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legacygirlingreen · 3 months

Text

Easing Tensions

Pairing: Tech x F!Reader

Summary: When introductions go wrong, watch as Tech slowly has to earn back your good graces after he insults your abilities as a mechanic. From friendship to something more, eventually the two of you find some slice of heaven on Ord Mantell despite all odds...

Warning: Smut! Tech and reader are definetly not virgins so not first time (unless you wanna count first time together). Mild dom/sub vibes. Casual/playful spanking. Don't worry Tech's still really sweet. Mentions of Omega being kidnapped by Cad Bane and events of Bracca.

***no use of Y/N!!***

Notes: This is my first time posting for Bad Batch content so I really hope that everything goes okay! I want to thank my awesome friend @strawberrypinky for bearing with me and encouraging me despite her not having watched TBB before! It's so wonderful to have a friend who's so supportive!

Definitely pulled some inspo from some AMAZING fanart that I've seen on here. There's this wonderful image of Tech with tattoos by @cloned-eyes and so many incredible ones by @eggdrawsthings like this who often draws Tech with his cute little undercut!

Word Count: 16.5 words (I apologize for my inability to do porn without a plot!)

Ord Mantell wasn’t the nicest part of the galaxy, but-

It is home..?

It is tolerable..?

It is a steaming pile of bantha shit? Yeah that’s probably as close as you could get to describing it.

No one intends to live in this sketchy city in the mid-rims: you just end up here. That’s how you got here after all. After having a few good years working on Coruscant, designing starships for Senators and the Aristocrats of the Republic. But then the war started. The Republic discovered they had been funding an army of clones, and all those privatized contracts dried up, rent went up and you’d been forced to leave the planet of lights.

After your ship had a malfunction, ending up in the space port just outside Cid’s place, the Trandoshan oddly taking pity on you, allowing you a place to crash in exchange for repairing her arcade machines… and the dish washer… and rewire her a new security system… and so much you lost track before word got around of your mechanical engineering skills.

Rotations kept going and it wasn’t long before you found yourself with a small shop, running jobs within the city on household appliances, droids, ships - you name it. It wasn’t much, just a tiny building full of spare parts, a work space, a front with some small devices to sell. Not to mention the small loft apartment above it - not that you actually made it up there, often falling asleep burning the midnight oil at your desk - but it was still a home.

Only occasionally getting robbed or having some creeps passing through town hitting on you being the few things that threw a damper in what turned out to be a decent enough existence. And as sketchy as Cid might be, or the cast of characters she keeps around, you still kept a soft spot for the lady. Always repairing whatever she claimed needed fixing… it was usually nothing. But you’d let her pour you a drink while you ‘fixed’ the slots for the hundredth time. After being tossed out of the highlight of the galaxy, you were finally at peace with where you wound up.

That was, until they showed up.

Bolo had stopped by in the morning, claiming Cid had broken the slot machine again, to which you said the usual: I’ll stop by after I finish this.

This being a machine for one of the only doctors in town. While most of the folks on Ord Mantell were less than ideal, the few good people made it worth sticking around. The doctor needing a medical device for internal issues fixed being an actual emergency over Cid’s loneliness. However, that rationalization soon would be something you’d regret.

Hours melted away, soldering iron finishing off the last of the repair. Standing from the desk, cracking your back and fingers prodding at the crick in your neck. Soreness being the reward for a hard day’s work. Well that and the small burns and cuts on your fingers. But that was an occupational hazard of doing repairs.

Slipping a coat on with the blaster you kept for protection underneath it was a quick delivery, with a joyful thank you - and a thank you pie courtesy of his lovely wife - and you finally made it to Cid’s.

You recognized the armor immediately. Having heard a few weeks back about the end of the war, you wondered what would happen to them. The clones. The ones that took your job. Took any chance at a promising career as a ship designer, because free labor is better than cheap labor.

Why were clones on Ord Mantell?

All with their helmets removed, one near the bar turned to face you almost immediately. His face half covered in a tattoo as he made eye contact. You scowled, turned away, pushing your unresolved anger onto the man as if he personally was the cause of your misery.

Next to him was a clone that looked more metal than man. What had the Republic done with their clones if he wound up this bad? You thought to yourself, watching as his pale eyes glanced over your frame. The coat rack behind you suddenly reminds you that perhaps it best to remind these men you meant business.

Slipping off the outerwear, holster and gun on full display over the tight, oil stained work suit, you once again turn to examine just how many clones were in the parlor. A very large one, entertaining… a child? You knew for a fact these men were clones. Having been hit on by enough, regretfully having slept with a few before you skipped town - you had seen enough brown eyes to last a lifetime.

Then the joyful call of your name, Bolo and Ketch welcoming you over as Cid emerged from the back with yet another clone.

“Took you long enough,” she said, an almost undetectable smile working on her face as the others watched the interaction.

“Well, some of us had real work to do,” You tell her with a fake annoyed expression, stepping closer to the bar.

“You call tinkering in that dark room, work? When I - a paying customer - requested services,” Cid said. That caused the laugh to burst from your mouth, startling the watchful eyes of the new strangers. Soon Bolo and Ketch joined in, slapping the bar excitedly.

“I think I would be concerned if you did actually pay me,” You say through a chuckle, grabbing a tool off your belt as you turn towards the open room. “So where’s this slot machine that’s broken?” You emphasize the word, knowing it was likely from the one wire she always slightly disconnected to make you feel better for drinking without paying.

“Same one as always, you know the drill. But hold on, I want you to meet my new boys. They are going to be running some jobs for me in order to keep a low profile with everything that’s going on,” Cid said, gesturing to the small squad of clones.

“I thought you said you would keep our business discreet?” Face-Tattoo growled as Cid waved him off.

“She’s a trusted acquaintance. The last stray I took in. Now look at her-” Cid started as Ketch spoke at the same time as her.

“A successful business woman-” Cid said.

“Covered in grease-” Ketch said.

Bolo reacted immediately, laughing till he started coughing. The largest of the clones joining the Ithorian in laughter as you scowled at them.

“Cid it almost sounds as if you like me when you put it that way,” you warn her as she shakes her head, pushing you towards the slot machine.

“Eh don’t get carried away. Anyways, introductions. This is bandana-” she began as he grumpily spouted out, “Hunter”.

“This is muscles,” she pointed to the large one, who said “I’m Wrecker!” offering a smile and a hand, which she awkwardly shook.

“That’s tiny-” Cid pointed to the small girl, lingering near the one she called Wrecker.

“Hi! I’m Omega! You are really pretty-” she said, offering a hand as well. Her compliment catches you off guard from all the time with Cid’s sarcasm.

“Oh, uh… thanks kid. I like your uh… enthusiasm” you try to give her a compliment, the politeness so foreign it came off forced but the kid didn’t notice.

“Not sure what to call that one but he’s more metal than man at this point-” she pointed to the cybernetically enhanced one.

“Echo” he said plainly and you nod, appreciating the simplicity in his response.

“And this is goggles” she said, gesturing to the last one, who didn’t bother to look up from the device he was working on to even acknowledge you.

“Charming,” you reply sarcastically, finally drawing his attention as he watched the tail end of your eye roll. His own eyes fixating over the unique attire you donned along with the tools on your belt, his eyes narrowing as he wondered about your occupation.

“His name is Tech, not Goggles,” giggles Omega.

“Ah, I see you are already acclimated to Cid’s show of affection. She must really like you all. Well, now that the introductions are out of the way, Cid-” You began, wanting to get out of there as quickly as possible if there were now going to be clones at the parlor. Despite these one’s looking… vastly different, they still played a role in why you left.

“Fix, then drink. You know the deal,” she explains.

Nodding you quickly sliding on your back, you open the circuit board, quickly locating the same wire that was always ‘altered’ prior to your arrival. Just as you went to reattach it however, a voice near your head startled you, the yelp leaving your lips as the wire’s exposed end shocked you.

“Ah!” filled the parlor, everyone’s attention turning towards the slot machine which Tech had inadvertently shoved himself underneath alongside you as he began troubleshooting the issue.

“Perhaps you should consider replacing the whole circuit board and wiring system if this one machine persists with issues. I am inclined to doubt your mechanic skills if you continually have to come back for repairs on the same device.” He spoke bluntly as you dropped the tool in your hand, anger rising to the surface as he stared at the machine, hands starting to trace the circuit board when you lost it.

“What are you doing?!” You demanded, finally drawing his attention, when Tech realized he had invaded your personal space a bit more than he intended.

“Oh, I was curious if my knowledge of engineering would be helpful given you seem to lack the knowledge in order to fix this devic-” he started but you weren’t hearing it, sliding away from him instantly as you brushed yourself off and stood, angrily stomping in the opposite direction.

Cid called your name but you weren’t hearing it, reaching for your coat, tossing it on despite the many eyes watching your hasty exit. “Clones!” you gritted through clenched teeth, eyes rolling as you started up to street level. Steps on the stairs being the last anyone heard of you as you left a wake of confusion.

“Way to go Goggles” Cid chastised him as he stood, having propped himself up when you stomped away.

“I fail to see the issue. I merely pointed out the flaws in her previous attempts to fix the slot-” Tech began to defend himself.

“I don’t think insulting her was the right move,” Hunter groaned.

“Yeah, why did you make fun of how she fixes stuff? She was really pretty.” Wrecker said, sheepish look.

Echo remained silent, watching as Tech did not grasp what had happened, once again firing into an explanation as to why he believed he was not in the wrong.

“If one continually has to return to fix the same device, I believe it only fair to question the validity of their credentials. Why else would it-” Tech spoke, only to have Omega step towards him, gently placing her hand on his armored shoulder before she said, “Tech, I think that for the two of them, fixing the machine is Cid’s way of asking for her company. That’s why it’s always the same device that’s broken-”

“What you are saying is that the slot machine is a humorous bit of sorts?” He asked, glancing back at the way the panel lacked 2 bolts on its cover. When he looked at the spot, now vacated by you, he noticed you left a wrench on the ground. Walking towards it, he bent at the waist, picking it up and examining it. Carved into the handle were some initials, he assumed must be yours.

“It seems Tiny is smarter than you are Goggles,” Cid said with an eye roll, walking to the backroom, leaving the clones with the two regulars who awkwardly watched the interaction.

“I did not mean to appear rude-” Tech sighed, fingers probing his temples as Omega looked at Ketch.

“You know her don’t you?” Omega asked.

“Yeah… I can take it to her place on the way home. She tends to hole herself up there for days at a time-” Ketch explained only to have Omega shake her head.

“If you could tell us where it is, I can return it.” The small girl informed the group, immediately having Hunter protest, but Echo nudged him, pointing at Tech.

“Fine but take Tech with you,” Hunter realized Echo was alluding to Tech being granted an opportunity to apologize.

“I still believe it best to wait until morning given the nature of this town being less than ideal,” Tech protested.

“It’ll be fine Tech, we can take them!” Omega said enthusiastically, grabbing his hand and her newly acquired bow.

“I’m assuming them to be the metaphorical enemies we may run across?” He sighed, reaching for his helmet but Omega yanked him harder.

“Omega my helm-“ he yelped and she kept dragging.

“It’ll be fine. Besides, if you are going to apologize it’s better to let her see your face when you do so,” omega explained.

“Why does seeing my face matter?” He groaned, the two of them coming to the street as Ketch pointed them in the direction of a street, giving them a piece of paper with your shop logo before leaving.

“Well, I don’t know. Maybe she’ll think you’re handsome,” Omega spoke with a mischievous grin, still tugging her brother along as he stumbled behind her.

“That is rather doubtful,” He told her, sigh passing over his lips as he realized it would likely be the same story he’d known many times at this point. Any time they were on Corrasaunt, they did worse with the presence of Regs, and the few women that glanced their way were always going for Wrecker, Crosshair or Hunter. He had lucked out in some ways, that Echo seemingly did just as bad with women, the two of them only rarely completing the mission so to speak. On the rare instance he did find himself, it usually felt awkward, unsatisfying and with them forgetting his name by morning. Despite being well versed in how to assist women, it always felt forced and against his nature to behave in the more dominant nature most females found appealing. Not that Tech was going to be the one to explain the intricacies of sexual relations to Omega. He was certain via scientific means that she was aware of how the act worked, but beyond that it felt more like a conversation between her and genuinely anyone else.

“I think that’s it!” She pointed out, and he raised the crude drawing on a napkin they had acquired that showed the logo of the shop. Above the shop was a light in what he figured to be a small domicile she occupied.

“I believe you are correct, however it may be best to attempt entry from the back. It appears there is a set of stairs that lead to-” he began, only to have the girl bound off without him for the alleyway, a slight skip in her step.

From within your apartment, you were angrily stomping about, tossing random parts into a crate. Circuit board, wires, tools. Who was he to question your ability to fix the damned machine? Fixing to make your way back to the parlor, you were dead set on proving him wrong.

In the midst of your sharp movements a knock at the apartment door startled you, causing you to stumble and ram your toes into the leg of the nearest table. The expletive ringing through the air as you hobbled towards the door, hand on the gun in case some creep had followed you. Pulling up the image display you had installed for security you saw the girl from the parlor and -

Door sliding open, you leaned against the frame to prevent putting weight on the throbbing extremity.

“Can I help you?” You grumpily scoffed at the pair, the little girl undeterred by your perturbed nature while the Clone, much less confident now glanced around awkwardly, his arms clutching his sides.

“We came to return your wrench,” she smiled up at you, her innocent brown eyes sparkling with the low lighting of your flat reflecting. Dammit.

“Well, that is unexpectedly kind I suppose. I assume Ketch told you where I live, so why not just let him do it?” You ask, still unsure why she sought you out to return something as simple as a wrench. You had hundreds. Still feeling the pain in your foot, you began to worry that you had actually broken or fractured something, given it had lingered, so as you looked down at the young girl you once again shifted weight, a slight hiss exiting your lips, nearly undetectable, but with the way Tech was scrutinizing you he noticed.

“Oh, I just thought that maybe since you and Cid are close, our squad could become friends with you-” Omega began only to have Tech interrupt her, stepping between the two of you.

“You are injured,” he bluntly said, gesturing down to your foot.

“Yes. I do not get visitors, especially this time of night, and certainly not men who have insulted me coming to my door. The knock startled me,” you hissed out as you straightened up, forcing him to maintain eye contact with you as you glared at him.

“Tech did not mean to be rude-” the girl began sensing the shift in hostility between the way you had spoken softly to her and the way tension grew the second Tech spoke up.

“I’m sure Tech-” you cut her off and test the waters by using his name before continuing “-doesn’t need you to apologize on his behalf. He’s a big boy. He can do it himself,” You glance down at her before once again turning to face him, arms crossing over your chest. “Unless of course, he isn’t sorry?” You challenge him to speak up with your tone.

“I-” she spoke after the beat of silence, only to have the man interrupt her once more.

“I believed myself to be perfectly within the bounds of questioning your skillset given the information I had at the time, being your frequent return to the parlor-” He began and you rolled your eyes, back of your head leaning back to meet the frame of the door as you scoffed.

“So you came to further insult me.” You said as he paused momentarily to look at you.

“No, I was-” Tech began and you waved him off, dismissing him.

“Sure sounds that way to me Brown Eyes,” You push off the frame of the door despite the pain in your toe, to get as close to face level as possible, despite his extremely tall frame. “I’ve dealt with enough clones to last a lifetime. And my experience has always been that of arrogant, inconsiderate men who think too highly of themselves and too lowly of me,” you lean in closer to his ear so only he will hear as you whisper, “especially for men who continually failed to finish me off…”

Leaning back you smirk watching the realization, possibly even horror cross his features as the tips of his ears burn red.

“Omega, go back to Cid’s-” he stuttered out as you laughed.

“Not this time of night Tech. Ord Mantell is far from the worst place in the galaxy but that doesn’t mean it's safe for her to navigate alone, especially with what’s on the horizon.” You warned him, eyes glancing up to the sky.

“Whatever do you mea-” Tech began, watching in horror as Omega’s hair began to slightly stand up as she giggled, while a large flash of light overhead.

“Electrical storms. I am surprised you didn’t note them in whatever archives I suspect someone of your calliber to have examined about Ord Mantell before or shortly after arrival,” You mention, looking down at the young girl. If it was just her, you would have no issue letting Omega in. But the extremely tall trooper wasn’t exactly in your best sights currently. Sighing you step aside, gesturing to come inside.

“I have not had proper time to examine known information on-” Tech straightened up as you interrupted him.

“Save it. Just get inside. They get downright nasty. I may not like you very much, but I am also not a monster who’s going to let you get electrocuted in the streets,” you scoffed at him, allowing the pair to pass through your flat’s entryway.

“Wow you have your own room!” Omega joyfully exclaimed, rushing around to look at your sparse belongings and wall decorations. Some random plans, some spare parts, a few drawings, a few photos - nothing abnormal.

“I can’t say I make it up here most nights to actually enjoy it, so apologies about the mess,” you hush out. Tech’s eyes were wide as he had trained them onto the back of your small sofa. Getting closer you realized what caused his nervousness as a bra tossed over the back came into view from where you’d flung it one evening. Crossing ahead of him, you reached for it, shoving it into the cushions.

While Tech commed back to the rest of their team, informing them the plan to wait out the normal evening storm here, you double checked no other artifacts of awkward origins to be lingering about.

The apartment wasn’t much, just a bed in the back corner behind a screen, a small kitchen with one burner and a stove, along side a small refrigeration unit. A refresher behind a door right at the entry way and some sparse furniture. Mostly, the space just spilled over spare parts from downstairs.

“Omega stop meddling in belongings that are not yours, it’s rude” Tech warned as he came back from discussing with Hunter. Omega hadn’t sat still, running around your flat as new items of interest took over her young mind.

“She’s fine,” you tell him, leaning against a wall looking at how he shifted slightly under your scrutiny.

“Tech look! It’s our ship!” Omega shouted from near one of the windows and he moved towards her, assuming her to be pointing outside in the direction of the hanger, but as he got closer he saw a small model of the standard ship, along with some drawings on the wall.

“Well, technically Omega we use a heavily modified version and this is the standard model of the-” he started as you chuckled.

“Omicron Class Attack Shuttle,” You tell him, coming to stand on the other side of Tech.

“How do you know have these? They are for military usage only, and I calculate the probability of one ending up here during the war to be quite low,” Tech asked.

“She helped design it.” Omega mentioned very plainly as Tech’s eyes bulged, turning to the young girl in time to see her fingers pointing towards some of your old sketches, signature and date marked many moons ago.

“But that-” he came closer to what Omega pointed out, heart beat picking up as he realized not only had he flown a ship you apparently helped design, but he had just earlier insulted your knowledge of mechanics.

“Was a lifetime ago. But yes. I used to live on Coruscant and worked as an engineer. Until contracts for civilians dried up. When I left, my ship had a malfunction and this was the safest planet to land for repairs. Haven’t left.” You explain to him, shifting the weight back off the injured toe, which you could feel swelling in the confines of your sock.

“These drawings do not match the standard regulation manuels for the shuttle. Why are they different? They closer resemble some of the modifications I have personally installed.” Tech asked you, fingers tracing over the worn schematics as he noted a different configuration for the main compressor and hyperdrive.

“I was only a junior engineer at the time. My supervisor demanded the changes be made no matter how much I protested. That’s why I was surprised to hear you boys fly one, but I suppose your modifications have extended it’s life. The changes my team made were less than ideal. But still, it’s my favorite ship I’ve designed,” you explain, feeling a strange mixture of relief and anxiety to bring up the past like this.

“Fascinating… What other ships have you designed if you don’t mind me asking?” he asked without looking up from the remnants of your old work.

“There’s a data pad right there on the table. Not sure if it’s got enough power to charge up, but it has the schematics of what I worked on. I’ll warn you, it’s mostly shuttles for senators or higher ranking military personale. Not many are military craft,” you explain pointing out the data pad, noting the Omega had disappeared from view, finding her sitting on the sofa as she smiled and waved to you.

Moving across the apartment you sat next to her, curious why 4 clones were traveling with a child.

“So what’s your story kid?” You ask her, watching as Tech poked around your small corner of relics from time spent as an engineer, his fingers picking up some of the small models as he continued to flip through the data pad he got working with a small transportable battery pack, muttering out undistinguishable words ever few moments.

You split your attention between half listening to Omega’s explanation of how she was a clone like the others to watching Tech’s half smile as he glanced over your old work. Strangely enough when he wasn’t insulting you, he was handsome. Different from other clone’s you’d met in the fact his face was more angularly and thin. Hair and skin lighter in color than the others, he looked so familiar and yet so unique.

Suddenly a weight on your shoulder broke you out of the trance you had developed as you stared at Tech, who was still distracted as he propped himself up against the wall. Omega, having fallen asleep, was leaning on you as her breathing evened out.

You knew sleep wouldn’t come with the strange clones in your apartment so you carefully lifted her, as she weighted very little, and began to move her towards your bed. Least you could do was let her sleep on a real bed for the first time in a while. Tech’s eyes flashed when he saw the movement, not saying anying as he watched you carry her. Setting down the datapad he realized you would not be able to move the privacy screen while your arms were occupied, so he adjusted it out of the way as you bent a bit to set the young girl on the bed, pulling the recently washed covers up around her.

Omega’s eyes cracked open slightly as she smiled and snuggled down into the bed before drifting back to sleep, the two of you bearing witness to how sweet she looked as sleep overtook her young body. Nodding your head he stepped aside, allowing you both to leave the designated area for the bed and he once again closed the screen.

“You did not have to do that, my calculations show that the storm is likely to pass within the next few hours,” Tech whispered as you shrugged.

“When was the last time she slept in a real bed?” You challenged.

“Point taken. I do have several questions on various ships I examined while looking through your datapad, but I feel it inappropriate to ask given I insulted you earlier,” He said in a hushed breath as you nodded.

“So how do you plan to rectify that hotshot?” You aren’t sure why you felt the need to shift your tone to playful as you nudged his shoulder, forgetting he had on plastoid as it made contact and immediately stung.

“I am uncertain. I do not have data to base interactions such as this upon in order to determine the best possible course of action,” He whispered out as you sighed, going to put on the kettle.

“It’s as simple as saying you are apologetic,” you explain to him calmly, realizing now that perhaps Tech lacked some social awareness despite that big brain of his. You were used to it in the field of engineers. Kind people who weren’t always the most adept at dealing with emotions.

Tech’s eyes watched as you began to heat up water on the stove, the slight hobble in your step still apparent.

“I apologize for being rude. You are still injured from earlier,” he nodded to your foot.

“I’ll live. But thank you for your apology. Tea? Calf? What’s your poison?” You ask him nodding to the water.

“I don’t think there’s any reason to trouble you with either on my behalf,” he said simply as you rolled your eyes.

“It's no trouble at all. Besides with how nasty those electrical storms are you are going to want to get comfortable. Feel free to take off the plastoid, I can’t imagine it’s pleasant to be in all the time,” you tell him.

He simply stands, not wanting to argue, carefully removing the pieces and stacking them in a neat pile on the floor. You take out two mugs from the cabinet, deciding that he seemed like more of a cheap ration calf man, much like yourself, so you spoon it into the cups and pour the water on top before setting one down in front of him before grabbing the sugar from the pantry and setting it out.

“Thank you,” Tech mentioned, ignoring the sugar and just began to sip it as is.

“No problem, so these questions?” you came to sit on the adjacent barstool, nodding towards the schematics he had pulled up.

Tech felt his stomach drop seeing you so close, leaning over the holopad ready to answer his questions when only an hour ago you were content to ring his neck out. Having someone to discuss his area of expertise with was rare, especially not someone so pretty…

₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Several rotations and jobs for Cid under the Batch’s belt, you’d formed a very unique relationship with the clone to say the least. When getting along, things were great. However, you still occasionally found yourself frustrated with his affinity for saying things, while true, that came off as callus or dismissive.

Such as the most recent issue. Tech let you poke around the modifications he’d made to their ship in some down time, during which you pointed out a better alternative for the power cufflinks. This led the man to get defensive, jumping to an explanation that once again challenged your expertise. Leading to a speedy exit from the hanger and ignoring his feeble attempts at knocking on your door, Tech left Ord Mantell to meet Rex on Bracca with you still very much angry at him.

He’d sent a message, to which you ignored on the private com channel he set up for you, as you warned the boys that while you adored Cid, she wasn’t particularly known for being trustworthy. Despite your occasional frustration at times with Tech’s less than appealing behavior, you didn’t want anything bad to happen to them.

Going off-world for an unknown amount of time to remove a device that might cause us to lose bodily autonomy and certain cognitive functions that were part of our programming. It is imperative we do so, however there are unknowns with such a procedure. Things may not go according to plan. ~ Tech

You didn’t respond, set in your stubbornness as you ignored his message that matter of factly stated his plans. Your largest complaint about the man, despite his very kind nature overall, was that he struggled admitting he was wrong or had hurt your feelings.

After a few hours you received another ping.

Landed and waiting to meet our contact. ~ Tech

You sigh, continuing to twist the bolt holding together the maintenance droid someone recently allowed you to have, trying to fix the pile of scrap so you could gain some relief with fulfilling projects.

Another ping came in less than an hour later.

I apologize for once again hurting your pride. I am unused to dealing with those who are not my brothers, and they have acclimated themselves to my more undesirable traits. It is not an excuse, but please know that I am attempting to correct such habits in the name of maintaining our friendship, as it is something I am coming to value. ~ Tech

You look at the screen. He was trying his best and you could recognize that. It softened the anger you felt. You weren’t fully ready to discuss with him however, leaving the message open on your tablet, losing yourself in the work in front of you as your mind tried to form a proper response.

[Incoming message from Tech]

Wrecker’s inhibitor chip activated. Things were more intense than I initially anticipated. He did not hesitate to try and harm us. Omega was frightened by his actions, however no one was injured beyond him briefly rendering me unconscious. That being said, I am fine. We are waiting for him to wake up. Still unsure the safety of this procedure as his vitals have not stabilized. I will continue to keep you posted even if you are neglecting to respond. ~ Tech

Staring at the screen the sudden concern for the safety of their team outweighed you silly argument with Tech, fingers forming a response, and hitting send despite the several crafted responses you had spent the last hours mentally cataloging.

From the ruins of the jedi cruiser on Bracca, Tech was surprised as he saw an incoming response from you, sitting up immediately as he read it.

I am sorry for not responding. I needed time to mentally process your apology, as your words do hurt sometimes. That being said, we do not have to discuss things further. I hope Omega is doing better. I cannot imagine how frightening that must have been for her. Tell her she's got a girl's only night when she returns filled with all the street food her heart desires. Let me know when Wrecker wakes up. Please try and stay safe. Drinks are on me when you all get back to Ord Mantell.

Tech smiled down at the message, leaning back some in the seat. He didn’t want to push his luck by responding to you. You were kind enough to offer an olive branch and accept his apology once more.

Soon Wrecker woke up, prompting the others to take turns removing their chips. Tech wasn’t sure why he felt the need to wait to be last. Perhaps he wanted confirmation that things would be alright? Perhaps he was more nervous than he anticipated. But when it was finally his turn to lay down, his last thought before drifting off was of a pretty mechanic back on their new home waiting for him.

₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“This is the Havoc-Marauder - *static* please, come in,” the vocal element of your com began blaring through the otherwise quiet shop as you continued to repair projects. Boosting the signal you reached down to the tablet, pressing the button, trying to figure out why the boys seemed so distressed.

Tech had informed you that they were all able to remove the inhibitor chips successfully and that they were going to attempt to recover valuable assets from the ship before their departure. Not worried about the plan, you were surprised to hear the fear in their voices as you waited for a response.

“The empire showed up and in the chaos of it all, a bounty hunter named Cad Bane took Omega and injured Hunter. We are trying to locate where they may have taken her, since it was off-world. Do you have any contacts who may know more? We can’t get a hold of Cid-” Echo spoke through the coms instead of Tech.

“Actually, I have more information that may be useful” came Tech’s faded voice from the back of the transmission, as you allowed him to speak. “Omega is more valuable than we realized,” Tech spoke, leading a winded Hunter to question why, as you held your breath waiting for information that may be useful.

“I further analyzed Omega’s genetic profile and discovered she has pure, first generation DNA-” Tech spoke, and while you weren’t fully versed in cloning or the Kamino process, you assumed that made her more valuable than the others. As Tech continued to explain for the others to understand, you reached over for the long range transmitter and sent a message to an old friend, who quickly read and began typing.

“If she’s vital to the Kaminoans cloning operation, they must have put the bounty on her-” you heard Echo say, confirming the suspicions you already had.

“So how do we find this bounty Hunter?” Wrecker grumbled just in time for you to speak up.

“I may have an idea, if anyone’s up for it-” you offer, wishing more than anything the boys were in range to see them instead of just hear them. Something about putting eyes on them would’ve been a comfort, but you’d settle for their voices.

“That is why we contacted you, so please,” Hunter mentioned.

“Well, I had a friend back when I was on Coruscant. She worked closely with the cloning operations medical staff, and was transferred to Coruscant at the start of the war. She said there’s several decommissioned Kaminoan facilities throughout the galaxy. If the Kaminoans are the one’s after Omega, shouldn’t they want a secure location that only they are aware of? At the very least, it’s a starting point. She was able to inform me of 3 she knew about. Two in close proximity to your location. The other is closer to Ord Mantell if you wish for me to check it out-” you explain only to have Tech cut you off.

“Negative. With a bounty hunter as dangerous as Cad Bane I do not wish for you to go anywhere near that facility. Transmit the coordinates and we shall examine the closer one’s first-” he said.

“If Omega is at that facility, you all will miss her transfer between the bounty hunter and Kaminoans. That’s not worth chancing it. I can decide what risks I wish to undertake on my own-” your voice raises to accommodate the frustration you feel.

“Regardless it is not a job you should undertake given your skillset is not that of combat,” he tells you, the others growing silent as you dismiss his concerns.

“I am transmitting the coordinates. See you all when you get back. Let me know if something happens.” You state bluntly, and as Tech goes to question you once more, you cut the call, not wanting to hear his concerns. You didn’t want Omega injured or removed from her brothers. He wasn’t going to stop you from looking. That wasn’t Tech’s call to make.

Quickly rushing around the messy flat, you collected what you through you may need before going down to the hanger which held your rusty bucket of bolts. It wasn’t much, but it would do. Rarely having time to work on it, you knew the ship needed a massive overhaul, but that could come after you saved Omega.

It was when you came out of hyperspace in your small shuttle that you received another transmission.

“Omega was able to get away from the bounty hunter but we aren’t sure for how long she’ll be free. She is at the location closer to Ord Mantell, in the Lido system but we are uncertain if we will reach it in time-” Hunter spoke feverishly as you looked down at the planet’s surface.

“Then it’s a good thing I am already here,” you tell them, flying close by to the facility seeing three ships already landed, meaning the transfer was happening or soon to be over, and that a possible third party was involved.

“I thought I cautioned you to stay on Ord Mantell where it was safe,” Tech said, anger laced in his tone as you set the ship down on an abandoned platform, reaching for the baster you kept on you at all times. You may not be the best at fighting, but you did have the ability to cloak, as you developed a small experimental hood that utilized the same technology as your cloaked shuttle. It would have to be enough to locate Omega and hope you all could slip away from the bounty hunter before someone realized you were here.

“You did. But it’s a good thing I elected to ignore it. Do hurry, I will try and find Omega or at the very least stall until you all can reach the system. Over-” you called, turning off the device so that the sound would not give you away and slipped outside.

You didn’t make it very far before you heard shouting and Omega fell onto the platform adjacent to your own after awkwardly riding atop a small droid - possibly a techno service droid but it was too far away to notice. Rushing towards her before she could get very far, you removed the hood disguising your head.

“Omega!” you shouted, drawing her attention as she turned and quickly ran back in your direction, a small limp in her step which must have occurred at some point during her escape.

“You came for me!” she leapt into your arms, as you reached for a small multitool from your belt to cut her binders.

“Of course I did, your brothers aren’t that far behind, we need to get out of her-” you started, only to be cut off as you watched in horror. The droid, which Omega was running from, had activated a panel on the platform your ship was on, causing it to fall into the ocean depths below, preventing your escape.

“I just paid that off,” you cried watching it fall as Omega dragged you down a small set of stairs, noting the pods for escaping the Kaminan facility just ahead.

“I’m sure Tech will help you fix a new one, we need to hurry, the bounty hunter who tried to get me on Pantora is here fighting the one who took me. We don’t have much time” she mentioned, the two of you cramming into the pod before one of the bounty hunters could emerge.

Just as the pod was activated however, the little droid who destroyed your shuttle appeared in the viewport, demanding to know where you were going. Omega didn’t respond, angrily typing until the pod launched, her falling into your lap and you held her tightly and the droid flew out of the view.

“Do we have any control over this thing?” You demanded to know, the little girl turning in your lap as she shook her head no, loud blaring of an emergency alarm filling the pod.

“Alright, we aren’t going to panic. If we survive the landing your brothers will be here soon enough okay? So just hold on-” you try to reassure her, running a gentle hand through her hair as you continue to fall towards the ocean. Not sure if you even believed your attempt at calming her, you didn’t want your final moments to be filled with fear before the unknown of what came after all this.

“I’m scared-” she said quietly, eyes closing as she snuggled into you. You didn’t respond, pulling her close, the scent of blaster fire lingering on her frame. You were going to be okay. The boys weren’t close behind. Everything would be fine-

Suddenly a loud thud came over the top of the pod, stalling the descent. Pulling the blaster you looked up, pushing Omega as far behind you as it would allow in the cramped space, ready to shoot if it was the bounty hunter who’d locked onto the escape pod. When it opened however, and the smoke cleared, Wrecker leaned his face into view.

“Omega?! Are you in there?” He shouted, looking down as his eyes landed on the both of you. Putting the gun back at your side you lifted her into his waiting arms. Once she was being lifted out of the pod, you began climbing the small ladder, as Wrecker welcomed her back.

“Tech your girlfriend is in here too-” he said cheerfully, Echo reaching down to help pull you out as well.

“Wrecker that is inappropriate as we are not courting-” Tech yelled from the cockpit as you found footing inside their ship. Hunter, who was still heavily bandaged turning to you as Omega greeted Echo from within Wrecker’s arms.

“You came to help. Why?” He asked you, pain still evident in his voice from whatever injuries he sustained.

“Because she needed it. I didn’t really do much if I am honest, just covered her exit-” you explained as Omega solemnly looked at you, tears welling in her eyes.

“I am so sorry about your ship,” she said as you shook your head.

“Don’t worry about it kid. Ships are replaceable. You aren’t.” You told her, ruffling her hair as she made her way to Hunter. Suddenly the waterworks started and he checked on her as you moved back, to allow them a reunion. You couldn’t imagine how frightening it must have been for her the last few days.

“Thank you for helping us find her. We would not have been able to do so in a timely manner had it not been for you.” Echo complimented.

“No need to thank me,” you began, only to have a clearing throat behind you prevent you from speaking further. Tech was leaning up against the wall leading into the cockpit, his face turned completely to the side, facing the control panel.

“If you’ll excuse me-” you told Echo, following Tech's stomping footsteps as he led you into the cockpit, promptly shutting the door behind you to allow privacy.

“Before you berate me can you at least-” you started, only to feel arms pull you, quite awkwardly, into a plastoid covered chest.

His helmet was off. You could tell by the way his breath ruffled your hair gently as he leaned his face down along the top of your head. Once the initial shock wore off, your arms moved behind him, tightening around his back in that section between his armor and utility belt, feeling the warmth as his body gave off from beneath the black suit.

Sure he was a bit musky from having gone a few rotations without a refresher to clean up, but he was here, solid and strong. Under the lingering scent of sweat, ash, and grime you could smell that GAR issued soap they kept on board, which always clung to him and became apparent when you leaned in to see the datapad over his shoulder.

“Thank you. Despite being reckless, your actions and intel were able to help us retrieve Omega,” he whispered against your hairline, his lips barely brushing the skin there as he spoke. The featherlike contact, making you shiver, goosebumps raising along your skin.

Not anticipating his gratitude, you didn’t respond initially, soaking up the rare affection as you noticed Tech didn’t often seem to enjoy people in his personal space. Any time you got too close he’d clear his throat, shifting away. Any time you’d accidentally brush your fingers against his own, he’d wipe his gloved palms over his thighs as if to remove any traces of you. This jump to initiating contact catching you off guard.

“I don’t regret anything. She’s safe. That’s all that matters,” you tell him, fingers finding the area just below the chest plate as you rub your hand up and down his back slowly, as if to test the waters. He doesn’t say anything, even if it did bother him, as you remain there for a moment longer.

“While Omega is a large priority of mine, I argue that your safety is also important,” he said, uncertainty laced in his voice.

“Well, that’s good to hear. I am glad you all are safe. I was worried when you said Wrecker temporarily went rogue.” You admit to him, removing your cheek from the harsh chestplate, putting your forehead there instead. Removing your arms from behind him, you prepared to end the embrace, despite not really wanting to.

“We are fine,” he said softly, noticing you pulling back as he dropped his hands slowly.

“Really? All here now? No missing limbs-” you start to tease as you pull away, finally catching a glimpse of him as you chuckle. “Oh. Missing hair though it would seem-” you point up, noticing the way he now sported a shaved patch on almost the entirety of one side of his head, where a small bandage covered a section just back from his temple.

Tech’s gloved fingers immediately sought out the side of his head, grazing the patch as he looked down, almost embarrassingly as his arm fell back to his side.

“Rather unfortunate but it’ll grow back. Although, Echo did take off more than I believe to have been necessary. Small price to pay for the removal of those chips. After seeing what it did to Wrecker, I do not mind having the peace of knowing that it will not affect me in the future-” He began to ramble, only to trail off as he noticed you lean up some, inspecting his hair with an unreadable expression. “Something wrong?” he asked, uneasiness setting in.

Not responding, you looked closer. Reaching your hand up gently, fingertips tracing a similar path that his own had, his eyes growing wide as you inspected the short hairs now on that side of his head, which contradicted the opposing side, where it remained slicked back. Small smile on your face as your hand fell away, but you kept close proximity to his stunned face.

“Not at all. I don’t hate it actually,” you slyly smile as his eyebrows shoot up in response.

“I find that hard to believe-” he states plainly as his eyes drift away momentarily before coming back to search for the truth. A part of him partly expects you to be playfully teasing him, as he’d come to accept that as part of your personality.

“Be that as it may, if I were you, I’d consider keeping it,” you tell him honestly, eyes glancing back to his own from within the confines of his goggles.

“Really?” he pressed, uncertain as he imagined it looked horrid, since he’d only felt around for it with the chaos that persisted after they removed the chips.

“I like it. It’s rugged in a way that is quite handsome,” you tell him honestly, stepping back from the almost trance you were in caused by the change in his appearance. Your cheeks burning red at the honesty you had spoken. The quick departure from his personal space made you miss the mirroring pair of pink tinted cheeks on the soldier.

“Oh,” he said, almost surprised as you turned away to rejoin the others. When you opened the door back to the main hull you barely heard Tech’s soft voice say, “fascinating…” as his fingers once again grazed his short hair with a childlike grin gracing his face.

₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You were going to kill Cid. That was, assuming the Pykes didn’t kill you first. Not only had she conspired to have the bad batch steal spice to get rid of Roland Durand, who had moved in and taken the city in their absence. Fortunately your shop, not valuable without your knowledge of how to use the spare parts, had been spared, but not Cid’s.

When things had gone south, they lost the spice in an old mine shaft filled with a hive of irlings. Returning to the parlor, Omega were held in order to make the boys co-operate, and yourself to make Cid.

Hands bound next to the Devaronian male who instigated the whole situation, you couldn’t fully fault his anxiety. If the batch wasn’t able to recover the spice, you were as good as dead. So was Omega. Which is why you put your trust in them, praying to the maker Tech could figure out a solution that left you all to walk away.

You tried to remove the image of Tech’s very angry face as the leader of the Pykes told them that Omega and you would remain with them as collateral, his eyes snapping to yours as his hand reached for the pistol on his hip and held it up ready to fire without a second thought. Something about it was so incredibly protective. As someone who’d been on their own for such a long time, it made your stomach swarm with butterflies.

“Don’t try it. They’ll kill you,” Roland warned, your eyes snapping to Omega who was eying an abandoned gun on the floor near where you were all bound.

“I hate to agree but he’s right,” you whispered, gesturing for her to stay put. If there’s one thing you knew, it was to not mess with the Pykes.

“If your friends don’t return with the spice, we’re all dead. That’s what happens when you meddle in other people’s business,” he said very pessimistically.

“Us? You’re the one who took Cid’s parlor from her-” Omega began to argue, and not wishing to participate in their spat, you leaned your head back.

Ever since you all had rescued Omega from the bounty hunter, things had been different with you and Tech. Not incredibly so. He resumed the distance physically he always kept between you. It seemed he truly didn’t wish to invade your space and kept you from doing the same. That being said, there had not been an argument to date. Not even a slip of tongue from him that indicated a lack in your skills.

A part worried that he regretted it, or was possibly trying to keep you from making another advancement. You aren’t sure why you had complimented him, and despite the positive reaction it seemed to warrant, things had gotten somewhat stagnant. More awkward when you were alone, as if he was unsure. At this rate you left it in his court to decide. You made up your mind some time ago in that cockpit that you had feelings for the man, regardless of if he returned them.

You hoped he did. After all, he had decided to keep his hair buzzed down on the sides once it began growing back in, since you mentioned that you found it attractive, the shorter hair accentuating his more prominent features like his sharp jaw or chiseled cheekbones. That’s got to count for something, right? And when they were away on missions, he still messaged when he could check in or chat on long flights. You assumed that was a good sign.

There had also been an uptick in time he spent at your shop or flat. Sure, the others did as well. Omega often came by since she needed escapes from her brothers. Wrecker loving to come pilfer food from your pantry. Echo occasionally needed help with malfunctions in his mechanical arm or legs. Hunter was the one you saw the least, and never alone, but he tended to keep to himself. However Tech was there at seemingly every free moment he had - fixing stuff alongside you in the shop, occasionally reading up on manuals late at night in your flat as you briefly spoke about ideas for projects to help their jobs with Cid.

Just as nightfall began you all were ushered to the hanger, the Marauder visible you were pushed outside, landing on your knees next to Rolland and Omega. The boys exited the ship, Cid on their tails as Wrecker began to unload the spice. Glancing up at Tech’s worried eyes you felt relief knowing that the hard part was over.

Once Wrecker unloaded the last crate, one of the Pyke’s came behind you, knife in hand as you grew nervous. The Pykes weren’t galactically known for playing fair, and with Omega off to the side, you worried that they might punish you for Cid’s rash actions.

Tech watched, fingers reaching for his weapon as he saw the fear in your eyes. You made eye contact with him once more as you waited for whatever outcome may present itself, hoping that they would do their best to take care of you if it got ugly. Feeling movement on your wrists, you were relieved when they cut the bindings, pushing you forward.

“Since the spice has been returned, the matter between us is resolved,” they spoke, as you reached forward, Tech’s hand pulling you next to him as Hunter grabbed Omega. From over Cid’s head, you watched as they weren’t finished with the Devaronian, and you didn’t really care watching him deal with their anger.

“Are you unharmed?” Tech’s eyes found yours as you stabilize yourself, nodding to him. From the corner of your eye the others attempted to defuse the situation, to no avail as Roland had one of his horns shorn and the Pykes left.

The way Cid turned, offering everyone drinks as if she hadn’t looped you all into her mess, angered you. She’d almost gotten you, Omega, and the other’s killed because she wasn’t strong enough to stand up for herself in the face of a gangster.

Fire and brimstone in your blood, you felt your hands shaking as you let go of Tech’s arm. “I just want to go home,” you said, pushing his armored chest and began stomping away from the others, who were heading inside the Parlor, excited things had worked out.

Tech watched your retreating form, understanding your frustration but confused as to why you hadn’t wanted to celebrate with the others. After all, things had worked out, no one was injured. His voice calling your name wasn’t enough to halt your exit from the hanger, as you continued walking away from him.

Tech shot a glance at the others before diverting from their path to follow you back to your apartment, quicking his strides as he attempted to gain on you. You weren’t really sure why you kept on, ignoring his calls for you to wait. Perhaps anger at Cid. Maybe frustration at the situation. Or a feeling you couldn't quite put your finger on - either way you kept walking, rushing up the stairs as he was hot on your heels.

Just as you opened the door to your flat with a shoosh, Tech shoved his foot in the door before you could close it, pushing his way inside before you could lock him out. A bit presumptuous, but a small part of you felt relief seeing him make it in before you shut the world out.

“You heard me calling after you,” he said bluntly.

“I did,” you tell him, catching your breath from running, scowling when you realized that he didn’t have the same issue. Curse those genetically modified lungs.

“So why did you keep going?” He asked you, staring down at you. His helmet still held in his hands as you shifted your weight to the other leg, uncertain how to answer.

“I am not sure,” you tell him honestly. He pauses, before speaking.

“Do you wish for me to leave?”

You shake your head.

“Do you wish for me to stay with you?”

You nod.

He lets out a deep breath, setting the helmet on the table right near the door and probing his temple with his extremely long fingers.

“Should we just sit? Talk? What can I do? I need direction on how you wish to proceed,” he quietly begged as he set down the heavy backpack and removed the utility belt. It wasn’t the first time he’d been here and easily began stripping down to his blacks.

You didn’t respond, using your toes to put pressure on each of your heels as you slipped out of the worn leather boots and made quiet footfalls to your bed, sitting on it as you looked out the window. The electrical storm your devices predicted would be starting any minute. Despite the more destructive tendency they had, you thoroughly enjoyed watching them - even if they knocked out the power temporarily from time to time.

Tech watched you from near the entryway, your legs tucked up near your chest as you stared out the window, chin resting on your knees. Following behind you he made his way to your bed, neglecting how uncertain it felt as he lowered himself onto the comfortable surface. Never having sat on it before, he was surprised the way he sank into the plush material of your duvet. Sitting at the end of the bed, while you had propped yourself up near the wall, there was still a sizable distance between you both.

“We don’t have to talk if you do not wish, but may I try something-” he asked and you nodded, not tearing your eyes away from the first few flashes of light.

Gentle hands pried your shoulders away from where your legs were pushed up, as he pulled you back with ease. Positioning his body between yours and the wall, Tech arranged you between his long legs, leaning you back once more onto his chest. Arms dancing along your waist, he wasn’t sure if he should fully hold you or allow you to just rest against him, but something internal told him that this position was appropriate given the circumstances.

You made the call for him, pulling his arms up across your chest, sinking back into him more, eyes drifting close momentarily as he brushed the hair from your right shoulder to over your left. Soon his nose found the back of your neck as he leaned into your body, picking up the faint hint of the perfume you must’ve applied there hours ago.

“I am sorry that you got caught in the crossfire between Cid, Roland and the Pykes,” he whispered against your skin.

“It’s Cid’s fault, not yours,” you whisper, enjoying the way his exhales felt against the delicate skin of your neck. He doesn’t speak immediately, pulling you tighter to his chest as you feel his heartbeat along your back.

“Had we not agreed to assist in stealing the spice to begin with, none of it would not have occurred the way in which it did,” Tech admitted the error in judgment which nearly cost you and Omega your lives.

“You were trying to help out Cid-” you tried to reason.

“Which would’ve destroyed me if you had gotten hurt due to my poor decision to do so,” he whispered.

“Why is that Tech?” you whisper back, eyes watching the electrical storm pick up outside the window.

Once again he let the silence linger. Nervous to speak or not wanting to hurt your feelings with his response - you couldn’t be quite sure. Turning slightly, so that your shoulder rested against his chest to look at his face for answers. With the reflection of the window you couldn’t see his eyes.

Deciding to be brave if he wasn’t, you lifted your hands, fingers probing the edges of the goggles that always adorned his face as you quietly asked, “may I?” He only nodded as you lifted them very carefully up and over his head, setting them down on the bed next to you. His eyes had closed when you started to lift them, so you had yet to see his eyes unobstructed. Not pushing him you turned back towards the window, allowing him to speak when he gathered the nerve.

“I don’t like the thoughts of you getting hurt because I-” he started to murmur once more, a baited breath entering your lungs and staying there as you waited for him to continue. The air stinging your lungs as you realized he had paused once more, softly blowing it back out past your lips as you repeated the action once more.

Tech gathered as much nerve as humanly possible. He could easily be thrust into high stress scenarios. Battles? No issues. Firefights with gangsters? He always had a plan. But when it came to you? He had no baseline to establish it from. Sure he had been intimate before with strangers when the opportunity presented itself. He found it to usually lead to an unsatisfying place in which he was pretending to be something he wasn’t. Usually forcing himself to touch them despite feeling repulsed at being that close with someone. But when he was in proximity to you things were different.

That spark of electricity often cited as being drawn out by a member of the opposite gender was present, catching him off guard every time your fingers crossed paths. He found your sweet aroma to be so intoxicating. The flash of your smile, utterly adorable. The face you made when you concentrated on a repair - where your tongue darted out of the corner of your full lips - to be nearly stunting. Everything about you he found captivating.

I care for you.

You almost didn’t hear him whisper it, as the volume was so minimal it barely passed over his lips audibly. Turning to face him once more, you saw the nervous eyes of a caged animal, finally unguarded by those yellow frames.

Brown. But not dark and unwavering like Hunters or tinged with the grayish hue of Echo’s. Wreckers one good eye had a more blue undertone and Omega’s were nearly hazel. But Tech - Tech’s resembled honey. His iris illuminated with each flash of lightning from outside the window. And then suddenly, with a bright flash, the power went out, leaving you both in the dark as you continued to remain in his arms. Only sound being the matching pair of unsteady breathing.

“Tech…?” you whispered, while he looked back down at your anticipating face.

“Yes?” Tech questioned, knots in his stomach as you hadn’t responded to his admission of caring for you.

“Would you do something for me?” you posed the question.

Tech was certain you were going to kick him out, despite the storm, or at the very least make him go downstairs to leave you alone. Your silence only told him that you were likely formulating a way to let him down gently because surely someone one like you wouldn’t want anything to do with him. He was a clone. Clones stole your promising future. He frequently was unaware how to speak to you. His frustrations occasionally came out poorly as his jealousy for your knowledge plagued his mind. His blunt nature, often at odds with your proper socialization. You were perfect and he was just a copy of a man who was long gone, and a relic of an army that had been corrupted.

Distracted by his racing mind he almost didn’t hear you whisper it at the conclusion of his small nod.

Kiss me.

Tech did a double take, his attention snapping to you as your eyes locked with his own. He couldn’t stop the lump that formed in his throat as your angelic eyes blinked up at him through your lashes. The distance between you insurmountable as, despite the seated position, he would always tower over you. His gangly limbs and narrow frame creating such a divergence between your sizes.

“You want me to-”

“Kiss me. Please.” You begged, eyes trying to catch his own to reassure him it is what you wanted.

You were growing concerned with the way his mind seemed to still be running astray. Perhaps he meant he cared for you in a similar way that he did Omega. Oh maker, what if he meant it that way. Suddenly you were glad the lights were off. That way he couldn’t see your crumbling self esteem and wavering confidence. You were certain when he spoke the way he had, paired with the many small moments mounting over the last months, that he liked you. Only now to realize he most likely hadn’t meant it in a non romantic way.

“Tech, I am so-” you began only to have his warm, ungloved hand find purchase on the side of your cheek, lips meeting yours in fury.

The first thing you noticed, when the shock wore off, was that his lips were so incredibly soft. How could a soldier, constantly on the run from danger, be this plush and inviting? That sharp wit and wise energy always spilling past these lips - the same ones that insulted you when you first met - now on your own in a heated embrace.

Soft sighs exiting your lips, entering his mouth as Tech opened his own to invite tongues to this lovely endeavor. He had hardly needed to caress your bottom lip with the tip of his tongue before you both fell into that wonderful song and dance of exploring each other’s mouths.

Breaking away due to the unfortunate need for air, you tried to see him the best you could with the limited lighting situation. His hand falling to the side of your neck instead of on your cheek, he pulled your forehead towards his, resting his nose against your own. Eyes searching yours for any sign to end this interaction.

“You are the most enchanting woman I have ever had the pleasure of meeting,” he admitted with a small chuckle, almost embarrassed of the words falling out of his mouth. Surely they resembled the words of a love drunken fool, not a soldier and engineer such as himself. Perhaps that is because they came from his heart, not his logical mind.

“Please do that again,” you beg him, a smile working its way on your face as you trail a hand up his chest, finding stability by wrapping it around the back of his neck. Your breathing having leveled out from the heated exchange, just as he instigated another one.

This time, he didn’t wait to request entrance to your mouth, tongue slipping in almost immediately. As soon as he began kissing you once more, your hand traveled up into the brown locks that sat just against his collar, tangling in them, separating the obnoxious gel he insisted on using to keep it from matting inside his helmet. It made you long to see him first thing in the morning or right after getting out of the refresher - when his hair was wild and carefree.

That wasn’t the only thing that you wanted to come undone as he effortlessly pulled you from being on the bed in front of him into his lap, legs going around his thighs as you perched yourself against him. Tech’s wandering hands began as soon as your bottom left the bed, his large palm tracing over the skin of your clothed ass, caressing it before his fingers flexed, digging into the roundness as he groaned into your mouth.

Tech, despite his reservations for touching anyone, had always enjoyed the roundness of an ass under his feelings. Especially an unclothed one. His brothers, arguing for a pair of breasts as more appealing, but he would always remain on the team that supported his large hands grabbing the meat of an ass.

For someone so lanky, and much thinner than his brothers, Tech certainly had a hidden strength to his frame that you hadn’t anticipated. Briefly on display as he lifted you into his lap with ease, he continued to further prove his ability as his demanding hands found your hips and squeezed, bicep flexing as your free hand landed on his left arm.

You aren’t sure what possessed you to do it either, but breaking away from his lips as you trailed kisses over his cheekbones until you found the skin of his earlobe, nibbling it between your teeth all while he groaned. Watching the always poised and put together pilot turn to putty under your mouth and body, making that wet spot of arousal in your undergarments grow by the second.

As you continued to trail the nipping to his neck, you mumbled out something about his shirt being in the way, fingers reaching under the top near his lower back as you tried in vain to remove it from his body. Pulling back, since he had developed that unexplainable sense of urgency at your kissing, he stripped it away with skilled ease, tossing it to the floor with reckless abandon.

It was odd. When he normally removed the parts of his armor in your flat, they were carefully and methodically unlatched and organized in a neat pile. Now, rocking into his lap as you stared down into his wild eyes, the dynamic propelled into a direction you never could’ve dreamed. Something in the pair of you had shifted from just awkwardly maneuvering around each other to actively lighting that fuse within your bodies.

He didn’t allow you the chance to examine his unclothed top however, as he quickly reattached your lips to his, pulling you closer as his head tipped ever so slightly to the side, accommodating the clashing of teeth and tongues in the fury. Still anxious to know exactly what he was like under that thick black suit or vest he always wore, you allowed your fingers to act as your eyes in the moment, all while getting such a lovely taste of his mouth while you exhaled through your nose which was harshly pressed against his cheek from the intensity the kisses you’d both developed.

Your hands trailed along his flamed but extremely solid body. Fingers finding purchase along the defined lines of his chest, and the valley that separated two pectorals that were much harsher than you would’ve anticipated given his much thinner frame. Sliding down, that same hand counted six definite sections in his abdomen as well, as you removed your lips from his in hast to such a much needed breath of air while your mind stilled.

Eyes finally seeing just how wonderful tanned skin of a soldier could be, you enjoyed the lovely view of dark hair trailing down just below his navel and into tight pants. The nearly vacant patch of hair along his chest meaning he either removed it or didn’t have it wasn’t a bother - you didn’t really love overly hairy men any way - as you gasp. He was the perfect blend of scars, moles, muscles, and… tattoos?

The chuckle that tore from your throat at the sight of black ink along his skin, was met with that ever so quizzical eyebrow as he flushed at your laugh.

“I must admit that laughter at the sight of one’s nakedness does not instill confidence,” he noted as you shook your head.

“I hadn’t expected you to have tattoos, it was more of a shock than a jest,” you comment, sliding back ever so slightly while remaining on his lap to get a good view.

“Why would you assume I would refrain from body modifications? You have seen Hunter’s face, and you’ve heard me mention our brother Crosshair-” he started as you placed your index finger along the seam of his lip, effectively silencing him with a sultry stare and the simple action.

“You just seem so much more straight laced than your brothers, I hadn’t expected you to cover yourself in something as trivial as artwork. But, that being said, I can’t help but find it so incredibly alluring…” you lean down to the simple ‘99’ tattooed along the same shoulder his armor detailed a similar marking, lips familiarizing yourself with the lines as you pulled back.

“I can assure you, despite my reserved nature, I am hardly straight laced, as you say,” he quipped, relinquishing the time he allowed you to study the marks in his bronze skin. He’d let you examine them some other time, possibly even with explanations of their origins. Right now, he was growing impatient.

Pulling you forward by the back of your neck, he changed his mind at the last moment, deciding that your collar bones sticking out of the shifted top you wore looked delectable, sucking them between his teeth as you squirmed along his lap once more. Satisfied with the mark it left in his wake, Tech found himself in your sex-hazed gaze once more.

“Tell me that you wish for this to continue. Please. I am not sure I can find it in myself to behave like a gentleman if you wish to stop much further than this,” he groaned, voice strained by a tone you had never heard from him. Tech’s voice was quite different from his brothers. The husky tone he now used, reminiscent of a crackling campfire as it came from the back of his throat, and laced itself into a pleasured groan.

“Please. I want this- I want you,” came your whisper into his jaw, lips grazing the sharp bone there.

I want you.

Tech couldn’t remember a time he was truly wanted. Usually his hookups stemmed from mutual boredom or someone realizing his brothers weren’t interested in them. A system of happenstance, of convenience of simple chance and mutual need for release. But to be told that he was desired, and that an intimate connection was wanted with someone he actually cared for on a personal level? A first.

And as for you, you wouldn’t admit it out loud but things certainly got lonely on Ord Mantell. Those friends on Coruscant slowly lost interest once you departed, leaving you with just Cid and acquaintances. The rest of your time alone in a dingy workshop or flat hidden away from the world. That was until Tech and the others came around. He brought a sense of belonging you hadn’t known. He brought company you’d been craving. He made you feel seen, appreciated and cared for.

He brought his hand up under your shirt and bra to cup your breast.

One of the first things you had noticed about him, all those rotations ago, was how long and dexterous his whole body was, but particularly his hands. Fingers so thin and nimble, wound with callouses, scars and distinguishable marks from his times tinkering. It had been rare to see him without gloves, but that barrier’s first time being removed showed just truly how captivating such a mundane body part could be.

These were the hands of a soldier. A man bred specifically for war. These were the hands of a pilot, who’s tight grip upon the steering wheel had saved thousands of lives. These were the hands of a fellow engineer and mechanic who understood the complexities of how your mind worked. These were the hands of a man who cared for you.

And those hands currently were squeezing your nipple with the perfect amount of firmness to make you purr.

Deciding that the only thing in the world you wished for right now was the feeling of his chest on your unclothed one, you pulled back, hands finding the bottom of your top as you flung it just as unceremoniously as he had done with his own. Tech wasted no time in finding the latches on your bra, unhooking the material and tossing it to the side as his hands finally held the weight of both your breasts within him.

Despite his larger than normal hand size, your breasts fit inside his palms like a perfect handful, while his thumbs continue that onslaught along your nipples, his lips finding that wonderful spot below your ear that makes you breathe heavily.

Your own hands, still running through his caramel locks while he worked your body with such expertise, tugging every now and again as he groaned against your neck between kisses and leaving smaller marks that would likely fade in only a few hours.

“Are you adequately protected?” came the husky question into your jaw, followed by another nip.

“Implant…” you hummed out, head falling to the side to accommodate his mouth as he snickered slightly in response.

Lifting you from his lap with no warning, Tech’s fingers found the latches of your pants with no problem, undoing them and tugging them down your legs as you wobbled from where you stood on the floor. Once they were lowered enough, Tech abruptly stood next to you, steading your arm as you stepped out of them, his feet stepping on the trousers in order to help you remove them easily.

Your face turned to meet his own, his body towering over your own as he looked down at you. Despite the full head’s distance between you both, and the darkness of the flat with the power being knocked out, you could still see the way his eyes darted from your full, unclothed breasts to the newly revealed skin of your legs.

One of his hands found purchase along your chin, tipping your face up even higher as you rose along your tiptoes to match his height the best you could. His other hand started along your mid back, trailing down until he found your panty clad rear, rubbing along the now exposed right cheek.

“Would you allow me to take charge here Mesh’la?” He asked gently, his hand still caressing your skin reverently, but despite the unexpected softness of the words and actions, you felt that with the look he gave you there was something more. Something almost predatory in his eyes.

“What does that mean?” you ask, unable to shake the curiosity at his use of the language you presumed to be Mando’a.

“Such an inquisitive mind you have…” he chuckled, using the hand on your chin to move your face to the side. Your eyes drifted close as he pressed a sweet his to the side of your face, trailing down more until he reached your ear. “I can’t get enough of that mind of yours,” he admitted, nibbling your earlobe once before continuing, hand tightening around your ass as the tone shifted. “Beautiful. It means beautiful. Which is exactly what you are, my mirdala girl…” he whispered so gently as he pulled back, hand dropping as he wound them both around your lower back.

“You keep using words I do not understand, and you have to realize I will continue to ask what they mean,” you tease with a small smile, hands finding his shoulders as you lock yourself in the embrace. Tech still had on trousers and you only had on underwear, but something about the stillness of it all, yet with contradictory the electrical storm raging outside, was strangely peaceful. Tearing clothes off one another and jumping into bed was one thing, but this, this was building towards something much more intimate.

“Clever. I called you my clever girl,” he nods your direction, fingers trailing up and down the expanse of your exposed back ever so slightly.

“Ah,” you thrum out as your lips tug at the corner into a small smirk, barely visible in the low lighting. “Your clever girl? I wasn’t aware you had claimed me. Sounds a bit possessive don’t you think?”

“I suppose it could be considered possessive, although I do not see you running away from the notion. I am to assume that not only are you fine with that, but based on the way your grip in my hair has just tightened and your pupils have dilated, that you want that. That you want me to claim you in some way,” he notes, and you realize he is correct. His attunement to your body language is uncanny as you hadn’t realized you had done so. Unable to form a response, you nod gently.

“If you wish for me to stop, at any point, all you need to do is say so. Do you understand,” Tech let one hand fall from your back, reaching for his belt and once again you nodded, causing him to pause.

“Verbally. I want verbal consent. You can do that for me right my clever girl?” he used the phrase once again and you shuttered. Something about the way his voice dribbled with arousal in the fact he found your mind to be brilliant brought forth a surge of confidence.

“Yes. I trust you Tech,” you speak calmly and clearly despite the shaking in your hands. Anticipation building to the point your body could not contain the excitement of what he had planned.

You barely caught the smirk on his thin lips before he gripped your hips and spun you around, pushing your back down as you got the memo, laying yourself across the bed as you heard the sound of the belt buckle being undone and pants abruptly being shoved to the floor.

Once again his hands resumed that gentle and reverant stroking along your backside as a hum spilled from his lips. Looking back over your shoulder you saw such a glorious sight. Tech’s hands wrapped around his length as he stroked it slightly with one hand while holding your ass in the other. He glanced up from your bottom to make eye contact briefly as he took his bottom lip under straight white teeth.

Pausing momentarily he saw the thin scrap of underwear disappearing between your lower cheeks and decided now was a good time to rid you of the offending material, grabbing them and tugging them down slightly until they landed near your knees, allowing you to step out of them.

His hand resumed its position on your body, but this time, it gently nudged you up onto the bed, and you complied with his nonverbal request, positioning your body just slightly up on the bed as you held yourself up on your knees. From behind you could hear the way Tech sucked in a breath between his clenched teeth as his hand found that spot along your backside once more.

You had deduced early in this exchange of kissing that he likely was a man who preferred a bottom to breasts. Most men had a likeness to one over the other, and Tech was no different. The knowledge made you feel proud, arching your back ever so slightly as if to present it to him in the most appealing way you could given the position.

“You look so wonderful like this. I wish you weren’t behaving so nicely, so I would have an excuse to bring my hand down on you and mark you right here. However I would feel guilty doing such actions when you are being so perfect,” he admitted and you smiled at the wall, glancing back over your shoulder at him.

“Who said you can’t anyway. I hardly need to be a brat in order for you to spa-” you began the permission and he quickly resolved himself to take it the second you had granted it. The smack, not nearly as hard as you were anticipating but still firm, filling the air and stopping your sentence midway as you let out a squeak at the contact.

Your biceps flexing as you locked your arms to maintain your position on the bed, holding yourself up as his hand soothed the red flushed skin with care and attention. Tracing the hand up, you felt him rest it along your upper back as his fingers hooked over your shoulder, and near your knees you felt the mattress dip ever so slightly.

Tech covered the expanse of your back with his body, his left arm coming up to the side of you as he braced himself up just hovering over your back, his right hand moving to brush your hair over your shoulder so that his nose could trace along your upper back. You could feel his eyelashes fluttering along the skin of your shoulder blades as he lowered his mouth to kiss your back a few times gently.

“So pliable for me…” he praised as he continued to issue praise in the form of tender kisses that slowly made their way ending with your sweat-dampened temple.

Tech had always had sexual relationships from behind. There was an impersonal attitude that came with engaging in the act similarly to the way animals did. Not seeing the woman’s face, and only focusing on the connection of his body with theirs - it made him feel less awkward about the exchange. But something about the way his body caved around yours felt right. He was touching your body with his own almost completely, and he nearly fainted when he realized that he was enjoying the contact. Instead of feeling overwhelmed by the damp nature both your bodies had developed in the precursor to intercourse, he felt delighted knowing he’d caused such reactions. So against every previous metric in his mind for engaging in sexual relations, he manuvored your body to your back, so that you could stare up at him as he lowered himself on top of you.

Tech wasn’t sure how to quantify the way his stomach began to flutter at the way you stared at him, nor the way your velvety skin along his felt, other than bliss. Something about the intimacy shook him to the core. It made him want to come undone and he hadn’t even slid into you yet.

You were surprised as his ability to be tender, as his index finger pushed the hair back from your face, cupping the back of your neck to lift it from the pillow as he pulled the longer strands of your hair - which you’d uncomfortably been laying on - above and around your face like a halo. How he’d realized you were slightly uncomfortable with the tugging caused by your back, you’d never know, but you’d be grateful for long after this exchange nonetheless.

“I’ve never met someone who had made me experience what I am feeling at this present moment,” he admitted, his nose leaning down as he gently caressed your own. Keeping it there, his forehead soon pressed against your own as his eyes searched yours for a reply.

“What are you feeling?” you whisper, eyes focusing on his right iris as the pupil waivered slightly larger before he continued speaking.

“Bliss. Euphoria. Revelry. Perhaps those are words that I could use to quantify it, and yet-” Tech began, hand searching for yours as you allowed him to wrap his fingers around yours while you stared at him expectantly. Your legs widening to accommodate him as you feel his tip slide between your folds and line up expertly with your hole. You are uncertain what he is trying to say, and in all honesty it appears that he is as well. His eyes drift close as, in a rare turn of events, his body wins out over his mind, and he presses within you before completing his thought. You can’t stop the way your eyes flutter shut at the feeling, no point in remaining open if his own are closed anyway.

You had expected him to slide in slowly, as his sweet words and actions leading to this point had been cautious almost, but instead he is direct in the way his cock slides into you as if it’s coming home. As if he’s returning to a place he was always meant to be. The stretch is gone in an instant as he plows into you abruptly at first, but pausing as he reaches the entrance of your womb with his tip. “They do not come close to describing the way I feel right now,” he whispered, making your eyes fly open once more as you stare up at him.

You have died and gone to the afterlife. The Pykes most certainly killed you and left you in an alley on Ord Mantell. That is the only logical explanation for the way you were feeling. The only thing you can do is affectionately tighten your grip on your joined hands as you raise your hips slightly, giving him permission to move.

Tech didn’t need to be encouraged twice, sliding in and out of you with joy as he held himself up with one of his arms. Your head falling back into the pillow as you lose yourself between his calculated thrusts, he decides that not being able to look into your eyes while he continues to make himself at home within your body isn’t what he wants.

You feel his grip slipping from your hand and anticipate it will go to your breasts for a playful tug, but when you feel his fingers on your jaw, pulling your face back you once again look up at him, curiously.

“I. Want. To. See. Your. Eyes. On. Me.” he commands and you feel a shiver that starts near your neck and travels the length of your body as you nod, legs widening even further as he picks up the pace ever so slightly.

His hand abandons your chin as he places it along your side, raising your body at the hips so you can meet his thrusts, your eyes staring deeply into his own. Tech had surprised even himself in demanding to see you staring at him while he plowed into you, but something about watching your face as he pushed you both in the direction of release made him feel a pride he’d never known before. With each lewd noise coming from where you were joined, to each whimper or sigh leaving your lips, to the sweat he felt along his brow from exertion - he felt more of that blossoming heat in his stomach at the passion between your bodies.

You feel similarly, as you wrap your legs around his thin waist, holding him there so that your union is only intensified and he can reach that absolutely tender spot within your walls that becomes electric when he begins to repeatedly stimulate it over and over again with his steady thrusts. “Tech…” you whimpered as he continued his movement, no external indications that he is approaching orgasm, despite the fact it is true.

“Say my name again, please-” he whimpers as you nod, once again saying his name while he pushes inside of you especially hard, a yell tearing from your throat as your hips chant up after his retreat, wanting another harsh thrust. He delivers it immediately, his body pushing you into the bed as he begins frantically diving into you with reckless abandon.

“Where?” he demands, your hips held in his hand as his fingers squeeze harshly. You can tell he’s close now, the fire in his eyes doing nothing to dull the flames of desire that both of your bodies are feeling as he plunges into your warmth.

“Inside-” you give him the permission and once again he does not hesitate to take it, his hand abandoning your waist in order to rub feverish circles upon your clit so that you approach orgasm the same time he does. Your voice calls out his name loudly as you feel every nerve ending within your body set ablaze. He responds to you, chanting yours in response as he pushes his load so deeply within your walls you gasp at the way his tip quivers against the opening of your womb. You feel the throbbing inside until he slows to a stop, body collapsing on top of yours as you both gasp for air.

His breathing, erratic against your neck as you push his now half gelled and half wild hair off his forehead while you slow your heart rate the best you can. He’s growing soft within you, but you can tell that even while flaccid he’s still larger than the average man. Tech eventually pulls back from your neck, eyes searching for yours as his hand cups the side of your face lovingly.

“You are incredible,” he comments kindly as you blush, feeling as he begins to slip from within you, his spill landing somewhere on the covers below you. You don’t really care. You can clean it later.

“So are you,” you return the compliment as he smiles, leaning in to kiss you once more, this time only using his lips in order to show affection not reignite the passion of your endeavor.

“Yes, but I was genetically engineered that way. You have come by your splendor naturally,” Tech replies as you laugh, lights immediately flickering back on as you both startle at the suddenness of seeing each other without the dulled darkness of your flat.

“That is one way to put it. Still doesn’t make you any less wonderful Tech,” you tell him, immediately feeling more self conscious with the added light. This becomes something he notices almost immediately, as he leans up to get a better view of you. Your body was covered in small love bites and a few bruises from where he’d gripped a bit too hard. Lips swollen from his kisses and sweat covering all of you. Hair disheveled and yet - you looked like the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

“And I thought you were lovely in the twilight, but my dear you look positively exquisite,” he encourages you as he lowers his mouth to your brow before kisses between your eyebrows and then over each closed eyelid.

“Such a way with words,” you say sweetly and he immediately begins snickering as you blink confused at his outburst.

“If I recall, the first time we met, I insulted your ability to fix Cid’s gambling device” he reminds her. It seemed so long ago he had done that, and from then you had only grown closer. Finding a mutual understanding. Finding friendship. Finding the beginnings of love.

“You did,” you scoff at the memory.

“I remember crawling under the control panel and when you yelped, thinking that I thought I was going to stop breathing,” Tech admits and you are surprised.

“What do you mean?”

“I just couldn’t help but think that I had suddenly found myself in close proximity with a very beautiful woman. And that feeling only intensified once I discovered your love of engineering. Since then it’s grown to a point I find it distracting,” Tech explains and you smile.

“Oh so you really like me then,” you chide, almost childishly as he rolls his eyes at your antics.

“I believe the fact that my seed is actively leaking out of you to be sufficient proof as to my interest in you,” he bluntly states. You grimace looking down at the sheer quantity of said mess. It was more than you realized.

“Would you like to get in the refres-”

“Yes,” he cuts you off abruptly as you laugh. You figured he wouldn’t enjoy being unclean. He lifts his body off of you with ease and holds out a hand to help you rise from the bed.

“I am going to want a full detailed report on all of these,” you tell him, finger tracing one of the tattoos on his shoulder.

“I believe I can arrange that,” he chides with a small peck to your forehead, pulling you along to the small shower stall your flat has.

As he walks just ahead of you, you can’t help but think that this blossoming romance might have been worth the emergency landing on Ord Mantell all those years ago.

The end.

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wulvercazz · 10 months

Text

🌃Street Horrors☠️

a bit of a flashback for part 2💕

Previous~

It wouldn't have been so weird to find a person in such a state, Ichigo's horrified to admit; not here on the ground level of the city. His heart stopping in his throat for the half second that he catches glimpse of the sorry figure hidden behind the trash. He's actually far more shocked that what he's found, gutted and dismembered in the middle of an alley, is actually a very unique looking android. Something with this technology isn't usually discarded in such a place.

It takes him a whole four hours to go home for his dolly cart and back and forth three full trips to bring back the broken thing in pieces; unable to carry more than a fraction of the incredibly heavy machinery at a time on his own.

It sits sadly, silently. Even more disfigured now that he had to bring it in three pieces into the garage he calls a home. Something about it rubs him off in the wrongest of ways... Spare parts, is what it is. He reminds himself. Nothing more. Tomorrow, after some severely needed sleep, he'll finish dismounting it to it's core pieces to use for future repair jobs and that sorry sleeping face won't haunt him any longer.

He sleeps that night's exhaustion till noon, and is almost surprised to find the thing still sitting in the same spot he left him. Still sleeping, still sad looking. Androids he's seen in the expensive, more vast, part of the city have plain and clean looks. Friendly in the way that an appliance looks friendly. The way this thing appears to sorrowfully take up space is fucking with his perception of it.

But he's not about to stop himself from doing his job simply because this creepy rich people's toy is disturbingly more human-like than anything he's seen.

Ichigo sets his tools and a makeshift stool at a reach-appropriate height near the android, safety wear in place in case this thing runs on some kind of fuel that he wouldn't want near his eyes. It's so badly broken up, and so much different to anything else he's worked with, that he's got no other choice but to take his time investigating it all over. Following the jumble of gut-like cables that spill out of its abdominal cavity, poking at what he supposes is a very large and empty memory port right in its middle. Whatever an android would need such a powerful core for he's got no clue, and honestly, he'd rather not know. The government doesn't keep a full control of all Android unit production for no reason; he's not about to dive into conspiracy theories... but there's a reason for everything- and they tend to have the worst of them.

Bits and pieces and more length of cable shuffle about as he works, perhaps he was being too optimistic last night, thinking it'd dissassemble so easy. He changes tools with a huff, reaching behind the memory port to poke at whatever it's attached to and a dim light blinks on right above his face. Ichigo's heart drops down to his stomach and then punches him in the throat until a loud startled gasp threatens to choke him, right until the fight or flight freezes on a continuous and alarmed confusion; the thing's eyes are open and staring right at him in a chilling glowing blue.

"Get your grubby fucking hands off me." A hoarse, messed up, voice says with a hard set brow and tight broken up jaw.

The tools clank and clatter into the floor messily, and the box and tool box he'd been sitting on shuffle with a screech when he backs off as much as he can without stumbling onto his ass. "Y-you- you're- I thought- your consciousness works."

"Enough to know I don't care for a scrawny little boy feeling me up."

Ichigo has a hard time choosing whether to be pissed at the obvious offenses or to freak about how this thing is throwing sass and insults in his face in the first place. Androids 'learn' from their first owners what will become part of their personality later on; absorbing the words and mannerisms, the inside jokes as much as they retain their owners' likes and needs, and fit them along their fabrication conduct protocols. To better relate to their human, of course. He's never seen an android learn personality quite like this, never heard an android complain, or have preferences and wants of its own. Never heard one come up with an insult on the spot in a voice that didn't sound like a mere echo, a regurgitated string of words it's heard many times before.

It's almost... like a human is sitting in pieces right before him.

Next~

#Android AU #robot gore #grimmjow jaegerjaquez #ichigo kurosaki #ichigrimm #Android!Grimmjow #一グリ

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allmyocsarebritish · 6 months

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stares at you with sad wet pathetic dog eyes

I've been dwelling on this for an oc but !! vox x reader where the reader is some sort of water creature/being and just 😈 ugh them being so gentle with each other but like little jokey threats from reader

unlikely lovers and just *screams into pillow* I love vox

- not Renée 🧡

Unlikely lovers

Vox X water based reader

Warnings(?): reader controls water, with demonic form of a siren, soft Vox, Vox overworking himself

Hi *not* Renée, I really really hope I did your idea justice, it was so fun to write and I love ittt!!

Electronics and water didn't mix. Exposure to liquids damaged appliances, sending them overloading in an electric surge and sparks flying. It was a well known fact, but, in accordance with the laws of attraction, opposite charges are always drawn towards eachother.

Vox should have been more careful, knowing that you were destined to destroy him. But he wasn't, and now here you were, corrupting his system and turning him soft. The audacity you had to just waltz in and short circuit his brain, (? Monitor?) permanently implanting yourself in his kingdom of bits and bytes was unmatched. And the worst part was how much he enjoyed it.

For as long as Vox could remember, his status, image and reputation had undeniably been the forefront of his life, though it had become clear that you were toppling this. And, though he remained in denial about how extreme his affection was for you, it was clear to everyone who knew him. The other Vees, his workers, yourself, even if sometimes you did feel second best.

Vox was rather obsessive, allowing work to consume all of his waking hours, and though you knew that wasn't something you could change, you remained present throughout his long days.

Despite the long hours that had passed, Vox still showed no signs of putting his paperwork to the side. Your patience began to wear thin as he picked up yet another 'essential' phone call, and you became rather restless. As impressive as the corporate empire he had built himself was, the business was taking its toll, turning Vox into the living embodiment of stress. It was more than concerning, and as much as he tried to convince you he was not working too hard, you knew he had limits.

The sound of the phone call ending roused you from your thoughts, and you watched as his charismatic business persona began to crack.

"When are you going to take a break?" You complained from a chair in the back of his office.

"Just a second, dollface. I'm nearly done, I promise." Vox responded, not even sparing you a glance away from his excessive amount of screens.

"You were 'nearly done' over an hour ago." you rolled your eyes, slumping in your chair, staring at the back of his TV."Vox, I swear if you don't pay attention to me I *will* waterboard you."

You perked up at the realisation that your (mostly) empty threat caught his curiosity. He spun around to face you in his swivel chair, eyes narrowing slightly.

"You wouldn't." He spoke rather quietly, tone accusatory.

A mischievous smirk played on your lips as you sat up straighter, raising an eyebrow. Taking great care as to *not* splash your techy boyfriend, water droplets flung across the room from your fingertips, dampening the floor.

"Want to bet?"

Vox sighed and shook his head, getting up slowly and making his way over to you, barely suppressing the smile that made its way across his screen. You offered him your own, opening your arms for him to sink into. As soon as he complied, Vox felt the stress of the day begin to ebb and fade, melted by your anchoring presence. And though he was much too stubborn and prideful to admit it, your determination in forcing him to take breaks from his overpowering workload was comforting and much needed.

"Was that so hard?" You teased, hand gently drawing circles over Vox's arm. He rolled his eyes, though his soft smile betrayed the sarcastic act.

"Yes, unbearably." He rested his TV on your shoulder, feigning exhaustion from the effort of stepping away. You snorted a laugh and he brightened, allowing you to rest against him. You playfully, and gently, flicked his antenna, watching as it bounced back and forth before stilling. He gave you a look, taking your hand in his own, softly caressing it with clawed fingers, before raising your knuckles to his screen and pressing a kiss to them.

"What a gentleman." You joked, to which he shook his head, still smiling.

"Anything for you, sweetheart." He responded, sarcasm dripping from his voice to mask the genuine statement.

"Don't get soft."

"Wouldn't dream of it, darling."

Who would have guessed that the technology overlord could be so smitten for a water demon? It was inevitable that you would be his weakness, though what was unforseen was the fact it was in the best way imaginable. The other overlords may see his infatuation with you as a downfall and a failure on Vox's behalf, it was his strongest quality. You gave him a tolerance to water, hence the electronic sharks residing in his mansion. As unlikely as your love was, you were utterly enthralled with eachother.

Around you Vox held no real weakness, you were his strength, his partner, and all that really mattered in his afterlife.

#hazbin hotel vox #vox x reader #vox #hazbin vox #vox the tv demon #voxtekoverlord #voxtech #hazbin fandom #hazbin fanfic #hazbin hotel #vox x you

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sebuckyverse · 2 years

Text

roommates [chapter 2]

modern!eddie munson x fem!reader

series summary: Eddie Munson broke your heart once. Now, you have no choice but to move in with him. chapter summary: Moving in, you realize Eddie has changed in more ways than one. You reminisce about that night. warnings: 18+ cussing, angst, sort of enemies to lovers lol; lmk if i missed anything word count: 3,4k a/n: part 2 loves!! let me know what you think i'm nervous about this chapter! LOVE YOU ALL tysm for the positive feedback *mwah* inspo for eddie's tat from here taglist full

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chapter two ♫♪♩·.¸¸

It was almost 3am when you made it to Eddie's place. You took an Uber since Eddie claimed his precious baby, aka the shitbox van he still had, was at the shop until tomorrow, or today in this case. Eddie flipped on the lights and waltzed in, his arms open wide as he twirled around the living area.

''Tada!''

You were pleasantly surprised at how nice his place was. It was a bit messy, like he said, but you immediately felt drawn into it, intrigued to dive into the place. It was Eddie's and this was an unfiltered look into who he was today.

The living room was airy, a beige loveseat with an array of random throwpillows that didn't match each other at all in front of the TV, a a slightly dusty glass coffee table sat in front of it, topped with an unwashed mug and half empty glass of water, with a colorful Aztec rug underneath. The kitchen was white and modern with all the necessary appliances, sat against a natural red brick wall that made the space look cozy and warm. The only bathroom you were to share with Eddie was smaller than the one you had before, but big enough to fit a single sink vanity, a round mirror on the wall, a shower with a glass door and a small, but comfortable clawfoot tub. You noticed a couple shampoo bottles on the floor in the shower, along with a loofa hanging from the shower faucet. Ending in the bedroom that would be yours, it was accentuated with a king size bed, two nightstands on either side, with a big closet and a smaller dresser. It was probably the only room in the apartment that felt lifeless at the moment, you couldn't wait to transform it into your own space. Before you went to turn around, you noticed the door to the adjacent room was cracked open. It must have been Eddie's, you could only make out a few posters on the wall and a candle sitting on a nightstand, next to a bottle of lotion and a box of tissues. Gross.

Overall, you gave it a solid 7 out of 10. It was definitely an upgrade from the tiny trailer he used to live in.

''It's nice,'' you said.

''It's home.''

You nodded, hiding the yawn that tried to escape.

Eddie nodded his head towards the bedrooms and started walking in the same direction, you following suit. ''So, fresh sheets are in the dresser, towels are in the bathroom. I have a spare key lying around somewhere that I can give you tomorrow. For everything else, we can figure it out along the way.''

You nodded, holding your hands behind your back so he wouldn't see your nervous fingers rubbing against each other. ''Thank you, for this. It's only temporary, until I can get my own deposit together. Then I'll be out of your hair.''

''You don't have to thank me. It's the least I can do.''

You stopped, standing in front of the adjacent doors like the neighbors you now were. It's the closest you've been to him in a long time, both literally and figuratively. He was taller than you, in the best way, with the top of your head fitting under his chin perfectly. You braved to look up at him, finding him already looking down at you. He averted his eyes as soon as they met yours though.

''Okay.''

''Okay,'' he repeated, taking a step back. You gripped the strap of your bag and pushed your door open.

''Good night, Eddie.''

''Night.''

In the safety of your new room, all alone, you took a deep breath. You dropped your overnight bag onto the mattress and fetched out your favorite pajama set, changing into them. You placed your bag next to the bed and opened the dresser, finding your bedding. The pillowcases and duvet cover were easy, but the fitted sheet seemed to fight back every chance it got, slipping off one corner when you went to the opposite one. Groaning out loud for the millionth time, you went to try again when there was a knock on your door.

''What the hell are you doing? It sounds like a porno in there,'' Eddie's muffled voice came from the other side of the door.

''You wish. I'm just messing with the sheets,'' you shouted back, now on top of the mattress on all fours, pulling the sheet over the upper left corner. Gently, you held your hands in the air when it didn't budge and started to shimmy your way to the other side, when the sheet snapped back again and hit you straight in the face.

''Ow!''

''Are you okay?''

The door burst open, Eddie barging in, naked. Okay, he wasn't completely naked, he was wearing tight black boxers that left little to the imagination. You and Eddie never slept together in high school, but you did other things and you remember very well how his body felt against yours, or how warm he always was. You were crouched on your side, holding one side of your face, your mouth drier than the Sahara desert seeing Eddie like this. You'd never seen him naked either, only with his shirt off and you were right about him working out. His chest was more toned than before, his stomach rippled with the smallest dusting of abs, a sharp V line that you never noticed before, ending in the light thatch of hair on his abdomen that disappeared into his boxers. He had more tattoos too, he'd once shown you all of them. He had more smaller tattoos littered on his arms, just various simple doodles really. His right thigh was covered in colorful ink, starting from under his boxers and stopping above his knee. The one piece of ink that caused you to have a near aneurysm was the one below his belly button, three phrases all lined up under each other, like a tiny poem above his pelvis. Stark black ink, all capital letters.

TRUST ME LOVE ME FUCK ME

''Y/N!''

''Huh? What?''

Eddie was looking at you, brows furrowed, but his eyes held their typical mischief. He'd caught you staring, that was obvious. Even a blind person would notice that ogling.

''I asked if you were okay?''

''Y-yeah, sorry. Got hit in the face with the sheet, stupid thing won't hold down.''

Eddie snorted and held his hand up for you to grab. You took it hesitantly and he helped you stand up. ''Here, you get that side, I'll grab this one.''

Working together, you got the sheet on the bed in twenty seconds tops. You elected to ignore the way his back muscles rolled or how his thick thighs moved so smoothly, no thigh gap in sight.

''Are you working tomorrow?'' he asked.

''No, thank fuck.''

''Need me to tuck you in?''

''Goodbye, Edward.''

''Cute pajamas, by the way!''

Pushing Eddie out and slamming the door in his snickering face, you fell on the fresh sheets, barely being able to pull the covers up when you were already sleeping.

♡

Ten hours later, you were up and hauling in six boxes full of your personal belongings that you had retrieved from your old apartment. Eddie was still asleep when you left and you didn't want to wake him either. Last night was a set back for you, a mere hour after you swore to yourself you wouldn't fall for him again, you were wishing you had x-ray vision to see through those tight boxers. You blamed it all on being exhausted, you let your guard slip. Then again, that lower belly tattoo he had stayed with you all morning. He had always been a pretty guy in your eyes, but this... upgraded version of him was something much more obscene. He was his same self, personality wise, but that fact added with how good he looked in his almost mid twenties, how he carried himself with more confidence than ever before, was enough to kill a woman.

You were pushing a box of clothes across the hardwood floors, when the door to Eddie's bedroom opened, the sun from his room shining into the hallway. He was wearing pants this time, a pair of grey sweats so low on his hips, you could easily spot that tattoo again. No shirt, of course, but his messy hair was up in a bun, which you thought was cute. He'd never worn it like that. Eddie crossed his arms, leaning on the doorframe.

''Excuse me miss, are you looking for a big, strong man to help you with these boxes?''

''Yeah, you know where I can find one?''

Keening in victory, you grinned at his unamused glare towards you. Pointing your head toward the entrance, you told him about the last box.

''Thank you,'' you said, wiping the sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand. Eddie placed the last box next to your bed, grunting.

''Jesus, what do you have in here, a body?''

''Books,'' you deadpanned.

''Oh, what kind?'' he asked, looking around the room.

''Eh.. fantasy, romance, one Kamasutra book.''

Eddie's head whipped around so fast, his bun wobbled on top of his head. His already big eyes were ready to pop out any second. You giggled, which burst into a full belly laugh when he realized you were joking. He rolled his eyes and mumbled something under his breath, marching out of the room.

You busied yourself with unboxing everything. You hanged your clothes in the closet, lining your shoes up at the floor of the wardrobe, storing your bras and panties in the drawers of the dresser, leaving a couple bottom drawers empty. You stacked your new unread books on your nightstand, patiently waiting to be read. The room started to come together nicely - the dresser was topped with picture frames, one with your mom and the other with your friends at a night out, all looking at the camera with your glasses raised. The final box contained the last of your things, tiny items mostly. Your shampoo and conditioner, a make up bag, other skin care amenities, your bright pink vibrator, a gift from one of your friends, that you quickly stashed away into the top drawer of your nightstand.

Hours later, your things were put away, Eddie had gone to work, you had taken a 30 minute power nap and were now standing in the middle of the kitchen, hands on your hips, lips pursed. Now what? It sounded silly, but until now, it hadn't even occurred to you that you now have to live with Eddie. He said you wouldn't see each other much, but you lived in the same apartment, thinking you would never see each other was just wishful thinking. You thought about just chilling in your room or watching TV in the living room, maybe read one of those books you bought. But looking around the place, it was clear that it needed a good clean. A deeper investigation into Eddie's fridge, cabinets and drawers indicated that you were headed for a long night.

Lucky for you, Eddie wasn't completely helpless, or perhaps they were Steve's input into the apartment, but you found a pair of rubber gloves, a sponge and a couple of cleaning products. You cleaned the fridge, throwing out an expired carton of milk and a moldy lemon, rearranging the items so they made more sense. The cabinets weren't that bad, so you only took everything out to dust the insides. You perfected the silverware drawer, swiped down the kitchen counter and every other flat surface you could find, loaded up the dishwasher and turned it on, fluffed up the throwpillows on the couch and with a strong finish, found a vacuum and swept the whole apartment, excluding Eddie's room. You stayed out of his room, feeling like you were violating his privacy, no matter how nosy you were. Or maybe that's what you told yourself, maybe you didn't want to take a peek because the last time you saw Eddie was in his old room, in his trailer he shared with his uncle. The day that he broke your heart.

It was a hot summer night, the brisk walk to Steve's house still managing to coat the back of your neck in a sheen of sweat. Late night on the 4th of July weekend, the streets were empty, most people still in town celebrating the long weekend. The closer you got to Steve's house, the louder the thumping music got, dulling out the chirping coming from the bushes lining the street.

Pushing Steve's front door open, you were instantly hit with a thick haze, cigarette smoke lingering in the air as nobody had bothered to open a window. Teens and barely legal adults were lining the hallways, dancing in the living room to your left and playing beer pong in the kitchen to your right while Michael Jackson's Bad boomed through the entire house. You were looking around for your friends, but didn't see any of them, neither did you see the wild haired metal head who had asked you to be his date for tonight.

You shot Eddie a quick text, asking where he was. Feeling silly still standing in the hallway, you pushed through the crowd, dodging a couple making out near the bathroom, ignoring the wolf whistle when you passed two guys sharing a cigarette. Clutching your phone in one hand, you used the other one to try and pull your skirt down, suddenly feeling alone and too exposed. You'd hoped to impress Eddie tonight, putting together an outfit you didn't usually wear - a Nirvana crop top with a dark green pleated skirt, black fishnets underneath, finished with a brand new pair of Dr. Martens.

In your - then naïve - heart, you hoped tonight would be the night he'd finally ask you to be his. You'd been going out for weeks now, hanging out in his trailer, studying together, driving around in his van. Eddie always sought you out in school, smiling when he found you at your locker. He'd kiss you every time he dropped you off at home, hold your hand when you navigated the endless rows at the library, buy you cotton candy at the annual fair, call you every night to wish you sweet dreams. Isn't that what boyfriends did? Even your group of friends had started asking questions, Robin specifically. What were you - friends, lovers, strangers?

You knew Eddie and his upbringing, which is why you never pushed him for answers. The timeless classic of 'what are we' always scared every guy off anyway. You figured he had a harder time coming to terms with his feelings. However, the more you spent time together, the harder you were falling for him. Hell, you'd already fallen off that ledge a while ago and you were only sinking deeper and deeper. He was Eddie, your Eddie. Sweet and thoughtful, the way he always hummed a song when you cuddled together in front of the small TV in his trailer. You always found it hard to fall asleep when he wasn't there, lulling you to sleep.

Nearing the back of the house, you could hear splashes and cheering coming from the backyard. Breathing a sigh of relief, you picked up your steps when the double doors came in sight. Before you could make it though, someone called your name and grabbed you by the shoulder, spinning you around.

''Woah, look at you!'' Steve cheered. ''You look amazing.''

Steve pulled you in a quick hug, swaying a little bit when he pulled back. You wanted to laugh, he looked like a drunk child, bobbing his head to the music, his hair even more fluffy than usual. His eyes were rimmed red, popping open a can of beer.

''Thanks, Steve-O.'' You pushed his chest, giggling when he grabbed your hand to steady himself. ''Where's Eddie?''

Steve looked over your shoulder, scratching the two freckles on his left cheek. ''Uh, he's here somewhere. Think I saw him going to the upstairs bathroom.''

Your stomach dropped, Steve only did that when he was nervous. Why was he nervous?

''You sure? I think I heard him by the pool,'' you challenged.

Quickly grabbing your arm, Steve started pulling you towards the kitchen. ''No, no, I think that's Carver and his boys. Let's make you a drink! You look great by the way, did I mention that?''

''Steve, stop. What's going on?''

''Nothing! Just want to make you a drink, come on. What'cha want? Bloody Mary maybe?''

Steve's grip on your wrist was firm, you wouldn't be able to just pull free. Falling to dirtier tactics, you mumbled a sorry before kicking him in the back of his knee, your arm being freed when Steve tumbled to the ground, grunting.

''Y/N, wait! Don't go outside!''

Shooting a quick look back, you quickened your pace when you saw Steve getting up from the floor, rushing after you. You rushed to the back doors, the squeals and laughter getting louder. Pushing through the doors, you stopped in your tracks by the edge of the pool. Eddie was in the water with his back to you, his shirt off, but you could see his black jeans through the wavy water, his arms around Chrissy Cunningham's bare waist, her bikini clad breasts squished against his bare chest. Her arms around his neck, legs crossed on his back, she hung on to him like a koala, head thrown back in laughter.

Your arrival had gotten their attention, Eddie's head turning towards you, the toothy smile on his face dropping instantly.

''Oh, Y/N, you look amazing!'' Chrissy gasped.

Eddie said nothing, did nothing, as the two of you just stared at each other, his brown eyes shameful while yours were filling with tears, blurring your vision. Your struggled to take a breath, feeling like your lungs had just been ripped from your chest, never mind your stupid, optimistic heart.

Steve sighed behind you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders, pulling you away. He cleared the party, lead you to one of the guest bedrooms, helped you under the covers and stayed with you the entire night, sitting on the floor next to the bed, while you wept until the early hours of the morning. The next Monday, you saw Eddie near his locker, his head bowed when you passed him in silence. His left eye was blue and purple, top lip busted. Too hurt and tired, you chose to ignore Steve's bruised knuckles when you grabbed lunch with him that day.

It was always a weird game, thinking about the time you spent with Eddie. Your heart treasured the good times, but then your head caught up, slicing those thoughts in half and showing you the pain underneath. You remembered that night so vividly, having gone through the events in your mind more times than you could count.

Then you remembered seeing him at graduation. Flinging his diploma around, his graduation cap long gone somewhere with his busted white sneakers peeking out underneath the blue skirt. He was happily chatting with Wayne, who patted him on the shoulder and looked so proud of his nephew, his son really, that for that one moment you forgot about everything and let yourself be happy for him. That was until Chrissy came along, her ponytail swinging in the air and kissed Eddie on the cheek, their fingers touching. You would have gone over there and slapped that goofy look off of his face if it weren't for Robin and Nancy calling your name, causing Eddie's eyes to look up, his smile dropping instantly.

You were so mad at him, still are if you think about it longer than five minutes. Ever since then there has been a sick battle going on between your head and your heart, like you said. In your heart, you believed he felt something for you as well. Then your head comes knocking, telling you to look at the facts.

It's all true, your head said, he didn't like you, never really wanted you. You were a game to him.

You missed him at times, the boy that you once loved, who he used to be. Your first love and your first heartbreak. But what was once said and done cannot be undone. Maybe it was time to forget about the past and focus on the present. Maybe you'd forgive him enough to become friends again. They say time heals all wounds, but so far, you were still stuck in that day, unhealed and betrayed and you had no idea how to move on from that.

♡

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elizabethemerald · 2 years

Text

Summoning the Cat: Part 3

Selina stared at her kitchen, her mind far flung from her appliances, though she was thinking about her home. She had felt so relieved to have Danny and Jazz safe in her penthouse. Now she was starting to see that having two teenagers in her life would result in some necessary changes. She only had one spare room in the penthouse and two kids who needed beds.

The penthouse had been more than enough when it had been just her. She had the master bedroom, which she kept mostly clear of any evidence of her evening work so she could bring home partners if she wanted to. Unless her partner of choice was the Bat, then half the fun was stripping out of her catsuit in front of him, not that he would be getting anything like that in a long while, even after he pulls his head from his fantastic ass.

Technically the floor plan of the penthouse stated that there were three bedrooms, including the master, but one of them was now a dedicated “office,” where she kept all her tools for her after hours work. The last was only a comfortable bedroom because of the frequency that Harley and Ivy stayed over. She had thankfully changed the sheets since the last time they had spent the night.

Danny and Jazz refused to be separated and had shared the bed together. She wondered how often the two kids had found what comfort and support they could with each other. She hated the Fentons even more for what they had done to her kids, and she hated Bruce for being such an uptight bitch. They would have been much more comfortable sleeping in Wayne Manor.

Every time she had gone to check on the two kids one of them had been awake, while the other at least pretended to sleep. Danny would sit up, with his eyes shining in the dark, analyzing her for any threat, when he recognized her he would lay back down. Jazz would tense and press herself back against Danny, like she had to shield him with her body. Selina had kept her movements slow and obvious, her hands always visible and while Jazz didn’t visibly relax like Danny did she also didn’t do anything drastic like throw a lamp or roll Danny off the bed like she was expecting gunfire.

How incredibly defensive the kids were of each other aside, even though Selina wanted nothing more than to sit them down and demand they tell her exactly what they had gone through to have reactions like that, but she didn’t want to make the same mistakes Bruce was making, the penthouse was too small for an adult and two teens. They deserved to have their own rooms even if they didn’t want to use them yet.

Her kitchen was another shortcoming of the penthouse. Selina could cook and unlike Bruce she could actually cook well. She usually didn’t choose to do so, simply because she could afford to eat at the best restaurants and didn’t feel any need to do things she didn't want to, like dishes. However with two teenagers she would need something in her cupboards other than various fine alcohols. And the homebrew ales that Ivy made.

Dick had brought numerous snack foods that considering how much had been eaten last night would probably only last a few days more. He had also brought several very sugary breakfast cereals, that Selina wasn’t sure was the healthiest for a vigilante, much less a teenage ghost boy. The man also hadn’t brought any milk? Did he expect them to eat the cereal dry? Or perhaps right out of the bag? How were so many of Bruce’s children such disasters?

Fortunately there were people in the world who actually knew how to function as adults. Barbara had ordered groceries to be delivered to Selina’s penthouse and Jason had sent along some of his favorite easy recipes that made a lot of food. He had written in additional notes on the recipes that showed his personal experience with the dishes. She would start with a simple breakfast, eggs, pancakes and bacon. A celebratory, special meal then she could figure out what her kids liked and learn to make that.

As she mixed the pancakes (Jason insisted that pancake mix was for children and bachelors) Selina idly considered her living situation. She could certainly afford a nice house in one of the better neighborhoods in Gotham. If the kids wanted she would even be willing to move out of the city completely, though that wouldn’t be her first choice. She could get a house with a yard, close to Gotham Academy so Danny could continue his school and Jazz could finish hers. Each of the kids could have their own room, and she could certainly afford a house with enough rooms for her, her kids and her equipment.

She smiled to herself at a fun image of her and the kids watching a movie together, Pam and Harley there as well to keep an eye on the kids. They would also need room for the various bat children to come by, either just to visit or to get away from Bruce’s brooding. Actually that thought gave her pause. Her and the rest of the Sirens could pool their resources and get a larger house. Room for a gymnastics room for Harley, a green house for Pam, spare rooms for any special interests the kids had. That wasn’t a bad idea at all. Selina turned her head slightly at the sound of a door opening down the hall.

“Good Morning Ms- Are you cooking?” Selina turned to see Jazz watching the stove warily.

“Yep, I thought we could have some pancakes, bacon and eggs. Once I figure out your favorite breakfasts we can have those.”

Jazz looked surprised and confused for a moment before taking a seat at the breakfast bar.

“Do you need any help?” Jazz still watched her warily, actually she wasn’t watching Selina, she was watching the food as if she expected it to explode or attack.

“No, I’ve got it. Thank you though Jazz.” Selina gave her a warm smile.

There was a few seconds of silence as Jazz just watched her cook before she seemed to shake herself and focus.

“Uh, Ms. Kyle, can I talk to you about something?”

“Of course, Jazz. And you can call me Selina too.”

Jazz processed that for a second before she continued.

“Selina, Danny is probably going to come out and ask you something when he fully wakes up, and while I kind of think it’s an unhealthy coping mechanism, I still think it might be a good idea.”

Selina considered that for a moment before plating the eggs and bacon and some of the finished pancakes. She handed one plate to Jazz, made herself a plate, and set some aside to stay warm for Danny. She leaned against the counter opposite where Jazz sat.

“Could you expand on that?”

Jazz’s jaw ticked to the side and she looked down at her food. She closely examined the eggs and bacon for a moment before she took a cautious bite. The bite seemed to be satisfactory so she continued eating. She explained in between bites of food.

“I know we haven’t explained everything about what Danny and I went through, and we haven’t explained everything about what ghosts are or how they function. I'll leave that part of the discussion mostly to Danny since he knows the most, but one of the most important parts of a ghost is their obsession.”

Selina was a little confused by the sudden change in topic, but she let Jazz continue. It was clear the girl was carefully weighing her words as she spoke. Selina was starting to realize she had a super powered ghost son and a traumatized older sister/therapist daughter. She doubted parenting books covered these kinds of topics. Maybe she would call Alfred or Ma and Pa Kent to see if they had any advice for the situation.

“Every ghost has their obsession. It’s kind of a personal topic, so Danny probably won’t discuss it too in depth, and I won’t out his obsessions without his permission, but it can be anything from books to music to boxes.” Boxes? Selina didn’t ask, but she was curious. “And that doesn’t translate directly to humans, but it’s how Danny has started to see things in his life, so it’s important to bring up.”

Jazz had finished eating and was now just moving the remaining food around on her plate.

“From Danny’s perspective, our parents, or I guess, my parents’ obsession was and is Ghosts. Specifically hunting and exterminating ghosts.” Jazz held her utensils with a white knuckled grip, her eyes still firmly on her plate. “They’ve had that obsession for our entire lives, they would forget our birthdays, or even to feed us if something ghost related came up. They moved us half way across the country to Amity because it was a hotbed of ghost activity.”

“When we were younger we just accepted that our parents were a little crazy and we took care of each other. Danny would always make me the nicest cards for my birthday each year.” Jazz had a tear in her eye at that. Selina moved around the counter so she could sit next to her and rubbed her back gently. “After Danny’s accident, so much of their obsession became about hurting him. They wanted to take him apart, molecule by molecule.”

Selina kept her emotions off her face as she kept gently rubbing Jazz’s back and shoulders. However, inside she was boiling with rage.

“I think in Danny’s mind he blames himself for how our parents acted when he became a half-ghost. He thinks if he had fed into Jack and Maddie’s obsessions they wouldn’t want to hurt him. That’s how he helps the ghosts who came to town, he could help them feed their obsessions and redirect them away from harmful avenues. Do you understand so far?”

“Yes I do.” Selina nodded. “Ghosts have obsessions. Your parents were unhealthily obsessed with ghosts to the detriment of both of you. Is this related to the unhealthy coping mechanism you mentioned?”

Jazz nodded and finally looked up at Selina, eyeing her carefully. Whatever she was looking for in her face, Jazz seemed to find, because she continued, now more hesitantly.

“So, from Danny’s perspective, your obsession is being a master thief, or maybe cats.” Jazz leaned back from her slightly as if she was afraid Selina might react poorly to that statement. However Selina could only smile in return. She could certainly see why Danny might see things that way. When she didn’t react badly Jazz continued. “I think Danny is afraid that if he doesn’t take part in your obsession with you, you’ll reject him just like my parents did.”

Selina felt like she had been slapped. Danny was afraid she would reject him. He thought he had to be a thief to impress her. Jazz clearly feared or at least considered the same thing. She took a moment to gather herself before she responded, her voice choked.

“He wants to become a thief like me?”

Jazz nodded then began speaking very quickly, clearly trying to convince Selina that this was the best course of action.

“While I don’t think that’s the healthiest way to look at your relationship, I do still think there are benefits. The athleticism you are known to utilize in your work would help keep him healthier as well as give him the skills to dodge attacks when he’s Phantom. It would also give the two of you time together, mother and son, a shared hobby is an excellent conversation starter. And! And-”

“Jasmine.” Selina said her name softly, so she wouldn’t startle the poor girl. “That sounds like a brilliant idea. You and I can work together to set safe limits for Danny, to make sure he has a proper balance between the hero work he’s done in the past, the after hours work he does with me and his “normal” life. How does that sound?”

Jazz smiled in relief and her whole body seemed to sag in relief.

“Yeah. That sounds good. Before when we were in Amity, he would have to fight ghosts at all hours of the day or night. He wasn’t getting nearly enough sleep. Balance is good. Especially a balance with his ghost powers. If he uses them too much it can exhaust him and risk attracting ghost hunters, but if he doesn’t use them he can hurt himself.”

Selina smiled, she was definitely going to have to give the Kents a call. They would have some good advice.

“What about you, Jazz?” Selina asked, Jazz looked at her confused so Selina explained her question. “Danny and I could have a mother-son activity learning to be a thief together. Would you like to join us?”

“Oh! Oh no. I want to be a therapist, and I don’t think it would look good if I had a criminal record like that.” Jazz didn’t seem disappointed to not be a thief and she had relaxed now that Danny’s mental and physical health had been discussed.

“Oh, well how about this then? You pick something you like to do, any hobby or activity, could be knitting, yoga, gymnastic, competitive hot dog eating, anything, and you and I can learn about that thing together?”

Jazz just looked more confused.

“Competitive hot dog-? Why would you want to do that with me?”

Concern blossomed in Selina’s chest at the same moment her rage was fanned into an inferno. Jasmine looked genuinely baffled by the idea that Selina would want to spend time with her. If she ever met the people who had raised her she would tear them limb from limb.

“I want to spend time with you. And with Danny. Individually and all together.” Selina decided for clarity’s sake she would spell out her desires explicitly. “Danny is my son and I would like to make that official again as soon as I can. I would like that for you as well.”

“But I’m almost eighteen?”

“Being my child isn’t something that ends when you’re an adult. I wouldn’t kick Danny out when he turned eighteen, and I won’t do it to you either. You don’t have to call me mom, or mother or anything other than Selina. You don’t even have to think of me as your mother. But I do want to be there for you. I want to be able to care for you. I want a relationship with you.”

Jazz’s confusion was slowly morphing into distress. The girl was running her nails up and down her legs almost hard enough to rip the fabric of her pants. She was certain Jazz would have scratches all the way up and down her legs. Selina carefully contained her grimace. She needed to talk to Harley about finding these kids a therapist ASAP. And maybe one for herself wouldn’t go amiss, at least until her murderous impulses subsided.

“If it’s too hard to think about it like that, for now, how about you think of it as me paying a debt. You took care of my son. Protected him, fed him, practically raised him.” Jazz nodded to confirm her assumption. “I owe you for doing so much for my son. And I would like to pay you back anyway I can. If that means paying for your student loans for an Ivy League school, or if it means learning underwater basket weaving by your side. I’m ok with whatever.”

Jazz now finally looked relieved and understanding, though there was still a little confusion on her face.

“That sounds fun. I’ll put together a list for you. Though where do you come with these examples? Hot dog eating? Basket weaving?”

“I have a lot of weird friends.” Selina said with a laugh. “And various bat children that are flying around Gotham can be even weirder.”

Jazz laughed now, then she tilted her head to the side, her head cocked as she listened to something Selina couldn’t hear. She mentally filed that information away that apparently Jasmine had some similar ghostly abilities to Danny.

“Danny’s awake now. He’ll probably be out in a few minutes.” Jazz said.

Selina nodded and stood before returning to the stove.

“Well then let’s make sure he has some fresh pancakes. I’ll also reheat the eggs and bacon for him.”

Jazz smiled at her and only a few minutes later Danny emerged. He obviously wasn’t a morning person and looked only barely functional.

“Good morning Jazz. Good morning Ms.- Are you cooking?” Danny asked, his sleepiness fading quickly before the apparent threat of someone cooking.

“Yes I am. Jazz and I already ate breakfast, but I want to make you some as well.”

“Do you need any help?” Danny was just as earnest as Jazz had been. Selina added, ‘parents were unsafe in the kitchen’ to her mental list of shit the Fentons had done to traumatize her kids.

“No, I’ve got it, thank you for offering though. You can have a seat. Your pancakes are almost done.”

Danny took a seat next to Jazz and hugged her before stealing a last bit of bacon off her plate with a grin.

“Ms. Kyle?”

Selina fought down a grin at how similar the siblings were. She turned to face Danny.

“You can call me Selina, Danny.” He smiled at her sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck. “Was there something you wanted to talk about?”

“Uh, yeah. I was wondering if I could be a super cool cat thief like you?” There were stars shining in Danny’s eyes as he asked, but there was also underneath the excitement a level of trepidation she would have expected of someone disarming a bomb.

Selina was glad Jazz had warned her that this conversation was coming. She didn’t know if she would have been thrilled or horrified about Danny’s desire to join what he considered the “family business,” but now she had exactly the thing to say.

“That sounds like a great idea. I’ve always wanted an apprentice.” Selina said warmly. “We can work together to figure out a schedule that allows for a good school, home life and work balance. How does that sound?”

Danny gave a playful groan and shoved Jazz, a large smile on his face. His playfulness hid his relief at her acceptance.

“What is it with people and trying to get me to balance things!”

“It’s just what people who care about you do.” Selina said, keeping her voice light even as she sent Jazz a commiserating look. Then she pulled a pad of paper out of one of the drawers and tossed pens to the kids while distributing sheets of paper. “How about this? Each of us right down a list of fun hobbies. Things we really like, things we’ve never been able to try but always wanted to do. And then we can explore some of these things together while I work on putting together your training.”

“Like yoga, or a hot dog eating contest?” Jazz asked with a smirk.

“Hot dog eating contest! That sounds like a great idea!” He immediately wrote that down on his list underneath several items that made it look like a trip to the planetarium was in their future.

“Excellent. Here’s your breakfast, we can work on our lists while we eat, then we can discuss what we want to do next!” Selina said, gazing warmly as her kids filled in their lists. It looked like Jazz had written underwater basket weaving with a question mark next to it on her list along with a few other options.

#dp x dc #Danny Phantom #Selina Kyle #jazz fenton #summon the cat #writing emerald

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tmntheadcanons · 11 months

Text

tmnt 2003 headcanons: bedrooms

Leo:

Neat, organized and clean. The vibes are pristine

His room is a place where he can go to meditate or strategize so he has everything organized for maximum focus

I feel like he would have good lighting too lots of candles and soft lights

Leo doesn’t have a lot of clutter, but he has a shelf or desk where he’s got some sentimental items displayed, something like birthday gifts or old toys. He just likes having them out where he can see them because he’s a big softie.

His room smells nice I feel like he would have a diffuser or use excessive amounts of scented candles

And he has his weapons wall because also he’s a show off and it looks cool.

Donnie:

Organized chaos

His room is a disaster it is cluttered with half-finished projects, scrapped papers and blue-prints, tools and broken appliances/computers he found in the junkyard that he’s saving for spare parts. I think he keeps a lot of this stuff in the lab but it bleeds over into his bedroom.

But he knows where everything is

And if someone tries to clean it up for him he goes feral. That’s HIS mess.

His room isn’t dirty though it’s just cluttered

Not conducive to a relaxing environment, Donatello shame on you.

zero regard for interior design

Has a sick desk set up though. The only clean part of his room is the massive, cia level computer set up

Raph:

It isn’t clean, but it isn’t nearly as bad as Donnie or Mikey’s rooms. He’s got stuff thrown on the ground or just kind of tossed wherever but he has a lot less clutter than they do.

He does have a designated relaxation corner where he’s got a giant arm chair for reading, knitting or napping. It’s a torn up, probably broken, ugly recliner, but it’s comfy and he loves it. He’s also got a bookshelf and a basket of yarn/work-in-progress knitting projects.

but then the rest of his room looks like an apocalypse bunker he’s got workout equipment, a locker for his weapons and his bike riding gear.

I could see him having a few posters up

Mikey:

Exactly what you’d expect it to be. It’s a disaster.

every surface is covered with takeout containers

But his room has a very cozy vibe. He’s got tons of posters and lights taped to the walls. He’s always got music playing when he’s hanging out in there. I feel like he would have a little tv in his room so he can sit at the end of his bed and play video games.

He’s got so much random, weird decor that he found and kept because he thought it was funny

His video game and comic book collections are displayed on a shelf and that’s the only organized part of his room.

But it’s a hangout spot

His bed hasn’t been made in at least 5 years

#tmnt 2003 #tmnt headcanons #tmnt 2003 headcanons #tmnt donatello #tmnt rapheal #tmnt leonardo #tmnt michelangelo #they do show their rooms in the show #but this is what I picture the vibes like

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plzu · 10 months

Text

crushed croissant - (Adrian Chase x Reader)

part seven← ☕️ series masterlist ☕️ ao3

a/n: getting to explore the difference in headspace of both adrian and reader in one chapter is soooo much fun summary: Vigilante is too busy with the Task Force to visit you at work. But when he finally does, he tells you everything he's been up to. You're not sure you like his stories very much. warnings: mentions of canon-accurate violence, the word "rapey" is used once, cheating in a broad/general sense (as in it might not be considered cheating to some, but would be to others), no y/n wordcount: 5.2k

Something in the air at home has definitely shifted. You've been waiting for your mother to snap. To blow up. Surely the fuse of her anger is due to erupt, explode in a fury where she hurls insults at you. It's long overdue, anyway.

But when you see your father sitting in the living room, or at the kitchen table, head hung in despair over a glass of whiskey, you get the sense your mother hasn't been home much.

Your dad has barely spared you a second glance since the day he yelled at you. Like all the fight has left his body, like he can't bring himself to care after your mother's own blasé comments that morning.

Maybe this -- plus your mother's seemingly sudden absence from home -- should be concerning. But there's this tentative fluttering hope in your chest over the tiniest taste of this newfound freedom that you haven't had since moving back to Evergreen. Like you can finally roam around your parent's house without trying to avoid them.

You still err on the side of caution, of course. But still. Being able to venture into the kitchen for a cup of coffee in the mornings without the heart rate of someone being hunted for sport has been a nice, welcome change of pace.

Maybe actual licensed therapists would disagree, but Adrian found blowing shit up in the woods with his BFF pretty therapeutic. Especially after said BFF has been in prison for several years with zero means of communication from the outside world.

Something about the morass underfoot, wet dead leaves sticking to the soles of his boots. That same soft earth cushioning his fall as he flung himself away from exploding dynamites (chucked by Peacemaker, aimed directly at him! Classic). Shooting various holes into appliances and shattering the glass of old blenders and coffee carafes, a riot and a comfort, the raucous laughter of two grown men being drowned out by explosions and swallowed up by the canopy of the tall trees.

It gave Adrian an adrenaline rush, the kind he can only feel as Vigilante. It reassured him that his place in Peacemaker's life was not being threatened. There's still space for him, this easy camaraderie. They still make a badass team.

A badass team that still brings chicks back to Chris’ trailer that they can share, apparently.

Adrian has never taken issue with bedding babes with Chris.

He's always careful to keep the Vigilante mask on, makes sure everyone involved knows not to even think about trying to touch his face. Getting his dick touched now and then offered a sweet relief, even if the main reason he was even hard to begin with was because Christopher Smith was involved.

Mostly, though, Adrian just appreciated whatever bonding time he could get in with Peacemaker. It was one of those things that, in the beginning, was something he agreed to in order to grow closer with the man he’s looked up to since he was a kid, and show him that Vigilante is a real bro’s bro deserving of his respect. Earn his spot as the cool, kickass partner Peacemaker deserved. Well, besides Eagly, of course.

(And getting to show off how far he's come since his 'Thimble' days, even if Chris doesn't know it's Adrian under the mask, was a nice bonus, too.)

And so while Vigilante should have no qualms with sharing some brunette that Chris invited back to his trailer (which, like, totally understandable after being locked up for so long), it is Adrian that hesitates.

“I don't know if I can do this, man.”

Chris snorts as the uncertainty in his voice. “What, did you get a girlfriend or something while I was gone?” He smirks as if such a suggestion could only be a joke.

Vigilante looks at him. Hasn’t Chris read his texts since being back? Or listened during their special bonding time blowing shit up in the woods? “Dude, I told you! There’s the barista I've been seeing.”

“What? So? Did you guys have the talk?”

“Dude,” he giggles. “We both know where babies come from.”

Chris rolls his eyes. “Not that talk, dipshit. Did you two establish a relationship? A monogamous one?”

Adrian thinks about the quiet way you called him your best friend. He also thinks about the way you've only ever touched each other with clothes on.

The way none of this establishes any sort of relationship beyond friends with benefits. Even if those benefits just leave him stiff in his jeans.

“I... guess not,” he answers Chris, a little unsure.

“Then you can still bone whoever you want, dude,” says Chris, the near-constant impatience clear in his tone.

“I'm not gonna force you, obviously, because that would be fucked up and rapey,” he continues, straight-faced, throwing his hands up defensively. “But there is a hot, underappreciated woman waiting for us to show her the best railing she's probably had in months. Honestly, maybe even years. That Evan guy doesn’t seem to realize how good he has it. So I'm heading inside to deliver multiple, mind-blowing orgasms, and you're free to join. Or not!”

Chris disappears inside his trailer, and Adrian is left outside with Eagly, who just stares up at him with its round, yellow eyes.

“What do you think I should do, Eagly?”

The large bird says nothing. Just cocks its white feathered head before tottering off the porch and flying away.

Adrian sighs.

There was this slightly turbulent, uncomfortable feeling at the idea that sleeping with someone would somehow be a betrayal to you. But Chris' words eases some of that worry, once again enlightening Adrian in only the way Christopher Smith can. You and Adrian have not established any sort of relationship beyond the PG-13 makeout sessions and hanging out at bars and fast food joints. And Adrian is no stranger to hooking up with people in a no-strings attached kind of way. Moreso as Vigilante with Peacemaker, sure, but Adrian has had his fair share of one-night stands purely for the occasional sexual relief.

As special as spending time with you is, way more special than any past random hook-ups Adrian’s had, he has to remember that you two are just friends.

And so, with a clear conscience, he steps into Chris’ trailer.

Going days without seeing Adrian's bare, open face is making you feel... withdrawal symptoms. Dramatic? Maybe. But the firecracker pops of color he usually brings with him has been scant, making the dreary monochrome of Evergreen bleed back into the cafe. It turns you slump-shouldered and sullen.

“Hey.”

Emerging from the bitter clouds of your thoughts and into the mundane early evening of the cafe, you blink back to reality and watch Ashe's concerned face come into focus.

“Is everything okay?” Their tone carries the worried weight of someone approaching a wild, wounded animal.

Are you wounded?

Well.

It feels like there hasn’t been anytime for you anymore, now that this Peacemaker guy is back. And it hurts, admittedly. Which is stupid, and you feel bad about it because of course Adrian is going to want to catch up with an old friend that he hasn’t seen in years. So the pain of your guilt over your selfish feelings hurts, too.

But you haven't had the chance to feel the warmth of his touch since the night that changed everything, and it’s startling to realize how much you’ve come to rely on it for your sanity. The longer you go without the feel of his heat pressed against you, the colder the days seem to leave you.

Realizing you haven't responded to Ashe yet, you force out a non-commital grunt and continue stocking and reorganizing the pastries for tomorrow.

This, for whatever reason, does not convince Ashe that everything is, in fact, okay. Their voice lowers into that of delicate understanding.

“Did you and Adrian... break up?” They grimace, seemingly afraid of the answer. “He hasn't stopped by lately.”

True. Adrian hasn’t been by to visit during the day. No more quick hellos before his shift at Fennel Fields starts. Just late night visits from Vigilante instead, before he runs off to his other best friend.

Your head snaps to face Ashe again. “We're not-” you start, but then clamp your jaw shut. An insecure clack of your teeth. You look away, avoiding their gaze. “It’s not like that with Adrian.”

“Sure,” they say, but in a tone that very clearly implies they're just entertaining you.

“Why do you even ask?” There’s more bite to the question than you intended, but Adrian as a topic right now is extracting some venom you didn't think Ashe would ever be on the receiving end of.

But Ashe doesn't seem perturbed in the slightest. Probably because they were the most patient and understanding person you've ever met, something you constantly marvel at considering their young age.

“Well,” they delicately--but persistently--tug at the corner of the packaged pastry currently suffocating in your fist. Your fingers unfurl to reveal crinkled plastic encasing a crushed croissant. “It just seems like you're back to the way you were before Adrian started coming around.”

You frown as Ashe tears open the plastic. The baked, buttery scent of bread infiltrates your nostrils. “How was I?” you mumble, voice notably softer. “Before Adrian, I mean.”

“Mm,” Ashe tears off a piece of the flaky croissant and pops it into their mouth. “Miserable. Grumpy.”

“You’re not supposed to eat that.”

“Not like we can sell it to a customer after your death grip.” They pull another piece into their mouth. Their dark eyes shine with kindness and curiosity, unphased by your halfhearted attempt at playing the stern manager.

Ashe is right, though. You were miserable and grumpy. Honestly, it's hard to remember anything about who you were as a person before Adrian reappeared in your life. When you try to seriously think back, it's nothing but bleak, mundane memories.

Truthfully, you had just been a shell of a person.

The excitement of successfully landing a manager position at the cafe had worn off fairly quickly once the stress of customers wore you down. Sure, it wasn't as bad here as it was when you'd worked at a drive-thru Starbucks location back in college. But the cafe was still fairly new enough to garner the attention of coffee aficionados and people that were just bored with all the things in town that they already knew about.

And there was nothing to alleviate the stress of customer service, not when the home you'd go back to every night was another huge source of anxiety.

You tried to numb yourself to it all, you realize. A defense mechanism. It can't hurt if you didn't let it, so you hollowed yourself out.

But then Adrian recognized you. He could have just come in that one day, gotten that large iced Americano and left forever (no way he would have come back to the less-than-stellar customer service you were doling out). But he said your name and remembered who you were and as terrifying as that should have been, you entertained his recognition.

Because it was him. Adrian Chase. No one of consequence, at the time. Who could the weirdo from high school possibly blab to about your being back in town? And, also, he was kind of silly in a weird, delightful way that you couldn’t help but want to play around with.

Besides, there was a certain way he looked at you that was intriguing, and would very quickly become chest-achingly addicting.

After handling a few customers, Ashe pipes up again. “Y'know, if Matty hears you aren't together, he's gonna try shooting his shot with Adrian.”

This only makes you snort. “Please. Matty wouldn't stand a chance.”

You catch the raised eyebrows on Ashe's face and immediately clarify, “he wouldn't stand a chance against Adrian's best friend that's back in town.”

Ashe pauses before their expression alights in understanding. “So that's why you've been so moody.”

“What?”

“You're jealous!”

“What? No. Me? Jealous of who?”

“The best friend you just mentioned,” they laugh. “C'mon, admit it.”

Admit to being jealous of the guy Adrian all but gushed to you about? Enthusiasm punctuating each giddy sentence. The way he practically bounced on the balls of his feet the other night, excited to meet up with him.

Pfft. Naw.

“You're worried he's replacing you.”

Oh. Right. Maybe you are jealous.

Because Ashe's words made you realize that Peacemaker isn't replacing you. You were the one replacing Peacemaker. You've just been a stand-in this entire time, keeping Adrian distracted and entertained while his buddy was locked up or whatever. You see that now.

That hollow feeling returns in the pit of your gut.

Adrian gets half his fucking pinky toe sawed off and his testicles electrocuted in one spectacularly fucked up night. And as if that wasn't bad enough, his secret identity gets revealed to both Peacemaker, and the ENEMY. Which turns out to be some kind of weird, fucked up space pigeon? Whatever.

At this point, he's pissed off at Chris for allowing him to get tortured in the first place. He could have at least tried to stall Adrian getting his balls burnt to a crisp by giving just a little info, maybe? Just a tidbit of information to potentially delay Adrian getting his most important toe being severed, probably?

Whatever valuable lesson was meant to be taught by this doesn't really go appreciated, not when the pain is still fresh in his junk and right foot. Not when his ego is bruised both from getting his butt fully kicked by the tiny green karate man, AND his identity revealed.

TWICE.

In a single month.

He's irritated. Cranky. No one is taking his concerns over his pinky toe seriously, which is frustrating.

To distract himself from the pain and anger, he thinks about you.

It's not even really intentional. Your smile just kind of emerges amidst the muddled annoyance of his thoughts, and it suddenly dulls all the aches. He remembers the sound of your laughter and something warm glows in his chest.

Adrian would very much like to see you. It's been days since the both of you have properly talked, let alone spend real solid time with each other.

But he cannot. He has a duty to Peacemaker that he has to prioritize, and it seems like this new team Chris is with needs him. And, well, it feels nice to be needed.

He cannot see you. So he spends half the car ride to Chris’ dad’s house telling him everything about you instead.

He can almost forget that half his pinky toe is falling off.

Adrian hasn’t responded to any of your texts. You just want to talk to someone about how weird it’s been at home. Well, not someone. Adrian. Just Adrian.

You hope he’s safe.

He could at least call you.

Why hasn’t he called you?

Adrian sits in a prison cell accompanied by nothing but the ugly feeling of shame. He thinks he may have messed up. Potentially made things worse for Chris by failing in killing his terrible, racist father.

And to top it all off, he's agitated his injured foot doing a (pretty sick) spin kick. Instinct had beat self-preservation in that moment.

Once again, the only thing that eases some of the pain are thoughts of you. Out of habit, he glances to the right, looking for the plastic cup filled on his nightstand with all the physical proof that he'd spent time with you. But all that's there are the bleak and dirty yellow walls of his cell.

The frown that's been sitting on his face since being brought back to his cell deepens.

Whatever, it's fine. He doesn't need it to remember what your kisses feel like. The warm press of your mouth against his is definitely embedded into the grooves and ridges of his brain. The taste of you -- bitter coffee, sweetened at the edges. The little sounds you make when he squeezes your waist, or buries his face into the warm space of your neck.

Time in the cell passes by quickly after that. He's rocking a semi by the time they let him out.

You stop by Fennel Fields one day during your lunch break, hoping to surprise Adrian. But he isn’t there. You ask the young hostess at the front if he’s working at all today. She just kind of shrugs impassively, boredly twirling a strand of hair on her finger as she tells you that he was a ‘no call, no show,’ which means he was definitely supposed to work tonight.

Her indifference pisses you off. Doesn’t she know that Adrian could be dead in a ditch somewhere? Doesn’t she care?

You leave before you can blow up at this Chloe chick (per the name on her apron). Adrian is, of course, just some guy to her. Only you have the pleasure (and the burden) of knowing that he’s so much more.

Vigilante gets bodily thrown around by a gorilla. And while it's cool that he gets to add 'fought a gorilla and lived' to his list of badassery, it would have been even cooler if he was the one that got to land the finishing blow with a chainsaw.

The chainsaw was his idea, too! So it just kind of feels like Economos stole his thunder, which wasn't very fair.

Venting to Chris doesn't provide as much comfort as he'd like. And while this new team seemed cool, there's no way any of them were capable of making him feel better. Not the way you can.

Thinking about you wasn't going to cut it after this one. Texting wasn't an option if it meant he couldn't hear your voice, and a phone call wouldn't give him the satisfaction of your smile. So Adrian will go and physically see you.

The burst of excitement in his rib cage is nearly suffocating. But, like, in a good way.

Really good.

Your thumbnail endures the worried gnawing of your teeth as you stare at Adrian’s contact information in your phone, wondering if you should call him. You want to see him. You had made the very resolute decision to keep him around, and now you’re realizing you may have to work a little harder in order to do so.

You’re alone in the cafe, after hours. Ashe has been spending the rest of their shifts trying to cheer you up, but to no avail. They felt a little guilty, thinking that they had some part in bringing you down after they made the whole ‘jealousy’ comment. There was an extra layer of glumness in your distant expression for the rest of that night and several nights to come that they felt responsible for. So they would insist on staying even after the shop closed, stick around as you finish up your managerial duties.

As nice as the company would have been, Ashe's presence would potentially stop Adrian-slash-Vigilante from popping in, so you did your best every night to reassure the barista that you're fine. It was only the slightly desperate tone in your voice that would convince them to leave each time.

So, like every other night, Ashe leaves. You lock the doors. You mechanically carry out your closing tasks until all that is left to do is turn off the lights and go. But Adrian, like every other night, still hasn’t shown.

Before the Vigilante reveal, you two would just text each other when you were planning on stopping by the other's place of work. But now, not only has he been unable to confirm whether or not he’ll be able to stop by, knowing that he spends his nights doing dangerous things makes you think twice about contacting him. What if he’s trying to be stealthy and you call him out of the blue, the ringtone alerting armed gunmen to his presence? And then he gets hurt, or caught, or worse, because of you?

“Ugh, this is ridiculous!” you bemoan into the empty cafe. “How much crime could there even be in Evergreen-”

You cut yourself off, remembering the night after the club and shudder, the hands that make your skin crawl when you think about them, the ugly scab on your knee.

A sudden, very specific knock from the front of the store has you yelping, phone flying out of your hand. It clatters somewhere behind you, but you’re not paying any attention to that when Vigilante is standing outside.

Before you know it, you're unlocking the door to the cafe. Vigilante walks in, careful to close and lock the glass door behind him, muttering something about the cold and you getting sick. You don't really pay the comments much mind — once he turns back around, you use both hands to tug him towards you by the straps (harness?) on his chest.

The action nearly unsteadies you both, him lurching from the unexpected suddenness of the movement, a soft 'whoa-'as his gloved hands instinctively land on your waist to brace himself.

“What was that for?”

The slight whine in his voice makes you grin. It's comforting. It's Adrian. Feeling him pressed up against you subdues some of the worry of losing him, of not seeing him the past several days, even with the hard discomfort of his chest piece against your breast. Even though it's rough, even though it smells like gunmetal and recklessness, the closeness is a momentary salve for your insecurities.

Instead of telling him this, or even something as simple and true as 'I miss you,' you search his eyes behind the red visor (incredibly glad you can see them at all). “Can you see me okay?”

“Huh? Of course I can.”

“But you're not wearing your glasses.”

“Oh! The visor is prescription.” You can tell that he's smiling, can hear the pride in his voice.

“Really? That's pretty cool.”

“Right? I think so, too.” His eyes squint, smile growing wider, and it makes a flurry of butterflies erupt in your gut.

“I want to kiss you,” you murmur, and you’re impressed that you manage to keep the desperation from your voice despite the way your heart hammers in your chest. You don’t want Adrian to know how bad you want him, you don’t want to scare him away.

He stiffens at your admission, however, and starts stammering. “I- we can’t- cameras, remember? My mask-”

“No cameras in the restroom.” You nod your head in the general direction of the cafe’s restroom, somewhere behind you and to the left.

Adrian glances towards where you gesture, not just with his eyes - his whole helmet tilts with the action, and you’re realizing there's something kind of endearing about the mask. It’s not as intimidating as the first time, or your nightmares. It accentuates his movements in a way you’re coming to find kind of… well, cute.

But he starts to extricate himself from your grasp, shaking his head. “I really- we shouldn’t.”

Before the rejection could register as painful, you press on, body following his as he pulls away from you. “Well, I’m done for the night. Slow day today.” (You say this like you didn’t take your sweet time counting the tills). “We can just go, get in one of our cars-”

Adrian groans. He gathers your wrists in his hands, the texture of his gloves rough and scratchy as he pulls your hands off of his chest.

“Dude,” you giggle, “am I bothering you, or something?”

“Yes!”

You blink, startled, at his outburst. The way his head swivels back to look you in the face, enunciating his exclamation. The smile slips from your face as the rejection finally sets in, and you yank your hands away from Adrian like his touch suddenly scalds.

This is it. He's finally sick of you. Or bored of you. The way you've latched onto him is finally wearing him down, and maybe he had some kind of guy talk with Peacemaker that's making him dump your ass, made him realize how pathetic you actually are-

“Are those tears? Why are you crying!?”

“Because you just called me annoying!” You hadn't even realized that tears had welled up.

“What!? No, I didn't!”

“Yes you did! You said I'm bothering you! That means I'm annoying!” You angrily wipe at your eyes. Your hurt morphed into anger due to embarrassment over your own stupid tears.

You're sick of crying in front of Adrian, he shouldn't get to see how weak and broken you really are.

“You're not annoying!” Adrian says, body taking on an exasperated, pleading stance as his arms stretch slightly out to his sides, palms facing out, as if to make up for the fact that you can't see his face. “I just meant that in the moment, you were a little overwhelming.”

You pout. It doesn't exactly make you feel any better.

“I don't know why,” he continues, “but you're really hard to say no to. And I just, I don't know, was looking forward to talking with you tonight. And if you kiss me, I’ll kiss you back and won’t have time to catch you up on everything.”

Your eyes widen and your heart skips a few funny beats. You're hard to say no to? Oh, that flusters you, makes you feel more special than you deserve and you smile, slow and shy and delicate as your cheeks warm, and Adrian's shoulders noticeably relax at the change in expression.

“Why can't we do both?” you ask, coyness laced in your voice.

“I don't think you realize how big of a distraction you are.”

This makes you full on grin. “Is that why you've been avoiding me?”

“Avoiding you?” he repeats, like it hasn't even crossed his mind. “I haven't been avoiding you, I've just been really busy with this new team-”

“New team?” you interrupt, eyebrows furrowing. He only ever mentioned Peacemaker.

“Yeah! See, Peacemaker didn't actually complete his full prison sentence- oh, yeah,” he chuckles, “by the way, I was actually locked up the other day, too. But not because I got caught! It was a deliberate choice. Anyway-”

Your mouth hangs open as Adrian continues to regale you of how his past week has been, and the group of people he's been helping out that call themselves 'Task Force X' or something. You barely notice the way he gently ushers you to a nearby table, carefully pulling out a chair for you to sit as he recounts the details of each mission (and a side quest? If you can call getting yourself purposefully arrested a side quest.)

He fought a gorilla. But it wasn't a normal gorilla, it was a super gorilla. You thought the 'super' part was a bit excessive. A regular gorilla could have easily wrecked everyone's shit, given that this group is all human.

(“Everyone on this team is human, right? No superpowers?”)

(“I think so, yeah.”)

He whines to you a bit about how some guy named Economos took down the gorilla with a chainsaw.

(“It was cool, but it just would have been cooler had I been the one to do it.”)

(You nod, very serious. “Oh, for sure.”)

He tells you about how he tried to kill Auggie Smith, the racist, retired villain that just so happens to be Peacemaker's father. This information gives you whiplash, but Adrian hardly gives you any time to process it as he moves onto the next thing.

The next thing being the torture he went through in a US Senetor's secret dungeon (what the fuck), where he endured getting his junk electrocuted and a pinky toe severed almost entirely off by said senator.

The senator also happened to be an alien? And he's dead now?

The senator. Not the alien. Peacemaker kept the alien (but don't tell anyone).

By the time he's done, you understand why there was no time for making out. This was a lot to unpack.

“So... how've you been?”

You stare at him. “What do you mean how have I been? Who even cares? Whatever I've been going through pales in comparison to the shit you've been through.”

Adrian tries to interrupt, but you don't let him. “No! Nuh-uh, my life is peachy. I still have all my toes. I haven't had any part of my body electrocuted. I didn't tussle with a fucking. Gorilla.”

There's a second where you just stare at each other before Adrian breaks eye contact first, helmeted head falling forward. “Yeah, true.”

“Adr- Vigilante,” you catch yourself. “Are you sure you should be doing this? It kind of sounds like Peacemaker came with baggage.” You think about your own baggage, grimace, then correct yourself. “Dangerous baggage, I mean. I don't like that you're getting hurt because of him.”

Adrian's head whips up at your words, eyes wide. “No no no, it's fine, it's cool! They need me!”

He says this all too chipper.

“Besides, it's not all bad! There's fun stuff, too! We blew some stuff up in the woods-”

You roll your eyes. “That's still dangerous.”

“And there was the threesome-”

Threesome? He's still talking, probably, you can't really tell. It just gets muted out by the wretched feeling that's suddenly tearing apart your heart and making it difficult to breathe.

“Wh- what threesome..?” The question rattles out of you, shaken and quiet.

“Huh?”

You look at him, unblinking, and ask again. “What threesome? When did- when did you have...?”

“Oh, with Chris and this 'underappreciated' chick he brought back to his trailer. It was just like old times,“ he cheerily proceeds, completely unaware of the mood shift.

How could you have been so stupid? Of course no grown man with an active libido was going to remain perfectly content with just making out in his car. Adrian probably got sick of you stringing him along (which, you weren't, not really but where else were you gonna have sex? Your parent's house was out of the question, and he wouldn't offer his place.)

Wait, why didn't he bring you back to his place? He lied about having a roommate, you know this now though he still hasn't admitted it.

You abruptly stand up. The chair scrapes harshly against the tiles before keeling over.

Adrian flinches at the sound, and immediately stands up with you. “Whoa, hey, are you-”

“Get out.”

“Are you mad? Is it- is it the threesome? Because we aren't even together, technically, so you shouldn't-”

This fractures your heart even further.

“I said get out,” you sob, no longer able to look at him.

“W-wait,” he falters, very visibly out of his element. “You aren't supposed to be mad. Chris said-”

“Please,” you whisper, and it is such a small, pathetic sound, full of hurt despite its quietness. You hide your face behind shaky hands, feeling untethered and lost and indescribable pain.

A long moment of silence expands the distance between you both, until, finally (because you are very hard to say no to) you hear Adrian's footsteps walk away, and out the front door of the cafe.

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