Hen laughed and I snickered as well. “Who the hell is that?” Buck looked almost offended. 

“Buck, you're not getting replaced.. Calm down.” I placed a hand on his arm with a laugh and he rolled his eyes and shrugged my hand off. “That’s Eddie Diaz, new recruit. He graduated top of his class just this week. ” Bobby spoke, hands on his hips as usual like a disappointed mom. “The guys over at station six were dying to have him but I convinced him to join us.” 

“What do we need him for?” Buck almost snapped, gosh this new guy thing was definitely getting to him. I walked away from the conversation with a small laugh. I went over to the kitchen and grabbed some water. Buck showed up soon after, “This guys trying to steal my spot. I can feel it.” 

“No he isn’t Buck.” I ran a hand through my hair, “Give the guy a chance?”

“Aw you too?” He groaned, spinning in one of the chairs. “He’s already brainwashing you guys!” I let out a laugh, “How’s Abby?” I hated bringing her up but I unfortunately needed to know for my own gain. Not like I’d ever make a move but if he’s single there’s a sliver of hope right? “Haven’t really talked to her in awhile, but there was this girl at the bar. She gave me her number but uh.. We went back to her place.” He sighed. I know he hates how hypersexual he is. “I was doing so well. I Haven't slept with anyone in almost a month.” He admitted.   

“Buck it’s alright to sleep with people sometimes.” I couldn’t ignore the pang in my chest when I thought of him sleeping with anybody else. Just thinking about him with anyone else was enough to drive me insane. “I do it every now and then,” That was a whole ass lie, but he’s my best friend and I needed to make him feel better. “You do?” He laughed, looking up from his hands. “No no I don't. I just wanted you to feel better.” I snickered. I sat down next to him at the bar of the kitchen. “You're a good guy, you just pick shitty women.” 

And with that the alarm went off.

—----------------------------------------------------

I got home, setting my bag on the counter and pulling my coat off. I hung my keys up on the ring and almost immediately took my belt off. That thing was suffocating 24/7. I looked down and saw 4 missed messages from Buck. I groaned and opened them. 

Evan:“Can I come over? A pipe burst in Abby's apartment and it flooded.”

Evan:“Viennnaaaa.” 

Evan:“Viiiii”

Evan:“I’m about to just show up if you don’t respond.” 

Vienna: “Why would I care? Yeah you can always come over but I swear if I hear anything else about this stupid calendar I'll lose it.” 

Evan<3 liked a message

I shouldn’t be excited for him to come over.. Well he’s my best friend so I should be but also what if I say something stupid? I’m already exhausted enough. About 15 minutes later Buck walked through the door, I was in my pjs and was holding my cat Prince. “Oh hey.” I sat the cat down and greeted him with a hug. “All your stuff okay?” I tilted my head slightly and he nodded. “All of my stuff yeah.. But Abbys not so much.” He laughed. 

“Why are you still living there?” I blurted, not really regretting it. He shrugged, “where else would I stay?”

“Your apartment?”

He shook his head, “I sold it.” He gave me a look that said ‘please don’t be mad at me’ I gave him almost a mom look. “Evan.” His lips immediately turned into a thin line. “I wasn’t thinking!” He protested and I shook my head. “Just stay here. It’s not healthy for you to stay there anymore.. She’s not coming back and you know that.”

“You don’t know that.” He sighed and let out almost an amused laugh. “You still think she’ll come back for you?” That sounded harsh but it was true. He furrowed a brow in confusion, “Why are you acting like this?” He scoffed and I rolled my eyes. “You're just making yourself miserable! Staying at your ex-girlfriend's house isn’t healthy.”

“Oh and you know so much about a healthy relationship hm?” He said, clenching his jaw. 

“Buck.” I warned.

“No no, please enlighten me. What do you know about a healthy relationship? The last guy you were with cheated on you twice and you stayed.” He scoffed once more and almost immediately looked like he regretted it. “This isn’t the same situation.” I shook my head. “I didn’t mean it like that.” He sighed. 

“Then how did you mean it because it for sure sounded like you meant I’m a dumb ass for staying with him even though- You know what? No, I'm not doing this right now.” I threw my hands up in frustration and turned to walk to my room. “Guest beds made for you.” I said as I slammed my door.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

I heard a knock on my door and sighed, getting up and letting Buck in. “I’m sorry for being a dick.” He flopped onto my bed and turned to lean on his hand, propped up on his elbow. 

“Me too.” I sat down with my legs crossed in front of him. “You really are welcome to stay here. Unless you’d rather be at Abby’s?” 

He shook his head and placed a hand on my knee, I could’ve sworn I let out a quiet yelp. “No no, I’d rather be here.” I smiled at him, “Finally decided to believe your best friend.” 

He sat up and faced me, “Have you ever thought about.. You know us bein-” There was a knock at the door that I got up to go get and saw my neighbor standing there. “Oh hey Jamie, what's up?” She handed me a white envelope and smiled back. “Mail got mixed up again.”

I took the envelope with a grin, “Oh thank you! Have a nice evening.” She waved goodbye and I closed the door behind myself. “What were you saying?” I looked up at Buck and grabbed my letter opener. He shook his head. “Nevermind.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

A few weeks later Buck was still living with me and it was starting to feel like he was staying for this long on purpose. That’s silly though right?

I was making dinner when he got home, a 24 hour shift that I could already tell knocked the life out of him. He walked over and took a piece of bacon from the plate. Breakfast for dinner. (Like the only thing I can cook) 

“Can I talk to you?” He spoke softly, I nodded. “What happened to Hello, how are you?” I laughed, he rolled his eyes and continued. “I’ve been thinking and.. What if we went out sometime?”

I nodded, “Like where? Bowling again?”

He laughed, “No no.. like on a date, Vi.” I looked at him like he was some alien, what in the world was he even talking about right now? “What? Did the station get dosed again?”

He looked down at me with those pretty pretty eyes I could never resist no matter how hard I tried. “Vi.. I’m being serious.”

“You really are desperate aren’t you?” I rolled my eyes, he just wanted sex so bad. He shook his head and rested a hand on my cheek. “We don’t even have to do anything...” He leaned down into my ear, speaking barely above a whisper. “I like you, Vienna.” I pulled back to look up at him. “Is this a joke? I understand I’m not the prettiest but no need to mock me, Evan..” 

He looked confused, “I’m not mocking you? You're literally stunning.”

If he was fucking around I was gonna kill him. I looked up at him, looking for any sign of insincerity.. Nothing. All I could do was nod, him leaning down to kiss me. It wasn’t like how Liam(my ex) used to kiss me, it meant something. I kissed him back, wrapping my arms around his neck before remembering the eggs. “Shit.” I turned to the stove and quickly took them off the burner. “So.. that's a yes?” He smiled, I nodded with a laugh. “It’s a yes, Buck.”   

[valeskalikespickles]

Requests are OPEN!!

Guys I need some requests i'm BEGGING. As usual it's all 911 right now but I plan on starting to do Criminal Minds stuff, just need to make a form and different blog for it. Here's the link once more and pls pls pls request anything! I'll do fluff, smut, angst, etc.

[valeskalikespickles]

Nightmares.

Eddie Diaz X reader

Fem! reader

No use of Y/N(I use one of my oc's names)

Summary: Brielle has a nightmare after falling asleep on the couch in in the loft, Eddie is sitting next to her when it happened.

Word count: 1.03k

After today I was exhausted. We had twenty calls today. Bobby was cooking so I sat down on the couch in the loft, grabbing the remote to the tv and turning it on. I pulled my legs up and sat “indian” style, or criss cross applesauce as a kindergarten teacher would’ve said. I yawned and leaned my head against my hand that was propped up on the arm of the couch.

Eddie walked over and sat down on the other side, scrolling through his phone. I ended up drifting off and falling asleep. 

The fire was enclosing the entire building, I held the girl to my chest. If I could just stay on top of her it would stop the fire from hurting her right? The ceiling crashed down on top of us, the entire house coming down. I felt water all around us, the team was probably putting the fire out so they could come get to us. I couldn’t move, something was pinning me down and the only thing I could move was my head. “Hey hey, Alicia are you alright?” I spoke with a shaky tone, I was in pain but I needed to make sure this little girl was okay. She didn’t reply. “Alicia?” I spoke again. Before I knew it Bobby was pulling me out of the rubble and Hen was checking the girl's pulse before she looked at Chimney and shook her head. 

Who knows how long it was before I woke up with every hair on my neck standing up and in a cold sweat. Great. It was just a dream and now Eddie is looking at me like I just told him I was diagnosed with cancer. He quickly put his phone down and moved to where he was right next to me. “Are you alright?” He spoke quietly. I nodded, rubbing my hands over my face as I put my legs back down onto the ground and hung my head. Eddie placed a gentle hand on my back. “How about we go outside and get some air?” He said as he stood up and grabbed my hand. 

I followed behind him as we went outside. It was a nice day out, unlike the 105 degree days we had been having. I took a deep breath in and he kept a hand on the small of my back. “Wanna talk about it?” He furrowed his brows, I shook my head. “It was just a bad dream. I promise I’m alright.” 

He pulled me over to two chairs outside, sitting down himself and gesturing to the chair next to it. I sat down and sighed, “You're gonna make me tell you what it was about aren’t you?” He nodded his head and laughed softly, “Yeah I am.”

I took a breath and tried to explain it as simply as possible, “I was trying to get this girl out of a building, the fire was everywhere and I needed to get her out but I put myself on top of her in hopes of the team venting the fire and then we could get out but.. But the house collapsed before we could and once they put the fire out and got me out from under the debris. She was gone, Eddie.. She was gone and I couldn’t do anything.” 

“Those dreams are normal, I get them all the time. They come with the job, Bri.” He placed a gentle hand on mine. I sighed and nodded, “I know, but the feeling of being helpless in those situations is almost too much.” 

“I hate not being able to save everyone.” I looked at him, he stood up and stepped in front of me. “Listen to me,” He said softly, “You're a great person, and a damn good firefighter. You don’t let anyone die without trying your hardest to help them.” He grabbed both of my hands and made me stand up. “How many people have you saved?” He raised his eyebrows. 

“96.” I spoke matter of factly. “And how many have you lost?” 

“14.”

“See? The numbers don’t match. Which means you're good at your job.” He smiled down at me. “I just.. These people that I can’t save have families.. Parents.. Sometimes children.” I shook my head, “I couldn’t imagine someone coming to my door to tell me that my kids dead.”

“You try your best..look at me.” He lifted my chin to look at him, searching my eyes for something but I couldn’t tell what. “We save who we can, and we try the best we can.” 

“You're so selfless it’s tearing you down, amor.” My stomach fluttered at the nickname, “Amor?” I repeated. He suddenly looked embarrassed. “Sorry I thought-” I shook my head, “No no it’s okay I like it.” I smiled softly and looked up at him. “Thank you.. You really helped me feel better.” 

“Really? Because I don’t comfort people too often.” He laughed lightly, rubbing the back of his neck. I nodded, “Really.” 

We both looked at each other, his eyes traveling to my lips, then my eyes, then back to my lips. He slowly leaned in and we ended up capturing each other's lips, he pressed me against the back wall as he continued to kiss me before he finally realized what was going on. “Shit i’m so sorry- I shouldn’t have.” He started.

I kissed him again before he could continue apologizing for something I had been waiting for for the past 4 months. He smiled as he pulled away once more. “So you do like me?”

I laughed, nodding slightly. I wiped my light pink lipstick off of his lips. “Yeah uh I do.. Was that obvious?” 

He shook his head, “No no, just.. Buck has been insisting that we’ve been like ogling each other for the past few months.” I smiled, “So.. what are we gonna do now?”

He pushed a hair out of my face, “I think I’m gonna have to take you out on a proper date and not pull a Buck 1.0” 

I giggled and nodded, “That sounds nice, tell me when and where and I’ll be there.”

[valeskalikespickles]

Intro

Hey! I'm Valeska. I'm 19 years old and I live in Georgia. I loveeeee 911 and crime show. (I also really enjoy Criminal Minds and SVU)

Here is the link to my request form, please please PLEASE send some in. I'm suffering from major writers block and have no clue what to write and it's literally just because I can't think of anything to write.