𝐁𝐥𝐮𝐞, 𝐲𝐨𝐮♡♥♡

Us or Them

Requested Here!

Pairing: Dominique Luca x fem!SWAT!reader

Summary: You and Luca go undercover as a couple, and when you're forced to get close, the truth slips out.

Warnings: tiny bit of angst, fluff, a tiny bit suggestive, making out, infidelity (not r or SWAT characters) + canon typical warnings

Word Count: 3.8k+ words

A/N: I'll proofread this tomorrow! I just love the req so I wanted to post it now. :)

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“I don’t like that look, Hondo,” you murmur as he walks into the locker room.

“Hurtful,” he replies. “Detective Burrows wants to see you and Luca. Where is he?”

“Luca? I shoved him in his locker.”

Hondo hesitates before muttering, “I can’t tell if you’re serious or not.”

“Luca is helping Rocker with something outside. Why does Burrows want to see us?” You stand as you speak, and Hondo fails to hide his smile. “Hondo.”

“I only heard a few words, but one of them sounded like undercover.”

“Fantastic. I’ll find Luca,” you offer. “But not one more word out of you, Daniel.”

Hondo puts his hands up in surrender as you walk past him, but you hear him call out to Deacon. Shaking your head, you walk through HQ and into the parking lot to find Luca. You’ve been undercover once before, but you were alone, and it was just to find a way into a suspect’s house. It couldn’t have been more than five minutes before 20 Squad stormed in behind you and arrested everyone else in the house. So, you’re unsure why Burrows would request you and Luca rather than trained UC officers.

“Luca!” you call when he stands from beside Black Betty. “Burrows needs to see us.”

“What for?” Luca asks, wearing a similar surprise to yours.

“Hondo thinks it may be an undercover thing, but I don’t know yet.”

Luca nods and passes a small toolbox to Rocker. “Keep working on it.”

“You got it,” Rocker answers. “Have fun undercover.”

You roll your eyes and follow Luca into the building. Once inside, you take a few large steps to walk beside him.

“Hondo said undercover?” Luca inquires. “Think maybe he misheard?”

“Possibly,” you admit. “I don’t know what case he’s working, but I guess if he needs UC and SWAT…” You trail off with a shrug, and Luca smiles. “What?”

“It’s never that easy with Burrows,” he reminds you.

“True. This is going to be terrible, isn’t it?”

A door opens to your right, and Burrows says, “Depends on how you look at it.”

“How are we going to look at it?” Luca counters.

Burrows gestures for you to come inside, and Luca moves to hold the door for you as you enter Burrows’ office. There’s a case board in front of his desk and pictures of a different couple in every corner.

“Please don’t tell me that’s mafia related,” you state.

“Not mafia,” Burrows assures with a grin. “But they are looking for a fifth couple.”

“To do what?” Luca asks before you can.

Burrows hesitates, and you exhale sharply. You’re a SWAT officer; you knew before you walked in that it would be a dangerous assignment, but now you are sure it will be more than you anticipated.

“They stage affairs to rob and murder couples,” Burrows explains quickly. “The richer the better.”

“They stage affairs,” you repeat. “As in pretend to cheat on each other to get into these people’s houses?”

“Apparently it’s their favorite way to, uh, get the blood pumping. We’ve got CCTV footage of them in high end hotels after every attack.”

“How do they do it?” Luca asks. “One goes in, the other storms in, and they work together?”

“Thinking like a criminal already, Officer Luca,” Burrows applauds. “More or less, that’s exactly how it goes. They go out together, play up how in love with one another they are, then one of them connects with someone else. Excuse, go upstairs, both partners burst in, then it’s time for murder and theft.”

“Wait, so wife goes upstairs with someone else’s husband,” you clarify. “Then husband gets the other wife, and they come up together? They con both of them to get them upstairs?”

Burrows shrugs and explains, “It’s just genius enough to keep them from getting caught. They’re getting more brazen, robbing two or three couples at a time. Apparently they need a solid five couples to keep it working.”

You look at Luca, and he nods before he says, “Tell us what you need.”

Burrows sighs in relief, then says, “I need you to convince these people that you’re madly in love and madly homicidal.”

“I feel like I should be on a reality show,” you tell Luca as you adjust your hair in the mirror on your visor.

“You look like it too,” he replies. “Burrows’ CI said they’re dining at Mastro’s tonight, though, so we have to look our part and then some.”

You close the visor and turn in the passenger seat to look at Luca. “We’re going to have to get really close, to sell this, I mean. It’s not going to make things weird, is it?”

Though you know you’re both trained and professional, there is a chance this will change everything between you. Not because you are friends and coworkers who see each other daily and trust one another with your lives, but because you have unresolved and unadmitted feelings for Luca. If something happens tonight, you’re not sure you’ll be able to keep those feelings buried anymore. The thought of him not wanting to be around you anymore because of that makes your stomach flip beneath your overpriced outfit.

“Of course not,” Luca answers emphatically. “It’s just a job.”

Maybe for you, you think. “Right,” you say instead. “And we get expensive food out of it.”

“Tonight is their deadline to pick up a fifth,” Luca reminds you. “As far as burglary-homicide can tell, that means it’s time for them to strike again.”

“So, you want me to flirt – eyes and body language only – with our server or someone close to him, then lift his wallet while they can see?” you check.

“Yeah,” Luca answers. “We can do this.”

You smile as he stops the car beside the valet stand and agree, “Of course we can.”

With your left arm looped through Luca’s right and your other hand perched on his bicep, you enter the penthouse restaurant with a smile.

“They’re all sitting against the west windows,” you whisper in Luca’s ear as you follow a woman to your table. “But pretend I said anything else.”

Luca turns his chin toward you, a look you’ve never seen before in his eyes as he squeezes your hand gently and says, “Later.”

You brush your teeth over your bottom lip before you separate from Luca and sit across the table from him. With what you hope is an apologetic look, you slide your leg under the table and hook your heel behind his lower leg. He smiles and offers his hand across the table. There are eight sets of eyes on you, glaring into you as the criminals across from you evaluate you and Luca as potential criminal accomplices.

“They’re looking,” you murmur softly.

“Everyone is,” Luca replies, cocky, sure, and completely in character.

“Good evening,” your waiter greets. “What can I get you to drink?”

Luca orders for both of you as you trail your eyes up and down the waiter. When he steps back, you lock eyes with him and smile. His eyes drop before he turns and walks away. That’s exactly what you wanted.

“The ladies liked that,” Luca whispers. He leans against the table and drops his eyes to your lips to add, “Almost as much as I did.”

You push your foot against his leg as you smile and desperately try to hold on to the part of you that views this as an assignment and nothing more. If you start seeing how Luca looks at you as anything more, you won’t be able to come out of this act the same.

“Waiter’s wallet is in the left pocket,” you enunciate, hoping the people beside you are reading your lips. “When he comes back, I’ll excuse myself, you order for me, and I’ll grab it on the way past.”

“You sure you didn’t make him too nervous looking at him like that?” Luca inquires.

You reach across the table and gently grasp his chin before you ask, “Does this look make you nervous?”

Luca shakes his head slowly before he kisses your fingertips, and you pull your hand away too quickly. He apologizes with a small nod, but you’re unable to explain the sudden movement before the waiter returns.

“Will you order for me?” you ask Luca. “Excuse me.”

You move the napkin from your lap back to the table and pass behind the waiter a few inches closer than is usually acceptable. With one simple move of your wrist, you pull his wallet from his pocket and tuck it between your hand and your hip as you walk to the restroom. In your peripheral, you notice two of the four women on Burrows’ board stand and walk toward you. It’s induction time.

As you enter the ladies’ room and the waiter leaves Luca’s side, one of your visitors' boyfriends walks to Luca’s table. He sits and pretends to greet an old friend.

“What can I do for you?” Luca asks, effortlessly charming even as his thoughts drift to you.

Luca has cared about you as more than a coworker since you met on your first day in the LAPD. He was drawn to you, and his need to be near and with you grows stronger each day. Deacon has encouraged him to tell you how he feels, but too much is at stake. The same things that have also kept you from making a move.

“Steph and I – you remember Steph, right?” the man begins.

Luca sees the challenging look in the man’s eyes and plays along as he answers, “Who could forget Steph? You two still going strong?”

“Stronger than ever,” the man – Grant, if Luca remembers the couple pairings correctly – brags. “In fact, we’ve got a new business venture that is doing wonders for our professional and private lives.”

“What’s the point of business without a little pleasure?”

“Exactly. I saw that you’re here with your beautiful woman, too, and since I’m sure they’re gossiping about us in the bathroom right now, why don’t we meet up after dinner? Grab a nightcap or a coffee and talk? I think you’d be very interested in hearing about our team.”

“That sounds perfect,” Luca agrees. “We’ve been looking for a change, anyway. Can’t let things get too boring with women like mine, you know?”

“Trust me, brother, I do. My buddies and their girls are coming too.”

Luca nods as Grant stands from the table and slides him a paper with a time and address written on it. Alone at the table again, Luca fights to hide his surprise when you return with a different hairstyle, red lipstick, and have adjusted your outfit.

“What’s that?” you ask, pointing to the paper in his hand.

“We’re meeting one of my old friends for coffee after this,” Luca answers.

“Perfect.”

Grant and his crew of thieves and murderers leave the restaurant before you do, and you sigh as you slump in your seat.

“I look like I ran into a girl from the Jersey Shore and her makeup rubbed off on me,” you lament.

“I hadn’t noticed a difference,” Luca jokes. “If it helps any, you don’t need any of it.”

You smile, not the flirty, overselling smile from earlier, but your genuine smile as you pinch your napkin and murmur, “Thank you.”

Luca stands and offers his hand. In the privacy of the elevator, you drop your head against his shoulder and ask, “What do you think they’ll want to know?”

“The wallet for sure. Probably about us and how far we’d go to get the things, experiences, and people we want.”

“They’re either really good actors or so remarkably greedy that they can’t see how good they have it with decent relationships,” you comment.

“Or both.”

The first thing you notice upon entering the dark coffee shop is how close your suspects are sitting to one another. You tighten your grip on Luca’s hand but don’t warn him before you wait for him to sit and then perch on his knee. Without hesitation, he wraps his arm around your waist and tips you to lean against his chest. Your hand splays over his heart as you smile at the people sitting around you.

“I’m Grant,” the man who spoke to Luca introduces. “I believe you’ve already met Steph and Daisy,” he tells you. “This is Oliver, Aurora, Jacob, Brendan and Lizzie.”

“Nice to meet you,” Luca says before introducing himself and you.

“You’re all incredibly attractive. Just wanted to throw that out there, and obviously I have good taste,” you add, looking pointedly at Luca.

“Good taste in targets too, it seems,” Oliver states. “The waiter?”

“Easy isn’t always good.”

“But it works,” Lizzie argues. “And we all start somewhere. Girls gotta eat, right?”

You hold your tongue between your teeth and look at Luca to agree, “So right.”

“That have something to do with your new business, Grant?” Luca asks, tightening his grip around you.

“Everything,” Grant and Oliver answer together.

“Please continue,” you invite.

“We’ve got a pretty straightforward system,” Brendan explains. “One you’ve already proven capable of.”

“One of us chooses a target – married target – and initiates contact. It goes well, always, and they go off alone. Whatever that takes. Then your significant other finds the cheater’s spouse, takes them to the room and storms in. Inside, we work together to incapacitate the infidelity-stricken couple and take whatever we want,” Jacob adds.

“Do you…” Luca trails off with a small gesture of his thumb over his throat.

“Usually,” Daisy answers before sipping her drink. “They see our faces, sometimes a bit more-“ Lizzie interrupts her with a giggle before she can finish – “so we can’t just leave them, you know?”

“Makes sense,” you muse. “But why do you need more? Eight of you seems like plenty to rip off some rich, sloppy cheaters.”

“Short answer?” Aurora asks. “Variety. People look for different things in flings, plus sometimes we have trouble restraining them. Mostly, though, it’s talent. You robbed a waiter in the middle of one of LA’s most expensive and busiest restaurants.”

You nod, wondering how they’ll feel about their decision-making process when they learn that he was an undercover cop.

“What do you want us to do?” Luca asks.

“Prove your worth one more time, and then we’ll talk again,” Grant says.

“The Four Seasons Bar tomorrow at nine,” Steph adds. “We’ll be at a booth in the corner, watching your every move. Pull it off and you get to keep the spoils and get your choice of future targets with our help.”

“Hear that?” you ask Luca. “We keep what we earn and then get to earn more. Sounds like a good investment to me, baby.”

Luca smiles at you before he tells Grant, “We’ll be there.”

“You’ve got to be kidding,” you groan. “Absolutely not.”

“Why not?” Burrows asks, tossing his hands up.

“Look at him,” you demand, pointing at Hondo. “I’m not going to be able to do this to him. I’ll laugh at him before I can even think about pretending to be interested in having an affair with him.”

“You just showed up to work this week to hurt me, huh?” Hondo interjects. “What about Deac?”

“It can’t be someone we know,” Luca argues. You nod quickly to agree. “They’ll be able to see any sliver of recognition.”

“Get me a UC couple that I’ve never met before and we can make it work,” you explain. “But no one I work with consistently.”

“Even Rocker?” Hondo taunts.

“Especially Rocker.”

“Okay, fine,” Burrows concedes. “I’ll send in UCs, both wearing purple so they’re easy to spot. Tell me again why we can’t make the arrest this time?”

“Because they’re expecting us to do this ourselves,” Luca says. “For all we know, they won’t come up to the room with us at all, just check our pockets when we come back down.”

Burrows runs his hand through his hair before he clarifies, “But we get them next time?”

“Guaranteed,” you and Luca answer together.

“Why don’t we ever come to the Four Seasons for date night?” you inquire from your position on Luca’s arm.

“We get this job, and we can,” he says lowly, moving his hand over your waist and toward your hip.

“Get a table facing the three-side,” you request against Luca’s shoulder.

He does as you ask, and from your seated position, you can see the UC couple, but Luca’s back is to them. You lock eyes briefly with the man, smile, and then look down. He knows his cue; he’ll follow you to the elevator when you hold up three fingers. His partner laughs and leans across the table to kiss him as you lay your cheek against your hand and look at Luca. The longing, lovesick gaze you fix on him isn’t thanks to your acting ability; it’s just one of the only excuses you’ll ever get to look at him like this.

Someone approaches your UC’s table, and you keep your eyes on Luca, letting them stray to his lips as he flirts freely with you. Without eyes on your UC, you don’t know how long you’ll have to wait to pretend to gauge his interest again. The man, dressed in black, steps away from the table as you move carefully to stand beside Luca. You press your hands against his shoulders, looking up quickly to check on your UC. He stares at you, pretending to breathe heavily before his attention suddenly snaps back to his partner. His quick glances at you are exactly what you need as you lower onto Luca’s lap and press your lips to his.

Luca hums in surprise, but his hands quickly move to your waist, gripping you softly before his fingers spread to trail up your back. With his hands on you and your lips moving with his, you nearly forget to drop your hand beside his chair and flash the signal to the UC. Carefully and painstakingly, you pull back from Luca and wipe your thumb under his mouth to remove the lipstick you transferred to his skin.

“Excuse me for a minute?” you request huskily, scraping your thumbnail under your own lips.

Luca nods, squeezing your hips as you stand. You make it to the elevator fifteen seconds before the UC, and you press yourself against him as the doors close.

“Sorry,” you murmur as you step back.

“It’s what I’m trained for,” he replies. “Pretty sweet gig some days.”

You shake your head at his comment, then lead him to the department-purchased hotel room and wait for Luca and his partner to arrive. Someone knocks on the door, and you freeze.

Steph says your name, then giggles like she’s pretending to be drunk. “Let me in!”

Turning to the officer beside you, you press your lips against his chin and neck, then ruffle his hair and push his purple shirt off his shoulders. As you stumble to the door with one shoe kicked off, you pull one of your dress straps down and pull several pieces of hair from your updo.

“Steph!” you greet as you open the door. “What are you doing here?”

“We want to see how it’s going,” Grant answers, stepping away from the wall beside your door. “Let us in?”

You shrug and push the door open for them, unsurprised to see that they’re both armed. Grant pulls his gun and holds it on the UC as you aim yours – removed from your thigh holster – at Steph.

“Don’t do this,” you warn. “We’re LAPD.”

“Figures,” Steph scoffs. “Only a cop would let looks like that go to waste.”

“And that kiss?” Grant challenges knowingly. “Just part of the act or something you wanted an excuse to do?”

“Stop talking,” you demand.

“And do what? Wait for your partner?”

“Something like that,” Luca says as he enters the room with his weapon ready.

“For robbers and killers, you’re not very good at making sure the door closes behind you,” you tell Grant.

He sees your heel propped between the door and the jamb and sneers as he moves his finger to the trigger.

“I wouldn’t,” Luca advises. “Your buddies are downstairs telling the detectives everything. What I heard was all about you and how it was all your idea. Grant pulled the trigger, Grant set them up, Grant-“

“Shut up!” Grant demands, turning his gun on you. “I’ll kill her.”

“Go ahead,” you say. “You kill me, they put you in jail forever. Either way, no one else has to deal with your pathetic attempt at feeling wanted.”

“I swear-“

Grant doesn’t finish before a gun fires, and he falls to the floor with a yelp. The UC officer beside him stands and pulls Grant’s gun away before he looks at Luca with wide eyes. Steph falls to her knees beside Grant, giving you plenty of time to pull the gun from her waistband as Grant holds the gunshot wound on his thigh.

“Bit premature?” you ask Luca.

“It was us or them,” he tells you, holstering his weapon. “They planned to kill us too, the guy downstairs was supposed to interrupt the trial run. So, when you left anyway, they got worried. Which, by the way, Grant, your plan was awful.”

Grant moans in reply, and you step aside as more officers enter the room. Luca turns toward you and pulls your dress up just before Hondo walks in with Burrows.

“Jacob, Lizzie, and Aurora gave us everything we need to charge them all,” Burrows says. “Well done, you two.”

“Don’t get used to it,” you mumble.

“Good night?” Hondo asks, smirking as he looks between Luca and the UC.

“His was better,” the UC answers as he prepares to leave. “Thanks for the fifteen minutes in the Four Seasons room, detective.”

“Get out of here,” Burrows instructs. “Come by in the morning to give your statements and I’ll try to keep the commissioner from pushing the cleaning cost on you,” he adds, gesturing to the blood on the carpet.

You nod and follow Luca to the unmarked police car waiting for you. Sitting in silence beside the curb, you both try to find the words to start the necessary conversation.

“I’m sorry,” you decide. “I shouldn’t have just kissed you like that.”

“We were undercover,” Luca defends. “You saved my life.”

“You saved mine.”

You fall silent again, watching the digital clock on the dashboard and waiting for it to change.

“I wanted it,” Luca whispers. “Not like that, and it doesn’t change anything, but I’ve wanted this – us – for years. Every time we work together, I realize it more.”

Your jaw drops as you watch Luca in the dark car. He continues talking, mixing in apologies with assurances that nothing has changed before you lean across the console and kiss him again. He cups your face immediately, bringing you as close as possible.

When you pull back and take a deep breath, you promise, “I still want it.”

“I’m glad I chose us then,” Luca says, tracing his fingers over your lips.

You smile and lean in again, hoping you’re imagining Hondo’s shocked but excited yell from outside the car.

valentine's day with kageyama is sweet but hectic. he goes all out because it's a special day and he finally has a special person. i'm talking flowers, chocolates, gifts, dinner at a fancy restaurant, and of course dessert all timed down to the t. he's been planning for over a month, scouring websites for ideas, and visiting store after store to find the right things for you. and honestly the adlers boys are a little tired of hearing about it, but they've also never seen him so passionate about anything that wasn't volleyball until you. so they chime in with comments here and there to help him out. and it's obvious he's nervous. you caught on pretty early, so you try to reassure him he doesn't have to do anything over the top. you love him, and he loves you. it's just another day in the span of a year, but he just shakes his head because, "why wouldn't i do all this and more for you?"

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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

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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

on your side / wolffe x fem!jedi!reader

for @ireadwithmyears <3

summary: having to distance yourself from wolffe after a slip up is a lot harder than you thought it would be

tags/warnings: 18+ for suggestive stuff, angst! with a happy(ish?) ending, forbidden relationship, love confessions, kinda idiots in love, wolffe is down bad and not sorry about it, reader is lowkey delirious and v emotional bc of lack of sleep, allusions to sex but otherwise sfw

song: on your side — the last dinner party

prompts: #21 "when's the last time you actually slept?", #9 "come lie with me, let me hold you."

a/n: okay it's official, wolffe is my fav clone to write for. um, idk if anyone else has ever been so exhausted but not able to fall asleep to the point where you’re literally distraught? I hope this is not a unique experience otherwise this fic makes no sense lol

event masterlist / star wars masterlist / join my taglist / wc: 3.1k

request period for this event is over, dialogue prompt is in bold :)

You messed up. Big time.

The memory of your misdeeds still replayed in your mind, days, weeks later. Your mind lingered on how his rough hands felt against your skin, how his breath mingled with yours, bodies melding together. His words haunted you, adulations whispered in a tone you’d never heard, sentiments you wouldn’t soon forget, no matter how you tried to.

Wolffe had invaded your brain even before you'd fallen into bed with him, but now it was inescapable.

You'd known it was a mistake as it was happening, that stepping over the line would do something irreversible, something you couldn't follow up on. The guilt of doing that to Wolffe, of letting him believe it was something that could be, was eating you alive. If you didn't feel so strongly for him then all of this would be so much easier, and could be written off as a simple blunder — but nothing about this was simple.

Wolffe had been shipped into an active warzone only hours later, and though worry pulled at your heart more than ever, you couldn't help but be partly relieved. When he’d returned, you felt even more conflicted.

He had caught your eyes from across the hangar, something distinctly timid and unlike him in the way he looked at you, and you had to tear your gaze away and leave the space. You couldn’t be anywhere near him. It hurt too much. You knew he’d noticed that you were avoiding him, it would be impossible given how close you were before everything had transpired, but he obviously had the restraint not to mention it.

Sleep was eluding you because of it. Pulling away from Wolffe felt like a physical pain, like the connection you had unwittingly created through the force was being sawed at, and you could feel every ridge of the knife as it cut. If anything, it was proof that you had become too close, that your connection ran too deep.

Now, duty demanded you be in the same room as him, and it was every bit as excruciating as you had expected. You were stood beside him in the command centre, and while your eyes were plastered to Plo Koon, all of your attention was taken by Wolffe.

You could feel the heavy weight of his gaze on you as you spoke, almost feel his breath against your cheek, the warmth of his body beside you. His presence was intoxicating, and even when you closed your eyes you weren’t free of it. His unique presence in the force reached out for you, and while you knew he wasn’t doing it intentionally, you wished he would stop. The familiar feeling made it so much harder not to fall into his arms and forget everything that held you back; a warm blanket, a comforting steadiness, deep red in colour, like the very last sight of the sun against the horizon.

You escaped as soon as you could, scampering from the command room at the first opportunity, but it seemed that Wolffe was done with the silent treatment. He grabbed your arm as you made it out into the corridor, dragging you into a quieter corner of the ship, a hall that ran to a dead end. His gaze was serious when you finally met it with your own, and it turned your stomach. You didn’t know if he was angry or hurt, nothing was given away in his demeanour.

Finally he spoke in a low voice, “are you alright?”

You blinked up at him, wondering how he could be so concerned by you at this moment. His hand still gripped your arm gently, his eyes darting between yours, brows furrowed. He took in your features like he’d never seen you before, and the scrutiny made your gaze drop.

“I’m fine” you murmured, trying to keep your voice even.

“You weren’t in your room last night”

Your eyes raised back to him as your heart skipped a beat, “how do you know that?”

“I went to see you” he confessed, never wavering in his serious gaze.

“Wolffe…” you sighed, looking up at him with a pained expression, “you shouldn’t have done that”

He huffed, stepping into your space, “why not?”

You exhaled slowly, “you know why”

Something in him stiffened, and he took his hand away from you, “what were you doing?”

“I just… I couldn’t sleep” you admitted, running a hand over your face.

“Why not?”

You sighed at his persistence, “it doesn’t matter”

“It matters to me” he muttered, his eyes flashing with hurt. He tentatively brought his hand up to your cheek, running his thumb under your eye. You knew you must look exhausted, and closed your eyes to let the feeling calm you. “When's the last time you actually slept?”

“I don’t know” you spoke quietly, almost ashamedly. Your eyes fluttered open to see the stern look he was giving you.

“Sarad’ika” he whispered the name he called you in only the most quiet of moments, drawing closer so his forehead almost touched yours. “If you won’t…” he sighed, “if you won’t let me take care of you then you need to take care of yourself”

Your heart seized up in your chest. “I—” you didn't know what to say, everything was running through your mind but it was all getting caught in your throat.

Your stuttering was interrupted by the sound footsteps reverberating off of the walls of the otherwise empty hall. Wolffe backed away from you, though he still started at you intently, even as someone walked between the two of you. Unlike him, it snapped you out of it.

“I— I uh… I'm going to my quarters now” you mumbled out, tongue tripping over your words.

You turned quickly, stalking down the hall in wide strides and not daring to look back.

It was the middle of the night and still, sleep wouldn’t take you. The frustration was getting on top of you again, and you paced back and forth in the small space of the ship that was yours. Hot tears sprang to your eyes, wetting your cheeks, and your hands gripped at your hair as if it would alleviate the tension in your head. You had been silently crying long enough that your head had begun to ache, and you silently begged to gods you didn’t believe in to let you sleep, to shut your mind of for just a few minutes so you might finally slip into unconsciousness.

It had been coming to this every night, where you felt as if you were being driven insane because sleep eluded you.

With a small sob, you darted for the door. A distraction, that’s what you needed now. You might wander the halls of the ship as you had in previous nights, or hole up in a cupboard somewhere so you could cry until all your tears were spent. You grabbed your robe as you went, clutching the thick material in a tight fist, but as the door zipped open you almost collided with something, someone.

Wolffe stood tall in the doorway, his hand raised as if he were about to knock. He took in your distressed state, eyes widening at the recognition of tears staining your face, and he reached out to you on instinct, taking ahold of your arms.

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay” he immediately began to soothe you in a voice that was too soft for him. It only made your breathing more unstable, and you choked on your sobs. Wolffe backed you into the dark room and closed the door behind him, “what’s going on?”

The confusion — the worry — it was so plain in his eyes. It made you feel sick to your stomach. You dropped your robe to the floor.

“I just—“ your words were halted by your own sob, and you hid your face in your palms, “I’m so tired, Wolffe”

His hands wrapped around your wrists, his skin warm against yours, and he peeled your hands away from your face. He snaked his arms around your waist without another word, offering the relief you would never ask for but so desperately needed. You took it unashamedly, burying your face in his chest, letting yourself relish in the comfort of his touch. As your weeping continued, he held you tightly, one hand on the back of your head to stroke your hair as he whispered comforting words.

The exhaustion had clearly got to you. There was simply no other reason for this display of raw emotion.

As your breathing calmed, the storm in your mind subsiding to a grey fog, Wolffe’s grip loosened. He pulled back and took your face in his hand, and you couldn’t help but lean into its warmth just a little.

“Now,” he spoke quietly, “are you going to tell me why you can’t sleep?”

You sighed deeply as you averted your gaze, “do I have to?”

“No” he replied, “but it could help”

Your eyes creeped across his handsome features, taking in every mark, every freckle. You couldn’t burden him with everything that clouded your mind, you wouldn’t place another weight upon his shoulders when the war already saw him stretched so thin.

You shook your head, releasing yourself from his grasp and turning away, “it won’t help, it’ll only make things worse”

“Stop shutting me out” Wolffe’s voice was stern as he spoke up, and you looked up to find his brow furrowed deeply, the hurt evident in his eyes and the downturn of his lips.

“I have to” you said quietly, almost a whisper.

“No you don’t” Wolffe huffed, moving to crowd you against the table behind you, “I don’t understand why you’ve been acting like this, why you won’t look at me all of a sudden. I thought—”

He stopped himself. In all honesty, you hadn’t been thinking an awful lot about what Wolffe may be thinking about what had transpired, and as much as you knew you should bury the whole incident, move on and forget, a part of you needed to know. What he thought, what he was thinking now, what he felt. You shouldn’t ask, but you couldn’t stop yourself.

“Thought what?”

You could see that he regretted letting the words slip. “I thought things would be…” he trailed off for a moment, searching your eyes with a hint of desperation, “I don’t know, I just thought it’d be different from this, after—“

His teeth ground together. A quiet curse escaped him as he hung his head in defeat. He knew as well as you that this conversation would only breed more unease. You swallowed, taking a moment to centre yourself.

“We can’t be like that” you muttered.

You knew it was cruel, that he didn’t deserve to hear it put so bluntly, nor did he deserve what had already happened. You had been cruel, consistently, in entertaining this idea of the two of you, and even crueller in making him believe it could be. That was why this was necessary. It couldn’t go on.

He was quiet for a long moment, and when he spoke, it was uncharacteristically timid, his words almost shy.

“Would it be so bad?” he asked.

“Yes! Well, no it— but we can’t, I mean— I don’t know!” you could feel your breath becoming short again, and Wolffe placed his hands on your shoulders.

“Hey, breathe” he spoke softly.

You didn’t deserve him, that was clear to you now. He was too gentle, too good to you when you didn’t deserve it. Your breath steadied under his touch, and you couldn’t face pushing him off this time.

“This is what’s got you worked up?” he asked, and you nodded in reply. His face softened, and he raised a hand to your cheek. “Ner cyare” he whispered, “please don’t trouble yourself over me”

“I can’t help it Wolffe, I—”

I love you

You could so easily say it, and you would mean it, but putting it out into the world would go beyond crossing the line.

“I’m sorry, that I’ve been pulling away, but I can’t— I can’t do this” you insisted, gesturing vaguely between the two of you, unable to name exactly what it was.

“Why not?”

It was a simple question, but the answer was far more complicated. Wolffe gave you nothing but patience as he waited for the reply. His gaze was soft, as soft as it got with him at least, though any amount of tenderness that could be drawn from the man would be considered a feat. It was part of the reason that you struggled to answer him. It was simply too distracting, witnessing the depth of his feelings for you first hand.

When the two of you had slipped up, spent the night with limbs entangled in the cot just a few short steps from you now, it had somehow not occurred to you that Wolffe was in just as deep as you. He had shown his admiration in more ways than one; whispers against your lips and skin, tender touches and a sense of care in every endeavour. In the throws of pleasure it hadn’t registered as anything but that — seeking pleasure.

Now you weren’t sure.

“Because…” you began, barely uttering the word.

There were reasonings you could use, but none would present themselves as you looked into his eyes and were confronted with the depth of your own feelings.

“Because…?” he prompted, and you couldn’t help but sigh.

“Because nothing” you frowned, “because I’m a fool, and because you don’t deserve the only kind of relationship I could give you”

Wolffe matched your frown, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Think about it Wolffe, I’m… I’m a Jedi, right? You know what that means?”

He pressed his lips to a hard line, unimpressed at the reminder “I know what it means”

You exhaled shakily, and a sadness washed over you, “I couldn’t… I could only be yours in private, I wouldn’t be able to touch you in front of others, to hold your hand or even smile at you for too long. I wouldn’t be able to show the galaxy how much I love you, and that hurts me”

A second passed, and you realised what had been said.

It was as if an airlock had been opened, and all the air sucked from the room. The both of you stood perfectly still, staring at each other with widened eyes. You had crossed the line. It was all hypothetical up until now. But now, it was real. Neither of you moved, or breathed, until Wolffe let a quick and heavy exhale slip, as if in disbelief.

“Love?”

You swallowed thickly.

“I—“ you bit the inside of your cheek as your cheeks burned hot, “I didn’t mean to… tell you like this”

“Is it true?” he asked, deadly serious. His eyes searched yours, for what you didn’t know, but you knew the answer was already obvious in the way you dropped your gaze guiltily, as if the very act of falling in love were wrong.

“Yes” the whisper had barely left you when Wolffe surged forwards and met your lips with his.

He was warm, inviting, eager. He kissed you like a man starved, as if he’d been waiting a lifetime for this moment, and you let yourself give in. You kissed him back more insistently, and let his tongue pass the seam of your lips as he begged for entrance. His arms wrapped around you, holding you to him tightly, as if he was scared you might slip from beneath his fingertips. This feeling was becoming too known to you, too comfortable. It felt too right.

He pulled away, placing his forehead on yours with intention, “I love you, ner sarad’ika”

Your breath was knocked from you upon hearing the words, and you couldn’t help the way your mouth stretched into a tentative grin. You advanced forwards and pressed a more chaste kiss to his lips, and felt him smile back against you. Something about it set your heart fluttering more than anything before. Wolffe still held you, a hand flat against your back to keep you close, where the other held your jaw.

He ran his thumb over your bottom lip as he regarded you, speaking softly, “you have such a pretty smile”

A heat crept up your neck even now, after everything that had happened. Though soon, it began to transform in its meaning. Your smile faded, tears collecting in your waterline once more, and the heat burned at your collar uncomfortably. You didn’t cry as you had before, but the tears fell freely all the same.

Wolffe sighed, wiping them away with a disapproving shake of his head, “I said not to trouble yourself over me”

Your lips twisted with doubt, “you deserve so much more than this, Wolffe”

“It’s not about what I deserve” he reasoned, “it’s what I want”

“But I can’t give you anything”

“I don’t need anything”

You deflated with a huff, “it’s a lot more complicated than you’re making it out to be”

“I disagree” he mused, pressing a kiss to each cheek to collect the remnants of your tears, “I love you, and for maker knows why, you love me. I think that is all that’s important”

You pressed your lips together to stop them from shaking as you felt yourself welling up again, but Wolffe was all too quick to swoop in.

“We’ll figure it out” he promised, “together”

Looking up at him through teary eyes, you found your lips twitching upwards, “together”

The word was a comfort. Neither of you would have to navigate the struggle in isolation, you would support each other.

Wolffe nodded against you, and took your hands in his. You only realised now how they were shaking, and he pressed his forehead into yours with more purpose, peering deeply into your eyes as if he were looking upon your very soul.

“Come lie with me, let me hold you”

Your brow pinched, and you nodded your head in reply. He tugged you over to your cot gently and laid you down in the soft sheets, then stripped himself of his armour to lay beside you.

No more words were exchanged that night, for everything had already been said. His body was warm against yours, and though it didn’t magically lull you to sleep immediately, it was an undeniable comfort. Wolffe fell into unconsciousness before you did, his arms still wrapped tightly around you. Watching him rest calmed your mind. It gave you faith that any hardship the two of you faced going forward would be worth it. He was worth it.

taglist: @darthnihila @cdblake1565 @heidnspeak @burningnerdchild @orangez3st @clones-cyare @stellarbit @liopleurodean @asgre

Ah yes Suna flash us 😩

Credits to Loonzy Z

Unattached

Fives x Fem!Reader

NSFW Ahead Minors DNI 18+!!!

A/N: To all the girls who wish they lost their virginity to a clone trooper - this one’s for us.

Tags/Warnings: Loss of virginity, Best Friends to Lovers, Alcohol, Gambling, Lil bit of angst, Fluff, Smut, Oral Sex (F! Receiving), Vaginal Fingering, Slow burn (technically), Love Confessions, Happy Ending!!

Summary: Since the moment you were transferred to the 501’st as a Civ Medic you and Fives gravitated towards each other and over many months of friendship you can’t help but slowly fall for the charming ARC Trooper. The tension only increases when he finds out just how inexperienced you are.

Word Count: 9.8k

(For clarification, the italics are flashbacks)

The data pad read ‘Order for Civilian Medic Transfer’, which is really just a nicer way of saying ‘You can’t do anything about this, so just accept it and suffer’. 

You had no choice when you were inevitably rotated between legions, untethered. Your newest order was to the 501st, and you find yourself standing in an empty Medbay; it’s quiet. Too quiet. You’ve either been fortunately assigned to a legion that didn’t see much action, if that were even possible, or you were stood in the eye of a hurricane.

Your eyes are caught on the tattoo across the scalp of the head medic, ‘A good droid is a dead one’ and you suppress a smile at the sentiment. It’s why you were needed - clones weren’t fond of droids, even those programmed for medical purposes. 

“New?” The clone asks, eyes focused on a datapad. You weren’t, not by any means, you had been rotated countless times over the duration of the clone wars. But, you already begin preparing yourself for the usual gruff demeanour that often greeted you, although you were better than a droid, to many clones you were still just a ‘Civ’, despite the many sleepless nights of studying and GAR medical training. 

“No, sir, transferred from the 104th.” You keep your words short, formal, but the clone medic’s eyes light up in recognition.

“Under Commander Wolffe?” He asks, a hint of surprise in his tone as he actually looks away from the datapad.

“Briefly,” you admit, recalling how just a few days before the commander in question practically growled at you when you had to check his eye. You lasted a week there.  “I was with the 212th before that.”

The head medic eyes you with a curious look, waiting for you to elaborate, so you continued, “Typically Civ medics are just seen as temporary by the head medic, until a clone medic becomes available.” You explain, perhaps a bit too fast. How many times could you fit the word medic in that sentence? You internally groan, but he gives a small hum of acknowledgement, whether it was in agreement or disagreement of your statement, his face didn’t betray him either way. 

“Go get yourself settled, and then report back here in an hour.” He says with a slight sigh, passing you the datapad, a blinking spot on the screen indicating where your bunk is - at least this time you weren’t in the shared barracks. “We’ve only just got back from being planetside on Coruscant for a week.” Ah, that answers the question of why it had been so quiet then.

“Thank you, sir.” You nod, picking up your small pack of personal belongings, it wasn’t much, but it was the only anchor you had when you were transferred around so often.

“Kix is fine.” He nods, giving you a genuine smile. “Welcome to the 501st.”

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

The small room is thrumming with energy that’s been ignited from an evening of drinking following a particularly rough mission for the men. Contraband in the form of amber liquid that burns your throat and fuels bad decisions, is grouped together on a small crate you’ve been using as a makeshift table for the evening. 

You’re currently sitting on the floor, leaning against a crate next to Fives as he divulges details to you about their most recent mission. Details that you probably aren’t supposed to know, but he tells you anyways, because ‘what are friends for if not to impress’, he had once told you with a sly wink. 

You knew most of the other Civ workers in the GAR weren’t as close to the clones they served with as you were. In all of the legions you had been bounced around from, there was a clear divide between the small number of Civ members, compared to the clones. But in the 501’st, those theoretical lines were blurred, or probably didn’t exist at all, with how Fives’s arm settled around your shoulder. He always had been the most friendly out of his brothers.

Your attention is drawn away from the warm expression of your friend, and you groan as you catch Jesse and Hardcase standing side by side, comparing their lengths. 

“Put it away, for the last time they’re all the same size!” You call out with a laugh, making Fives frown and whip around as he’s been interrupted from your conversation.

“Know from experience with clones?” Jesse sends you a drunken wink as his hands sloppily stuffs the offending body part back into his blacks.

“Medical experience with clones.” Your face almost hurts from smiling as you shake your head, before turning back to Fives. It’s faint and fleeting, but a look of annoyance crosses his features. You’re not awarded the opportunity to ask about it though, because he’s already delving into another over-exaggerated story of how he took out a whole group of droids on his own. 

You wouldn’t really care if they all weren’t true, you just enjoyed hearing him talk. The man could make even the most boring senate conversations interesting, you’re sure of it. So you smile, hooked onto each of his words, cursing the way your heart beats too fast when he reaches out to push away some hair that's fallen from the usual tight bun you have to wear it in. His fingers graze the skin of your cheek, leaving a burning trail.

It’s a small gesture that doesn’t even break the rhythm of his conversation. The touches are natural, instinctive on his part. He’s always touching you - you know to him it means nothing more than that, but your tell-tale racing heart screams at you that you wish it did.

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

Once you had returned from being settled in, Kix had directed you to some neatly stacked crates containing new medical supplies to restock the old ones. Your sluggish movements remind you just how little sleep you’d managed on the transport here from the 104th, your body was still aching from the hours spent laying on the durasteel floor between containers of explosives. Not the best sleep you’ve had, and surprisingly not the worst.

“Hey Kix, can you tell me if this looks infected?” A voice pulls you from your thoughts, alerting you to the attention of a topless clone trooper, something that no longer phased you given how many entirely naked clones you had treated. Upon seeing you, the clone goes from being relaxed to formal instantly, clearing his throat as he fumbled to get the top half of his blacks on. 

“You,” he clears his throat, his voice now adopting the typical ‘trooper at attention’ tone as he pulls the clothing over his head, “Are not Kix.” His top blacks are on backwards, and he runs a finger along the collar which now presses uncomfortably to his flushed neck.

“No, I’m not.” You agree with him, suppressing a small smile at how he looks caught off guard, from his surprised expression you may as well be a battle droid standing in the medical bay.

“May I?” You gesture to his top, and he reluctantly removes it once more, taking a seat on a free bed. You see his issue, a common rash splaying across his shoulders from where his armour has been rubbing his skin through his blacks.

“You’re the new medic?” He sounds more nervous than you are, his jaw tensing when you run your fingers along the rash, checking for any signs of infection.

You give a small hum, confirming he’s correct as you step away. “And you are?”

“Echo. I, uh.. Wasn’t expecting a Civ?” They never do.

“Not infected, by the way, it’s just irritated.” You seek out a steroid cream, which you conveniently just restocked. “Here, use this twice a day, and keep the area as dry as possible.”

He gives you a short, formal nod before he redresses, correctly this time, and leaves the room with his face almost as red as his rash. 

You’ve moved onto another crate when you catch the movement from the corner of your eye, somebody passing the door to the Medbay. You think nothing of it until you see the figure again, this time he slows slightly to glance inside the room.

He walks past a third time - and then a fourth.

On what would be the fifth time you poke your head out slightly to watch him walk almost to the end of the hallway, just to turn around and begin his lap back past the door. He stops in his tracks when he sees you looking curiously at him, but quickly recovers even though he’s been caught, and strides back towards you. You catch a glimpse of a tattoo on his temple, but it’s his grin, framed by neatly trimmed facial hair, that seems to distinguish him from other clone troopers you’ve come across. It’s cocky, confident, and warm. Especially warm when he takes hold of your hand and presses it to his lips in a greeting that makes it feel as though you’re trapped in a boiler room, overheating.

“I’m Fives, and you are?”

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

You were settled between Echo and Fives, the three of you with empty cups waiting for the next round of the game. Each round you had to take a shot based on your answer to the question, which so far had ranged between ‘If you’ve been shot by a droid’ - which Rex groaned at, and ‘If you ever fucked a girl in the 79’s fresher’, which made several of the men cheer. 

Your heart sinks a bit when Fives drinks at that one, recalling the night just over a month ago on Coruscant. 

You had all been there together, his arm slung around your shoulder in the booth as you both laughed at some fleeting joke made by Jesse. You had grown closer, close enough to the point that he got teased relentlessly by his brothers for calling you his ‘best friend’ whilst under the influence of some strong pain medication in the Medbay. 

You left to get some more drinks from the bar when Sinker approached you, a spark of recognition in his eyes. You were trying to focus on ordering the drinks, blushing as you attempted to turn down the Sergeant who was whispering over-sweetened things in your ear at how he wished you’d stayed with the 104th for longer.

You smiled in thanks when Echo came to help, claiming he saw that you may need help with carrying the drinks. You were grateful for the assistance, laughing with Echo under the usual volume of the crowd until you caught sight of your best friend, stumbling through the crowd towards the fresher, his hand intertwined with a beautiful Twi’lek girl.

You remember how Echo looked at you as he realised the reason behind your tightened jaw and hoarse voice when you excused yourself for some air. You couldn’t stand the sympathy in his eyes, the eyes that looked identical to those of your best friend, the man you were in love with. 

So much for being unattached.

“It wasn’t that good.” Fives nudges your knee with his own, pulling you from your thoughts. A casual smirk plays on his lips and you’re about to laugh off the comment, ready to deflect the attention from your friend, when his twin interrupts you.

“Yeah, cause you couldn’t get it up!” Echo slurs as he leans against you, clutching his cup as some of the amber liquid sloshes down your chest before he apologises and wipes the stain above your breast with hazy eyes. Fives catches his brother's wrist, pushing it away from your chest lightly, and your mind races at Echo’s statement - Fives hadn’t slept with the Twi’Lek girl?

“Shut up, Vod.” Fives grumbles, his fingers tightening around his own cup as he looks away from the two of you. A blush, that must just be from a mix of alcohol and annoyance, creeps up to his face. Thankfully as most of these questions have been related to battle or women, you’ve barely drank, so you can at least try to be rational and push away thoughts that creep into your mind of how you think Fives would take you against the wall of a fresher stall. You can ignore the contemplation on if he would show restraint, or if he would make the walls shake.

“How about this - take a shot for how many people you’ve slept with,” Jesse calls out to the small group of you, an intoxicated grin on his face. Several hands reach for the last remaining bottle at once, ready to fill their cups, each of their owners immediately wanting to show off to the rest of the room's occupants.

“No!” Kix’s hand is the fastest to snatch the liquor away, holding it close to his chest plate.  “We are not looking after you all in the Medbay with alcohol poisoning!” He gestures between you both, and Jesse bargains, coming to a compromise for 1 shot for every certain number, but the specifics of the round are drowned out by your own heartbeat.

Your body stills and you look down to your half full cup. It would be easy to drink, to lie to yourself and those around you. You don’t even have to drink more than once and yet you just continue to stare at your reflection in the liquid, it’s as if the cup were judging you.

“You know you’re supposed to at least drink once, right?” Fives whispers in your ear.

“Yeah, just got distracted trying to work out which of your brothers are definitely exaggerating,” You nod, taking a sip from the cup as you avoid his eyes that burn you more than any liquor ever could. You place the empty cup at your feet and lean your head against Echos, managing a small smile at how he’s snoring against your shoulder. 

Fives gives a small hum of thought, finishing his own drink before placing the empty cup next to you, allowing his finger to linger on the rim for a moment. Your gaze is focused on the way the traces of liquor coat his fingertips, making the battle-calloused skin glisten. You close your eyes, trying to fend off the thoughts of how the whiskey tainted fingers would taste on your tongue, and the mental image of them coated in something sweeter than the alcohol.

“Remember the first time I dragged you here?” Fives’ amused tone forces your eyes open, his warm hand settling on your knee and he taps his fingers rhythmically, almost to the same beat as your unsteady heart.

It had been just over one standard month, one of your longest posts so far, and you were already finding yourself anxious that you could be transferred away at any moment. If you had told yourself just over a month ago that in your new assignment with the 501st that you would wake to two half-drunk troopers in your room, begging you to come play Sabbac with them, you would have diagnosed them with battle induced psychosis.

“Well, not with us-” Fives starts, rummaging around the small closet for something you could wear over your sleeping vest.

“For us.” Echo finishes, practically pulling you out of your bed with an eager nod as Fives approaches you with something in his hands.

“Hands up, sweetheart.” In your tired state, you obey thoughtlessly, allowing Fives to slip the sweatshirt over your head. His fingers trail down your sides, eliciting goosebumps across your skin as he pulls the heavy fabric down over you, and between the contact and his name for you, your heart skips a beat. It nearly stops when he winks before turning away to get your shoes.

Clone Troopers were often flirty, but over the last month, Fives seemed determined to earn the title of being the biggest flirt. Regardless which of his brothers got sick or minorly injured, he was always the one pulling them through the door and would then spend the entire time sweet talking you. Just last week, Rex had nearly concussed himself on a pipe and looked like he wanted to hit Fives who didn’t stop talking the whole time you examined the injury.

“And why do you need me to play for you? I’ve never even played before,” You swallow thickly, sliding your feet into the shoes as the twins guide you from your room, both of their hands on your back, ushering you down complex hallways that all look identical.

“Fives got caught cheating, so we both got banned,” Echo rolls his eyes, placing the blame on his brother, who begins telling you the rules of the game, which they are playing a slight variation of given that they only had items to bet, not credits. You had reluctantly allowed them to bring a full bottle of rather expensive vodka you had purchased last time you were on Coruscant.

“You did not wake up the new medic just to get her to play for you.” Jesse groans, and Rex begins apologising to you for his brothers, ready to scold them for waking you up, but you raise your hand to stop him.

“It’s no bother.” You shake your head, remembering Fives and Echo’s advice to act confident - so really you just had to ask yourself ‘What would Fives do?’

“You know how to play?” Kix asks, surprised by your sudden change in demeanour. He had been used to you keeping your head down in the Medbay, following orders, not showing up with a bottle of alcohol to bet on and Fives’s arm slung around your shoulder.

“Oh please, I’ve been playing Sabbac longer than some of you have been out of the tube.” You feel Fives give your shoulder a proud squeeze at your lie as he places the bottle of vodka on the makeshift table, and you both take a seat, “Deal me in?”

After several rounds of you finding your feet in the game, Fives drops his hand to your waist, giving it a squeeze - he’s signalling to go in for the kill. You turn your head slightly to look into his eyes, and he gives a slight nod that doesn’t go unnoticed by your opponents, he’s making it look so sure you’re going to win, but in reality your cards weren’t good. 

 You and Rex were down to the last cards, everyone else had folded. Either of you could have the winning hand, but if one of you backed out now before your cards were revealed, you could at least keep your own stake in the game. It was about the bluffing now, and thankfully you were good at that.

“Well, Captain?” You and Fives lean backward in sync. You press the cards to your chest, hiding how they’re on the verge of shaking from Fives’ grip on your waist, but also to hide your tell. It’s a small, barely noticeable movement, your forefinger running along the edge of your thumbnail -  a nervous movement that Rex hasn’t noticed past your arrogant smile that perfectly mirrors Fives’. “What’ll it be?”

There’s a short beat where the room is silent and you hold the gaze of the Captain, all of the others staring between you both like it’s an intense standoff. He looks away first, tossing the cards down with a huff as he backs out, giving the win to you; he actually had a good hand. 

“Oh and by the way, sir,” You lay your cards down, revealing that you had already gone bust, over the number limit to win. “I’ve never played Sabbac in my life.” You grin at the shocked expression on his face that melts into a warm smile and you’re enveloped into a hug from Fives while Echo reaps your winnings from the table.

After you all decide to have a drink from the bottle you bet with, the tiredness catches up to you, and you struggle to stay alert with the alcohol that casts a haze on your mind. 

“C’mon, I’ll take you back.” Fives nudges you, picking up the half-full bottle of vodka as he pulls you to your feet, shaking his head in amusement when he tugs a bit too hard and you fall into his chest. “Already falling for me, sweetheart?” his voice is low, something that can only be heard between the two of you in the room full of his boisterous brothers.

You roll your eyes in amusement, a defence against how the whisper makes heat spread throughout your body. You take a half step back, placing the empty cup on the crate as you exchange a short goodbye with Echo.

“I’m gonna walk our lovely medic here back to her room, I’ll be back soon,” Fives gives a mock salute as you both make your exit and you try to ignore the whistle from one of the men as Fives chuckles, shaking his head. “Animals aren’t they, Mesh’la?”

You hadn’t known this side to any of the clones you’d served with, albeit you were just a medic, none of them had ever been this relaxed around you. The entire time you had been in the GAR, it had been lonely. There was no one to celebrate with after battle, no late night conversations between friends, no one to just sit with and cry when you weren’t able to save a life. But walking through the corridors with Fives somehow made it all worth it.

“You did great, sweetheart, I’m impressed.” Fives brings the bottle to his lips, taking a swig of the clear liquid as you stop outside of your door. “You’re just full of surprises aren’t you?” His tongue darts out to lick the vodka off his lips and you can’t help but let your eyes linger there after the action. His gaze is already meeting yours when you look up, heat flickering in his eyes like the flame of a candle - he’s caught you staring.

Fives’ hand comes up to hold your waist once more, his grip tighter now, drawing you closer like you were a flower he wanted to admire. The scent of vodka from his breath intoxicates you, and you find yourself hypnotised, leaning closer. You don’t know what causes it, but at the last moment he freezes, his hand falling from your waist to press the panel outside your door, opening it.

“Goodnight.” He gives a tight-lipped smile before stepping away, walking back down the corridor in the direction of the barracks. Despite the heavy sweatshirt and warmth of the vodka in your blood, you feel empty as you enter your dark room. You find yourself lying awake in your bunk as you work through a mixture of disappointment, embarrassment, and something that ignites an ache between your thighs. 

He stopped himself from kissing you, and you didn’t know why.

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You know your way back, he doesn’t need to walk you, yet he always does. It’s been almost 8 standard months since you were transferred to the 501st, you could practically navigate your way around blindfolded. So, you know you're about to turn onto the corridor your room is on when he speaks.

“You didn’t drink.” 

Your mouth goes dry, it’s like you’ve just eaten a whole pack of ration crackers while sitting in the Tatooine desert with no water. The lights above feel harsher, as if you’re under a spotlight on the Medbay examination table, and Fives is the one inspecting you. He’s peering at you from the corner of your vision, gauging your reaction to his statement. 

“What are you talking about, Fives?” You shrug in an attempt to appear nonchalant, but unfortunately due to his metabolism he was as sober as you, meaning he was just as observant. You couldn’t brush off his attention when he places a hand on your shoulder, stopping you in your place just as you round a corner. From here you can see the door to your room, the third from the end. It’s taunting you at how close you were to getting away with the secret you’d been keeping against your chest.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” His free hand grasps your chin between his thumb and forefinger, directing your attention to him. You swallow as he draws your face closer, eyes raking over your features as he gives a small shake of his head. “You didn’t drink.”

“Yes I did.” Your voice is impressively steady, you’re good at bluffing. Fives already knows this, but he knows you better, and his eyes dart down in search of something. Your fingertip presses against the edge of your thumb in a movement that Fives had catalogued in his brain since that day you beat Rex at Sabbac.

The credit drops. You can see the moment it registers in Fives’ brain as his jaw goes slack, his grip on your chin loosening.

“Are you a- mph!” Your hand covers his mouth and you push him to the wall before he can shout aloud what you’ve kept unsaid for your whole time in the GAR. Fives was an ARC trooper, he could easily push you away, but his muscles seem to weaken against your grip. You feel the resistance in his body melt under your touch, as his eyes soften just above where your hand covers his mouth.

“I know you’re a loud mouth but please,” Your voice is low, urgent, as you give him a warning look, your face burning from embarrassment as he’s just come to the realisation of why you didn’t drink. You didn’t have any number to drink for. You can see him linking it together in his head - why you turned down flirtatious advances from his brothers, why he walked you back alone after every late night. It was why your body was so responsive to every small touch and honeyed word from his lips; like a flower chasing fleeting sunlight in the late afternoon. “Just this once, Fives, keep your voice down.” 

Fives gives a short nod down at you, assuring you he’ll be quiet. His fingers loop around your wrist, tugging your hand from his mouth. You unsuccessfully try to ignore the way his lips had felt against your skin, you’re so caught on the small patch of wetness on your palm that you miss the clench of his jaw and flash of emotions in his eyes.

“You’ve really never..?” He trails off, the words settling into the small gap between you, they’re not taunting or teasing, they’re simply disbelieving. Even though he’s released your wrist now, it’s still suspended in the air, as if you’ve been frozen in carbonite. You’re afraid to move away, that it would be just like all those months ago, that the moment would be shattered and lost.

Your breaths are mingling together, you’re like an asteroid orbiting, drawing closer and closer to his planet, bracing for impact. Fives is unblinking, waiting for the answer he already knows, but needs to hear for himself. 

“No.” 

Something stirs in the depths of Fives’ eyes and there’s a tension you could almost reach out and grasp from the air. Your body acts on its own, hand breaking free from its frozen stupor to find interest in a small scar on his jaw. You remember treating the small cut, he never even flinched, but you had let him hold your hand anyways. ‘It’s for comfort’, Fives had told you, accompanied by the usual sly wink that made it all the more difficult for your free hand to remain steady when you cleaned the cut.

Fives’ eyes slip closed when your fingertips graze against the shining scar, his breathing becoming carefully controlled. You recognise the pattern, it’s the same pace it was during the times he would take you to the training rooms, his body pressed to yours as he taught you to shoot. He would chuckle into your ear when your hands would shake, causing you to miss.

Your hands are steady now, no signs of the trembling are evident when you raise your attention higher. Your finger traces its way over the inky ‘5’ on his temple, and you’re about to move it away but you find yourself held in place, fingers still pressed against the tattoo.

Fives’ constant touches were always casual, fleeting, and meaningless. But this? This was deliberate. 

His gloved hand is circled around the bare skin of your wrist once more, keeping your fingers pressed against his temple. After a short, breathless moment, he moves your hand, but not to push it away this time. He pulls it closer, making your fingers trace across his cheekbone, against his warm skin all the way on a deliberate path to his mouth. 

Fives’ lips ghost across your fingertips and in contrast to his rough exterior and battle scarred skin, they’re soft. Just above the point of your fixation is his heavy stare, focused and serious, like you’re his target in the heat of battle.

Your heart is thrumming against your ribcage like blaster fire and you wonder if he can feel the pulse in your wrist through his gloves at the sheer force of it. There’s barely any space between the two of you, and it only lessens with every beat of your heart.

“Just… stay still for a second, please,” Fives’ eyes burn into yours and he’s like a black hole orbiting you, pulling you in with his gravity. “Can you do that for me, sweetheart?” His voice is a strained whisper, just cosmic background noise, all you can focus on is how his breath fans across your lips. 

His eyes close again when you nod, and you allow yourself to slip away into the same darkness as he consumes all of your senses.

The touch is light, a soft brush of his lips against your own, and the gentle contact has a shiver running through your body. His hand has placed your palm back to his jaw, covering it with his own as he pulls you in deeper. The second kiss is more confident, the swipe of his tongue over your lower lip has the world around you dissolving into a meaningless void as he becomes the centre of your universe. 

Before you can part your lips for him, Fives pulls away, just enough so he can look at you. There’s a dazed expression on his face, like he’s been concussed but is strangely happy about it. The momentary bewilderment melts away into an unusually shy smile and he’s about to kiss you again when you’re interrupted. There's laughter echoing from the direction you just came and Fives pulls back further, a suddenly serious look taking over his face.

You’re filled with a strange sense of deja vu when he steps away, your heart already sinking. Before you can open your mouth to apologise for getting carried away, to try and repair whatever strain the kiss could have put on your friendship, you’re being pulled along by his gentle grasp. Fives is making urgent paces down the short walk to your door, slamming his free hand to the control panel to get you both away from whatever prying eyes may have stumbled upon your private moment.

The door whooshes down to swallow you both in the darkness of your room and just like all those months ago, your back is pressed against the cool durasteel door. Only this time, you’re on the other side of it.

You immediately miss the warmth his body has been providing you with when he walks over to your desk, fumbling in the darkness from your lamp switch. Your lips still tingle from where his own were pressed against yours, and you swear you can still taste him.

The room is poorly illuminated from the dim bulb, but it's enough to highlight the figure of Fives leaning over your desk and you take in the full sight of him. He’s still wearing his armour from the waist down, but his upper half is only dressed in his tight blacks, and the lamp casts shadows that accentuate every ridge of muscle. It’s times like this where you’re reminded the man in front of you isn’t just your best friend, but also a highly decorated ARC Trooper, a man who spends most of his days in battle.

The serious look doesn’t leave his face, even when he’s moved back in front of you, blocking out the rest of your room with his large frame. At some point in the darkness, Fives has removed his gloves, allowing you to feel the rough skin of his hand as it cups your face. His thumb tugs at your lower lip, smearing saliva across the swollen skin as he teases the sensitive flesh. You can make out the apprehensive desire in his eyes as he marvels down at your mouth, before looking up to meet your gaze once more.

“Kriff, I…” His voice is light, and there’s an uncertain, almost desperate edge to it before he swallows it down. “Sweetheart, do you want this?” 

It would be easy to lie to the both of you and back out. You never expected to meet anyone when you enlisted into the GAR straight from your medical school. Back then you had wanted to be a doctor, it was expected of you by your family, you sacrificed your entire social life to work for it. 

You were never given the luxury of free-time, how could you ever have met anyone when all you did in your later teen years, when all your friends were partying and meeting their partners, was study? It was never a case that you didn’t want to be with anyone, but life simply prevented you from it. You were in your third year when the war broke out, two more years at the university and you would have graduated, but instead you decided to take your study credits and enlist as a medic. In less than a standard rotation from the moment you notified the university, you were on a transport to your first assignment.

You had let your work and the war rob you of so many experiences, you wouldn’t let them take this from you too. You wouldn’t let them take him from you too.

“Yes, Fives.” You nod, allowing your hands to rest on his broad shoulders. You’re sure of this, sure of him.

“Tell me to stop,” There’s a hunger in Fives’ eyes when you say his name and his lips press back to yours in a kiss that’s over far too quickly. “At any time, tell me to stop.” He’s holding your face still, unmoving until he has your consent.

“Okay.” There’s no reluctance in your tone, just a breathless need that makes Fives’ jaw tick.

Fives exhales, his shoulders relaxing and your eyes close again in anticipation, awaiting his kiss. But instead you feel the heat of his forehead press to yours, as if he’s anchoring himself against you, just for a moment.

“Okay, sweetheart.” His mouth is instantly on yours, his right hand still cups your jaw, but his left slips around your back in search of the zip on your uniform. He makes quick work of pulling the zipper down to loosen the material from your skin, and both hands travel down to your hips, tugging at the edge of the fabric.

“Hands up.” Fives’ voice is low in your ear as he presses a kiss to your hairline, and you raise your arms, allowing him to slip the top from your body. He discards it on the floor, not wanting to waste any time that could be spent with his hands on your exposed skin.

Fives is slower this time. Each movement is purposeful when he guides you both towards your small bunk, his tongue slipping past your lips in a kiss that makes you dizzy as you taste him in your mouth. 

When the back of your knees meet the edge of your bunk, Fives’ lips begin to trail down your body. His path starts at the soft skin of your now exposed cleavage, and continues down past your bra, over the smooth skin of your stomach. There’s a soft scrape when his armour makes contact with the floor, he’s dropping to a kneeling position with his lips hovering over your abdomen. You look down at the man kneeling before you with his fingers hooked in the waistband of your uniform leggings, and you can’t help but smile. Fives pauses momentarily, sending a wink up at you before he tugs the fabric down, exposing the flesh of your legs. 

“Lay down.” Fives whispers, and you can feel his warm breath tickle your stomach.

You settle backwards onto the bunk, allowing Fives to remove your leggings entirely, along with your shoes. You’re left in just your simple, black GAR issued bra and panties. It’s nothing special by any means, but Fives eyes you as if you’re an oasis he’s stumbled upon in the middle of a month-long battle. One meant only for him.

You let your eyes slip closed as you hear the familiar noise of his armour being removed, clattering to the floor. It’s something you’ve heard many times when he’s come to relax with you on an evening and you find yourself counting each piece removed as a distraction until bare fingers brush your knee. It’s a comforting touch to draw you back to him.

“Open your eyes, sweetheart, look at me.” Fives is sat just between your legs, bare aside from tight boxers that leave little of his anatomy to the imagination. You already knew what clones looked like naked, you had treated enough of them to not be phased by any part of their body. But a clone on a Medbay table was different to your best friend whose lips were pressing to the soft flesh of your inner thigh. “Is this okay?”

He inhales against your panties and you attempt to swallow your embarrassment and nervousness at the sight of your friend between your legs with only a thin layer of fabric between you. The sight of his ever-present smile between your legs sends a flood of heat through your body before it concentrates in your lower stomach.

When you don’t reply immediately, he pulls back slightly, giving the thigh he’s hooked over his shoulder a light squeeze. His brown eyes are filled with concern, searching your expression for any hesitation. 

“You still with me?” His thumb traces patterns against your skin, each movement only encouraging the fire in your body.

“I’m still with you,” You nod, watching as something lights up in his eyes. “What are you-“ 

Fives immediately silences your question with an action. His wet, open mouth presses to your thigh again and you feel yourself exposed to him when he hooks a finger in your panties, pulling them to the side. 

“I’m taking my time with you Mesh’la.” His hot breath fans over your now exposed cunt and you fight the urge to clasp your legs together, you’ve never felt more vulnerable lying in your bunk, entirely bare to the person you trust most and it’s a vulnerability that makes your heart race as if you’re under attack. 

Fives seems to sense your nervousness as he holds your knees firmly apart with his shoulders and free hand, keeping your legs open for him to litter small kisses on your inner thighs, all the while keeping you exposed for him. 

“Focus on me, Cyar'ika.”

Before your apprehension can get the better of you, Fives is licking a slow, experimental stripe up your slit, parting your folds with his tongue. His eyes are on yours the whole time, studying the awed look on your face and gasps of pleasure when his tongue runs over your clit.

Fives shakes his head, grumbling something under his breath. Before you can decipher it, he’s using one hand to lift your hips from the bed while his other practically tears the panties from your body, leaving you in just your bra. Strong hands move to grip the top of your thighs and pull you to him so he can secure his mouth to your core without obstruction, filling the room with wet, desperate noises as he laps at your cunt. 

Your hands twist in the thin bed sheets, desperately searching for something to ground you as his tongue delves inside you. His mouth is attached to you like you’re his last meal before an execution, the first drop of water after a mission on a desert planet, something he’s denied himself for far too long.

One of his fingers circles your entrance and your eyes snap open, finding him already looking up at you with a question in his gaze, asking for permission. You can only nod, not trusting your ability to speak with Fives’s tongue dragging slow circles around your clit. 

Your head slumps back to the floor when he proceeds with your consent, the sensation is entirely foreign as you feel his digit sink into you, testing your tightness. Your own fingers were nothing in comparison to his, even just the one is beginning to stretch you.

“Fives…” Your breathless plea encourages him and your teeth sink into your lower lip as he adds another finger to stretch you further. You let out a small whimper at the slight burn and he slows his movements slightly to allow you time to adjust.

“Shh, Mesh’la,” He changes the angle slightly, massaging his fingertips against the walls of your cunt as they search for a particularly sensitive spot. Your body jolts, arching towards him when he finds it, and a moan escapes you. “That’s it, relax.” 

The heat in your core is building as you grow wetter, making it easy for him to work his fingers into your tight hole, only adding to the growing pleasure building in every part of you, begging to escape. He presses his thumb to your swollen clit, one goal in mind.

“Need to make sure you’re ready for me, Cyar'ika.”

Fives withdraws his fingers from your gushing cunt, his hands instead moving from under your thighs and securing themselves back to their original position on your knees, keeping your trembling legs open as he continues to suck lightly on your clit when you reach your climax. Your body shakes, set alight with pleasure that’s only intensified by the way his head rests against your thigh, looking up at you as if committing the moment to memory.

When you finally relax against the bed, the pleasure having temporarily robbed your body of energy, you expect him to be done and move onto the next step. Instead, he lets out a low chuckle and begins circling your clit with his thumb once more. 

“Do you think you can give me another one, Mesh’la?” His soft smile contrasts his words, but his eyes gleam with mischief when you whisper a small ‘yes’ in response.

He’s using just his fingers this time, two of them working you in a scissoring motion, stretching your walls as his other hand slips between you and the mattress. His fingers expertly find the clasp to your bra, freeing you from the last item of your clothing.

His pupils are dilated, drinking in the sight of your writhing body, now entirely bare for him. He leans back slightly, taking in every detail, something between a smile and a smirk on his lips when his eyes focus on his own fingers pumping in your tight hole. The moment he feels your orgasm hit, cunt tightening around his fingers, he descends on you once more. Teeth pulling at your nipple, his thumb secured to your clit as he lets you ride out your orgasm, your hips attempt to grind up against his hand, chasing pleasure.

The world is falling back into place around you when he shifts his weight on the bed, and you hear the final piece of clothing hit the floor.

Fives is kneeling in front of you, a hand on each of your knees as you take in the sight of his bare body. His large cock makes the breath hitch in your throat, but he presses a soft kiss against your lips, prepared to ease the tension that threatens to overwhelm your body. His eyes are filled with a warmth that reassures you when he pulls back to press another kiss against your forehead, “You can take it, Cyar'ika, I’ll go slow.”

Fives settles his hips between your parted thighs, hooking one of your legs over his waist to keep you open beneath him. Soft lips ghost over yours and you feel the head of his cock settle against your entrance.

“Are you ready?” His thumb brushes along your jaw, a loving reminder that it’s your best friend above you, the person you trust the most. The same man who you would stay up with late at night after every difficult battle, who you would always pick up an extra ration bar for, the man you were in love with. 

“Yes.” Your eyes slip closed as you press your lips back to his.

The initial pressure of his cock entering you gives way to a sharp pinch that causes you to suck in a sharp breath through your teeth. Despite all of Fives’s efforts to prepare you, the unfamiliar pain seizes your body in an uncomfortable grasp.

“Relax for me, Cyar'ika.” He murmurs the assurance against your mouth, forcing his own breathing to slow, unconsciously prompting you to calm down. A hand presses to the underside of your thigh, pushing it upwards as he rolls his hips into you, he’s only halfway inside and you try to force yourself to relax around his impressive girth.

“That’s my girl.” He groans into your neck as his hand drops from your thigh to drag precise circles around your tight clit. The added layer of stimulation makes you gush around the half of his length inside you, making it easier to take his cock, but he doesn’t push any deeper. Instead he rocks his hips in a shallow motion, allowing you to adjust to this size first.

“Shh, don’t worry, Mesh’la,” He strokes your hair, continuing to press soft kisses of assurance to your mouth as he works your clit in time with his shallow thrusts. “It’ll be easier once you cum with me inside you, then you’ll be more relaxed for me.”

Fives’ hips pick up their pace, but he still limits himself, expertly watching your body's reactions to his cock. He’s continuously ensuring he doesn't go too fast, too hard, too deep. It’s a balancing act, one he seems to be perfect at with the way he already has the beginnings of another orgasm taking grasp of your body.

“Fives!”

You’re grinding helplessly against him now, one hand on his tanned chest and the other grasping at the short hair on the back of his head. Between Fives’s whispered words of adoration in your ear, you can make out the wet noises as he thrusts inside you, each movement causing more of your wetness to drip between your joined bodies, smearing you both with your arousal.

You’re hooked onto his words like a lifeline as he guides you through the experience.

“Kriff-” He shakes his head as he takes in the sight of you cumming around his cock. But it’s not lust in his eyes, it’s something far more intense. “I promised I wouldn’t do this..” His voice is strained, like he’s trying to keep the words inside of him. 

Before you can even catch your breath fully to ask what he means, your world is spinning when he pulls you upwards, slotting himself underneath you so you can no longer try to read the emotions in his face. Your back is now pressed to his chest, his body supporting you to stay upright and he’s hooking his right hand under your knee, spreading you apart.

His chin rests on top of your head, the position allowing him a full view of your body as his cock enters your cunt from behind; it’s more than before, but still not the full length. Your right arm curls up around behind you to hold the back of Fives’ neck, needily pulling him closer in the moment as you writhe against his body.

“Look at that, Cyar'ika,”  You feel the rumble in his chest just as much as you hear it, and it draws your attention down to your joined bodies. He shifts slightly to support your head as you catch glimpses of his cock disappearing into your tight hole in a series of shallow, restrained thrusts. “Look how perfectly we fit together.”

His eyes remain locked on your body, the way your chest heaves and cunt tightens, dripping down his cock as you cum once more, you’re already losing count. From what you were always told by friends when you were in University, losing your virginity was supposed to be a far cry from this. In fact you don’t think a single one of your friends had cum when losing theirs, and yet here you were, the room almost spinning from the pleasure Fives had given you.

Fives chuckles at the blissful look on your face as he pulls his hand from your clit, allowing you to relax against his larger frame. “You are really something else, Cyar'ika.” He’s slower this time when he rolls you both over once more, cradling the back of your head as he rests you back onto the pillows. 

He resumes his original position above you, thumb tracing the curve of your cheekbone. His eyes are full of adoration when he looks down at you, and there’s no trace of the painful stretch from earlier when he slides the full length of his cock inside you this time.

He’s been so focused on your pleasure that his own has been forgotten, but you see the evidence of it. He’s coated in a sheen of sweat that makes him appear like one of those glossy paintings in the art galleries on Coruscant. He’s an artwork, beautifully crafted, every muscle in his body coiled tight in restraint as his hips grind against yours. 

It’s your turn to touch him this time, to appreciate every bit of the vulnerability in his face as he presses his forehead against yours and you angle your face upwards to steal a kiss. A tortured moan escapes his lips as his thrusts only increase in speed, he’s clinging onto you like it’s his sole purpose.

“Where?” His breathing is ragged against your neck.

You make a confused noise in response and he curses something in Mando’a.

“Where do you want me to cum, Mesh’la, hm?”

You‘re speechless from the pleasure, but thankfully your body answers for you, already locking your legs around his hips to keep you joined together.

“Alright, Cyar'ika, inside it is.” There’s a soft rumble of amusement against your throat before his mouth finds yours again. One hand tangles in your hair while the other grips your hip, both of them seeking to drag you closer. You’re two stars colliding in the void of the universe, no longer orbiting each other, instead becoming one as your light drowns out all darkness around the pair of you.

His name is falling from your lips, cries of it suffocated against him when his tongue slips into your mouth. Fives empties himself inside you, his cock unloading a flood of warmth that already overspills, leaking from your cunt with every slow movement of his hips. He pulls back, an unreadable emotion in his eyes before he buries his face in your hair, distracting himself by stroking at your burning skin. You stay there as you both begin to calm, hearts beating in sync with one another as your bodies remain joined.

He’s breathing heavily in your ear, an affirmation that you haven’t died and ascended to some afterlife when he drags his hips away from yours, leaving you empty as he stands up. 

“Where are you going?” You hate yourself for sounding so needy, but with his cum leaking from between your thighs, how could you not. You knew it was common for men to leave straight after sex. You’ve caught some of the boys’ one night stands sneaking out barely ten minutes after they had been brought to the barracks, hair messy and clothes dishevelled. 

“Relax, sweetheart, I’m not leaving.” He winks at you before disappearing into the small fresher joined to your room. You hear the water running for what seems like far too long, before he returns with a warm washcloth.

“Gotta clean us up before we make a mess on the bed, I’m not falling asleep in a wet patch.” He settles back between your legs, whispering soothing praises as he cleans your combined fluids. He’s thorough, making sure there’s no trace of him left before he presses a kiss to your inner thigh and discards the cloth into your laundry basket.

“C’mere.” He settles down next to you, lifting an arm to allow you to curl up against him and he pulls the bed covers over your waists. “You did so well, sweetheart.” He presses a kiss to your forehead, basking in a moment neither of you want to end. It’s sweet, intimate, and perfect. 

Yet you can’t stop yourself from asking the question.

“What did you mean when you said you promised you wouldn’t do this?” 

He pauses, an awkward smile tugging at his lips, you’d never seen him nervous like this, a blush creeping into his cheeks that he can’t even blame on the sex. “Caught that did you?”

You nod, biting the inside of your cheek. Your cards were on the table, it’s only fair that his should be too.

“I suppose it’s only fair given that I didn’t let you get away with not drinking.” There’s a nervous edge to his laugh as he drags you closer to him, like he’s afraid you could disappear at any given moment.

“Do you remember the first time we played Sabbac, you kicked Rex’s ass, and I walked you back to your room?”

You nod slightly. The memory still plagued your thoughts on sleepless nights, it embedded itself in a playlist of embarrassing moments that liked to keep you awake. Yet, it also featured on the list of thoughts that had your legs twisted in the bed sheets as you imagine what would have happened if he did kiss you that night. 

“I wanted to kiss you, but I couldn’t.” He sighs regretfully, admitting the truth he had been fighting against all of the months since that night.

“I think you’d only been here for what - a month?” You feel his laugh against your cheek as it rumbles in his chest. “And I couldn’t get you out of my damn head, I even made Echo fake being sick once just so I had an excuse to come to the Medbay and talk to you.” You remembered, and now felt slightly bad for insisting you give Echo all those unnecessary virus and anti-nausea shots.

“I needed the excuses to see you, because if I didn’t, and I saw you without them, it’d mean something that I’d been avoiding.” He trails off, trying to find a way to put it into words, it wasn’t something he had ever been good at. But he would try, for you he would try.

“The rest of the boys found out because I called you my girlfriend once when Kix gave me some of the heavy stuff in those green syringes.” He laughs, shaking his head and your mind begins to put the pieces together, that’s why they teased him so often about it. “They all promised they wouldn’t tell you how I felt though - I wanted to be the one to tell you.”

He drags a hand down his face, his jaw tenses. “And then I got jealous when I saw that Sergeant from the 104th talking to you, how he had his hands on you,” He shakes his head, an irritated look playing on his face, both at the other trooper, and his own actions on that night. “Thought I blew my shot, and I tried to cover it the only way I knew how.”

Your mind recalls him and the Twi’lek making a beeline for the 79’s freshers, how just a month ago you ended up crying in the alleyway, it was like taking a blaster bolt to your chest. No amount of Bacta could fix the pain that night, but you had certainly tried to heal it with whiskey.

“But I didn’t do it, and it’s not like Echo said, not because I couldn't,” He pulls himself back from you, but continues to hold you, to keep you in the moment with him as he explains what happens, a regretful look on his face. “It’s because she wasn’t you, Cyare.”

He presses his forehead to yours, closing his eyes and your fingers trace over the tattoo again, just for a moment, just until he finds the strength inside of him; the strength to override his programmed instincts to be a loyal, unattached soldier and nothing more.

“I promised myself I wouldn’t…” Fives trails off, opening his eyes. He needs to see your reaction, whether it’s good or bad, he needs to know. “Fall in love with you.”

You wonder if this is what the Jedi feel with the force around them, but instead of the whole world, you just feel Fives. The warmth of his skin under your fingers, the certainty in his eyes, the utter devotion for you in his voice as he fights against every form of conditioning he’s received.

“Fives, you idiot…” His expression is concerned at first until he sees your teary eyes and beaming smile. “I love you too.”

You had loved him since the moment he kissed your knuckles on your first day in the Medbay, every interaction after that only strengthened the bond between you.

Fives smiles down at you, his quiet laughs tickle your skin with warm air as you’re lured back into his embrace. He laughs disbelievingly, shaking his head as he allows his body to press back against yours, a perfect fit.

“We have so much time to make up for, sweetheart.” 

You never want to lose this feeling, his lips marking your body, peppering reminders everywhere that you’re his, you have been since the moment that fateful order flashed up on your datapad. You’re anchored, attached, tethered to him - whatever word you want to give it, you’re his.

Whenever, Wherever

pairing: Fives x Reader, Torrent x reader (platonic)

This is a little gift for @the-bad-batch-baroness

A/N edit: STEPH I'M SO SORRY THIS HAS BEEN SITTING IN MY DRAFTS WHEN I THOUGHT I POSTED IT.....

Warnings: Fluff. Maybe a little suggestive towards the end. Kisses and cuddles y'all.

The sassy lean against the wall ™️

You raise your comm to your lips. "Are we ready?"

Hardcase's hushed voice answers. "Yep. Target is in place. I wanted to watch but someone won’t let me out of the medbay.” Hardcase sighs.

Kix groans frustratedly in the background.

“‘Case, you got thrown twenty feet and you have a concussion. That’s plenty of reason for me to keep you here.”

“That might backfire on you, Vod.” Jesse snickers.

Kix echoes Jesse mockingly and Hardcase signs off with “good luck” while you peek into the mess hall where the rest of Torrent is.

The 501st are on a mission to Naboo, but temporary barracks have been set up to accommodate the troopers planetside, allowing them to enjoy the rich scenery and culture.

Dogma and Echo sit off to the side, having a conversation about something while Tup and Vaughn play Sabbacc with the very person that you came to see. Fives’ back is turned to the door as you slip quietly inside and make your way to the table, draping yourself over his shoulders.

With a smirk, you coo into his ear. "Hey there, stranger. Mind if I crash here for a bit?"

He turns to face you, cards forgotten on the table.

“Mesh’la? What are you doing here?”

You giggle. “Nice to see you too. Can’t I surprise my boyfriend?”

He smiles and tugs you into his arms, nuzzling his face in your neck and breathing deeply. Sure, it’s probably a dumb idea to go soft in front of his brothers, but they’re no one to judge either.

Besides, it is you; his cyar’ika.

“You came all the way out here to see me?” He asks, placing a lazy kiss to the side of your neck.

“Yeah, I did. Senator Amidala owed me a favor so I figured I’d come see you.” You say, gently tugging his hand so he follows. After bidding farewell to his brothers, the two of you retreat to a terrace away from prying eyes.

As soon as the two of you are out of sight, his lips crash against yours, needy and passionate. You return the kiss, tangling your fingers in his hair. He mumbles how much he loves you against your mouth, arms tugging you closer still. You’re inherently grateful that he isn’t wearing the top half of his armor, enjoying the warmth of his chest.

You couldn’t ask for anything more as you relax in your trooper’s arms and watch the sun set over the water.

You sigh contentedly. “I missed you.”

Fives tucks his chin over your head and squeezes you tightly. “Missed you more. This is nice.”

You hum happily in response, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“The senator got me a suite at a hotel. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if I had I dunno, say...a bodyguard?” You smirk, relishing in the groan that rumbles through his chest.

“I’m afraid I’d be a little too preoccupied with something else to be your security detail.”

“The closer you are, the safer I am,” You tease.

“Well then,” He says playfully, picking you up easily. “Where exactly is this hotel?”

I would let Jango Fett (and any clone, to be honest) call me up when he's planet side, fuck me, then leave without saying goodbye and I'm tired of pretending I wouldn't

🧘‍♀️🧘‍♀️🧘‍♀️ mmmm i had to close my eyes and clench my thighs reading this. jango i think would be more callous and rough w it, whereas some of the clones might be more sincere. because i'm merely a series of holes for them to use I'll just talk about multiple. feel free to request others if i missed someone you'd like to hear about.

jango's rich and highly skilled at his job, notorious to those who know him and invisible to those who don't. it's not hard for him to get you in bed, nor is it hard for him to keep stringing you along, knocking roughly on your door, not because he couldn't get in by picking your lock, but because he wants you to hear that sound and know that it's a precursor to his own behavior: rough, fast, demanding. jango uses you for pleasure and not company, kissing at your mouth instead of letting you talk, smothering you with his broad shoulders and considerable muscle until all you're doing is wrapping your arms and legs around him, your actions solely reliant on his own. he loves pulling back to look at your flushed, sweaty face, your heaving chest as your lips perpetually part just to suck in air that he'd stolen from you with the heft of his body, your limbs weak and limp as he watches you. he's proud of the way he affects you, he's respected and feared in all endeavors he undertakes. he tortures you by never letting you know when he'll be on coruscant, and it means you wait eagerly in your apartment each night, longing for his gloved fist to pound on you door. you let him in every time, and you always will. he lets himself out every time, and he always will.

rex keeps in mostly good spirits with his team and his men, so when he shows up outside your door it's for companionship. He wants connection, he's mollified with claps on the shoulder from general skywalker but camaraderie can't replace intimacy. he nudges his face into yours, his nose bumping the space between yours and your cheek. he breathes your air, he presses himself to you like the space between you might kill him. he's proud to be in your bed, with you, kissing your skin and committing it to memory for late nights out in the cold vacuum of space. he holds you tenderly, his palms always pressed to your flesh to drink you in, and he lets you act as an outlet for his longing. being with you rejuvenates him, but watch out because if he's too happy the day after, his men are gonna know he got laid. general skywalker is all too proud to cover ahsoka's ears when he congratulates him for being in such good spirits

wolffe is so fucking stressed. truly he has to put up with so much bullshit and he's infinitely grateful for his general because if he had skywalker like rex he'd shoot himself. he knocks on your door to pin you to the bed and slam the headboard into the wall, he uses your cunt as a punching bag and he bites vivid, stinging marks into your neck and chest. He kisses them afterwards, letting his post-orgasm tenderness through, but he tires himself out before he ever croons at you. maybe it'd be different if you lived with him, but he's not on coruscant all the time, so frantic rough sex and an empty bed in the morning is what you'll get.

hunter bad batch finds it hard to get time away from his team because of their status as, uh, well, runaways. it's rare that he can let his guard down enough to spend a night in your bed, but that's why he leaves without saying goodbye. he slips out as soon as you're asleep, and departs coruscant before you even wake. you're his, 'be back in a few hours, i've got one last thing to do'. you're left wondering if he has go-tos on every planet, or if you're lucky. you're lucky, but he won't tell you that. he will, however, leave something to hold on to until the next time he sees you. probably a bandana, pardon the cliche, but it's the one he tied your wrists to the headboard with last night, so you keep it with you.

wrecker would genuinely feel terrible not saying goodbye i'm sorry. he might rock your shit and leave you numb but he'll always get all mushy when he's gotta go. he definitely tends to be one of the more romantic ones, he's a big softie and probably wouldn't treat you so callously even if combat was wearing on him. he prides himself for being in your life, and he'd assure you every time you got together that he wasn't just using you for pleasure. he'd comm you semi frequently if he was able.

fives is a little shit who might possibly fit into the scenario described. while i think he'd feel guilty for using you and treating you like he's using you, i can see it happening and just being a poor decision of his that he's not too proud of, but that he can't stop regardless. i can see him playing into a fuckboy persona and trying not to think about it too hard or else he might feel bad. he sweet talks you into letting him in every time and you can barely catch your breath before he's suiting up in his regulation blacks again and heading out the door. he doesn't do it because he's stressed, he doesn't do it because he's desperate to connect with someone, he does it because he's horny and wants a pussy to fuck. he wants to sink his aching dick into a warm body, and that warm body is you.

hi big fan but too scared to publicly request 😭

could u do the Bad Batch boys reacting to female reader having a boyfriend they didn't know about? like maybe they're on break at the barracks and she starts dressing more revealing and cute and then leaving and they spot her with a man 😭

but ofc, because we love our clones more then other men, something needs to go horribly wrong so she splits up with them and comes back crying or something. you can add whatever twist you want, but (projecting here) perhaps the man was just trying to rush physical things with her and treating her like an object from the beginning and she just wanted to impress him until he started making her uncomfortable. hmm, very specific 🤔

anyway, love your writing so much. thank you 🙏

Your wish is my command

Word Count: 3.3k Pairings: Mostly platonic Bad Batch x fem!reader Warnings: objectifying d-bag bf, lil violence, a beer or two, jealous men Summary: The Bad Batch are back on Coruscant and looking for a night out with you. They find you and your new, unsavory boyfriend.

Frustrated and edged with exhaustion, Crosshair stomped onto the Marauder. He’d spent the last hour scouring the upper level of Coruscant for you to no avail. You’d missed your usual visit with the men of Clone Force 99 when they were on-world.

Visiting you became routine after their first visit to the Capitol. They’d come for special training before they were even assigned their signature armor. Ready for a taste of the real world, they’d snuck out into the city on their first night and right into the arms of swindlers. 

Somehow they’d fallen into the sights of a charming group of people you were all too familiar with. You watched the whole scene unfold from the balcony of your apartment. They promised to show the men a ‘good time’ and you knew that came with some unsavory consequences.

With nothing better planned for your night, you intervened and saved the men from, at the very least, being scammed. It turned out to be an unforgettable night with four new friends to boot and, when leave allowed, they’d find you for some fun.

So, with a few days between mission briefings and not knowing when they’d have leave again, the Batch tried to track you down. The problem was that this time they couldn’t find you anywhere - anywhere being your home or at the store you worked. 

Tech stayed with the ship while the rest looked for you. Hunter, Wrecker, and Echo were the first to turn in, leaving Crosshair to finish the hunt.

Hunter and Echo hung around the cockpit while Wrecker kicked back in a chair near the nav screens when Crosshair returned. As he sunk into the open nav chair next to Wrecker, Tech, wiping his hands on a rag, came aboard. 

Wrecker swiveled to face Crosshair with his head cradled in his hands. “Still can’t find her?”

Leaning onto his elbows, Crosshair growled into his hands. “What gave it away?”

“Did you check her coordinates?” Tech asked, seemingly exasperated by their wasted efforts.

“And how would we check her coordinates?” Echo scoffed from the cockpit. He and Hunter meandered their way towards the other three.

Tech looked between his brothers, disturbed by their blatant ignorance. “With the tracking device I gave her.”

Crosshair’s head shot up, masking his interest with a show of distaste, “You put a tracking device on her?”

Clearly offended by the idea, Tech snapped back, “No.” She wanted to make sure we could find her easily.” The silence that fell between them suggested they didn’t believe him. 

“You were all there.” He insisted, waiting for them to remember only to be met with silence. Sighing, Tech’s shoulders fell and he raised his forearm as he muttered, “Must’ve been when we were alone.”

Wrecker shot forward in his seat, jabbing an accusatory finger at Tech. “When were you alone with her?” The corner of Tech’s lips ticked up as he tapped through his controls, but he didn’t grant Wrecker a response.

They all seemed to forget that Tech kept plenty of information close to the chest. He also tended to be the more sober one of their nights out. They called him a lightweight, but having found it leant him private time with you he called it a fair trade.

After a few seconds, Tech pinpointed your location. Something caught in his throat when he saw how close you were. Tech proudly announced, “Found her. She’s at a lounge one sector over.”

His earlier annoyance faded as Crosshair pushed a toothpick into his smirk, “Sounds like she might need some company.”

“Well boys,” Hunter spoke up with a grin. Tossing a thumb in the direction of the exit he asked the group, “What do you think? Should we crash her night?”

Wrecker bounced up, filling the Marauder with a loud laugh. “You kiddin’? I can’t wait to see the look on her face.”

The men wasted no time in heading your way. Wrecker and Hunter led the group through the crowded streets, followed by Crosshair and Echo with Tech trailing behind with his face in a datapad, making sure they didn’t lose track of you.

Crosshair, noticing Echo’s half-worried look, tapped Echo with his elbow, “Lighten up, Echo. You might have fun for once.”

Used to Crosshair’s prodding, Echo rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the amusement in his voice, “Yeah, well some people don’t like surprises. This is either going to be fine or be a complete disaster.”

“Most likely a disaster.” Tech chimed in from the back.

You were only a few minutes away in a dark, basement floor lounge. Amongst a smattering of half-empty booths and dim lighting, you stood near the bar with a small group of men. 

In the time between Clone Force 99’s last visit and now, you’d fallen in with a man you’d met through work. He was nice enough, persistent in pursuing you and his attention wasn’t unwelcome.

You found yourself answering his calls, meeting his friends, and spending time with him on your days off. Slowly the casual company became intimate and so you stood amongst his friends, in a dark lounge with his hand on the small of your back. The dress you wore, chosen by your new boyfriend, was a little tight for your taste and exposed nearly all of your back.

He claimed it would boost your confidence. The twirling he had you do for his friends suggested it was for his own ego.

Your partner promised you’d be gone by midnight - a promise he’d broken more than once so far. Impatience and boredom dragged the night out, soothed only by cocktails and the bracelet you fidgeted with.

It was a handcrafted gift from Tech and their way to find you. You’d asked for the device in hopes that it would make you miss them less.

It didn’t. You decided that next time you were getting their comm channel out of them even if by force. If there was a next time.

Distracting yourself from the idle conversation around you, your eyes drifted around the mostly empty room. The music was as low as the lighting, only meant to allow conversations to remain private.

The group was having a fun time, some of the jokes even broadened your smile, but generally you were counting the minutes until you could leave. 

Commotion echoed down the front stairwell, breaking the calm of the establishment. Loud, booming laughter quieted your group, piqued your interest, and dialed your attention onto a familiar sound. Your heart stopped when you recognized the sound of shifting armor. For the first time all night, a genuine, albeit hopeful, smile brightened your face.

You stopped breathing all together when the Bad Batch stepped into the room. As impressive as the first time you saw them, your five friends fanned out with each of them scanning the room. Crosshair, ever the eagle eye, spotted you and shoved the brother beside him, Tech, with his elbow.

They were looking for you, you realized. The thought propelled you towards them, your feet barely touching the ground.

You’d not seen the Batch in months. A part of you had worried for the worst - that you’d never see them again. That nagging part of you grew larger than you’d realized, big enough that the relief of seeing them nearly reduced you to tears.

“C’mere, Mesh’la!” Wrecker bellowed, catching you in his arms as you hurled yourself at him. His hands scorched your back, a sensation you’d not felt in the months of their absence.

The harder you held onto Wrecker the more his armor dug into you, making it even harder to breathe through your excitement. When he finally set you down, you immediately latched onto the next closest man, Echo.

The smell of you overwhelmed him for a moment and he had to bite back a groan when he caught a sight of your exposed back. Echo couldn’t even return the gesture before you pulled away and whacked his chest plate. 

Stiffening your lip, you made a poor attempt at a scowl.

Hunter stepped in on you, not hesitating in wiping away your budding tears. “That look says you didn’t miss us too much.” Being so close to you after so long gave him half a thought to kiss you.

“The tears had me fooled,” taunted Crosshair from somewhere beside Wrecker.

Despite the half-assed scowl, a smile broke through and relief warbled your voice. “Do you even know how long it’s been?” You demanded, casting a look between them all.

Tech came to your side, plucking up your wrist for inspection. “Ninety-eight standard rotations.” He said casually, removing your bracelet without looking up.

The anxiety that spiked as he let you go forced your hand to keep him close. Your touch snapped his head up and you tilted towards him, playfully purring, “Aw, you missed me enough to count?”

He opened his mouth, some witty remark surely on his tongue, but a different voice piped up.

“Should I assume these men are your friends?” Your boyfriend said from behind you. You’d all but forgotten where you were and who you were with. 

Immediately releasing Tech, you turned away from the clones, pivoting to stand between them and your partner. Flashing a weak smile you waved in the direction of the Batch, meaning to introduce them.

Crosshair cut you short by stepping forward, putting himself halfway between you and your partner. Sporting a challenging smile, Crosshair looked the stranger up and down. Clearly unimpressed he scoffed, “What’s it to you?”

A pit formed in your stomach when your boyfriend planted his hand on your back. The possessive touch didn’t carry the same flame Wrecker’s did, something you’d not realized up to that point.

“I try to make a habit of knowing my girlfriend’s friends.” Your partner said, accentuating the sentiment with a kiss to your temple.

Slightly horrified Tech recoiled, incredulously parroting in unison with Hunter, “Girlfriend?”

It would’ve been impossible to inform them while they were away, and you certainly owed them no explanation, nonetheless shame crept through you. Avoiding the eyes of your friends, you grinned at your boyfriend, “Let me introduce you to the finest soldiers the Grand Army of the Republic has to offer.” Proudly inhaling your smile grew and you added, “And my friends.”

Looking between your boyfriend and the group, an odd thought occurred to you. You’d never realized the man beside you was on the short side. Shorter even Hunter at least.

Wrecker placed a hand over his chest, mockingly cooing to Crosshair, “Aww, she likes us.” 

Crosshair snorted, when it wasn’t directed at him Crosshair went along with his Wrecker’s goading. Crossing his arms and leaning towards his larger brother, the sniper mused “She’s even blushing.”

Your boyfriend snapped his head towards you, annoyed to see that you were indeed blushing. He’d not seen you get this easily worked up. Although he knew from the moment you ran into Wrecker’s arms that he wanted you nowhere near the men. 

Slowly scanning your form, a condescending smile perked Crosshair’s lips. “Didn’t know that was your style,” He nodded at you, obviously referring to your outfit.

Crosshair never failed to pull a reaction out of you, this time you were  interrupted by your boyfriend slipping his hand up your back and down your arm. The action knotted frustration in your throat as it was what he had done with his friends. 

The longer Crosshair watched this man with his hands all over you, the harder Crosshair bit down on his toothpick. Since you’d first coerced him to dance, Crosshair’s own hands still ached to find their way back to your waist.

And just as he had with his friends, your boyfriend lifted your arm by your hand. He gave you a light jostle, encouraging you to spin around. “It suits her, doesn’t it? I picked it out myself.” 

Where the eyes of his friends felt oily and unwelcome, you only felt heated embarrassment in front of Clone Force 99.

The dress flattered you and you could admit that, at times, you’d imagined how it’d feel for the clones to see you in something like it. You wondered what it would be like for even one of them to see you as more than a friend. To find you attractive. Maybe even want you. But not like this.

Unbeknownst to you, the men did find you attractive. Exceedingly so even. You were a breath of fresh air for them and the only glimpse of normalcy they had. 

As opposed to spinning, you tried to tug your hand free as you mumbled under a smile, “I don’t want to do that.”

Hunter and Echo exchanged a confused look. Just as your boyfriend hadn’t seen this excited side of you, the Batchers hadn’t seen you like this. You looked uncomfortable.

Meanwhile, your boyfriend firmly held your hand. Groaning, he tilted his head back in feigned exhaustion. “Babe,” he dragged the word out before speaking to you like he was correcting a child. “We talked about this, lighten up and give us a spin.” 

Hunter caught you off guard when he pulled your hand free. While he kept his touch soft in light of whatever new boundaries your boyfriend posed, he wasn’t going to watch you be pushed around. Unwilling to risk your discomfort, he made sure to step out of your space quickly.

You almost stepped with him.

“She said ‘no.’” Hunter said with the authority of his rank. 

Your boyfriend scoffed and drew back in disbelief. “I’m sorry, where did you all even come from?” Either out of misplaced bravado or from the liquid courage, he advanced on Hunter. “Don’t speak for her.”

Blinking away the irony, you tried pulling him back. “He wasn’t,” you whispered in attempts to soothe him.

He yanked out of your touch, earning a growl from Wrecker. Raising his voice in challenge, your boyfriend insisted, “No, I think he was.”

Ever the voice of reason, Echo stepped in beside Hunter. “Why don’t we just take a breath?” Echo’s hazel eyes fell to you, brows pulling together in a silent question.

“I’m fine, Echo.”

“You’re fine?” Your boyfriend whipped his irritation around on you. A beat of fury pulsed between you and all you could do was smile awkwardly. How had this escalated so quickly?

“I’m sorry,” You chuckled in astonishment. “What’s going on with you?”

Neither of you backed down, in fact he only pushed harder by angling his face into your space. “What’s going on with me?” The smell of liquor on his breath finally connected the dots for you. “What other friends do you have that I don’t know about?” 

Suddenly, something caught his eye. Turning his attention to Tech, your boyfriend pointed at your bracelet in Tech’s hand. “What are you doing with that?” He asked suspiciously.

Tech, who had been silently picking the stranger apart, gave a scornful roll of his eyes. Tucking the accessory away in one of his many pockets, Tech said in a dry tone, “I don’t believe what I do with my gift is of any importance to you.” He may or may not have purposely mentioned ‘my gift.’

Wearing a confident smirk, Tech looked directly at the man beside you as he said, “It suits her, doesn’t it?”

As if on cue, your boyfriend gave you a seething, sideways glance, playing right into Tech’s hand.

Heaving a sigh, and trying to lend him the benefit of the doubt, you made another attempt at directing him away from your friends. “Why don’t you-”

This time he smacked your hand hard enough that it stung. This was a side of him you’d not expected and it was not one you liked. 

A snarl rippled through Crosshair as he lunged between you, put his hand over your boyfriend’s face, and thrashed him backwards. Wrecker cackled, only encouraging a wicked smile from Crosshair as he shifted over your splayed out boyfriend.

You winced at the spot of blood coming from his nose. Notably, though, you didn’t intervene this time.

Wrecker came around to you, resisting the urge to step the man on the ground by completely passing over him. Gently, he lowered himself to your eye level and lifted your hand. His touch felt so different from that of the man you were seeing, it made you completely forget the feeling in your hand.

They all made you feel so different. You’d missed them much more than you’d realized.

“You alright, Mesh’la?” Wrecker swiped his palm over your cheek and down your neck to rest on your shoulder.

The soft smile you offered him swelled something in Wrecker’s chest. Your presence created a soft spot in his life, making it harder to leave you with each trip.

You laid a hand over the massive one on your shoulder, “I’m fine, really.” Although it probably wasn’t ‘fine’ that you had to reassure them all over the behavior of someone meant to be your partner.

From the ground, the man in question snickered, “I see it now.” Pushing up onto his elbows, he spat, “You’re just a barracks bunny.”

The insinuation was lost on you but not Echo.

Echo lurched through the group, shoved Crosshair aside and ripped the drunken man by his collar. “You little scumslug!”

For what seemed like the first time ever, Echo had to be the one restrained. Hunter broke in and yanked Echo up before he could drill his scomp into the downed man. You and the rest of his squad all wore similarly surprised expressions. 

Seeing Echo lose his temper was the breaking point for you. The man you’d allowed into your life was still panting on the ground when came to stand over him. He didn’t say anything, knowing full well what the look on your face meant.

“Don’t call me again,” You muttered dismissively and said nothing else as you turned to leave, waving for the others to follow. “Let’s go guys.”

They all followed suit, except for Crosshair. He crouched onto the balls of his feet and leveled a sneer to your newly dubbed ex. Low enough for just the two of them to hear, Crosshair said, “We’ll know if you bother her again.” The sniper drew just an inch closer to hiss, “Come near her again and you’ll never see daylight again.”

Crosshair sat still for a moment, ensuring the promise properly sunk in. Having watched the color drain from the man, Crosshair flicked his toothpick into the sad sack’s face.

When you all finally made it back to your place, it was decided that a quiet night in was well deserved for you all. It didn’t exempt the night from at least a few drinks.

Returning from your kitchen with a round of beers, you settled onto your couch between Echo and Tech. Wrecker lounged on the floor while Crosshair and Hunter occupied the remaining arms chairs.

They regaled you with stories from the front lines in exchange for the quiet comfort of your company. Eventually, you reclined against Tech, eyes shut, as he scrolled through his datapad.

“Echo.” You said, seemingly out of nowhere. Peaking an eye open you lilted a suspicious smile his way. 

Mid-sip, Echo could only hum in acknowledgment. When you asked, “What’s a barracks bunny?” He nearly choked on his drink.

“Yeah,” Wrecker blurted out, the confusion coming back to him. “I was wondering that too?”

All eyes were on Echo as a flush came over him. It hadn’t dawned on him that the men of his new squad had little experience with typical trooper slang or the rumors regarding some regs.

“It’s...” He stuttered to get the definition out, ultimately shaking his head and setting his beer aside. Passing the buck to Tech, he chuckled, “You know what, Tech why don’t you put the holonet to good use and look that one up yourself.”

taglist: @baddest-batchers @bruh-myguy-what @jetii @zahmaddog

a/n: Thank you to everyone who offered me their words of support over the last month. It's been a really dark time and I'm always amazed by how lovely this fandom is. I'm forever grateful to all you barracks bunnies out there.

bed chem ━━━ iwaizumi hajime

07. lifts ♡

Brushing your palms against your shirt, you try to calm your breathing. It was hard enough practicing alone, but now you have the hockey team on the court stressing you out with their yelling and aggression. There’s still a faint bruise on the bridge of your nose, covered up as much as you could with some old concealer.

“Come on, I won’t drop you. We can do this, yeah?” Oikawa holds out his arms towards you, ready to lift you the second you come into contact. Though his expression is patient, the rhythmic tapping of his skate against the ice says otherwise.

Nodding along, you take in a deep breath. Here goes nothing. You push yourself off and skate towards him, spreading your arms out to your side and jumping the second his hands are on your waist.

You squeeze your eyes shut as he lifts you in the air, barely managing to get you above his head without leaning backwards. You can’t help the squeal that comes out when you feel yourself toppling to the side, his grip loosening.

“Oikawa, put me down!” You open your eyes the second your skates touch the ice, feeling your heart beating in your ears.

Oikawa lets out a sigh and moves back from you. “We’re not going to get anywhere if you don’t trust me.”

“I know, I know. Just…” You wait until your breathing has steadied before nodding. “Okay. Let’s try it again.”

You skate away from him so you can get some momentum, trying to stay as calm as possible. It’s fine: you can do this. You wait for Oikawa to show you he’s ready before putting all your trust into him. You skate forward at full speed and jump once his hands touch your waist.

He lifts you above his head with his arms straight. They shake from struggle as he tries to keep you there for a few seconds. He carefully skates to the side with a wide smile. “Oh my god, we-“

A scream slips out as you feel his grip loosen on your side, the two of you tipping over and landing hard on the ice.

A pulsating pain spreads through your chest and stomach at the impact, the sound around you fading and replaced by your racing heartbeat. You carefully push yourself up with shaking arms, someone grabbing onto you and helping you move onto your back.

Turning to your side, Oikawa lays on the ice with his hand gripping his shoulder. His arm is bent in a way it shouldn’t be. Tears are streaming down his cheeks.

“Hey, l/n, are you okay? Can you follow my finger?”

You don’t recognise the person waving their finger in front of your face, your vision blurring. “Is- Is he okay?”

“Don’t worry about him. Are you okay?”

Almost as soon as he asks the question, dark spots begin appearing in your vision. “I think I need to lie down…”

Hanamaki waves over one of the nurses by Oikawa. “Hey, I think she’s gonna pass out!”

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summary. when an unfortunate incident kicks you out of your university and risks your reputation as one of the top figures skater in the country, you find your place in sendai. but when you discover they only have one rink, designated to their a-league hockey team, your chance at a comeback slips from your grasp. your only in is with the captain of the hockey team. the issue with that? he couldn’t care less who you are.

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