Careful What You Wish For

sorry, wrong number! — tanaka ryuunosuke. chapter seven; chrome tf up.

contents word count; 2,353. UNSAFE DRIVING PRACTICES; i do not endorse having more people than seats in a car while driving, please be safe. piercings. profanity. weird laugh nishinoya supremacy. making fun of kuroo’s age… again. oh also, kagehina implied.

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“Well, that was bad.”

You can barely resist the urge to roll your eyes. “Yeah, no shit. I can’t believe I talked all that shit just for us to lose. Horribly.”

Nekoma lost. Somehow, they managed to lose 25-12 in both sets. They didn’t need to play a third because of their loss in the first two. The whole team had walked to the locker room dejected, but Karasuno had practically skipped into theirs with delight.

Tetsuro leans against the wall, and you mirror his actions, crossing your arms over your chest. Just down the hall, you can faintly hear the song Sticky playing on a speaker, paired with a few voices screaming along to the lyrics. It makes you want to roll your eyes even more. Cocky sons of—

“It wasn’t that bad,” Tetsuro tries to argue, shrugging his shoulders. “Kenma had a few good sets. ‘Tora  looked like he was working overtime. I bet he’ll feel that shit tomorrow.”

You don’t answer. Your eyes are trained on a poster in front of you, of the volleyball team. You take a few steps closer and scan the paper—not looking for Tanaka. But, your eyes do happen to land on him, and you don’t look away.

If you’re going to be honest, he looks stupid. His grin is too wide and his eyes are squinted shut and his chin is pointed up and his biceps aren’t even that big so you don’t know why he’s flexing and—

“Ramen? Again? Brother, you gotta get some real food in you, or you’re going to keel over and die. Seriously. I bet Saeko will make us some food tonight.”

It doesn’t sound familiar, but you know who it is. It doesn’t sound like how you pictured it to sound, but you know it’s Tanaka’s raspy voice bouncing off the walls. 

And when you try to look in his direction, you can’t.

It’s like your feet are cemented to the ground, head stuck in one place. You’re not even staring at the poster anymore, just spacing off into the wall. You don’t know why you’re suddenly so nervous, but you hate it.

“Kuroo? Holy shit, no wa—” The voice cuts out and somehow you know his eyes are on you. “Well, well, well. What do we have here?”

The cringe that shoots through your body is enough to shake you from your nervous state. Your face scrunches up and you turn around to finally look at him. “What are you, an anime character?”

He opens his mouth, probably for some stupid retort, but his words die on his tongue. For a long, stretched out moment, he just stares at you.

Awkwardly, you clear your throat. “What? Do I have something on my face?” He shakes his head and you look away, nodding once. “Okay, cool.”

“Dude, you’re being lame as shit right now.” A whisper, a different voice. Tanaka makes a sound of pain and from your peripheral vision, you can see Nishinoya elbow him in the stomach. “Chrome the fuck up.”

Tanaka scoffs, but it kind of turns into a snicker. “So, uh,” he clears his throat, shifting his backpack on his shoulders, “what are we waiting for? Aren’t you guys coming to my house? For Saeko, or whatever?”

“Kenma,” you and Tetsuro say at the same time. You share a glance, then shake your head. “We’re waiting for Kenma,” you say. “He takes forever in the locker room.”

Tanaka nods, rocking on his heels awkwardly.

The situation almost makes you laugh. Tanaka was so brave over text, and now? He’s acting like a middle schooler. You have to look down at the ground so they don’t see the smile on your face.

Finally—finally—Kenma comes out of the locker room, bag slung over his shoulder, eyes glued to his phone. What an iPad kid.

“You’re such an iPad kid,” Tetsuro says, rolling his eyes. “We’ve been waiting for, like, fifteen minutes. How difficult is it to change clothes?”

“I’m a minor, please stop talking to me.” Kenma doesn’t even look up from his phone. You snicker slightly and bump his shoulder as he walks past. At that, he looks up. “Are we leaving, or what?”

“If by leaving you mean going to Tanaka’s, then yes.” You nod, then look over at Tanaka and smile. “Well? Lead the way.”

You don’t know how or why, but somehow you pick up two more kids on your way out: Hinata, Kenma’s orange-haired friend, and Kageyama, Hinata’s freakishly quiet friend. Though, you use the term friend loosely, because you don’t think they can really be friends when Kageyama looks at him like that.

And then, somehow, Tanaka convinces everyone to pile up into one car. Seven people in a five-seater car. Tanaka is driving, you’re sitting in the passenger seat, and Nishinoya and Hinata are sitting on the ground in the backseat, while the other three sit in the actual seats. It’s not safe, by any means, but it is fun when a good song starts playing and everyone starts belting the lyrics. They’re all yelling over each other, Tanaka can barely keep his eyes on the road, the two on the floor are complaining about their backs, Tetsuro keeps saying that they’re going to get pulled over, and you haven’t stopped laughing since you got in the car.

You keep glancing over at Tanaka, though not on purpose. It’s like there’s a string that keeps pulling you towards him, a feeling you’ve never felt before. He’s so . . . in his element. He’s making people laugh, surrounded by friends—this is what being truly confident in yourself looks like. And he has that right, to be 100% confident. Admittedly, you watched him on the court more than you watched your own team. There’s something so enticing about him. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him.

Eventually, you make it to his house. It’s a small house, but it’s nice. The inside isn’t decorated too much, but there are quite a few pictures hanging on the walls and sitting on various end tables and cabinets. Tanaka and his sister when they were younger, them and their dad at theme parks, school pictures—you can’t help but notice the lack of a mother in the pictures. You press your lips together and stop looking at them.

All of the boys pile into the house and it suddenly hits you that you’re hanging out with a bunch of teenage boys. You scrunch your nose up and quietly sigh. Where’s Saeko when you need her?

“Saeko! Your client is here!” Tanaka’s voice is much too loud for how close everyone is to him, but he doesn’t seem to care. When no one calls back to him, he takes a deep breath and shouts louder. “Saeko!”

The sound of a door crashing open echoes throughout the house, then stomps coming from further inside the house. You’re all still standing by the front door, talking about different things. 

“What do you want, you little twerp?” A voice rings out. Saeko. You smile at the name calling. “I try to have a little peace and quiet while you’re gone and—“ she stops talking when she comes into view. “Oh.” She blinks a few times, taking in the teenagers in front of her. “Yeah, thanks for telling me we had guests, Ryuu.” She smiles sarcastically and you snicker. You love her already.

“Hi,” you say, bowing slightly. “I’m Y/n, it’s nice to meet you. Thank you for, uh, agreeing to pierce me? It was very nice of you—especially since it was such short notice.”

“Oh, I like you.” She smiles and hums. “Also, please don’t bow. I’m older than you, but I’m not old. Just treat me like a friend. Actually, we’re friends now. You can call me Sae. Come on, let’s get this shit set up.”

She turns on her heel and begins to walk the way she came from. You glance back at Tetsuro and raise your brows. He shakes his head and sighs dramatically. “Mom is so going to kill us,” he mumbles.

And then your eyes unconsciously flit to Tanaka. You’re half-surprised to see that he’s already looking at you, a small, crooked smile on his face. You can feel your face heat up and you look away. It’s so pathetic how he makes you feel. You follow Saeko’s footsteps, to where you think she went.

You find her in the bathroom, where a few piercing tools are laid out on the sink. You swallow hard upon seeing them.

“It’ll be fine,” Saeko reassures as she pulls on a pair of black medical gloves. She pops a bubble with the gum you didn’t know she was chewing. “You look like a tough cookie.”

There’s a stampede of footsteps down the hallway that stops right before the door. You turn around to find all the boys staring into the bathroom, eyes wide.

“Hey! Don’t you guys know what privacy is? Jesus, get outta here!” Saeko flails her arm in their direction and a few of them flinch.

“No, no. It’s okay!” You reassure, laughing a little. “They can stay, I don’t mind. But if they make fun of me for crying like a baby, will you kick their asses for me?”

She snickers, and nods. “Hell yeah.”

One of them audibly swallows and a wave of laughter rolls over the boys. You laugh too, glancing at Tanaka to see him smile. Jesus, you are so screwed.

“Okay.” Saeko claps her hands together and sighs quickly. “Can you sit on the counter for me? I have to sanitize your nose.”

You nod, not hesitating to hop up on the sink. She wipes your nose down with an alcohol wipe. It kind of burns, but you don’t say anything. She tells you that the instruments she’s using are sanitized, which is why they’re in a bag.

And then she puts a dot on your nostril, where she’s going to pierce. You look in the mirror, check the placement, and accidentally catch Tanaka’s eyes. He gives you a small, encouraging smile and it really does calm you down. 

“Looks perfect,” you say to Saeko, smiling nervously. “In your professional opinion, how much will this hurt?”

“Not at all.” She shakes her head. That doesn’t really help much, though, because she has about thirteen visible piercings and you’re sure her pain tolerance is much higher than yours. She puts the clamp in place and raises her brows. “Ready?”

You glance to the doorway, where all the boys have worried looks on their face, and take a deep breath, letting your eyes fall shut. You keep them like that and say, “as I’ll ever be.”

The next few seconds seem to pass in slow motion. You can’t see anything, but you can sense her hand coming closer to your face. The needle touches your skin and you almost flinch, but resist. There’s a sharp pain and then—

“I’m gonna put in the jewelry now, ‘kay?”

There’s some more jostling of the clamp and then something else slides into place. The clamp leaves your nose and then you can no longer feel her hands by your face.

Slowly, you peel your eyes open. Saeko is smiling at you, wide and almost unhinged. “All done,” she says. “Take a look.”

You turn around and look in the mirror once again, the blue dot now replaced by a stud. There’s redness, but no blood. You turn your head a little, looking at it from the side and from the front. It looks good—you look good.

A small giggle escapes your mouth and you smile, wider than ever. “Oh my god,” you mumble. You turn back to Saeko and laugh. “My mom is going to kill me.”

“You look so cute, though,” she shakes her head, pressing her lips together. “Maybe if you wear a Kakashi-style mask, she won’t notice.”

“A sheisty, if you will.” It’s the first time Tanaka has spoken in a while, but his comment gets a giggle out of you and makes him smile. God, that stupid, stupid smile. 

“If you will,” Nishinoya repeats, doubling over in laughter. Was it really that funny? His laugh is weird and loud and so ridiculous that everyone else starts laughing. When you laugh with them, you feel like you’re where you belong.

“Okay, who’s hungry?” Saeko asks, halting the laughter of everyone. Simultaneously, everyone’s hands shoot up in the air. “Right. I’m cooking for a small army, got it.”

The food Saeko makes is ridiculously good. The boys practically eat the Tanaka’s out of house and home with how much they consume. The table is completely full, more laughter filling the house.

You belatedly realize that Tanaka is really funny. You also realize that, yeah, you like him. And it’s not some huge moment, where time slows down and a romantic song plays in the background. 

You realize it as he looks at you, smiling, and you snort out a laugh when you spot some food stuck in his braces.

“What? What’s so funny? I didn’t even say anything.”

“You have—” you can’t even finish your sentence. You gesture to your mouth, hoping he gets the hint, but he just tilts his head. “There’s— oh my god.”

He laughs too, but it sounds more confused than yours. “You’re starting to freak me out, Y/n. What are you laughing at?”

“There’s food in your braces!” You finally manage to say. You have to set down your bowl so you don’t spill anything—that’s how hard you’re laughing.

His face turns bright red and he moves so fast that he spills his bowl of food all over his lap. He stands up quickly, hissing at how hot it is. And, of course, that only makes you laugh harder. 

And then it hits you. You like this kid. You like his stupid jokes and his stupid smile and his stupid braces and the stupid way he moves on the court and the stupid way he’s able to make you laugh so easily.

You are so astronomically fucked.

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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

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?”

Call It What You Want

Phantom Ghoul x GN! Reader

Word count: 2k

Warnings: a lil spicy (I couldn’t help myself)

Note: ITS BEEN SO LONG IM SO SORRY. Seeing ghost on Saturday really got me in the mood to write again. For my man phantom. I listened to Call It What You Want by Taylor Swift while writing this. I’m a bit rusty since it’s been a bit so I apologize in advance but please enjoy 🖤🖤

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You sat by yourself in the cafeteria with a book in your hand and a coffee in the other. It was one of those cheesy smutty-romance novels you couldn’t help but love. Maybe it was because you are in a desperate need of some romance yourself after your last relationship went downhill or maybe it was a great distraction. All of your so-called friends took his side of the breakup and left you in the dust. You couldn’t help but feel lonely sometimes but books were a saving grace.

Your face remained stoic as you read, getting lost in the words in front of you.

His fingers trace the shape of her body as her breath hitches. Stopping at the edge of her panties and gives her a smirk before he brings his mouth close and brings the fabric down with his teeth. She lets out a breathy moan as she feels his teeth grazing against her ski-

“Whatcha reading?”

A shriek escapes your lips and the book falls into your lap. You quickly cover your mouth at the noise you made. Heat radiates off your cheeks as you look up and see a ghoul. Your reflection staring back at you in the goggles of his mask.

You gape at him for a minute and remember he said something. He stares back in an almost giddy manner Slowly bringing your hand down from your mouth, “W-what?”

He grins sheepishly, “Your book,” he nods to your lap, “I was wondering what you were reading.”

Your blush returns and you wave it off, “oh, just some silly little romance novel.”

His grin turns into a teasing smile, “Sureee, that’s why you dropped it so fast.”

“You scared me!” You try to defend yourself but fail as a small smile fights through. His grin grows bigger and so does yours.

“I’m (Y/N),”

He stares at your hand in front of him. He places his in yours and shakes it slowly.

“Phantom.”

Your eyes glance behind him to see his tail waving in excitement. “You’re the new ghoul Papa summoned for the band, right?”

He grows shy, “Y-yeah.”

You sense his uneasiness and give him a gentle smile, “Well, I’m excited to see you play.”

His face lights up, “Really?” You nod and he grows excited, “I have been practicing with Sodo and I’m getting really good!”

You check the time and your eyes widen as you realize you're late for a meeting with Primo. You stand up and grab your book and coffee. “I’m really sorry, I have a meeting wit-”

Phantom grabs your wrist to stop you, “Do you think maybe I can play for you sometime?”

You’re surprised. An invitation to hang out with someone? It’s been so long. You give him a happy nod.

He jumps up, “Great!”

You begin to walk away before you turn around and give the ghoul one last smile, “It was nice to meet you, Phantom!”

His tail begins to wave back and forth in excitement as he gives you a wave goodbye.

Sodo stands next to him, getting hit with Phantom’s tail. He gives a shove to his side, “Cut it out.”

“Sorry.” Phantom gives him a sheepish grin.

“We got to work on that.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and Phantom continued to see each other after the first guitar session. He showed you tricks he was learning to play on tour, his solos, and even offered to show you how to play to which you politely declined.

He would meet you at the library when he wanted to see you. He would find a book to read and the two of you would curl up in chairs next to each other in the back of the library. Your heart fluttered the first time you had glanced over and saw him entranced by the book in his hand. His mask laying on the arm rest next to him, you got to study his features. How his hair slightly covers his face or how he bites his lip when he reads. You smiled to yourself and continued to read.

The following library visits turned to him picking out cheesy romance novels for you to read, purely judging by the covers, and you picking out some books for him. You both share a couch now and end up with his head in your lap.

You run your fingers through his hair, reading the page. Bringing your hand up, you turn the page and Phantom lets out a whine at the loss of contact.

You don’t notice, too busy with the words in front of you. Your fingernails gently scrape against his scalp. He lets out a choked moan. Yet again you don’t notice.

After a while you put your book down and glance down at the ghoul. You sigh, “You have such pretty hair. I hope you know that.”

A blush grows on his face but looks up at you steady eyes, “Yeah, well, you have such a pretty face. I hope you know that.”

Your laugh fills the quiet back section of the library.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were having a rough night. You had seen your ex and ex friends hanging out together and it triggered a panic attack.

You sat, hidden away in a back aisle of the library, with your knees to your chest. Keeping your head down, you count your breaths.

Footsteps approach you. They stop and the person sits down next to you.

Peaking, you see Phantom looking at you with a tilted head. You shake your head before hiding in your arms.

You hear him take off his mask and feel him nudge you.

Not getting anything from you, he pulls you into his side. He didn’t need to know what was wrong, he just wanted to be there. He began to trace shapes on your back.

After you have calmed down, you place your head on his shoulder. “Panic attacks suck.”

Phantom hums in agreement.

The two of you sat in silence for a while before you spoke up slowly, “Would you run away with me?”

It was quiet again. “Hypothetically,” you add.

He turns his head, “I would go to heaven and back with you.”

You stare at him with glistening eyes. You never wanted anyone more. You send Papa a quick ‘thank you’ in your mind for summoning this ghoul. You wanted nothing more than to lean in. Phantom smiles at you, “Hypothetically,” he adds.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and Phantom were the only ones in the practice room. You both sat on the couch as he practiced. He seemed off today but didn’t know how. He seemed extra twitchy. He brought up teaching you how to play again.

“Come on, (Y/N)!” He pleaded. He slid off the couch and onto his knees. He’s in front of you on his knees. You’re definitely mentally freaking out.

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not good with my fingers,” You pretend to play as a joke, “See?”

He grabs your hands, “Yeah, but I am!” Your heartbeat quickens. Your mouth goes dry and you pray he doesn’t hear the thumping of your heart. He pleads again, “I can show you.”

You don’t even know what to say. Does he know what he’s doing to you right now? “I-..”

He slowly gets up, hovering over you. He licks his lips and whispers, “Please, (Y/N).”

He nuzzles his head against yours before your neck.

“You’re not talking about the guitar anymore, are you?” you breathed out shakily.

You feel him shake his head, “Please let me touch you,” he whines into your neck.

You’re so close to hyperventilating, you can barely hear what he said. He slides back down on his knees, his hands gripping your thighs as he looks back up with you with needy eyes.

You grab his face and lean down to kiss him. Another whine leaves his lips as you touch him. His skin almost burning to the touch.

The door suddenly opens and in comes Swiss and Sodo. You jump back embarrassed.

Phantom whips his head around to the other ghouls and growls. Your eyes widen at the sound.

“Well well well. What do we have here?” Swiss grins.

Sodo elbows Swiss hard in the stomach, “Calm down Phan, it’s okay.”

Quickly getting up, you apologize. You’re too embarrassed. You’re not sure what you’re apologizing for but it’s the only thing coming out of your mouth.

Grabbing your stuff, you head to the door, “I’m sorry,” you look at Phantom, “I’ll see you later, okay?”

He nods. Realization of what happened hits him and he feels just as embarrassed and guilty.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Papa announced they would be performing at the Abbey, you were unsure if you wanted to go. It had been a week since the practice room incident and you hadn’t seen Phantom since.

Your thoughts have been too loud since. Maybe you offended him somehow or maybe he didn’t like you anymore. You’d gone to the library everyday in hopes he’d show up. Maybe you’ve read too many romance novels to still have your hopes up.

It was the night of the ritual and Siblings around you were buzzing with excitement. It had been a while since Papa performed for the Abbey and would be the first time the two new ghouls were to be performing on stage. Primo had essentially threatened you to come after you mentioned you were unsure. Needless to say, the old man can be intimidating.

The room is crowded and you make your way to the back of the room. You keep your head low, not particularly in the mood to see your ex and ex friends.

You felt anxious enough. Not only for seeing Phantom but you were nervous for him performing. He’s practiced so hard the past few months. You only hoped the siblings loved him on stage as much as you do.

The lights dim and screams erupt as Papa and his ghouls emerge on stage. You see him. Your anxiety disappearing as he begins to play Kaisarion.

You cover your mouth to hide your smile. He’s doing amazing. He displays such confidence you haven’t seen in him yet. He looks like a daydream. Your daydream.

Throughout the concert, he has become a favorite with the siblings as he blows kisses to the crowd and shows off his tricks like playing the guitar under his leg. Copying Sodo as he performs to the crowd.

You were unsure if he had seen you as the ritual nears its end. But Phantom had seen you as soon as he came out on stage. A light shined on you and he nearly tripped over himself. He knew if he stared at you, he’d get distracted and mess up the song.

The ritual ends with Square Hammer. The crowd singing loudly, nearing screaming the lyrics. With the final note, Papa thanks everyone for joining them. You cheer loudly with your heart full of pride. You need to tell him.

Phantom puts his guitar down before jumping off the stage. He has his head down as he makes his way through the crowd. He didn’t want to waste another moment without you.

He lifts his head up seeing you, you give him a small smile and little wave. He reaches you, pulling down his balaclava that was covering his mouth.

“I’m sorr-” he shuts you up by pulling you into a kiss.

You’re in shock for a moment before placing your hands on his and kissing his back.

Slowly pulling away with a smile, you both catch your breath. Your hands find the bottom of his mask, taking it off before pulling him into another kiss.

For the first time in your life, you didn’t care what anyone thought of you.

He pulls away first and looks down at you, “Hi.”

You grin, still holding his hands, “Hi.”

Giving his hand a squeeze, “You were amazing. I’m so proud of you,” you emphasized.

His hands caress your face, “I’m so in love with you,” he confesses.

You beam, “I’m so in love with you.”

The two of you walk out, his calloused hand in yours.

“So was that like a scene in one of your romance books?” He teases.

“Even better.” You cuddle into him.

“We can recreate the other scenes later.”

Your laugh echoes in the hall.

8 with Luca!

8) oops, we were just hiding in this closet, but then the close proximity get us too turned on not to fuck

“Luca, we can’t hide in here forever.”

The older man was pressed up behind you, the small broom closet in his house not giving much space for either of you to move.

“Yeah, but Street said he’d be home soon, and I wanna prank him back.” He spoke quietly into your ear. You shivered as his warm breath tickled your skin, and you shifted slightly to relieve the ache between your legs.

There was always tension between you and Luca the whole time you’d know each other. Neither of you were brave enough to act on it. So being stuck in this confined space, nose full of his scent, his cologne, was driving you mad.

You felt his body tense as you moved, practically heard him swallow as he placed a hand on your hip, holding gentle. “Don’t- Try not to wiggle so much.”

You bit your lip and tried not to smile, a rush of bravery (maybe stupidity) and lust giving you the courage and slowly grind back into him, a gasp leaving your lips as you felt the bulge against your ass. A pretty damn big bulge.

Luca moaned faintly in your ear, both hands now holding your lips as he pulled back on you, grinding into you in turn and cursing. “Fuck it.” He rasped and spun you around, body pinning you against the door as his lips found yours.

You turned in the confined space and clung to him, kissing back in an almost viscous manner and whimpering as his leg slid between yours, your hips grinding on his thigh with a whine.

It wasn’t long his pants were undone, your leggings pulled down to your thighs, and he had you turned back around against the wall. His cock stretched and filled you to the brim, and the muffled moans and cries filled his house.

Your cheek was pressed to the cool surface as you both came with a drawn out moan, and the sound of footsteps coming through the front door made you both pause.

“Fuck..” he whispered in a shaky sigh, slipping out of you and helping you with your pants before buttoning his own, Street opening the closet with a concerned, confused glance at the both of you.

“Oh, gross, guys.”

Honey

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

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

word count: 2k

cw: make out session

part one part two part four part five

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course,” he nodded. “Anytime.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I want a kiss.” 

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

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

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

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

“You have to read to me.”

“I was going to do that anyway.”

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

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

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

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

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

sorry, wrong number! — tanaka ryuunosuke. chapter three; crazy crazy.

content ; smau. profanity. reader being a LIGHT stalker. dirty jokes. school rivalry coming into play. kenma & hinata friendship mentioned. ennoshita struggling with history class.

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great expectations - 9, familiar faces!

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You're pretty certain that Shoyo Hinata owes you a lifetime of favors for the speed at which you're racing to the gym to meet up with him.

You had been pretty comfortable at the house, getting in some much needed studying in with Kiyoko, when Hinata had so kindly demanded that you join him an penance for missing his game.

So there you are, gym bag in hand and head ducked to avoid attention from any other possible volleyball players you might run into around the court only a few hours before a match.

But it's because your head is ducked and your attention focused solely on getting to Hinata without incident that you run into an incident.

Namely—Wakatoshi Ushijima and Tooru Oikawa. Talking.

They're having what seems to be a very tense conversation only a few feet from the front of the gym doors. You stop short in your attempt to make your way inside the building they're practically guarding, hands clutching your bag and heart in your throat.

You're not quite sure why you're nervous. You haven't done anything wrong.

You're also not sure what Ushijima is doing on your campus, considering he plays for another school, but you find out soon enough when you attention momentarily drifts to the road behind the boys and you see his university's team bus.

If you had known that it was Ushijima's team playing the boys, you never would have left your bed that morning.

But the damage is done, and you're half willing to attempt to turn and run before they drag into whatever they're talking about—or maybe... arguing? You're not sure and you really don't want to find out.

But then Oikawa tears his frown away from Ushijima just long enough to look past him, and the only thing his attention can snag on is you. The frustrated look on his face cracks once he sees you, and it both warms something frozen inside you and tightens the knot of anxiety in your stomach.

The sudden change of Oikawa's expression catches Ushijima's attention, and before you can even think of ducking for over, he turns away from Oikawa and spots you, too.

You're screwed.

Ushijima calls out your name in a friendly greeting, a smile on his face. Oikawa's own face falls immediately, and suddenly he's throwing his hands up in the shape of a T.

"Time out, big guy." He starts, borderline glaring at Ushijima. "How do you know her?"

You wince. Is it really too late to ditch Hinata and run home with your tail between your legs? It's bad enough that you screwed things up with Oikawa and went on a panic-date with Ushijima, but now you have to watch as they both figure it out?

"We went on a date." Ushijima's casual reply doesn't match up with the horribly affronted look on Oikawa's face. You want to run from the conversation, but you owe Oikawa the truth at the very least, so you settle for dropping your gaze to the sidewalk underneath your feet.

"No way she went on a date with you!" Oikawa claims. "You don't have anything in common. And all you care about is volleyball and getting me to transfer to your school."

"It was just one date." You muster the courage to explain, but not he bravery to look Oikawa in the eye as you do so. "After, you know, our argument."

"Did you two date?" Ushijima asks. You really wish the ground would open up and swallow you whole, but you don't get to be that lucky.

Instead, you're forced to live through the moment where you shake your head no, and Oikawa responds to Ushijima with a honest, "sort of," that makes your head spin.

"Well, which is it?" You're not sure if Ushijima is pressing out of curiosity or if it's an attempt to get under Oikawa's skin before a match. You don't know him well enough to decide, but you're really hoping it's the former.

"We were hanging out," You clarify with a non-answer before Oikawa can air your business. You're so uncomfortable, standing on the sidewalk with both men staring at you, that you shift your weight between your feet and glance over your shoulder. "I should go."

"Wait, hold on," Oikawa takes a step forward, his name falling off your tongue, but you're already taking off in the opposite direction of the gym.

All you leave behind is an "I'm sorry," and you're not even sure who it's directed for.

extras!

yn is a master at self sabotage

kuroo, suga, bokuto, and astumu all have a bet going on about when oikawa and yn will finally get together. it started with just kuroo and bokuto but the others wanted in

the whole "ushijima-oikawa-yn" run in was basically the Spiderman pointing meme — yn was on the verge of a panic attack

yn called kiyoko after every time she texts oikawa and reads the messages out to make sure she sounds like a normal person

after the run in, yn went and found an empty lecture hall to freak out in, so she never actually ended up running sets with hinata (he called to tell her she was a traitor)

taglist 14/50

@loveyislost @vi0let-writes @jayathelostdragon @snoowply @ladycaramelswirl @dayanahq @loverryxx @x3nafix @rantsbytk @blue-moonies @sexylexy12 @0rangej0e @iwannaseeyoucry777 @kumeeee

They stopped taking Cody to Karaoke Night after this.

(Cody was definitely singing about Obi-Wan lol)

Buck as the eternal playboy but folding the second the reader hits on him back? Maybe corner him against a wall for funsies >:)

THE LONG GAME — E.BUCKLEY

flirting between friends was always fun, but sometimes it borders something that is definitely not platonic, and once that line is crossed, buck’s not sure he wants to go back to what you had before.

cw— 16+ for suggestiveness, alcohol, lots of flirting, chimney being a cockblock rip, buck is so sexually frustrated rip

evan buckley x gn!reader || ???? || 3.1k || masterlist!

part two — finish line.

Arguably the best part about your job was being able to celebrate a job well done.

That feeling of accomplishment after getting through a really tough call with nothing but a positive outcome.

The team never went half-assed on the celebrations, and you’re sure that the bar you all frequent post-shift knows you all by name by now from how often you all abandon your nights to spend an extra few hours in each other’s company.

That was another thing you loved about your job. The team. Your family.

You could spend 24 straight hours with them and they’d still make an excuse to spend a few more with everyone.

Today was no different. You rolled up to the bar in a tight-circle, eerily resembling the professional attitude you had to display during your work hours, one not yet shed considering it’d only been three-quarters of an hour since your shift ended.

You knew it wouldn’t last long, you’d all be too drunk to care about professionalism soon enough. Well except Bobby anyway.

You barely had time to walk through the front doors before Buck was running up to the bar to order everyone a round of drinks, a confident smirk etched on his face that only grew as the local news recounted the story of one of they day’s earlier calls with civilian footage.

“I wonder who that is,” He nudges your side as you walk over, cockiness washing all over his face as he nods up towards the TV hanging up by the ceiling. “They look pretty badass,”

You give him an almost dismissive hum as you pick up one of the glasses from the cluster to take a sip of the craft beer filling it. “I wonder,”

“Oh come on, you’re all over the news,” He gives you another small nudge. “You’re practically famous right now,”

He leans in towards you to talk over the music, reaching over to grab a pint glass of his own and clinking it animatedly against yours before taking a swig from it.

“He’s right you know,” Hen gives you nudge herself, joined by an enthusiastic thumbs up from Chimney behind her. “Own it,”

“Right? you pulled a whole superhero move,” Buck motions up towards the news broadcast again, where they are still replaying a clip of you kicking through a pane of reinforced glass on a high-rise from on top of the roof as an alternative method of entry to the collapsed stairwell on the inside.

“Sounds like you’re projecting Buckley, jealous?” You raise your eyebrow with an air of amusement as you take another swig from your glass.

“Absolutely not, in fact, I’m the opposite of jealous right now,” He leans in towards you again so that your shoulders brush together. “It was hot,”

“Okay horndog,” You roll your eyes at his comment, pushing away his face with the palm of your hand pressed to his forehead. “Keep it in your pants will you?”

He does nothing but laugh at the way you scold him, allowing you your personal space as he sits up straight once more.

Buck’s ability to flirt his way through any situation was honestly mildly impressive, how he managed to twist any situation into having a sensual undertone no matter what it was.

Last week it was Eddie carrying a sandbag into the station gym. The week before that it was the fact that Hen had cut a slice of lasagna for him instead of him doing it himself.

And apparently this week’s target was you. For jumping off a roof and shattering a glass window with your feet.

You’d question his taste if you didn’t know he was joking.

Although as the night went on and the table became increasingly cluttered with empty glasses, you started to question whether it was actually a joke.

Whether it was some quirk of his personality, or something more serious.

They say that drunk words are sober thoughts right? And Buck was definitely drunk and definitely spouting some choice words right now.

He whistles as you pot one of the striped balls on the pool table, his competitiveness all but disappeared underneath the haze that his alcohol consumption had laid over his brain. “Skilled with your feet and your hands? You’re just about every guy’s dream,”

He leans across the pool table to aim his shot, pool cue horribly aimed to the point where the cue ball barely skims the solid red ball he was aiming for. “Probably every girl’s dream too actually,”

“Instead of trying to kiss my ass, maybe you should focus on actually playing the game,” You genuinely can’t tell by this point whether his poor skills were an effect of the alcohol running through his system or if he was doing it on purpose just to get under your skin.

If there was one thing you did, it was play fair, and that included not letting your opponent give you an easy win.

“Oh how I would love to kiss that ass,” He makes an exaggerated show of leaning backwards to get a clear view, giving you another short whistle as you lean over the table to line up your next shot.

“Win the game and maybe i’ll let you,”

You swear you can see the moment his mind fractures, enunciated by another striped ball falling into one of the pockets and you lining up another shot.

He’s like a robot doing a hard reset, his eyes staring blankly at you like he physically cannot comprehend that you’d actually say something like that.

You don’t make your next shot, though whether by distraction from Buck’s eyes on the side of your face or your own drunken mistake you’re not entirely sure. Either way, when you straighten up to stand again, Buck hasn’t moved an inch.

“Go on, your turn,” You tap the side of his arm with your pool cue, amusement washing over your features as you watch him physically jolt from the contact and shake his head as if to physically shake off what you’d said to him.

Who knew such a casanova would get so flustered when someone played along with his little flirting game.

He ended up losing of course, you were far too much ahead for him to have a chance of catching up before you potted the eight ball and took the game, and you could swear there was a trace of disappointment in his eyes, and not because of the four solid colour balls still left on the table.

He didn’t even glance at them.

No, instead he kept his eyes firmly locked on you as you gloated your win.

“Now that is something to celebrate,” You lay your cue on the table with a victorious smirk. “Better luck next time I suppose,”

Your cockiness continues to flourish as you pot the remaining balls into the pockets and take Buck’s pool cue from him to lay it next to yours. “So what’s my reward then?”

”I- What?” He blinks at you a few times, eyebrows furrowing in confusion as his mind tries to catch up to the conversation.

“Well we laid out what would happen if you won, so what do I get for actually winning?” You tilt your head to the side as you take a step towards him, arms crossed over your chest with your eyebrow raised. “Surely I deserve to be rewarded, no?”

“I can uh…I can buy you a drink…” Buck pursed his lips together, dry swallowing as he leant backwards against the pool table upon your approach. He honestly didn’t know what was coming over him. Why was he so ruffled under the collar about this?

This was his prime domain, so why was it the second that you mirrored his interest he shut down and started backtracking on himself like a highschooler?

“I think we’ve had enough drinks don’t you?” You take another step forward as he sits on the edge of the table, essentially boxing him in despite there being very easy escape points at both his right and his left. “Besides, I want to be sober enough to remember this tomorrow,”

What on earth did you mean by that?

God he felt pathetic right now, a 6’2, 220lbs man being boxed in against a pool table of all things by one of his extremely attractive coworkers because you’d had a sudden streak of confidence and decided to flip his advances back on himself.

“Uh…” He gives a small, half awkward chuckle as his eyes flicker to consciously remain focused on your own eyes and not fall downwards. He knew the uniforms were tight but god did he not notice how tight they were until he was having to physically restrain himself from looking further down. “Right well- uh- what do you want then..?”

Buck watched as your eyes left his to flicker downwards, not so far down that you were staring at his chest, but just far down enough that he could tell you had your attention on a part of his face that was not his eyes.

He’d blame the bright red of his cheeks on the drinks if you asked about it, but you seem far too enamoured by the way he nervously purses and bites his lips under your gaze to even so much as glance at anything else.

“You know what I want..?” You break your staring to meet his eyes again, although you still make the time to turn your eyes down to his mouth again during the breaks between words.

He swears you’re leaning in with every word, and he’d be damned if he wasn’t leaning in himself, a sharp, stuttered breath escaping his lips as you get close enough so your breath fans across his cheeks. “I think so…”

You give a small hum at his answer, lips quirking into a smile as you narrow your gaze and tilt your head slightly to the left so that your noses don’t bump together as you bring your faces within an inch of each other.

His lips part on instinct, breathing a whisper of air into your mouth as he anticipates the contact with closed eyes.

“I want you to stop drinking my orange juice,”

The tension in his shoulders seems to drop at your statement, and his eyes shoot back open as you pull yourself back to stand fully upright, absolute delight drenching your features as you read the waves of shock and dissatisfaction that roll over him at the sudden change in atmosphere. “What?-”

He was so close. So close to having your lips on his. And you ripped it away from him with that stupidly hot smirk on your face like you knew exactly what you were doing.

You definitely knew what you were doing.

“In the station, I know it’s you,” You explain yourself like it’s no big deal, like you weren’t centimetres from giving Buck what he’d been pining for for so goddamn long a few seconds ago. “Buy your own juice,”

“I- Seriously?” Exasperation practically drowns his voice as he speaks, and he narrows his gaze with an air of desperation that makes you want to give him exactly what he wants. “You pretend you’re going to kiss me and then tell me not to drink your goddamn orange juice? Not cool man,”

“Maybe you shoulda won the game, I don’t know what to tell you,” You shrug your shoulders with an air of nonchalance that only you would be able to muster in a situation like this, and it frustrates Buck beyond all belief.

“That’s not fair,” Buck shakes his head as he stands. “I didn’t know you were being serious,”

“Well that’s just too bad isn’t it?” You clasp your hands together with a tilt of your head.

“No, we’re not just gonna move on okay?” It’s Buck’s turn to approach you now, his hands emphasising his words as he waves them in front of himself. “I have waited so long for you to suggest you were interested in me you cannot just back out like nothing happened,”

You swerve his approach with a laugh to walk around the side of the pool table, like his frustration is the funniest thing in the world to you and not literally tearing him apart with every moment you try to brush off the lingering tension between you. “You are way too pent up about this,”

“I am the exact right amount of pent up about this,” He follows you around the table to box you in as you did him, except this time there’s really no escape as he plants his hands firmly against the edge of the table on either side of you. “You can’t just lean in like you’re going to kiss me and bail right at the last second,”

“I thought you liked the long game,” You cross your arms over your chest as a deflection from the way your heart rate quickens, trying to cover the increase in how fast your chest rises and falls under the gaze he’s trapped you in.

“I’ve played long enough,” He leans his weight on his arms, bringing his face towards yours slowly. “I need to know if I’ve won,”

“I’d say so,” Your eyes are much less confident now the roles have been reversed, struggling to maintain contact with his as his face continues its steady path towards your own.

“Prove it.” You’re close enough now that you can feel the breath from every word he speaks on your skin, and his intentions are laid out very clearly as his gaze falls from your eyes to your lips.

He is going to kiss you if you don’t do anything to stop him.

He wants to taste the mix of alcohol on salt on your lips, explore the inside of your mouth with his tongue. He wants to feel the heat of your palms against his cheeks as you cup his face to stop him from pulling away and make you kiss him until neither of you can breathe.

He’s waited long enough to have you like this, and after your previous stunt, he’s not sure he can physically last much longer before he explodes from the frustration.

The way his hands slide from resting on the table either side of you to holding your hips solidifies that point tenfold.

He gives your waist a soft tug until your torso collides with his, and you have to brace your hands against his shoulders to stop yourself from losing your balance and stumbling right into him.

And then he’s leaning in again, his eyes flickering over your expression to look for any trace of hesitance or uncertainty in your features before he makes the final move.

And then there’s a shot glass between your faces.

“Shots?”

Chimney, ever horrible at reading the room —probably because he’s so drunk he can barely stand upright anymore— holds up two shots towards the two of you, one in each hand. “They’re on me~” He adds that extra part at the end as the true selling point, and it takes all of Buck’s self-restraint to not knock the glasses out out Chimney’s hand to make him leave the two of you alone.

You don’t seem so agitated.

“Why thank you,” You break from Buck’s grasp to take one of the shots from Chimney’s hand, raising it in Buck’s direction. “Here’s to playing the long game,”

You down the shot quickly, leaving the empty glass on the edge of the pool table to rejoin the group at the bar, leaving Buck alone and so goddamn sexually frustrated he genuinely thinks he might pass out from the strain.

You know exactly what you’re doing by dragging this out, and he has half the mind to prove your idea of ‘safety’ from his advances in the group wrong by sending his conscience to hell and giving in to his inhibitions in front of everyone.

But he’s not quite drunk enough to push it that far. Even if most of the team wouldn’t remember it if he did.

“So that’s a no on the shot?” Chimney raises the remaining shot glass in Buck’s direction, seemingly completely oblivious to the colossal cockblock he’d just imposed.

“If you weren’t so drunk right now I would punch you I swear-” Buck huffs as he all but snatches the glass from Chimney’s hand and downs the shot in exasperation, the sharp burn in his throat doing nothing to distract him from the ache in his chest from having a possible moment from you ripped from underneath his nose again in the span of less than ten minutes.

“Woah, what did I do?” Chimney furrows his eyebrows in offence at Buck’s statement. “We’re supposed to be family man, last time I buy you anything,” He scoffs in indignation as he leaves Buck to join the rest of the group once more, clearly unhappy with Buck’s reception to his ‘gift’ of a free shot.

A free shot and a missed shot at finally making a move on you.

He knew that come your next shift you’d ignore everything that had happened tonight, and he wasn’t sure he was ready to go back to the silent glances and subtle gestures. He wanted all of you, not just some aimless flirting that never went anywhere.

At least he had confirmation that you were in fact interested in him, that was a step forward in the right direction he supposes.

But god was the long game starting to get on his nerves.