Sorry, Wrong Number! — Tanaka Ryuunosuke. Chapter Six; No Faith.

A Series of Firsts

A Bad Batch S1 Prequel Oneshot: 'First Meet'

Gif by @imalovernotahater

Hunter x femaleJedi!reader

Summary: A mission to Devaron sees the Batch meet someone they didn't expect

Warnings: No use of (Y/N), canon-typical violence, awkward Hunter and reader, my limited battle strategy knowledge, minor lies/deceit

Genre: Friends (idiots) to Lovers

Series Masterlist

Word Count: 3.3K

Rating: 18+ (a catch all for all my works)

Author's Note: I'm back! And I'm sorry it's not the work I promised but it helped a lot to just write something I had a clear vision for and this was going to be written at some point anyway! Hope you enjoy!

Devaron

Oh well, the capital city of Montellian Serat had made for a nice home for a while but this siege signalled it was time to move on. This was a part of the life you’d chosen; you couldn’t complain about it.

You had no interest in battles anymore and you couldn’t afford to risk getting involved. They seemed capable enough; you were sure they’d figure it out. The mere fact that the Republic hadn’t felt the need to send more than five troopers told you they had to have some skills when it came to dealing with the remaining handful of droids that had lingered on the planet.

Feeling content with your decision, you made to leave but stopped yourself as you heard the sound of clanking underneath you. You stayed completely still as the battalion of droids passed by bellow you.

“They sure won’t see this coming!”

“Yeah! They had no idea we were going to split our forces like this!”

“Clones… so stupid.”

You waited until it was all clear before you jumped down from the tree you’d been observing from and made a point of ignoring the sound of explosions and blaster fire. Just keep moving. You don’t need this. They don’t need this. Just put one foot in front of the other and keep going. You chanted internally as you worked on shutting out that niggling voice of morality that was insisting you stay and help them out.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to move. The smug and gleeful voices of the droids echoed in your head, and you knew what the right thing to do was. You heaved a sigh and tossed your head back in aggravation before you pulled your hood and mask up.

--

“Do all your missions usually go this well?” Echo asked into the comm as he ran.

“Normally we would have run into some sort of complication by now, but it would seem today is a good day. The battle is not concluded yet, but I suspect it will be momentarily.” Tech replied sensibly.

“I could actually use a challenge; I’m really bored right now.” Crosshair complained from his post.

The celebrations over comms were a normal occurrence but Hunter couldn’t shake the feeling that they were missing something. He fired off a series of shots to take out a line of droids that were getting a little too close for comfort before he took cover behind a fallen tree.  

“Shouldn’t be much longer now!” Wrecker shouted as he joined him before tossing a grenade over his shoulder. “Tech and Echo are almost there!”

Before Hunter could reply, he felt the vibrations in the ground underfoot and suddenly he realised why this mission had been going a little bit too well. Tech had been right from the start; the battle droids wouldn’t have been able to hold their base with the numbers that met them when they arrived on the planet, but they’d all been too grateful for the fact that it seemed to be the foolish strategy the Separatists were running with to fully question it.

But now it was clear that they were only so low in number because they were circling around the perimeter to come up behind Hunter and Wrecker to catch them off guard.

And the group was scattered which posed a rather big problem.

He and Wrecker had been the main distraction and had been taking the brunt of the battle whilst Crosshair provided Tech and Echo with the cover fire that they needed to get closer and take care of the tactical droid.

Now he was realising that was exactly what the droids wanted.

“Umm, Sarge…” Wrecker said as he saw the rather large battalion of droids coming up behind them.

Hunter pressed his comm but before he could actually give the order for them to regroup, a lone figure emerging from the treeline distracted him and he had never been more grateful for his helmet. The shock he felt as he observed you would’ve been impossible to hide from his brother. He had no idea who you were or where you came from, but he’d never been more grateful for the assistance. He watched on as you took out a line of battle droids with such ease it almost made him think he was imagining it. Their attempts to shoot you down were futile as you avoided them without so much as breaking a sweat before taking them down. And this was all without a blaster- something he knew damn well required a different type of skill and you made it look effortless.

“Woah, who is that?” Wrecker gasped.

“Focus Wrecker,” Hunter cautioned, and he took his own advice, “Tech, Echo, Crosshair, check in.” He ordered sharply as he tore his gaze away from you. Whoever you were, you seemed more than capable of while they took care of the remaining stragglers ahead of them.

“The tactical droid is down. We are ready to get depart.” Tech replied.

“Yeah, well, we’re not!” Wrecker shouted.

“What went wrong?” Echo asked.

“Crosshair, you still want that challenge?” Hunter asked as he shot a droid approaching his right side.

“Oh yes.” Came the reply.

“Then hurry back to our position. The battle isn’t over yet.” Hunter signed off right as Wrecker took care of the last few of the original squadron of droids before they could now get to taking care of the remaining forces.

--

“Who’s the newcomer?” Echo asked as he, Tech and Crosshair finally arrived to help.

“No idea but right now, we just need to focus on getting out of here.” Hunter instructed as he ducked under the arm of an incoming droid and used his dagger to stab it in the head.  

--

Much to your shock, the group of you seemed to work rather well together. Sure, you had a little extra help in knowing where they were going to be and when but overall, you didn’t need to rely on that particular talent as much as you thought you would. It was evident they’d been fighting together for a long time, each of them playing to a strength that seemed specifically tailored to them and there was a certain lack of discipline and carefreeness to their strategy and style that you had to appreciate. All in all, the six of you made rather quick work of the remaining Separatist forces.

When the final dregs of droids were taken care off, you slid your vibroblade dagger back into the strap on your thigh and your self-made vibrosword back into its slip on your back. You would’ve preferred a quick, non-communicative exit but by the way their leader approached you, you had a feeling you weren’t quite going to get that.

“Appreciate the help.” Hunter said sincerely as he sheathed his own dagger and holstered his blaster and walked towards you with the rest of his brothers following in tow.

You merely nodded and awkwardly scuffed your feet and clicked your tongue before you said, “Alright, well, I’m gonna head out. You boys have fun. Good luck with the war and all that.” You swivelled on your heels, but you only made it a couple of paces before the incoming blaster fire you sensed made you stop or otherwise you might’ve lost a couple of toes. You turned around to see one member of the group pointing a sniper rifle in your direction. “Guess not.”

“Who are you?” Crosshair asked suspiciously.

“Who are you?” You countered instead, crossing your arms as you stared down the sharpshooter. You studied the black and red armour and the various skull insignias on each of their different designs. “You’re not regular clones. Your armour is too different, and your fighting styles and tactics are not exactly regulation or typical for Republic clones.”

“Damn right!” Wrecker cheered.

You were caught off guard by the response, but it felt fitting for this group, “What unit are you with?”

“CT-99s.” Hunter replied.

“Defective clones?” You repeated.

“You have both a knowledge of clones and are aware of military procedure and protocol?”

You angled yourself to face the one with a datapad clutched in his hands, “Being surrounded by war means you get to know it pretty well.” You said smoothly- it was only half a lie.

“You fight like you’ve been trained?”

You looked to the one with a scomp for a hand. “Self-taught.” You answered briefly and that was more of a bold-faced lie, but unfortunately, you had gotten used to that by now. “That’s not a crime last time I checked.”

“Depends on who helped you.”

The one that said that had an edge to his voice that did not match the tone of his brother’s, and it made your desire to get out of here that much more urgent. “Look, I was all set to leave but I overheard the droid’s plan and the people here suffered long enough under the Separatist leadership and this war has caused one too many unnecessary deaths. I helped you out simply to avoid that.”

Hunter could tell their interrogation of you was making you uncomfortable and much to his shock, he found that he didn’t want that for you. He stepped between you and the rest of his brothers with his hands raised in a pacifying gesture, “I’m sorry for all the questions. We just don’t usually get Republic aid, let alone outside help.”

“Well, it looked like you were going to need it.” You said and you were surprised to find that his presence and closeness to you was having a strangely calming effect.  

“I should like it pointed out that I said there was a chance the droid army would pull something like this before we started the mission.”

“You weren’t complaining when it meant you and Echo could get your job done quicker.” Wrecker reminded Tech with a punch on the shoulder.

Hunter took off his helmet. “My name is Hunter. I’m the leader of this group.”

To say you were shocked would be an understatement, you practically choked on your saliva as you stared into the deep brown eyes of the clone.  “H-hi.” You said through an embarrassed cough. Why this clone, with his low, husky voice and red bandana and longer hair that stopped just past his neck, evoked this kind of reaction from you, you had no idea, but it was definitely not something you were used to nor expecting. The increased speed of your heartbeat wasn’t helping your smooth recovery either.  

Hunter picked up on your reaction, but he didn’t say anything- he figured you just weren’t expecting to see a clone look so different. He gestured to each of his brothers who followed suit in taking their helmets off. “This is Wrecker, Tech, Crosshair and Echo. We’re the Bad Batch- or Clone Force 99 if you’re feeling more formal.” He added light-heartedly.

You dipped your head in acknowledgment of the others. “So, what makes you defective clones? It can’t just be your appearance.” You asked as you forced yourself to look away from Hunter and speak to his brothers.

Hunter opened his mouth to respond but Tech beat him to it.

“Technically, we’re more deviant that we are defective, but we were made with genetic enhancements. Aside from Echo, we found him like this.” Tech explained as he adjusted his goggles, “I have an exceptional mind, Crosshair is our sharpshooter, Wrecker is our muscle and demolitions expert, and Hunter has enhanced senses.”

Great, enhanced senses. Way to make it harder to conceal your idiotic reaction. You thought in embarrassment. You pressed your lips together and nodded tightly, "Alright, glad we got that all sorted. I'm just going to-"

But Hunter wasn't quite ready to let you leave yet, "And you are?" He asked leadingly. You hid behind your face coverings and he wanted to know more about the person who had helped them out what would’ve been a rather rough situation. Or at minimum he’d just take your name.

As much as you didn't want to do this, you knew you had very little choice and the longer you avoided any introduction, the more suspicious it looked. You took a deep breath and took down your hood and mask and introduced yourself.

Seeing the way that you fought was hard enough, but now he had a face to put to your name and ability and words suddenly felt much harder to form, “Uh- you- we- you fight well.” And he internally cringed at himself as soon as he finished. Could he have sounded anymore lame?

“Thank you?” You said, furrowing your brow slightly as you sensed his own energy shift.

Meanwhile, the rest of them were too stunned to do anything but watch. They’d never seen their brother behave like that- he was usually very cool and collected.

“You don’t fight with a blaster?” Tech queried curiously as he broke the uncomfortable silence first.

“Don’t like them very much.” You said non-informatively.

“How did you make such a weapon?”

“Melted a bunch of vibroblades together. It wasn’t that complicated.”

“But do you not find that in a battle scenario-”

“I think I do alright.” You interrupted with a half-smile.

“More than.” Hunter agreed before he could stop himself and he swiftly averted his gaze from you as he cleared his throat to recentre himself before he asked, “Where are you headed?”

“Anywhere away from here.”

“You’re not local?”

You faced the clone you now knew to be Echo. “No. I move around a lot. Figured I’d just hop on the next shuttle and see where I end up.”

“We can take you where you need to go. Or-um- if you fancy sticking around, we could use someone like you with us.” Hunter offered before he really realised what he was suggesting.

You regarded him carefully. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously?” Crosshair repeated with a questioning look at his brother.

Hunter ignored his brother and directed his response towards you, “You’re clearly a very capable fighter and you fit right in when we were dealing with those droids.” He held his hand out to you, “What do you say?” And if he was being honest, a rather large part of him was hoping you would say yes.

This is a terrible idea. You were avoiding Republic fighters for a reason. Say no. Refuse. Walk away and don’t look back. No, don’t shake his hand… “Sure.” You stupidly found yourself saying before you clasped his hand, but the contact immediately stole the breath from your lungs. Everything you sensed both within and around you shifted as you locked eyes with his and let his touch take a temporary hold of you.

Hunter’s breath hitched as he felt your grip and he couldn’t bring himself to break away from you yet. He hadn’t experienced anything like this before, but it was like all the tension and adrenaline from the battle left his body in this single moment as he touched your hand.

You withdrew your hand quickly and willed the strange tingling in your veins to do the same. You had no idea why that happened, but it was certainly the last thing you needed or wanted.

“Um- we- our ship is over-” Hunter half pointed in the general direction of where he could vaguely remember the ship being because it would seem you rendered him an unintelligible mess for the second time today and he had no clue as to why this kept happening. It was honestly quite concerning, and he needed to get a grip.

“I’ll find you.” You said hastily before you turned and hurried away. What had truly shocked you was that the sensations you’d experienced upon meeting him hadn’t been accompanied by anything like you’d been taught. And though it had been something you’d challenged, you still expected part of it to be true only there was nothing there. You didn’t feel fear or darkness. You only felt light and that threw you for a loop which was a relief in a way because that explained why you’d acted to bizarrely- it had been a while since anything had genuinely surprised you- that was all this had to be.

--

Hunter watched you go for he realised there were four pairs of eyes staring at him. “What?” Hunter asked shiftily as he saw the combined teasing and pointed looks that he was getting from his brothers.

“You’ve got some drool there.” Crosshair said with a smirk.

“Shut up.” Hunter said tightly. “She had nowhere to go and she’s a hell of fighter. We could use her help.”

“Uh huh.” Crosshair replied, tone heavy with scepticism.

“Your reasoning makes sense, but it is still highly irregular for you to offer a spot like that without consulting the rest of us.” Tech pointed out.

“Okay, you’re right about that. I’m sorry I didn’t ask you all first,” Hunter acknowledged, “But what do you think?”

“I think she’s running from something, but she could’ve run from us and not helped you and she didn’t. That says something. Plus, I don’t want to be the new guy anymore.” Echo said diplomatically, “It’s fine by me.”

“I’ll agree that her skills could be useful.” Tech said in agreement.

“I’m in!” Wrecker said enthusiastically.

“Crosshair?” Hunter asked his brother who was tending to the scope of his rifle.

“I’m outvoted regardless of what I say.” Crosshair replied with a shrug.

“You think it’s a bad idea?” Hunter asked.

“Never said that. I think she can fight well, and she’ll be an asset, sure. I just don’t want you losing your head.”

“You don’t need to worry about that, Crosshair. This is purely a strategy call.” Hunter said, hoping saying it out loud would reassure him as well because one thing was certain, you had an effect on him that he hadn’t expected and he wasn’t sure how temporary it really was.

--

You found the ship with little difficulty and saw Hunter waiting by the steps of their ship which seemed to be a modified Omicron-class attack shuttle.  

“Ready to go?” Hunter asked and he hoped you couldn’t pick up on the relief in his voice as he saw you emerge.

“As I’ll ever be.” You answered, shifting the strap of your bag to disguise your nerves.

“Welcome aboard The Marauder!” Wrecker said merrily as you stepped inside.

“Thanks.” You said and you managed to give the clone a sincere smile. The inside of the ship seemed to match the personality of the group- a bit chaotic but everything had their place- and anything else would’ve felt wrong.

“You do not have a bunk or much by the way of living quarters and I do not expect we will have much time to sort it out in the near future.” Tech informed you as he warmed up the ship’s engines.

“I’ll be fine.” You replied.

Tech swivelled back in the seat and got the ship ready to depart.

“What’s next, Hunter?” Echo asked.

“We’ve got a mission waiting for us on Felucia.”

“Goody.” Crosshair said wryly as he put a toothpick in his mouth and looked to you, “Ready for your first Republic battle? Not going to ditch us at the first sign of a real fight, are you?”

“You don’t have to worry about that.” You responded coolly and although you’d debated just leaving them, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You were tired of not helping people, of all the cutting and running you’d done in the recent months but there’d been a very good reason for that and now you were putting yourself right back in the thick of it all. And this time, it was going to be much harder to keep your secret, but it was vital that you did– you couldn’t go back there, and you were sure that would happen if they found out- or at the very least it would change everything and that was the last thing you wanted.

“Here, I can take that.” Hunter said quietly to you as the ship left the atmosphere and entered hyperspace.

You nodded your head in thanks and found yourself staring at his back as he walked away from you and that shift, you’d felt came back again only this time it was accompanied by guilt. He’d opened up his squad and home to you with nothing, but sincerity and you knew you hadn’t matched that expectation. This decision you’d made wasn’t something you could easily undo but you couldn’t bring yourself to unveil yourself of it yet– you knew your teachings and what you needed so you could only hope whatever unusual feelings and thoughts you’d initially experienced for this clone would or the fact that you wouldn’t come back to haunt you.

Next Prequel Oneshot (to be posted)>

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𝘿𝙖𝙧𝙮𝙡 𝘿𝙞𝙭𝙤𝙣 (𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙒𝙖𝙡𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝘿𝙚𝙖𝙙) 𝙂𝙞𝙛 𝙋𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙇𝙞𝙨𝙩

#1 (1-4) Sanctuary Escape (Hilltop)

#2 (5-11) Escaping Bedroom

#3 (12-15) Dressing

#4 (16-22) Tree & Field

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"bad" girl | carlos sainz

synopsis: in which you can't catch a break from the criticism

a/n: based on this request! i based this when Charles and Carlos were still teammates in Ferrari

pairing: carlos sainz x leclerc!reader

my masterlist

The Monaco sun bore down on the paddock, its golden glow making everything seem brighter—everything except the storm brewing inside you.

It wasn’t the first time you had been caught between your brother and your boyfriend, and knowing the way the media twisted narratives, it certainly wouldn’t be the last.

"She's in Carlos' garage again?"

"Guess we know where her loyalty lies"

"Poor Charles. His own sister doesn’t even support him"

The whispers never stopped. No matter what you did, someone had an opinion about it. If you were seen with Carlos, you were a bad sister. If you were supporting Charles, you were a neglectful girlfriend.

There was no winning with them.

But today, after months of keeping quiet, you had had enough.

♡♡♡♡♡

The weekend had started out promising. Monaco was home for both you and Charles, and it was always a special kind of race. One where your family was present, where old childhood memories resurfaced as you walked the familiar streets.

You had been excited, looking forward to seeing both Charles and Carlos fight for the top spots in qualifying.

That excitement, however, had quickly soured when you saw the headlines flooding social media.

BREAKING: Charles Leclerc’s sister chooses sides: Spotted in Sainz’s garage instead of her brother’s.

Your grip tightened around your phone as you stared at the article. They made it sound like you were betraying Charles just by standing next to Carlos before his qualifying session.

Never mind the fact that you had been in Charles’ garage just thirty minutes earlier.

Never mind the fact that you loved both of them in completely different ways.

Carlos had seen the article, too. He could always read your mood, even when you tried to mask it. When you arrived at his motorhome later that evening, his first words weren’t hello but instead a soft, “You’re upset”

You sighed, flopping down on the couch.

“I don’t get it. How is it that no matter where I stand, I’m always wrong?”

Carlos sat down beside you, his hand immediately finding yours.

“They don’t know you,” he said simply. “They only know the stories they want to write.”

His words made sense, but they didn’t make the situation any less frustrating.

You were tired of walking a tightrope, tired of constantly having to prove your love for both your brother and your boyfriend.

“I don’t even want to check Twitter,” you muttered, resting your head against Carlos’ shoulder.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Then don’t” he whispered.

You wished it were that easy.

♡♡♡♡♡

Race day was no better.

You had split your time between both garages as you always did. Before the race started, you had been by Charles’ side, giving him your usual pre-race pep talk, something you had done for years.

The cameras had captured the moment perfectly — the way Charles smiled at you, the way you squeezed his hand just before he climbed into the car.

But then, once the race started, you had shifted to Carlos' garage. It was an unspoken agreement between you and Charles that you would support Carlos during the race.

Charles had Joris, his mom, and the entire Ferrari team backing him up. Carlos, while also surrounded by his own support system, had you. And you knew how much it meant to him.

The moment you stepped into Carlos’ side of the garage, you could already hear the murmurs.

“She was just with Charles.”

“She really can’t decide, can she?”

“Maybe she should’ve dated someone from another team.”

You clenched your jaw, trying to block out the noise.

It wasn’t fair. None of it was fair.

You watched the race unfold, fingers gripping the edge of your seat as both Charles and Carlos fought hard on track. Every overtake, every pit stop, every strategy decision had you on edge.

You just wanted them both to succeed. Was that really so wrong?

When the checkered flag waved, Charles had finished P3, Carlos P5. A bittersweet result.

As soon as you made your way to parc fermé, you congratulated Charles first, wrapping your arms around him. He hugged you back tightly, murmuring a soft "Merci" against your ear.

And then you moved to Carlos, giving him the same love and support.

The cameras caught it all.

By the time you reached your phone again, social media was already on fire.

Does she not realize how bad this looks?

She barely even celebrated with Charles before running to Carlos.

I feel so bad for Charles. Imagine your own sister prioritizing your teammate over you.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, itching to reply. To defend yourself. But you knew it wouldn’t change anything. They had already made up their minds about you.

Carlos must have noticed the way your face fell, because he gently plucked your phone from your hands and locked it.

“Enough of that,” he said, voice firm but gentle. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

You hesitated, your eyes darting to your brother's side of the garage.

“But Charles—”

“—is fine,” Carlos assured you. “I’m sure he’ll be the first one to tell you to ignore all this bullshit.”

And he was right.

Later that night, as you sat on Charles’ balcony overlooking the city, your brother nudged your shoulder.

“I saw the things people were saying,” he said. “It’s stupid.”

You sighed, your shoulders slumping.

“I just hate that they make it seem like I have to choose between you and Carlos.”

Charles frowned, shaking his head at you.

“You don’t. And you never have to. We both know where your heart is.”

You blinked, looking at him. “You do?”

He nodded. “Yes. And if they can’t see that, then they’re not worth your time.”

A lump formed in your throat, as you tried to keep yourself from crying.

“I just don’t want you to ever feel like I don’t support you.”

Charles gave you a small, reassuring smile.

“I’ve never doubted you, chérie. Not once.”

Tears pricked at your eyes, but before they could fall, Charles pulled you into a hug, holding you tightly.

Carlos found you both a few moments later, pausing in the doorway.

“Can I join?”

Charles rolled his eyes but opened an arm, letting Carlos pull you into his chest.

And for the first time that weekend, the noise of the outside world faded away.

You weren’t just Carlos’ girlfriend.

You weren’t just Charles’ sister.

You were you—someone who loved them both with all her heart.

And that was enough.

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press start! — good luck (12/22)

after spending almost a whole year on academic probation, you’re finally allowed to start your position as a manager for the nekoma boys volleyball team. you’re determined to stay focused on your team and academics, but things get a bit difficult when a certain middle blocker makes his way into your life

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a/n: sorry for the late update! i was rlly busy all day so i didn’t have time to write or post this update til now 🤧

a/n 2: fun author lore, i’m a linguistics major and teach this kinda stuff to kids lol

Ah yes Suna flash us 😩

Credits to Loonzy Z

Hyperspace

Summary: Unable to sleep during hyperspace travel on The Havoc Marauder you seek out the company of the Batch's resident sniper.

Pairing: Crosshair x fem!reader

Word Count: 3,661

Authors Note: I know that after I took that poll I said I would write a Fives one shot next.... but Crosshair has taken my writing hostage these days. Sorry, but also, not sorry! I wrote this as a prequel to my One-Shot Sniper, but I think it stands on it's own just fine if you haven't read it! Enjoy :)

************************

Over the years you’d been on hundreds of different types of ships; shuttles, Venator class attack cruisers, cargo ships, drop ships, modified attack shuttles… you name it and you had likely been on it. Honestly, you’d spent most of your adult life in space but there was still one problem that seemed to plague you no matter how many hours you’d spent aboard a ship. Hyperspace insomnia. 

You tried your best to smother a sigh as you rolled over on your bunk, frustration bubbling up in you at your inability to sleep for more than an hour or two at a time. Every ship you had ever been on tried to maintain day and night cycles to aid with sleeping in hyperspace but it seemed that your body couldn’t be fooled. You’d spent many nights tossing and turning over the years, much to your annoyance. You sighed again before you sat up, deciding to abandon your current attempt at sleep before your restlessness disturbed anyone, which on such a small ship was unfortunately very easy to do. 

As quietly as possible you slipped from the middle bunk on the Havoc Marauder, it was the middle of the night cycle and the ship was silent except for Wrecker’s soft snores. You took a quick look behind you to make sure you hadn’t woken anyone and thankfully Wrecker was still snoring away and Tech was also still fast asleep on the top bunk. 

When you’d joined Clone Force 99 as a medic they had insisted you take one of the bunks as your own. You’d protested vehemently, as there were only three to begin with, but despite your insistence that you could all share the middle bunk it always seemed that it was free for you to use when they discussed their watch rotations each night. Your ongoing protests always seemed to fall on deaf ears though. On nights like this one, when you couldn’t even sleep you felt especially guilty.

You let out another soft sigh as you looked towards the back of the ship where Hunter was asleep in the gunner's mount. For a moment you considered waking him and insisting he take your bunk since clearly you wouldn’t be using it any time soon but even from this distance he looked peaceful and the fear of disturbing him outweighed everything else. 

As quietly as possible you moved towards the midpoint of the shuttle, intent on making yourself a cup of caf. If you couldn’t sleep, you reasoned you might as well just be fully awake. You pulled two cups from one of the cupboards used for storage, there wasn’t a galley so things tended to end up in random places but you always knew where the caf was. You looked over your shoulder to make sure everyone was still asleep as the water boiled, but all three clones appeared dead to the world. You smiled softly to yourself as you poured two cups of instant caf, Crosshair was on watch and you knew from past experience if you made a cup for yourself and not him you’d get the look. 

When you had joined The Bad Batch it hadn’t taken long for you to feel like one of the team. You were experienced, having spent time with the 501st, 104th, and various commando units prior to joining them and they had immediately recognized and appreciated your work. Hunter, Tech, and Wrecker quickly accepted you among their ranks and you were already on very friendly terms with all of them after only a few weeks together. Crosshair, on the other hand, was a much harder nut to crack. 

The Batch’s resident sniper was quite possibly one of the grumpiest human beings you’d ever met, which was saying a lot because you’d worked with Commander Wolffe for months. It was clear that your addition to the team had been unwanted on his part at first, but over time it seemed he had begrudgingly come to accept you. These days you could even say that he was somewhat in friendly territory with you, or at least as friendly as he ever got, but it had taken a lot of work on your part to get there. It seemed your strategy of smothering him with kindness had finally worn him down somewhat. 

The thing was though, despite his surly exterior you actually really liked the sniper, perhaps more than what was considered professional. He was cunning, brave, with a sly and wicked sense of humour, and it was clear that he was incredibly loyal and cared deeply about his brothers. It also didn’t hurt that he was the most handsome man you’d ever met. You tried your best to keep things strictly professional but there were times when his steely gaze would have you turning into a blushing, stuttering mess, much to your own embarrassment. You’d been around the clones since the start of the war, many who were incredibly flirty, but none had ever had the same effect on you that Crosshair did. 

Pushing your emotional problems from your mind for the moment you made your way to the cockpit. Crosshair didn’t even look up from where he was sitting in the pilot's seat as you entered, he simply kept cleaning the firepuncher without even missing a beat.  

“Hyperspace insomnia strikes again?” He asked lowly, still without looking up as you placed a cup of caf on the console in front of him. 

“I think I might be cursed,” You said with a dramatic sigh as you slid into the co-pilot seat, wrapping both hands around your warm cup of caf as you did so. The seats in the cockpit were actually more comfortable than the bunks and you let out another soft sigh as you settled into the seat. 

Crosshair finally looked up, one brow raised just slightly, “Maybe we should get you a talisman, I’m pretty sure I saw someone selling them to ward off curses the last time we were on Savareen.” 

You chuckled softly, shaking your head, “I don’t think I’ve reached that level of desperation just yet.”

Crosshair shrugged, “Your loss,” before returning his attention to cleaning his rifle. You were fairly positive with the number of times you’d seen him clean the weapon that he could do it with his eyes closed. You were beginning to suspect it was more of a self-soothing habit, that weapon had to be the cleanest thing you’d ever seen. In a way though it was soothing for you to watch him do it, you’d already spent many nights awake watching him clean the rifle with a practiced ease.

You pulled your feet up onto the seat, something you only did when Tech wasn’t around since he was very particular about his ship, as you sipped your caf. You switched between watching the stars streak past and watching Crosshair out of the corner of your eye. A sense of calm washed over you in the comfortable silence of the ship.  

It wasn’t until he’d finished reassembling his rifle and reached for the cup of caf you’d brought him that you spoke again, “I don’t know anything about their curse talismans but Savareen is actually pretty famous for its brandy…” 

Spouting off random facts had started as a way to break the ice with him and had then become a way to pass the time when the two of you were paired off on missions, separate from the rest of the Batch due to your respective specialties. Even in the beginning, he hadn’t seemed to mind it too much, likely because he was used to hearing it from Tech, but now it seemed to be a habit you couldn’t break. You enjoyed watching his reactions and every time he’d actually engage in conversation you felt like you’d won a battle. 

“Is it any good?” He asked, his tone was bored but you could tell by the way he turned his seat slightly towards you that he was actually interested. 

“It’s not bad, a bit strong for my tastes,” You replied with a shrug. 

“Not surprising, I’ve seen your tastes,” He said snidely but there was a glint of amusement in his dark eyes. 

“Hey! I’m just not really into drinking,” You protested with a laugh. You weren’t offended at all though, you were, quite famously, a lightweight. You'd been with the Batch long enough now for them to know this about you, “I need to maintain a clear head at all times in case of a medical emergency!”

“Sure,” Crosshair responded, the dry look on his face making you laugh even harder. 

You continued to chuckle softly to yourself between sips of caf as you leaned forward slightly to look at the navi-computer. You could see Crosshair watching you out of the corner of your eye and your face began to heat up slightly at the feeling of his intense gaze on you. 

“Oh, we just passed Mon Cala,” You said softly, mostly to distract yourself from the butterflies that were suddenly making themselves known in your stomach. You looked back over at Crosshair who was still watching you intently as you leaned back in your seat, “Did you know there’s a type of squid that lives there that has a circular brain that their food passes through?” 

Crosshair let out a snort of amusement, "Sounds like Tech.”  

You slapped your hand over your mouth to stifle that bark of laughter that escaped you. It took you a moment to stop laughing before you could speak again, “I’m going to tell him you said that.”

Your eyes might have been deceiving you in the low light but you could have sworn that Crosshair was actually smiling. Well, smirking was more accurate, but in Crosshair's body language, you were going to consider that a genuine smile.

“Go ahead,” Crosshair replied flippantly, “he’d probably take it as a compliment.” 

You chuckled again, shaking your head in amusement at him before finishing the last sip of your caf, “I think I’ll keep this between the two of us. I’m trying to stay in his good books so he’ll teach me how to fly the Marauder.”

Crosshair scoffed, “Good luck with that, he’ll make you memorize every piece of this ship before he even so much as lets you touch a button.” 

“That’s ok!” You replied happily, as you leaned forward to set your empty cup down on the console in front of you, “I like to learn.” 

Crosshair scoffed again as you continued, your tone turning teasing once more, “Plus it’ll give me more random facts to annoy you with.” 

His eyes narrowed at you which only made you laugh softly, “Are you always this happy?” He asked his tone somewhere between impressed and annoyed. 

“Only around the people I like,” You answered as you stretched out a foot to jab his chair with your boot playfully. 

He was silent for a long moment, his gaze intense as he looked at you. The lights of the cockpit were dim but you could have almost sworn that a light flush appeared on his cheeks. You felt your own face heating up at his look. Concern that maybe you’d overstepped suddenly bubbled up in you but it vanished almost as quickly as it had come. He didn’t seem annoyed. 

Eventually, he snorted, rolling his eyes before he spoke, “So, everyone then?” his tone once again characteristically grumpy. 

“I don’t like everyone…” You started but then stopped, laughing at the disbelieving look Crosshair shot you, “I really didn’t like that Admiral we had to work with on the last mission.” 

Crosshair’s face darkened considerably at the mention of the Admiral who was, for lack of better words, a complete and utter asshole. Both to you AND the clones. 

“He seemed to be offended by the fact that I was a woman,” You continued with a chuckle. 

Crosshair shook his head, clearly annoyed at just the thought of the other man, “He was di’kut.”

You smirked at the Mando’a term as he looked back over at you, the dark look on his face replaced once more with subtle amusement, “That’s only one person though…”

“Well,” You started teasingly, “Not all of us have a 30-foot-long list of people we don’t like.” 

Crosshair snorted again, “It’s more like 15 feet.” 

You chuckled, “Now, that IS surprising. You’re going to have to step it up, Cross.” 

This time you were certain your eyes weren’t deceiving you, his face had definitely flushed slightly. His dark eyes had widened but his gaze was no less intense as he looked at you. It took you a moment to figure out what his reaction was in response to but when you did you felt your chest tighten. Although you often referred to him as such in your head, you’d never actually said the shortened form of his name out loud before. An apology for getting too familiar was on the tip of your tongue but before you could get the words out he was speaking again. 

He lifted his hand in a mock salute, eyes narrowed but amused, “Mission accepted, Sunshine.”  

You felt as though you might actually combust. Your face felt as if it was on fire as a nervous chuckle escaped you. You were so kriffed, no one had ever gotten under your skin like this before. You prided yourself on maintaining professional relationships so this was definitely going to be a problem. Feeling somewhat overwhelmed with the surge of emotions suddenly coursing through you, you turned your attention back to the navi-computer. According to it, you still had another 14 standard hours before you reached your next destination. With a soft sigh, you leaned back in your seat, unable to stop yourself from shyly looking over at Crosshair every few moments. 

He had also leaned back in the pilot’s chair, one long leg crossing over the other. His chair was still slightly angled towards you but he was now looking out the windscreen of the Marauder, the lights of hyperspace reflecting in his dark eyes. Silence settled between the two of you but it wasn’t uncomfortable. In fact, once you got over the initial shock of receiving a nickname from him, you felt more relaxed than you had in ages. Sitting with Crosshair seemed to have this effect on you more and more often these days. 

It wasn’t long before your eyes began to grow heavy, the soft hum of the Marauder’s engines and the comfort of the co-pilot seat effectively lulling you to sleep. That last thing on your mind before you finally let yourself succumb to sleep was a pair of dark intense eyes.

*****

You woke with a start, thoughts a complete jumble as you sat up suddenly, looking around yourself in confusion. It took you a long moment to orient yourself because you were no longer in the cockpit of the Marauder, you were back in your bunk. You frowned as you lifted a hand to rub the sleep out of your eyes. It was obviously still early, the lights of the Marauder still dim and Wrecker was still snoring on the bunk below you, but a quick look at the chrono on your wrist confirmed it was morning. Your brow furrowed as you looked around you, Tech was no longer on the bunk above you, instead, a flash of silver hair confirmed it was now Crosshair in his place. 

You were still confused as you pushed the blanket that had been covering you off and swung your legs over the edge of the bunk before quietly slipping out. Unless it was all a dream, and you were pretty sure it wasn’t, the last thing you could remember was being in the cockpit with Crosshair. So, unless you had recently started sleepwalking that meant someone had carried you back to the bunk. Not only that, but they had tucked you in too. 

Your face flushed as the reality of that settled in your stomach, your heart rate suddenly picking up exponentially. While every single member of the squad were capable of carrying you back to bed and were kind enough to do so, the most obvious culprit was the one who was increasingly in your thoughts and was without a doubt becoming a problem for you. Your eyes strayed up to the top bunk to look at Crosshair, he was facing away from you but you could tell from the deep, even breaths he was taking that he was still asleep. 

Heart still racing you headed towards the middle of the ship where Tech was fiddling with a piece of equipment in one of the seats in front of the console. That likely meant that Hunter was upfront keeping an eye on things, something that you were suddenly quite grateful for. You didn’t need him wondering why your heart was racing first thing in the morning, though even with the door of the cockpit between you you knew he likely could still hear it. Pushing that somewhat embarrassing thought from your mind, you greeted Tech softly as you passed by on your way to make some caf. Your mind was still reeling from the revelation that Crosshair might have carried you to bed but you were able to focus enough to successfully make 5 cups of caf. Normally, whoever was first up who wasn’t on watch would make the caf for everyone but Tech could be somewhat unreliable when his attention was divided. Caught, he smiled up at you sheepishly as you handed him a cup. 

You settled yourself into one of the jump seats, pulling your knees up to your chest as you counted back from 10. Sure enough, you hadn’t even made it to 5 before the sounds of movement from the bunks reached you. It was fairly predictable but made you smile every morning nonetheless, there was nothing that could summon a clone faster than hot caf. 

Also predictable was how grumpy Crosshair looked as he made his way over. Without a word or even a nod of acknowledgment, he grabbed a cup, taking a sip before moving to sit on the seat across from Tech. His tired gaze strayed over to you a moment later and you felt your face heat. You managed to give him what you hoped was a normal smile in greeting before his eyes flicked back to focusing on his caf. 

“Chow time?” Wrecker asked as he ambled over, still looking like he was half asleep but the excitement at the prospect of eating was evident in his voice. 

With a sigh Tech set aside his project and stood, rummaging through the cupboard for a moment before emerging with the morning's rations. He handed the first to Wrecker who had been hovering around him excitedly. In general, the clones ate more food than anyone else you knew but Wrecker in particular seemed to have a never-ending appetite. One of your first duties as the team medic had been to put in a request for more rations for ‘medical reasons’. Wrecker had actually cried with happiness when the extra crate had shown up for the first time and your ribs had ached for days from the bone-crushing hug you had received. The memory put a smile on your face as you took your own ration from Tech before he moved on to Crosshair. 

“Thanks, Squid,” Crosshair’s snide comment as he took his ration bar from his brother nearly had you spitting out the sip of caf you had just taken. You looked at him with wide eyes, face heating as his gaze met yours, amusement swimming in the depths of his dark eyes. Not only that, but he was definitely smirking. Smug asshole. 

Tech looked between the two of you, frowning deeply, “I suppose that comment is in relation to one of your late-night inside jokes?” 

Your face grew even hotter with embarrassment at the fact that your little late-night chats with Crosshair hadn’t gone unnoticed. You spluttered, unsure of what to say as Tech simply looked between the two of you for another moment. When neither of you answered he simply rolled his eyes before returning to his seat, his own ration bar forgotten as he returned to working on the same piece of equipment. 

“Please, do not enlighten me,” He continued without looking up, “I am certain it is not as funny as the two of you think it is.” 

This time you weren’t able to stop the laugh that escaped you and it only got worse when you looked at Crosshair to see that he was also snickering. 

Tech sighed in exasperation as he shook his head, “Children.” 

It wasn’t even that funny but you found yourself struggling to regain some composure. You felt giddy, something that you had experienced in ages. And you knew without a doubt it was entirely due to the silver-haired clone who was still watching you with amusement, a subtle smirk on his face as he continued to sip his caf. 

Eventually, you managed an apology to Tech that was waved off, clearly, he wasn’t actually bothered by the teasing and the rest of the morning continued on as normal. A sense of calm finally washed over you as you sat quietly, listening to the sound of The Marauder moving through space and the occasional conversation between brothers. 

One thing had changed though, you now knew without a doubt that you were harbouring a crush on the team's resident snarky sniper. You were kriffed, but you found as your eyes connected with his later on that morning that it didn’t bother you as much as you had once thought it would. And you knew that the next time you couldn’t sleep you’d be right back by his side. Sometimes, you reasoned with yourself as you smiled softly over at him, you just had to live a little. 

that old cliché.

you swore you’d never give in to the maid of honour and best man cliche. and then you met evan buckley.

evan buckley x female reader

warnings - smut. cursing. alcohol. buck’s a filthy flirt.

word count - 6k

authors note - and so she returns!! thank you all so much for your loveliness on my post about my break - I appreciate it more than you know. this one was so much fun to write. i’ve not written any longer stuff for buck, but he’s a character I feel that I have a really good understanding of - I actually think we’re very alike - so this came so easy. hope you love it as much as I do. <3

masterlist. inbox.

Silvery melodies of laughter clink off the rim of the champagne flute you hold in your freshly manicured hand. As the gentle breeze whips through the material of your dress, you look around you, realising you’ve never seen so many people so happy at once.

The backyard of the Italian villa is packed, dozens of guests milling around - dancing, drinking, chatting and catching up. Family, friends, colleagues; people from every phase of the bride and grooms life, all celebrating together in one place.

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

“Evan.”

“Hi gorgeous.”

You scoff, staring up at him through your lashes.

“What’s this?”

“A drink.”

“Yeah. But why?”

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

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

“You were watching me, huh?”

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

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

“Doing what, exactly?”

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

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

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

“Like what?”

“Like you want to eat me.”

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

“Yeah, right. In your dreams, Evan.”

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

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

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

It’s been like this all day.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re gonna love him.”

“You said that already.”

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

And the problem is… she was kind of right.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just come with me. It’ll be easier.”

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

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

“Where’s the fun in that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“There’s a dance routine?”

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

“Oh, I can’t wait to see this.”

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

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

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

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

“What the hell gave you that impression?”

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

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

“Two knees, maybe. But not one.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

The dance routine is spectacular.

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

Everything Buck does makes you like him more.

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

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

“Hi, Evan.”

“Hi gorgeous.”

“What’s this?”

“A drink.”

“Yes, but why?”

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

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

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

“Is this Baileys?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We make a good team.”

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

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

“A super hot, super funny team.”

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

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

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

A yawn escapes you, making both of you chuckle.

“I’ll walk you to your room?”

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

He laughs even harder, shaking his head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?”

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

“Yes ma’am.”

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

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

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

“Goodnight.”

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

“Evan?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you.”

“For?”

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

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

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

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

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

Well, fuck.

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

Until now.

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

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

You’re certainly not laughing.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

“Evan?”

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

“Hey. You okay?”

“Yeah. I, uh, I have your phone.”

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

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

“Of course.”

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

“Can I ask you for a favour?”

“Anything.”

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

“Can you help me get my dress off?”

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

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

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

You scoff, rolling your eyes.

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

“Uh huh. Sure.”

“Can you help me or not?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Undo the damn zipper before I smack you.”

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

“Turn around, gorgeous.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Evan?”

“Yeah?”

“Touch me, please.”

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

“Can I kiss you?”

“Please.”

“Finally.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Keep going,” he mumbles into your core.

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

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

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

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

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

“Better than ever.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes ma’am.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He groans, a breathless chuckle leaving his lips.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s my girl.”

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

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

“Buck- I… I-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hmm?”

“You called me Buck.”

A breathless laugh escapes you, silvery and melodic.

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

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

“I was making a point.”

“Sure, honey. Sure.”

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

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

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

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

“Yeah… we can’t.”

You quirk your brow at him in a silent question.

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

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

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

“You did say forever, earlier.”

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

Buck grins up at you, all blinding and giddy.

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

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

“You’ll be my last, gorgeous.”

“Real smooth, Buck. Real smooth.”

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

He could get used to this. You both could.

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

@peachysink @jjamjamie @alipap3 @spookyysinsanity @sophiah2253 @annaaaaanguyenn

Congrats on the milestone! Could you do pumpkin carving with Hunter please? He’s the knife guy, so I think it’d be funny if (female) reader was like “honey, do you have a knife?” And he’s expecting something might be wrong, but then-

“Good! Because we’re carving pumpkins!” :D

I Can Do It

Summary: You bring a pumpkin home with the intent to carve it. Tragically, all your kitchen knives are not up to carving a gourd. Lucky for you, your boyfriend is a knife guy.

Pairing: TBB Hunter x F!Reader

Word Count: 918

Warnings: None

A/N: Sorry this took so long, I got overwhelmed with stuff lol. Also, Spalmart is Space Walmart and the rule about sandals on the stairs is pulled from my life, lol.

Click HERE to be added to my taglist

You stare at the twin pumpkins sitting on your counter critically. 

They’ve been scrubbed and you’ve used a permanent marker to outline the design you’re planning on carving on each of them, and now all you have to do is start the carving.

The problem? You don’t have a pumpkin carving kit.

You could go out and buy one. Probably. They’re only a couple of credits after all. But, at the same time, the idea of going out and buying a kit just for carving pumpkins feels like a waste of money.

On the other hand, none of your kitchen knives are going to be up to the task. It’s your fault as you don’t take the best care of your kitchen knives, but they were, like, 20 credits from the local Spalmart, so it’s not like you broke the bank to get them in the first place.

You shift slightly and rest your chin on the palm of your hand. You suppose you can settle for painting the pumpkins, rather than carving them. But it’s not the same. Plus, you want to cook the seeds.

There’s a noise from the living you and your gaze drifts from the pumpkins to the entryway to the other room. Hunter knows your home, but he doesn’t know that you have pumpkins.

You love him, but you don’t want to explain the tradition behind pumpkin carving to him right now.

You tap one of your nails against the newspaper-covered counter, your gaze unwavering from the entryway to the living room. 

Now. There’s an idea.

Hunter is a knife guy. It’s a reputation that he’s never going to be able to ditch so long as people know him. He always has at least one sharp knife on him at all times. Not to mention, he’s got the height advantage for leverage for cutting the pumpkins.

You straighten and don’t bother to smother your grin, “Hunter~”

There’s silence for a moment, and then you hear the movie in the next room pause as Hunter stands and makes his way to the kitchen. He stops in the doorway, and you see his gaze drift to the pumpkins, though he doesn’t say anything as his gaze wanders to your face, “Something wrong, cyare?”

“May I, please, borrow your knife?” You ask as you fold your hands under your chin pleadingly.

His dark eyes narrow suspiciously, “Why?”

“Because.”

“Because why?”

“Because my knives are sad and I need one to carve the pumpkins.”

“Your knives wouldn’t be sad if you took care of them like I told you.”

“Yeah, but why would I do that when it’s easier to just go out and buy new ones.”

“Is this your plan? Neglect your knives until I come and sharpen them for you?”

“They were, like, 20 credits. I’m pretty sure if you try to sharpen them they’ll shatter.” You point out, “Anyway! Can I borrow your knife? Please? Pretty please?”

He stares at you, and then sighs, “The appearance of the please isn’t going to convince me to let you borrow it.”

You stare at him for a long moment.

“What?” Hunter asks as you stare in silence for just a smidgen too long.

“It’s amazing. I’d swear that you’re my loving wonderful boyfriend, but that can’t be right because Tech just sassed me.” 

Hunter clicks his tongue and reaches out to lightly flick your forehead. “Brat.” He walks around the counter and drops his hands to your hips, “I don’t want you to borrow my knives, cyare, because they’re sharp.”

“Yeah, that’s kinda the point, babe.”

“Cyare, sweetheart, love of my life,” Hunter lifts you and sets you on the counter, before moving to stand between your legs, “You’re clumsy.”

“I am not!”

He shoots you a look, “You’re the only person I’ve ever met who’s managed to fall up the stairs.”

“I—”

“We had to make a standard rule that you have to take your sandals off before trying any stairs because you kept falling and it was giving me anxiety.”

“That only happened once!” He shoots you a look, “Okay, like five times.”

“Exactly my point.” He pulls you in so he’s able to press his forehead against yours, “How about, I do the carving and you sit there and manage me.”

You make a face, “I wanted to surprise you.”

“Won’t it be more fun to do this together though?”

“You’re just saying that because you don’t trust me.” You say with a pout.

“I do trust you. Just not with a knife or anything sharp that you could use to hurt yourself with you, inevitably, trip over air.”

“I should have dated Wrecker.” You grouse.

“He’d had you wrapped in bubble wrap before you do anything.” Hunter replies, distracted as he looks at the pumpkins, “Is that pumpkin going to be carved to look like my tattoo?”

“...maybe.”

He grins at you and kisses you quickly, “Aww, you have a crush on me.”

“It’s a little more than a crush. Dork.”

Hunter laughs, “Good. I have a little more than a crush on you too.” He kisses you one more time, “Now, shall we get started? You can just sit there and look pretty.”

“If you insist. But I’m not sitting on the counter. I’m getting a stool.”

“Deal.” He watches you hop down from the counter and doesn’t start until you’re perched next to him on the stool.

He’s right, of course. These kinds of things are better when done together.

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SWEET DREAM

< osamu miya x reader >

Summary: Being a manager for the Inazarki volleyball club wasn't easy, especially dealing with their chaos. They had made great friends because of it and had caught some attention as well, especially from Miya Osamu. For him, having a crush on the manager isn't ideal but it wasn't anything that he can control. The worst thing about it, watching your crush already be in a relationship with your teammate.

Genre: friends to lovers, angst, drama, fluff

Warnings: Swearing, yelling, teasing, suggestive themes.

Tags: open

CHAPTER ELEVEN

< chapter ten || materlist || chapter twelve >

▪︎___________°••>>>*<<<••°___________▪︎

▪︎___________°••>>>*<<<••°___________▪︎

< taglist > @sproutytoad @grimespial @saturns-satellites @meekydeeks

Honey

Evan “Buck” Buckley x fem!shy!probie!reader

summary: Buck helps you make cookies for the rest of the 118 and you both get distracted

word count: 2k

cw: make out session

part one part two part four part five

Your heart raced as you mixed the dough in front of you as you thought about the fact that Buck would be there any second. The two of you had been…well, you didn’t exactly know what you were, but what you did know was you were having fun. You had been spending any spare second you had together, but he still hadn’t seen your apartment and that made you nervous. 

Where someone lived said a lot about them and you wondered what he was going to think about it. It was much more decorated than his place with artwork taking over the walls and funky furniture pieces and little trinkets taking over practically every spare inch of the place. 

You didn’t know why you were so nervous. You were comfortable with Buck now and he certainly wouldn’t have judged the way your apartment looked. In fact, you were sure that he would have loved to look at every single one of your belongings, asking questions to let you know how interested he was in it all. If Evan Buckley loved one thing, it was hearing you talk. 

He loved that you had gotten more comfortable around him to the point of yapping all the time. And he’d listen with so much interest. You could have read a phone book and he would have sat there and listened intently, hanging onto every word. It had gotten to the point where he would ask you to read to him when you were in the firehouse waiting to respond to a call. He’d lay his head in your lap and close his eyes while you ran your fingers through his hair, reading aloud to him. 

There was a knock on the door that pulled you out of your thoughts and heat rushed to your cheeks as you wiped the flour off of your apron. You raced to the door and opened it, Buck on the other side with a bottle of white wine. He had on a bright smile that always only seemed to be reserved for you as you let him inside and he pressed a peck to your lips before closing the door behind him and making his way over to the island. 

He set the bottle down then turned to you, his arms circling your waist as he pulled you in for another kiss, this time, slotting his lips between yours, his lips moving against yours slowly, as if he had all the time in the world. You pulled away before he was ready and turned to grab some glasses for the beverage, Buck hot on your heels, grabbing hold of your waist and peppering your cheek with kisses, loving to hear the giggles fall from your lips before letting you go. 

“So do I get an apron?” He asked as he leaned against the counter next to you as you grabbed the glasses, barely reaching them. 

“They’re over there,” you pointed to the hook that was on the wall to the left of him. Your hand barely brushed the bottom of the glass and Buck stood behind you, resting his hand on your waist, reaching for the glass you couldn’t get to with ease while also grabbing a second glass with one of his other fingers. He then set the glasses on the counter in front of you and you turned around, a shy smile playing on your lips. 

“Thank you,” you looked up into his pretty blue eyes, feeling like you could fall into them just like every time you looked into them for too long. They were hypnotizing. Almost like a siren luring a sailor to his death, and you supposed that was a way you wouldn’t mind dying. 

“Of course,” he nodded. “Anytime.” 

“So…wine?” You asked and Buck turned around, reaching for the bottle while simultaneously looking for a corkscrew. You seemed to know exactly what he wanted and grabbed the thing from one of the drawers behind you before handing it to him. 

He pulled the cork out with ease and poured the wine before handing a glass to you. You clinked them together and you each took a sip before setting the glasses down on the counter. 

“So what’s first?” He asked, rubbing his hands together. 

“Wash your hands. That’s arguably the most important step.” Buck nodded and removed his hoodie and you didn’t miss the way the shirt he was wearing underneath rode up, giving you a perfect view of his happy trail. You looked a little too long then turned away, your cheeks heating. 

To distract yourself, you turned to the oven and put it on the right temperature before heading back to your dough that you had been working on. Buck admired you while you threw some chocolate chips into the dough, loving the idea of doing domestic things with you. He wanted to help you wash dishes and fold laundry and straighten up the place before you had guests over. 

He was falling hard and fast and the thing was, he didn’t even care. He would have usually proceeded with caution considering his relationship history, but for once, he wasn’t scared. People were always leaving him, and for once, he didn’t feel that way. He had a feeling you’d stay with him until your very last breath. 

You were nothing if not loyal, always sticking by people even if they didn’t deserve it. But Buck? Buck deserved it more than anyone you knew. He was the sweetest, most caring man you had ever known and you couldn’t believe that you had actually thought that he hated you.

Buck tied his apron and washed his hands thoroughly before waiting patiently for your instruction. You finished folding the chips into the dough then set it aside before grabbing the cookie sheet and putting some parchment paper on top of it. 

“Are you gonna let me help?” He asked. “That is why you asked me over, right?” Truthfully, you had asked Buck over just because you wanted to see him. You were too shy to admit it to him initially, so you just made up the whole cookie thing. You hadn’t even planned on making them. 

“Can I be honest?” You asked, suddenly feeling very embarrassed about your silly lie. 

“Of course,” he nodded, reaching up to give your shoulder a squeeze. You knew he wouldn’t judge or laugh, but you couldn’t seem to choke down your fear. 

“I lied,” you admitted, turning away from him. “I didn’t actually need your help, I just-” you cut yourself off, not sure if you should come clean. You turned away, staring at the time that was displayed on the oven. 

“You just what?” He asked softly, grabbing you by your chin and turning your head to face him, but you still wouldn’t look him in the eyes, yours staring down at the apron he was wearing. It was red and white gingham with little ruffles at the bottom. 

“I just wanted to see you.” Your voice was so soft that it was barely audible, but Buck could always somehow hear you despite that. 

“You don’t have to be embarrassed,” he chuckled, tilting your chin up and you finally looked him in the eyes. “I wanted to see you too.” 

“You did?” He couldn’t believe you were even asking that. He wanted to see you all the time. Even if he had just been with you, he was always desperate for more of your company. 

“Let me put it this way,” he stepped closer to you, grabbing hold of your waist and pulling you to him, leaning down so that your face was only inches from his. “I was going to invite you over before I got your text. I don’t like being away from you. When I get home from working a twelve hour shift with you, I have to force myself not to knock on your door or call you.” 

Your heart warmed at his confession. From his words, it had seemed like Buck was completely and utterly obsessed with you and you felt the exact same way about him. In a split second decision, you moved away from him and he followed you, unsure of what you were doing. Had he been too vulnerable? Had he shared too much?

You reached into the little bowl that was on the table that was by the door and grabbed hold of a key before turning to Buck and holding it out to him. His eyes widened as he stared down at it, the little thing between your fingers saying so much. He had hoped that the two of you would have gotten to that stage eventually, just not this quick. 

“Honey-” he paused, trying to get his thoughts together. “Are you-are you sure?”

“Positive,” you nodded with a smile. “I want you to have it so you can come over whenever you want. Even after work. Especially after work. We can unwind together and have dinner and go to bed.” The way you were describing it made then whole thing sound so inviting and Buck was very into the idea.

“Deal,” he nodded, grabbing the key from you and pocketing it before pulling you into a kiss, smiling against your lips and you did the same, laughing into his mouth because of how happy you were. The whole thing was messy with your teeth clinking together, but you eventually figured it out, your bodies pressed together, melting as one. His tongue swiped along your bottom lip as he tilted your head back so he had more access. You opened up and his tongue slid inside, swirling it around as his hands slid down, grabbing the backs of your thighs and he lifted. 

You jumped and he caught you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he carried you over to the counter. He set you down on the edge and he pushed down on your chin to open your mouth wider so he could taste every inch of your mouth. You tasted like cookie dough and the wine you had a little sip of and Buck couldn’t get enough. You just tasted so good and he wanted to devour you. 

The oven went off, the loud beep catching the both of you off guard. You broke apart in surprise and Buck hurried the oven to turn it off, chuckling to himself at the fact that you broke apart so quickly as if what you had been doing was wrong. And if kissing you was wrong, he certainly didn’t want to be right. 

Once the oven was off, he made his way back over to you and you spread your legs, giving him space to stand between them. He reached behind you and untied your apron while you did his. He lifted the strap over your head and had to stop himself from looking down at your tank top that dipped very low, giving him a perfect view of your cleavage. 

He got his own apron off then set them both next to you before leaning towards you, putting a hand on each side of you, caging you in. He leaned forward even more and just when your lips were about to meet, he grabbed his wine glass and took a sip, causing a very adorable pout to form on your lips. 

“Oh, did you want something, honey?” He asked, taking another sip from his glass, trying his best to not laugh. “Because if you want something, you’re going to have to speak up.”

“I want a kiss.” 

“Sorry.” He set his glass down. “I think those are in short supply tonight.” You knew he was pulling your leg and you were going to play along.

“Even for me?” You bat your eyelashes, knowing that that would always get him to give you whatever you wanted. 

“Even for you,” he replied with a nod of his head. “But I supposed that I could spare one…but you have to give me something in return.” Now you weren’t even sure if you wanted him to kiss you anymore since he was being so difficult about it.

“Like what?” You crossed your arms over your chest and glared at him and never thought that something being angry would be so goddamn adorable.

“You have to read to me.”

“I was going to do that anyway.”

“You’re right,” he nodded. “Well, I guess I just give you one for free, but where’s the fun in that?”

“Forget it,” you scoffed, hopping off of the counter and headed to the stairs of your loft. Buck was hot on your heels, trying to reach out for you, but you were moving too fast. 

You collapsed onto the bed and Buck was quick to lay on top of you, burying his face in your neck, peppering the spot with kisses as his hands reached up and he interlocked his fingers with yours.

“I’m sorry, honey,” he apologized against your skin. “I’ll give you all the kisses you want, just please don’t be mad at me.”

“I could never be mad at you, Buckley,” you said, pulling his head away from his neck so he’d look you in the eyes. He pressed a few quick pecks to your lips then buried his face in your neck again, his arms moving to circle your waist. Your hands moved up and down his back and eventually, the both of you fell asleep like that, thinking that the only place either of you ever wanted to be was wrapped up in each other’s arms.