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grandline-fics · 7 months ago

Note

Would you feel comfortable writing for Kid? If so, could I request him falling for fem reader that's the total opposite of him? She's more on the quiet side and doesn't really speak first until someone comes and talks to her. Doesn't have a lot of confidence, but is friendly, just a little awkward.

DESCRIPTION: You’re his opposite

WARNINGS: nothing, just fluff

CHARACTERS: Kid

WORDS: 1,056

A/N: Thank you for this request and sorry it took so long to do this one. I hope it was worth the wait and I hope I got the vibe for the story that you were looking for.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

MASTERLIST | PROMPT LIST

———————

If anyone were to look at the entire crew of the Kid Pirates it would be clear that you’re the odd one out. While they’re a bunch of loud misfits in their own way, to an outsider it would seem as though you got lost and found yourself caught in their crosshairs. There’ve even been cases when some people have assumed you were kidnapped by the Kid Pirates. However nothing could be further from the truth, you’re a key part of the crew despite your differing personality compared to the others. While it doesn’t make sense to outsiders for you be there, to the crew you love it makes sense to them and you. You didn’t need to be as loud as them, you didn’t need to be as quick to blowing a fuse and getting into a fight as them, you didn’t need to have the outward confidence and intimidating aura they had. You were you and none of them would change that. Kid especially.

Kid couldn’t help but be drawn to you from the very first time he saw you on your home island. While you’d been helping out in the local bar he noticed you straight away, watching you work silently and diligently to serve the other patrons. It was clear you were shy but being shy doesn’t mean you are weak or a pushover, as one patron quickly found out. When they tried to push their luck with you, you dealt with them swiftly and just as fiercely as anyone on his crew could. Kid’s interest in you only grew then as he watched you single handedly put the drunk in his place and then went straight back to your work as though nothing had happened.

It was that moment there that Kid wanted you on his crew. Over the course of that night he’d asked you to join the Kid Pirates. At first you ignored his offer with a simple ‘no thanks’ believing it to be a joke but as the night wore on and his request was just as earnest as the first time, you began to consider it. The morning he left the island he was smug to see you walk towards the ship. ‘Knew you couldn’t resist my charms.” He’d joked as you wordlessly climbed aboard.

Ever since then it was beginning to dawn on Kid that it was he who couldn’t resist you. While he was everything harsh and sharp and short-tempered, you were soft, warm and patient. Having your calm manner amongst them helped assess situations and served as an anchor for the crew when they were getting too worked up. You were able to talk freely to him and the crew but still you usually waited for them to engage you first, always speaking kindly and listening intently to their words. Kid found he could talk to you about anything and everything, mostly in part to just be around you and talk but also to just allow himself to indulge in the way you looked at him with undivided attention and small, encouraging smile curving your lips.

Kid knew he’d fallen for you and the crew knew it too and they all collectively agreed that until he actually confessed to you or acted on his feelings they were going to tease the hell out of him and use the information to their advantage. On days he was in a bad mood, they would ask you to go and relay any further bad news to him, smirking at the sound of his yell choking in his throat when he realised it was you coming into his workshop to tell him. Almost every meal they would coincidentally leave the seat next to Kid’s free for you to sit in. When they docked on a new island, most of the time they made sure you and their fearless Captain were paired together, but when it was a group of them, the others would clumsily get lost so it would leave just the two of you for a couple hours to explore or shop for supplies.

One afternoon while you were helping Kid in the workshop, and by helping it just meant you were both sitting in comfortable silence while Kid worked on. Idly you toyed with a screwdriver in your hand and you observed your Captain quietly. Kid knew you long enough to know when you were just merely staring in his direction or if you were actually looking his way because you wanted to talk to him about something. “What’s up?”

“I’m curious…” you began carefully deciding on how you wanted to phrase things. “Why do you let the crew tease you the way they do?”

“Tease me how?” Kid asked, his eyes still trained on the mechanism in front of him.

“You know how. With me.” You glanced up from the screwdriver you were still fidgeting with to meet his gaze, his attention now fully on you. Your lips twitched slightly to see his expression. He looked apprehensive, cautious of your reaction. “They aren’t exactly subtle, Kid and their covert planning on how they can get the two of us alone isn’t ever whispered.”

“Are you mad?” He asked, he also feared asking if it made you uncomfortable but he knew you’d never let them force you to do anything that would cause you discomfort or anxiety.

“Mad for getting to spend time with you without the others hanging around?” You asked softly, returning your stare to the tool in your hands. “Can’t get mad at something I like doing, can I?”

Kid watched you with a slowly growing grin, even with how shy you were, you’d somehow managed to admit something he’d been too scared to face first. Quickly he activated his Devil Fruit power and commanding the screwdriver in your hand he coaxed it towards him, causing you to be pulled along in your seat until you were pressed beside him, the perfect fit he thought. Kid stared down at you and smirked when you slowly look up and offered him a sweet smile of your own. He took the screwdriver out of your hands and slipped his hand into your loose, gentle grip. It looked like the rest of the crew would have to find something else to entertain themselves with now.

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

TAG LIST (If I've missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @sanemisnonexistenteyebrow , @fiery-captain-spider-santa @kabloswrld

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dystopicjumpsuit · 8 months ago

Text

Too Early

A/N: This is entirely the fault of @smw-on-kamino. We were chatting about Crosshair’s cuddling style (my personal HC: he’s very undemonstrative in public, but in private, he’s like Velcro), which led, inevitably, to thots.

Pairing: Crosshair x Reader (Fem, has hair and smaller hands than Crosshair)

Rating: M (mature contented intended for adult audiences; minors DNI)

Wordcount: 1.3k

Warnings and tags: fluff; SMUT; sleepy morning sex; fingering; nipple play; PIV; creampie; biting; no kissing on the mouth bc morning breath is a deadly thing, yo.

Summary: It's just smut. Soft, grumpy, morning smut. In the kitchen. Like you do.

Suggested Listening:

This fic smells like: ISO Gamma Super by Ellis Brooklyn (soft woods, crisp sheets, skin musk)

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Your eyes adjusted slowly to the soft light that filtered through the curtains. Outside the open window, the only sounds you could hear were the quiet rustle of wind in the leaves, the distant crash of waves on the beach, and the chattering of countless moon-yos as they frolicked through Pabu.

It was early.

Too early to wake up on a Benduday, you thought.

You rolled over as silently as possible, trying not to disturb your bedmate: a task not easily accomplished, considering his tendency to sprawl across the entire bed, draping his long limbs over you like a blanket. A tiny smile tugged at the corner your lips as you watched him sleep, your gaze drifting over him in the dim light, taking in the contrast of the crisp white linens against his warm, brown skin. His silver curls were tousled and wild, and judging by the rumpled bedding tangled around him, he must have had another restless night.

The temptation to kiss him awake was almost overwhelming, but you didn’t want to rouse him now that he was finally getting some sleep, so after admiring him for a few moments, you slipped out of bed, pulled on some pajamas, and crept out of the bedroom, closing the door softly behind you.

Far too early to wake up on a Benduday, you thought again as you ground your palms into your eyes, then headed to the kitchen. You began to assemble the makings for caf and immediately realized you’d need to grind fresh beans. Maybe he won’t hear it? From my lips to the Maker’s ears, I suppose.

You winced at the obnoxious grating of the caf grinder, but mercifully, it was over quickly, and you thought perhaps you’d managed it without disturbing him. The water heated at last, and as you poured it into the caf press, you heard a soft footfall behind you, and then he slid his arms around you from behind. He grumbled quietly, burying his face in your hair.

A smile crinkled the corners of your eyes as you leaned back against him, resting your hands on top of his. You should have known better than to try to escape your bed without paying the cuddle tax. Crosshair liked his routine, and that routine began every day with holding you.

“Good morning,” you murmured as he continued to nuzzle your hair and neck.

“Mm,” he grumbled again, apparently not yet capable of forming words.

He pulled you tighter against his lean body, and his hands began to wander over you, tracing down to your hips, up your belly, between your breasts to caress the side of your throat, and back down again. The nuzzles turned to kisses, and he worked his way down from your hair, to your ear, down your neck, and across your shoulder, slipping the strap of your top off your shoulder and out of the way.

“That feels nice,” you whispered, closing your eyes and tilting your head back to rest against his shoulder.

His only reply was a soft growl as his left hand teased beneath the waistband of your pajamas and his right hand slid beneath your top to cup your breast and brush his thumb over your nipple. As his fingertips grazed over your clit and dipped into your pussy to find you already heated and slick with desire, he inhaled sharply. You felt the heat of his lips and tongue on the nape of your neck, the soft graze of his teeth on your skin sending shivers through your body and making your nipples harden against his palm.

He sank his finger into you and pulled your body more firmly against himself so you could feel the hard length of his cock grinding against your ass. A tiny moan escaped your throat as his long, lovely fingers played with your cunt, sliding languidly into your body again and again as he worked you open with a patience and skill that made you wonder just how long he’d actually been awake.

His breath was rough and warm against your skin; his kisses roamed over you, tasting and savoring with thorough and unhurried attention to detail. Your hands drifted back to slide up his thighs, and you eased his pajama pants down his narrow hips and wrapped your fingers loosely around his cock. He thrust subtly into your hand with a soft groan, and his hand on your breast tightened for a moment, then slid down your waist. A quick tug, and your pajamas slipped down to puddle around your ankles.

He traced his hand up your body to your shoulder, then down your arm, until he reached the hand you had wrapped around him. His hand closed around yours, and he guided you over his length with a slow, strong grip. He sighed quietly with pleasure, resting his forehead against your shoulder as he worked himself with your hand. You shuddered quietly, biting your lip at the thought of him using your hand like a toy, or an extension of himself, as his strong fingers wrapped around your much smaller hand. You could feel him growing harder, and his cock grazed against your ass, leaving a bead of thick precum on your skin.

“Please,” you whispered. “I need you.”

“Mhm.” The warmth of his breath ghosted on your back as he let out a quiet, lustful sound that sent chills racing across your skin.

He pulled your hand away from his cock and lifted it to his face, pressing his lips against your wrist, then guiding it to brace against the countertop. His fingers slid out of you, his knee nudged your thighs apart, and he leaned you forward just enough to slide his cock into your slick, desperate cunt. You gasped, pressing your ass back against him to welcome him fully into your body.

“Fuck—” he grunted against your shoulder.

He wrapped his arms around you again and hauled you upright against his body. He cupped your breasts in both hands, massaging and rolling your nipples between his fingers as he thrust deeper into you, over and over, each movement pushing the breath from your lungs and drawing soft whimpers and moans from your lips.

“I need more—” you whispered.

His teeth sank lightly into your neck, and he slid his hand from your breast down your belly, pressing his palm flat against you as his fingers circled just over your clit, working insistently as he continued to thrust into you. Pleasure shot through you, and you felt the tension begin to build in your body.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” he mumbled, kissing your ear. “Pretty fuckin’ girl.”

“Oh—” The sound tore raggedly from you, and his hips stuttered as he heard the note of desperation in your voice.

“Gonna come for me?”

You nodded, your eyes glazed and unfocused with arousal. “Yes, I’m close—FUCK!”

Your orgasm slammed into you, and your vision exploded into a thousand stars. When your body convulsed against him and your legs gave out, his arms tightened around you, holding you securely upright. With a few final, hard thrusts, he followed close behind you, grunting loudly as the hot spurt of his cum flooded deep inside your body.

He slumped forward abruptly, catching himself against the countertop so he didn’t crush you. His body was warm and heavy against your back as he leaned on you, pressing kisses to your neck and hair.

“Morning,” he mumbled.

You let out a quiet laugh and turned to kiss his cheek. “I think the caf’s gone cold.”

“Mm,” he grunted. “Too early for caf. Let’s go back to bed.”

---

Want more Crosshair? Here’s some hurt comfort and some fluff.

Taglist:

@secondaryrealm @sev-on-kamino @523rdrebel @wings-and-beskar @merkitty49

@anxiouspineapple99 @sinfulsalutations @arcsimper5 @starrylothcat @clio3kantarella

@cloneloverrrrr @goblininawig @ladytano420 @arctrooper69 @sunshinesdaydream

@littlemissmanga @stunkbiggu @starqueensthings @marierg @idontgetanysleep

@moonlightwarriorqueen @dudewhynotthis @sleepycreativewriter @tcwmatchmakingau @littlemissbshine

@multi-fan-dom-madness @heavenseed76 @wizardofrozz @bobaprint @sweetcream-coldfoam

@skellymom @pickleprickle @trixie2023 @mythical-illustrator @dickarchivist

@cw80831 @kimiheartblade @flyiingsly @lightwise @swcowgal

@reader6898 @cdblake1565 @epicy0n @starstofillmydream @msmeredithrose

@totallyunidentified @eclec-tech @euphoriacafe @hipwell @yve-barr

#crosshair x reader #crosshair bad batch #crosshair #the bad batch #star wars #tbb fanfic #tbb fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #dystopicjumpsuit writes #Spotify

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clone-anon-after-dark · 30 days ago

Text

The Time It Takes

(A Crosshair x Reader fic in 3 parts)

Written for @lightwise

Word Count: 2,513

Warnings: Some discussion of sex, but nothing explicit

A/N: Reader’s appearance is not described. This fic contains some soft and hesitant Crosshair and early relationship stuff. Also Tech Lives and is on Pabu and he is in this fic so deal.

Part 1

Only a few days into a new rotation and you were already wondering what the year had in store. A hectic holiday season followed by some difficult conversations with someone who would never be yours. You’d known this for a while, but sometimes discussions still needed to be had. While he lived on the other side of Pabu, you didn’t see him as often as you’d think given the size of the island. That seemed to be both a blessing and a curse for while you longed for that connection, it would never be as fulfilling as you needed. You stood by the dock as you watched his shuttle leave for another trip; thoughts only disturbed by a single “hmph” behind you. Internally rolling your eyes, you knew exactly where that came from.

You turned to find Crosshair sitting next to Batcher on a bench along the dock. She was ready for a nap after no doubt spending the morning chasing fish while he went for his morning swim. He often swam further away from the busy side of the island and along a quieter part of the beach. You weren’t sure what brought him over here on his walk home.

“Problem?” you asked him.

He raised an eyebrow at hearing the single-word question he so often posed to others.

“No,” he replied. “You?”

“I’m fine, thanks for asking,” you answered.

You were immediately distracted from your melancholy and somehow drawn into him. The man who often stood away from everyone and observed everything always managed to pull you in. You weren’t sure what it was about him that made you a little bit giddy. For his part, Crosshair pretended to be aloof, but it was increasingly hard for him to avoid you. It wasn’t that he couldn’t find a path through the community that would exclude you entirely. It was more that without planning and without thinking, he wanted to see you. His feet simply took him there.

You stood next to him while Batcher lightly snored. Crosshair petted her back until finally deciding to break the silence.

“Do you….” He uncharacteristically scratched the back of his head. His brothers did that when they were unsure, but like Tech, Crosshair rarely behaved this way. He always seemed so sure of himself.

“Do I what?”

“We should get lunch,” he said. Internally, he was screaming at himself. He wasn’t a romantic, but this was probably not how it was done.

“I’d like that,” you replied. “In fact, I’m hungry now.”

Crosshair got up and Batcher followed. You meandered up to a small restaurant that always served the same things, but it didn’t matter because the food was always good and because she was on her best behavior, even Batcher was welcome. It took a little time to get into a groove of talking and eating, but Crosshair made a good effort. He wasn’t usually one to beat around the bush, so he came out and asked.

“What’s with you and that man? He’s married, isn’t he? Are you a trio with room for a fourth?”

You nearly spat out your food. His attempt at humor and honesty left you speechless for a moment, but you tried answering as embarrassed heat set on his cheeks.

“No, umm, well, yes, he’s married, but we’re not polyamorous and,” you sighed, “He was something I wanted or thought I did, but I’m not the person he can commit to. He’s with someone else. We’re still friends, but I guess I wonder what-if since he’s the closest thing I’ve had to a life partner.”

Crosshair wasn’t sure what to say. He had never been in a position to think about a partner. Tech’s survival and later reappearance on Pabu meant that he and Phee were together, but the concept of something like marriage was never introduced to the clones. They were made for a war that was over. They hadn’t even been taught about the basics of sex and anatomy until as a cadet, Tech managed to dig up information on the first data pad he’d made. The thought of being with someone felt like a cruel joke and yet in your presence and now that the Empire was behind him, he felt like maybe it wasn’t a joke after all.

“What about you?” you asked. “I thought you had a thing for one of the fishers.”

“Just because I lifted crates for her once doesn’t meant anything. I was being nice, if you can believe it.”

“Ah.”

Crosshair ate another bite from his noodle bowl and then ventured another question.

“What does partnership mean to you?”

You looked at him with surprise and answered after some contemplation. It was having an equal. Someone to help and be helped by. Sharing struggles. Lifting each other up. Fixing the house. Doing chores. Staying in bed late whenever work could wait. Listening to the rain together. You wanted stability. You wanted to not be alone. You wanted to be loved and to love and you weren’t going to settle for someone who couldn’t do their part.

“And getting laid now and again wouldn’t hurt either,” you added.

He grinned at that.

“And what about you?” you asked, returning to seriousness.

“I only recently started thinking about it,” he answered. “It sounds like something I never thought I’d have.” He took a sip of his drink and then added, “But I would like to try.”

Part 2

Crosshair loved to steal kisses. The single peck you left on his cheek after your second date gave him all kinds of flutters. Maybe it was the sniper in him, but he loved pulling you away into the shadows even just to kiss the crown of your head. He was used to being out of sight. It’s where he felt safest and so it stood to reason that he felt safest having you all to himself and tucked away in a corner, on a balcony, or - at one point - up a tree. It wasn’t surprising that he was good with his mouth. His oral fixation was not limited to the toothpicks he routinely rolled between his lips.

For his part, Crosshair loved having someone he could make smile and laugh. He was still his dry, snarky self, but he smiled much more often, sometimes picking you up when he’d visit after a day’s work, just so he could hold you as close as possible. He could feel your heartbeat. He could feel you breathing. He could feel your happiness and it fueled his own.

Then one morning some weeks later you just happened to be ready to walk to the beach.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“I thought I would come swim with you.”

“I swim alone,” he answered, guard coming back up.

“No, you don’t. Batcher is always with you,” you retorted; feeling brave and a nervousness at the fear you had overstepped.

“She’s different,” he countered.

“Can I join you anyway?” you asked, now more unsure.

“Just today.”

You walked together in silence, but the curtain that had almost drawn between you started to lift. He was cautious and you were trying to figure this out. Once on the beach, he put a towel down and – with his back to you - took off his cybernetic hand. He swallowed harder than he wanted to and it was clear that was the source of his insecurity in this moment. Tech had made him that cybernetic, but losing his hand and now gaining a different one had changed him. He still had to take it off whenever possible before getting in the water to avoid salt affecting its functionality. Taking it off and putting it on was a reminder and he wasn’t sure he wanted to be seen like this by you.

Crosshair took a breath, walked to the edge of the water, and looked back at you just as waves splashed his ankles. You looked at him, then his stump, and then back up at him and smiled. You realized you loved him. Walking into the water next to each other, you both started swimming until you reached a spot that was familiar to him. He closed his eyes, face to the sun, and took some deep breaths while treading water. You laid back and started floating, waves moving you in a comforting lull. He kept close, still treading softly while meditating on his own thoughts; somehow able to reflect and find calm despite Batcher doggie paddling close by and trying to snag a fish. Every so often he reached out to you to keep you from drifting too far. You sat up in the water, fingers tracing down his right arm before coming to the end of his stump and kissing it. He pressed a kiss to your lips like his life depended on it.

After about an hour, you both had enough and made your way back to shore. You dried off and he put his hand back on, this time not hiding. Taking a step toward him, your fingers interlaced with his - both biological and cybernetic. He leaned down to kiss you, briefly pulling you into his chest before Batcher charged up the beach trying to bark with a large fish half hanging out of her teeth.

He walked you home hand-in-hand.

Things progressed to the point that he was spending the night. It was a lot quieter than staying with his siblings. Although they were nice, Wrecker was always there to elbow him and make it awkward. Crosshair would rather come to your house and snuggle on the couch.

He never pushed for more than you were ready for since he preferred to take his time anyway. He was nervous to be intimate with you and was scared shitless to tell you that, but somehow your gentle spirit made it okay for him to say something when the time came. You brought up sex and he avoided eye contact for several moments until you caressed his cheek.

“It’s okay,” you said, kissing his temple. “There’s no hurry. We can take the time it takes.”

“I don’t want to ruin this,” he whispered. “I can’t mess this up.”

“Then we talk,” you replied. “Communicate. We can do whatever we both want.”

You wanted him left in no doubt as to how you felt. He was vulnerable and you knew it. Crosshair liked being competent. He liked control and knowing what he was doing. With this, he was so far away from experienced that he couldn’t even pretend.

“Tell me what you like,” you implored.

“I don’t know what all I like.” He managed to look into your curious eyes and relaxed a bit. “In war, there’s no time. I would simply get the job done as fast as possible and get back to work.”

“Well that’s no good here,” you answered. “We can take our time.”

“Maybe you show me something you like and we can start there,” he suggested.

As much as it was a challenge for him to let go of control, he trusted you and that night he discovered a lot more about himself.

Crosshair was game for helping you in more constructive ways too. While he’d never fixed a sink, Tech gave him some pointers and he spent the better part a day on yours. He got down and dirty and made sure the job was done right while you tried catching up on work for the job you were actually paid for. It wasn’t a fun day, but it was more help than you’d had in a long time. Maybe ever. The citizens of Pabu helped each other, but it was hard to ask for help after being hyper-independent for so long. Crosshair started taking note about things around the house that could use some attention before they got worse. The more time you worked together, the more you found your strengths complimented each other and you fell into a familiar routine.

Part 3

It was another sunny day on Pabu and you were grateful for a day off work without anything looming in the distance. You enjoyed lunch with Crosshair at what was now your usual spot while Batcher sat at his feet and gobbled up the occasional snack offered by him. You sat next to each other and shared a smile as you finished your meal. Just out of the corner of your eye, your ex appeared.

“Hey,” he said, walking up to you and trying to analyze the situation. “You weren’t there when I landed.”

Crosshair’s arm instinctively wrapped around you as a sudden jolt shook your chest. The man in front of you represented the past. The man next to you was your future.

“I assumed you were fine,” you answered. “You said it was going well when we talked last.”

“I’m just used to seeing you right when I get in,” your ex said with a hint of disappointment.

“You’re seeing me now,” came your reply. “You know Crosshair?”

“I’m familiar,” your ex replied with a nod in your boyfriend’s direction. “Maybe we can get dinner. All of us, if you prefer. Catch up.”

You nodded and he left.

Crosshair pulled you closer and left a firm kiss on your temple.

“I don’t like him,” he growled while leaving money to cover the tab.

“Why?” You sipped the rest of your drink. “He’s actually nice. He was just surprised to not see me.”

“I don’t like the thought of you waiting around for him and being heart broken. I don’t like you not getting what you need.”

You looked up at him and only found sincerity and concern on his face. Maybe some frustration, although you knew it wasn’t directed toward you.

“I’m not broken-hearted anymore,” you reassured. “I just want you.”

Crosshair stood up and pulled you up with him. You walked home and waited until you were alone to bring up the subject again. Crosshair was interested, but as he preferred not to be pushed for information, he also didn’t push you.

He lay back on the sofa and you curled up against him. The skies darkened outside as he traced circles on your back. The story of your past relationship came out of your mouth in a stream of consciousness. Crosshair listened and held you a little closer as you got more emotional. You described your hopes and wishes, the ways your life was different, how things fell apart, what happened since. You went quiet and a peaceful chorus of soft rain fell on the window above you. It was a relief to let go of the past.

After some time, Crosshair broke the silence.

“I want to give you what you need.”

“You do.” You looked up at him and kissed the back of his hand. “I love you and I want to give you what you need. And what you want.”

“I love you too,” he replied. He pulled you into a fiery kiss and mumbled something about being more comfortable in bed with you.

#crosshair x reader #crosshair #tbb crosshair x reader #reader insert #tbb #tbb fanfiction #the bad batch #tbb crosshair

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cc--2224 · 10 months ago

Text

Asking For Help

Pairing: Platonic Tech & F!Reader

Summary: You decide to stay in bed to deal with the pain you're experiencing. The Batch notices and sends Tech to check on you.

Warnings: Reader kind of described as AFAB as fic deals with period pain. But other than that, pure fluff! It can 100% be platonic.

Word Count: 918

Notes: Does the Bad Batch understand anatomy? Probably. Was it more fun to make them panic? Absolutely. I mostly wrote this for me as I took the day off work for this exact reason 😂 no real proofreading.

Taglist: None, let me know if you'd like to be added!

Masterlist

The Marauder's cockpit seemed weirdly empty without you, and everyone noticed your absence. You hadn't been with Clone Force 99 for very long, but when you spend all your time with the same people for four months, they start to worry when you're not being as social as you normally would.

"Where is she?" Hunter finally asked, looking at the empty seat you normally occupied.

Wrecker shrugged, "I tried calling her this morning for breakfast but she didn't leave her room."

"Is it not obvious?" Tech asked, eyes not leaving his datapad. "She exhibits this behaviour roughly around the same time each month."

He thought he was giving everyone the answer, but their confused faces told him that he wasn't.

"She is mostly likely menstruating."

"In Common, Tech." Wrecker said.

Crosshair rolled his eyes, "She's on her period. It's not the end of the world."

Eyes turned back to Tech for an explanation, and he sighed.

"Do none of you pay attention to the anatomy manuals? People who are biologically female go through this process nearly every month. Their body prepares itself for an egg to be fertilized, but when it is not, it begins to shed the excess in the form of blood and uterine lining. Typically resulting in side effects such as; mood swings, pelvic cramps, lower back pain, and headaches to name a few."

Wrecker looked shocked, "And they do this every month? That sounds painful."

Tech shrugged, "I couldn't say, from my understanding, each person reacts differently."

"Shouldn't we check on her? Make sure she's okay?" Hunter asked.

"She does it every month with or without us, I don't see how now is any different." Crosshair pointed out.

"Yeah but, we're her friends, we should help if we can."

Wrecker looked back to Tech, "You know the most about it, you go see if she's okay."

Expectant looks all pointed in Tech's direction and he shook his head. "Fine, I suppose I could inquire after her."

Truthfully, Tech was also concerned for you, even though he had a vague understanding of what was going on. He found your presence soothing, and the Marauder seemed more cheerful with you around. And it was his nature to want to solve any problems that arose, so he wanted the chance to do that now.

He got up from his seat and walked toward the refresher to look for a hot compress and some painkillers so that he might actually be of assistance before cautiously walking toward your room.

He knocked quietly.

"...Yeah?" You croaked from inside the room.

"It's Tech, may I come in?"

You didn't answer immediately but then after a few seconds you spoke, "Door's unlocked."

He pressed the button to open the door before stepping in and letting it close behind him. He frowned slightly when he was you curled up on your bunk with your arms around your stomach.

"I take it I was correct then, you are menstruating."

"Yeah." You replied a little too harshly. "Did you need something?"

"It appears your absence went quite noticed this morning and the others are worried about you."

"So they sent you to check on me?"

He adjusted his goggles, "Well, even though I had suspected what the issue was, I suppose I was also worried."

You didn't say anything, but you moved slowly, creating room for him to sit down on your bunk, he sat on the edge.

"I have brought you a compress and painkillers, if you are interested. I have heard they help to alleviate any cramping and pain associated with it." He handed both to you.

You smiled at his gesture and took the painkillers first. "Thank you," you swallowed two of them down with water from the canteen beside your bunk, then you took the heat compress and hugged it to your stomach.

"Is there anything else I can do for you?" He asked, looking down at you.

You looked at him then looked at your pillow and shook your head.

"Very well, I will check up on you later then." He announced before standing up and walking toward the door.

"Wait.." You called out. He turned to look at you. "Can you stay.. with me?"

His expression went from surprised to a gentle smile, and he nodded. "Of course."

He walked back over to your bunk and returned to his seat on the edge.

"Can we- er... Can you hold me?" You asked, so quietly that he thought he might have misheard you.

"You'd like me to hold you?" He repeated.

His need for clarification caused blood to rise to your face in embarrassment.

"If-if that's okay, actually, nevermind I-"

But before you could finish your rambling, Tech crawled into the bunk next to you, holding you so your back was firm against his chest.

You sighed into him and closed your eyes as he began drawing idle shapes on the skin of your shoulder.

"Thank you, Tech." You repeated.

"You are welcome, but your gratitude is unwarranted. We are your friends, we want to help you. Anytime you need us, you do not need to be afraid to ask for help, no matter what ails you.”

You smiled once more. With the heat both from the compress and Tech pressed against you and the painkillers beginning to kick in, you felt yourself finally begin to drift off to sleep. Despite his protests, you were truly grateful to have friends who cared about you, no matter what was going on.

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himasgod · 3 months ago

Text

Enemies to lovers! Neuvillette x Reader II

Where you keep pushing him to try to break his facade

You've always worked alone, for years, with the sole objective of uncovering the whole truth about Fontaine. All the corruption that runs through the veins of the Court and the Tribunal. So, you have Neuvillette in the crosshairs of your shotgun, able to destroy his life and dethrone him in an instant. But he could also ruin yours. So, you decide to play with fire against each other, to see who crumbles first.

(I have many ideas in mind, many requests that I want to complete and many daily one-shots that I am writing, but still, here is part II of Neuvillette x Reader enemies to lovers for all those who requested it. Enjoy it! <3)

Neuvillette x Reader enemies to lovers! PART I

The roar of the storm had ceased by the next morning, but the sky of Fontaine was still covered with grey, heavy clouds, as if the city itself were holding its breath. The Court was strangely quiet; the sound of your footsteps echoed in the empty corridors, an echo that seemed to mock your temporary freedom. You had managed to evade prison once again, although this time not thanks to your usual legal tricks. This time, your freedom had a higher price.

As you walked through the corridors, you couldn't get the image of Neuvillette's cold eyes out of your head, that look that seemed to pierce your soul, but that also revealed, in ephemeral flashes, a contained rage that he rarely dared to show. If there was one thing you had learned in all these years of confrontation, it was that the Judge was not as indifferent as he pretended. And that was precisely what kept you on edge. You had learned to read his expressions, the little nuances in his voice that slipped away when he momentarily lost his iron control. And at that last hearing, you had noticed something different.

As you turned the corner into a little-used conference room, you stopped dead in your tracks. Neuvillette’s imposing figure was there, waiting for you, as if he knew exactly you would take that path. There was no one else in the room. Just you, him, and a silence laden with the tension that had characterized your relationship since the first day you met.

“Are you following me now, Neuvillette?” you mocked, raising an eyebrow with a smile that didn’t reach your eyes. “Or has Fontaine decided it no longer need a formal trial to convict someone?”

He didn’t answer immediately, just watching you with those clear, unblinking eyes. Yet there was something different in his gaze today; an intensity that made your skin tingle, as if an electric current floated in the air between you.

“You and I have unfinished business,” he said finally, his voice lower and deeper than usual.

The smile on your lips widened, a provocative glint in your eyes.

“Oh, really?” You took a step forward, closing the distance between you. “I don’t recall leaving anything unresolved for you, Monsieur Supreme Judge. Unless you’re here to confess that you’ve finally found a law I can’t evade.”

Neuvillette watched you in silence for a long moment, and the air seemed to grow thicker around you. The room, which had previously seemed cold and lifeless, now felt suffocating, as if every breath cost you twice as much.

“You are aware that your presence here only aggravates your situation, right?” he asked, not letting himself be carried away by your provocations. But this time, his tone wasn’t as cold as usual. There was an almost… personal tone to his words.

You leaned into him, so close that you felt the heat emanating from his body. Your lips curved into a smile that defied any notion of regret.

“If you truly wanted me locked away, you would have taken me to Fortress of Meropide already, wouldn’t you?” you whispered, letting your words slide between us like a subtle poison. “But here we are, you and I, alone once more. And oddly enough, you don’t seem all that eager to deliver me to justice.”

His eyes narrowed, and for a moment, you thought you’d crossed a dangerous line. But instead of pulling away, Neuvillette took a step toward you, closing the distance even further until you could feel his warm breath on your face. Your hearts beat in unison, a frantic cadence that betrayed the calm you both pretended to maintain.

“Do not mistake my patience for leniency,” he growled, his voice low and strained. "If you’re still free, it’s not because of a lack of evidence, but because of something you don’t yet understand."

“And what would that be?” you asked, your voice almost a whisper.

His gaze darkened, as if he were fighting an internal battle that you couldn’t see. Then, unexpectedly, his hand moved. But it wasn’t to restrain you or imprison you. Instead, his hand rested on your chin, forcing you to look him in the eyes.

“Sometimes justice isn’t just about laws and evidence,” he murmured, his voice so low you could barely hear it. “Sometimes, it’s about redemption.”

The word seemed to hang in the air, as heavy as the storm still brewing outside the Courthouse windows. You couldn’t help but laugh, a low, bitter laugh.

“Redemption?” you scoffed. “If that’s what you’re after, you’re talking to the wrong person. Fontaine doesn’t need redemption; it needs someone who isn't afraid to get their hands dirty to expose what's really wrong with this nation. And that person, Monsieur Iudex, is me.

His eyes darkened, but he didn't remove his hand from your chin. On the contrary, his grip became a little firmer, as if he wanted to make sure you wouldn't take your eyes off him.

"Maybe you're right," he conceded, to your surprise. "But that doesn't change the fact that you remain a danger to the peace of Fontaine."

The intensity of his gaze took your breath away for a second. There was a mix of anger, frustration, and something you couldn’t quite place. Something that, for a brief, confusing moment, made you doubt everything you thought you knew about him.

“And you, Neuvillette, are still a coward who hides behind your laws so as not to face the truth,” you said, and this time there was no mockery in your tone, only a cold, defiant sincerity.

His lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn’t let go. Instead, he lowered his hand to your neck, his fingers brushing your skin with a strange mix of firmness and softness. It was a touch that unnerved you, because it was neither a threat nor a show of affection. It was something else… something you couldn’t quite figure out.

“You keep getting me wrong,” he whispered, his voice a barely audible murmur. "Don’t underestimate me… or yourself. This feud of ours is an abyss that can consume us both if we’re not careful."

You fell silent, your eyes locked on his. There was something in his tone you hadn’t heard before. Something that told you that no matter how much you two fought, no matter how much he wanted to see you behind bars, he couldn’t deny that there was an attraction between you that even he, with his relentless sense of duty, couldn’t ignore.

But before you could say anything, Neuvillette released his grip on your neck and stepped back, his face returning to its usual impassive expression.

“This isn’t over,” he said, turning to leave the room. “And the next time we meet, I won’t be so forgiving.”

As you watched his figure disappear down the hall, you couldn’t help but smile. Because you knew that, even if he wanted to keep his distance, the line between enemies and something more was growing thinner and thinner.

And both of you, however much you denied it, were dangerously close to crossing it.

Here is my masterlist, in case you are interested in any more of my work or want to send me a request <3

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin fanfic #genshin impact fanfic #genshin #genshin x you #genshin angst #genshin fluff #neuvillette #neuvillette angst #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette x you #neuvillette x y/n #neuvillette genshin #neuvilette genshin #neuvi #i need help

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nahoney22 · 11 months ago

Note

wondering if you could do something fluffy with Tech where he walks in on reader (f) singing softly to herself and he’s completely enamoured and mesmerised please? Many thanks and congratulations on the following - that’s awesome 👏🏻 ❤️

Songbird

Tech X F!Reader

word count: 1.8k

When Tech hears you singing for the first time, he can’t help but fall for you just a little more and let slip his feelings.

warnings: SFW, fluff only, mutual pining, non-established relationship, first kiss. Crosshair being a wingman.

authors note: such a cute idea! I’m definitely missing him this season 🥺 hope this is okay anon and again, as always, sorry for the wait 🤍

Tech found himself perplexed by the notion of Crosshair's teasing when he began to declare that he, Tech himself, harbored feelings for you. He wasn't programmed for emotional attachment; his purpose was solely to fulfill his duties and utilise his expertise. Yet, as he contemplated Crosshair's jests and observed you with what he could only interpret as affection, he began to entertain the possibility that his brother might be onto something.

But of course at first, he dismisses it.

“Are you going to look me in the eye and tell me she,” Crosshair looks to you from across the threshold and then locks eyes with Tech, “is not pretty?”

“I do not recall ever saying that she wasn’t.” Tech states with a frown. “Any sane person would find her beautiful-.”

Crosshair said nothing as Tech ate his words, his mouth tight lipped at his spill. Crosshair could only smirk before he strolls away.

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as he scours his mind for a pinpoint in time where this crush had emerged; yet all he could find was that as he recalled being In your presence, his heart would race. His hands even fidgeted and his gaze lingered on you as you leaned over him, demonstrating a curiosity for his tinkering or the contents of his datapad.

Now that he thinks about it, he would try and control his breathing, not wanting to sound breathless when you asked him something. All the whilst Crosshair would smirk knowingly from across the ship. He was rather grateful he maintained the discretion not to divulge his feelings to you.

He knew he had to do some reasearch on this after recognising his unfamiliar emotions and so sought guidance from the holonet later that night. Though, he was unwilling to express his sentiments until he comprehended them himself. Thus, he opted to bide his time and maybe this will pass.

It did not.

As days turned into weeks, his affection for you only swelled. Simply witnessing you smiling at Omega or indulging in a mundane activity like blowing steam off your morning caf on your bunk brought a smile to his face. And despite his efforts to suppress these newfound emotions, he found the prospect of harbouring feelings for someone exhilarating. Albeit marred by bouts of jealousy, particularly when he observed a bartender attempting to woo you with pickup lines one time.

One warm evening, Tech finds himself outside the Marauder, engrossed in his weekly maintenance routine. Assuming you had accompanied the others into town for potential work opportunities, he's startled by your gentle greeting, causing him to inadvertently collide with a metal pole, eliciting a pained reaction.

“Tech!” Concerned, you rush to his side, apologising for the unexpected interruption. “I am so, so sorry! I thought you knew I was here?”

With a weak smile of reassurance, Tech brushes off the incident, though his heart races as you approach, your proximity sending a warmth to his cheeks. "I can confirm that I was not aware of your presence, but accidents happen.” Despite his attempt to maintain composure, your tender gesture—placing a hand on his face and tilting his head gently to the side to inspect him—sends a wave of warmth through him, momentarily leaving him flustered. "T-There is nothing to fret over," he added, his voice faltering slightly, though you seemed oblivious to his nervousness.

"No," you said softly, amusement dancing in your eyes as you smiled at him. "But there's nothing wrong with checking you over. Is there?" As you express your concern with a voice so soft and somehow alluring, his resolve wavers, unable to resist your caring demeanor. Succumbing to your gentle attention, he allows you to fuss over him, though he had initially insisted he was fine.

It was almost impossible for Tech not to melt under your gaze. "I suppose not, no.”

“So,” you begin, breaking out of the trance as you step back, “need any help with anything?”

“As a matter of fact, yes.” Tech, seizing the opportunity, requests your aid in powering up the ship, knowing your familiarity with the process from observing him countless times. Eagerly, you agree, practically bouncing with anticipation at the prospect of taking control of the Marauder's systems.

With a nod of confirmation, Tech passed you his datapad, meticulously detailing the steps for initiating the ship's systems from the pilot's seat.

To his relief, yet not entirely surprised, you flawlessly executed the instructions, following them to the letter and giving him your undivided attention. Another trait he mentally noted as a reason why he might harbor feelings for you.

After explaining over the comm channel that he would wrap up his work outside, Tech took just a few minutes to complete his tasks before returning up the gangplank. Yet, a soft noise caught his attention, causing him to pause in curiosity.

Quietly approaching the cockpit, Tech was taken aback when he heard it—your voice, singing softly. Entranced, he felt as though his entire being had turned to jelly, captivated by the angelic melody that seemed to cast a spell over him. Accompanying the serenade was the gentle hum of music from a makeshift radio, a project that you and Omega had persuaded him to undertake some time ago.

Normally indifferent to such things, Tech found himself utterly enchanted, simply content to stand and watch you. Seated in the pilot's seat with your eyes closed, swinging side to side slowly and lost in your own world, you appeared ethereal. It almost seemed a shame to interrupt you, but Tech couldn't resist the urge to linger a little longer, soaking in the enchanting moment.

As you swung around in the chair a bit too much, you ended up facing Tech directly. “Oh hi Tech!” You grin as you stand and approach him. “Are the repairs done?”

He found himself momentarily frozen, struggling to find his voice. When he finally spoke, it was not in response to your question about the repairs. "I wasn't aware that you could sing well," he remarked, his words lacking their usual technical precision.

Your laughter rang out softly as you tilted your head, teasing him gently. "I wasn't aware that I could either. Are you sure you didn't hit your head too hard?" you joked, though a hint of modesty coloured your words. However, as you noticed the earnestness in Tech's gaze, you began to reconsider.

"You sing beautifully," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your smile faltered slightly, replaced by a look of concern as you approached him. This was not like Tech to be so shy. You reach out to him once more, your touch gentle as you inspected his face for any signs of injury that you may have missed.

Closing his eyes, Tech savoured the sensation of your fingers against his skin, his thoughts scattering like leaves in the wind. In a moment of vulnerability, his carefully guarded emotions spilled out before he could stop them. "I have romantic feelings for you."

Your eyes widened slowly, mirroring his realisation, as he watched the weight of his confession settle between you. Dropping your hand and meeting his gaze, you processed his words with a mix of surprise and disbelief. "Wait, what? You serious?"

Tech swallowed hard, his heart racing as he grappled with the consequences of his impulsive admission. "Yes, I am," he affirmed, his voice steady despite the turmoil within him.

For a moment, silence hung heavy in the air, punctuated only by the soft hum of the ship's systems and the radio that still played in the background. Then, with a deep breath, you spoke again, your expression a mixture of confusion and curiosity. "I... I don't know what to say," you admitted, your words tentative as you processed the revelation.

Tech's gaze remained fixed on you, his vulnerability laid bare in the openness of his confession. "I understand if you need time to think, I… I shall leave you to your thoughts. I hope this has not jeopardised our friendship.” He offered quietly, his tone gentle as he turned to walk away.

“Tech, wait.” As you reached out to stop him, Tech's movements slowed, his gaze shifting to where your hand rested on his wrist. A wave of warmth spread through him as your touch lingered, guiding his attention to the intertwining of your fingers, a simple gesture that held a world of meaning.

"I never expected you to feel the same way," you whispered softly, your voice a gentle caress against the stillness of the cockpit. Tech turned to face you fully, his heart racing as he met your gaze, searching for any hint of uncertainty or hesitation.

His breath caught in his throat as he tried to process your words, his mind reeling with disbelief and hope in equal measure. "'The same way'?" he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes locked on yours.

You nodded, a tender smile gracing your lips, a smile that seemed to light up the dimly lit space around you. "Of course. Why do you think I always stay behind or bother you with questions about tasks?" you teased, the playful lilt in your voice bringing a sense of ease to Tech's racing thoughts.

A surge of relief washed over him, the weight of uncertainty lifting from his shoulders as he realised the depth of your feelings mirrored his own. "I did not think you would reciprocate your feelings for me. At all. I am not the most ideal—" he began, his words faltering under the weight of vulnerability.

"Don't," you interrupted, your voice firm yet gentle, refusing to let him diminish himself in your eyes. "I think you are perfect."

A soft exhale escaped Tech's lips, his chest tightening with a mixture of gratitude and disbelief. Gently squeezing your hand, he found solace in the warmth of your touch, reassuring him this was not a dream. "This is very gratifying to hear, I confess. But I must admit I do not know where to go from here."

Your eyes sparkled with anticipation, a hint of desire lacing your voice as you leaned in closer, closing the distance between you. "If it's not too soon, may I propose a kiss?"

A soft chuckle escaped Tech's lips, his eyes softening as he drew you nearer, his free hand finding its way to your waist, drawing you into his embrace. "I'd be happy to oblige."

Leaning down, Tech closed the remaining space between you, his lips meeting yours in a tender kiss that spoke volume. The galaxy seemed to fade away, leaving only the warmth of your touch, the rhythm of your breaths, and the gentle cadence of your shared kiss.

Your hands move to the back of his neck, your body flushed against his eliciting a soft moan of satisfaction. With fingers tangled in his hair and his hand tightening around your waist, Tech felt a sense of completeness wash over him, knowing that he had found something truly special in you. “May I suggest you sing more often by the way?”

“If this is the result I get. Of course.”

Masterlist

More Tech Works

Tags: @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @captxin-rex @jesseeka @theroguesully @ladykatakuri @jambolska-grozdova @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @chrissywakingup @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87 @ezras-left-thumb @the-rain-on-kamino @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf f @tinyreadersmur @seriowan @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @thesith @raevulsix @mssbridgerton @cw80831 @knightprincess @crosshairlovebot @imalovernotahater @whore4rex x @imperialclaw801 @temple-elder r @lulalovez @mysticalgalaxysalad @photogirl894 @id-rather-be-a-druid @the-bad-batch-baroness

#the bad batch tech #tech the bad batch #tech x reader #tech x you #bad batch tech x reader #nahoney22 writes #tech bad batch

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vodika-vibes · 10 months ago

Note

hi hi! for your follower event, can i request hunter with peridot or topaz? either one, you can pick! maybe something fluffy on pabu or the marauder?

This Love

Summary: There’s not a lot of space on the Marauder and most of the time Hunter bemoans that fact. Sometimes, however, he loves how little space there is.

Pairing: TBB Hunter x F!Reader

Word Count: 785

Prompt: Topaz - Affectionate Love

Warnings: Uh...suggestive at the end.

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly @clonethirstingisreal (tagging you because Hunter took over this story and I think you'll like it)

A/N: So this was supposed to be soft and sweet, and it still is. But someone added some chili powder to the sugar giving it a little kick at the end. Sorry.

The Marauder is a small ship.

Originally designed to carry four men, it now carries five men, one woman, one child, and a dog.

And while Hunter would be the first person to say that he’s thrilled to have his family around him, sometimes the lack of privacy is…annoying. It means that he doesn’t actually ever get any alone time with her, his cyare.

Well, sort of. The lack of space means that he gets to share a bed with his cyare every night. Simply because there’s nowhere else for her to sleep. And while she probably could have shared Omega’s bunk, Hunter is more than happy to be able to sleep with her pressed against his side.

Even better, she put her foot down and made little curtains to give all of the bunks some privacy.

Originally it was just for Omega, but then Crosshair wanted one. And then Echo.

And in the end, she plopped herself on a crate in the cargo bay and sewed enough curtains for everyone to have one. And then she bullied Tech into adding curtain rods to everyone’s bunk.

It’s the closest thing to ‘“privacy” that they’ve ever had.

Taking her with them on the Marauder was probably the smartest thing they’ve ever done. Even if she does have more enemies than a woman her age should.

Hunter’s gaze drifts from the ceiling of his bunk, to the woman nestled against his side. They’ve long since worked out that Hunter sleeps better when her back is against the wall and he’s able to act as her shield, even while in the safety of the Marauder.

She stirs, as though she can feel his eyes on her, and blinks sleepy eyes at him. It’s really too early to be awake, for either of them, but Hunter just smiles at her and reaches over to brush some hair out of her face.

“Morning,” He murmurs as he allows the pads of his fingers to drag lightly down her cheek.

“Mmmorning,” She shifts so that her head is resting on his shoulder and she rubs her nose against his neck, “What time is it?”

“Early.” He replies as he lightly shifts so that he’s laying on his side and facing her, smiling apologetically as her head falls back to their shared pillow, “You can go back to sleep.” He lightly trails his fingers down her bare arm, a small smile pulling his lips up as she shivers under his touch.

“With you looking at me like that?” She asks, her voice hushed.

Hunter chuckles and shifts one more time, until he’s half laying over her, “I’m not looking at you in any specific way.” He murmurs as he presses his forehead against hers.

“Are you sure?” She teases, the exhaustion slowly leaving her gaze as Hunter allows his fingers to trail over her body.

“This is how I always look at you.” He confirms.

Her arms come up to circle his neck, and a light tug encourages him to press his chest against hers, pinning her to bed beneath him, a pretty smile crosses her lips, “Good morning, Hunter.” She whispers.

Hunter chuckles and lightly presses his lips against her jaw, before dragging them, slowly, to rest under her ear, “It is a good morning,” He agrees, “You know, I’ve been toying with letting you get enough money to buy a bigger ship. But I don’t know what I’d do if I couldn’t share a bed with you.”

“Who says that we’d have to stop sharing,” She murmurs, her head tilting slightly to allow him more access to her neck, “Between me an’ Tech, we could get enough money to get a ship with private rooms-”

“Tempting,” Hunter lavishes the spot under her ear with lingering kisses and nibbles for long enough that she releases a heavy breath, and then he moves to press his lips against hers, “I’ll talk to him about it.” He nips her lower lip, “Last thing you need, cyar’ika, is another cartel after your head.”

“I’m not worried, you’ll protect me.” Her fingers tangle in his hair and she tugs lightly, though even that light tug was enough to knock the breath from his lugs.

“Kriff, you can’t do that cyar’ika,” Hunter rasps, “My vod’e are on the other side of the curtain.”

Her lips curl up into a teasing smile, “Well then, you’d better be quiet. Hm?”

He groans quietly. “Ka’ra, I love you.”

Her smile widens, and she lightly kisses his jaw, “I love you too. And, when I’m done this morning, you’re not going to remember any basic.”

And Hunter grins as excitement heats his blood.

Stars, he really is a lucky asshole.

#star wars #tbb #vodika vibes 500 followers celebration #tbb hunter x reader #hunter x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #f!reader fic #answered asks

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oceansssblue · 10 months ago

Note

Hunter not being able to have the time or place to relieve himself pls ☺️

One explicit&short sexy Hunter smut coming right up!

"TEN MINUTES OF PRIVACY"

TBB REQUESTS —HUNTER/F READER 📩🔥

WARNINGS: HUNTER BEING SEXY, HUNTER BEING CAUGHT ON THE ACT, HUNTER BEING KISSED AND TOUCHED.

Hunter was a responsible man. He had been taught to be like that; always taking care of his men, his squad. He worked towards his objectives with his brothers on his mind; always trying to secure their safety no matter how dangerous the situations they found themselves in were. Now, though... Now Hunter only wanted to take care of one thing; himself.

It felt like ages since he had had the time to relieve himself. They had been busy, that wasn't a doubt; first taking care of Tech's precarious health after Eriadu, then reuniting with Omega and Crosshair... And now even Echo was back on the Marauder. It was as crampt as it had ever been; and though Hunter loved his family with all his heart, he just wanted ten minutes of privacy for himself.

Those ten minutes of peace had been impossible to find. Every time he thought he finally had them, someone would return to the ship or com him; and his free time would be tragically interrupted. On one time Tech had urgently asked for his help with some repairs; on another, Crosshair had found a reason to fight with a bunch of locals and –though Wrecker had assured him he had it under control– Hunter just had to intervene. On a third ocasion, Echo had asked his opinion on an alternative strategy for their next mission; and even Omega had been unusually affectionate lately, shadowing his every step as if she were afraid to get separated again.

His frustration only continued to grow when days kept passing by. It wasn't just because he wanted to; masturbating was more of a need, now. He felt tense and irritated, snapping at every minor thing. His headaches were only getting worse, nights without rest more common than not. It was only a matter of time before he bursted and said hurtful things; and he didn't want to hurt anyone.

Finally, luckily, his brothers seemed to catch on. It's Echo who suggests going out for a walk, and he manages to convince everyone with the promise of a pretty sunset on Pabu, pointing out that Hunter's migraines are only getting worse and he needs some silence and space to himself. They accept with various degrees of excitement; but they do, and they leave, and Hunter finds himself suddenly on his own.

He doesn't even bother to get fully naked; he doesn't have the patience. He sits on his bunk and tugs his pants down; already hard cock inmediately falling to rest on his stomach when freed. It's warm in the room, so he does take his shirt of and throws it carelessly somewhere on the floor. He doesn't waste any more time and sighs in relief, closing his hand around his cock. Privacy at least.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You hadn't met the boys until their fourth month on Pabu. Their arrival had been the talk of the island for quite some time; not only because rumours said they were a surprising set of clones, but because Pabu suddenly had five handsome elegible bachelors to pick from. Wrecker made you feel small and cute, his energy as radiant as the sun; Echo was the gentleman of any girl's dream. You'd never grow bored with Tech, he was an interesting person to chat with; and Crosshair was all quiet and mysterious, tempting you to find his secrets. Objectively, you could see all of this attributes in the Batch; you could understand the hype. Personally, though... Personally, Hunter had the 100% of your attention.

He was so handsome. Your eyes had inmediatelly locked onto his figure the first time you had had the chance to see him; this firm but kind soldier helping a blonde teenager –you later learned their sister was called Omega– practice what seemed to be defence moves in front of their ship. The second time you had seen Hunter had been one morning on the beach. You had woken up early to be able to swim through Pabu's clean waters without anyone else disturbing the sea's wildlife; diving goggles and swimming fins in hand. After a quiet relaxing swim in the sea, you had sat down in the sand for a bit; and your distracted gaze had followed Hunter's attractive figure in his morning run through the beach.

One thing you had learned about, was that Hunter was always aware of what was happening around him. Weeks later, he had explained to you it was part of his special set of abilities. His mutations. In that second meet up, you had been embarassedly shocked to be caught gawking at him; though it had quickly turned to a pleased shyness when fifteen minutes later Hunter had returned to the same spot to talk to you. He had first greeted you with a sexy little smile; asking to sit besides you if you didn't mind the smell of his built up sweat. He had made you feel comfortable and safe since that very first time; and all those that followed.

It's not that you have consciously started to date him or anything. Hell, you've never even kissed yet. It's just all casual meet ups that ends with the two of you having the best time together. You might be doing groceries and Hunter making his way to their apartment after their latest arrival; and so he will offer you to help with the bags, and you'll accept, and once everything is properly placed in your home, one of you would suggest having a walk together and catch up with your respectives lifes. It feels like a date, most of the times; but none are planned, adressed as such, and Hunter has so many suitors –and is so genuinely kind– you wonder if you're seing things that are not really there.

You've heard the Batch is back on Pabu after three whole weeks travelling the galaxy, though, and you had seen everyone but Hunter in the beach some minutes ago; you know it means he's staying back and resting in the Marauder. You want to see him, so –even though you don't really know if it's your place or not– you make your way down to their ship. You'll just say hi and leave him be.

The Marauder's ramp is still opened, so you jump up and enter the ship. The cockpit's empty; you guess Hunter's somewhere inside. You call him softly, not wanting to wake him up in case he's using the time to catch up on some sleep; but you receive no answer, so you continue walking through the corridor, innocently.

There's a low muttering coming from a room, so you redirect your steps there; and you come to a stop completely frozen in front of the opened door. H-Hunter... Hunter's lounging on one of the bunks, with the back of his head resting against the wall; eyes closed and face relaxed in upmost pleasure. Small words and what you now clearly identify as whimpers and moans escape his parted lips ocasionally; shirt abandoned to the floor and abdominal muscles twitching with each particular rush of pleasure, sweat dripping down his chest and shimmering on his tanned skin. His pants are just low enough so that he can have access at his cock; one hand firmly wrapped around it and stroking up and down while the other clenches on his thigh. And his cock... Fuck, it looks good, dripping precum and flushed almost red by now; Hunter must be reaching his end any minute now.

Hunter... Is a sin, and though your shock is big enough to erase any coherent word from your mind, you aren't made of stone; and your breathing pattern grows heavier with desire while your heart speeds up, and even lost in his own pleasure, Hunter hears that.

His eyes snap open, his face turning slightly to the left to take a glance at the door. Your eyes lock and Hunter gasps out loud, something that sounds like a mix of utter shock and pleasure yet; his hand reluctantly stopping and resting around the base of his cock. Hunter's wide eyes and redenning cheeks show his embarassment at being caught like this; but to your surprise, he doesn't run to pull his pants back up, or hide his raging boner. He just waits, perhaps deciding on what to say or do.

"Mesh'la..." he suddenly and almost hesitantly calls you by that nickname he had started to use for you a month back.

You don't know what it means, though when asking his brothers, Tech had pointed out it was in their language, Mando'a.

Hunter calling you reminds you that you're still staring; staring at Hunter and his half naked body, cock exposed, and invading a clearly very private moment you have no right to stand by.

"O-oh, I'm sorry, Hunter" you quickly blurt out, eyes flying down and focusing on a spot on the floor in front of your feet. "I just saw your family at the beach, thought I'd come and said hi, and then I heard a noise and... Uh... I didn't know... You were..."

You inevitably take a glance upwards, and to your shock, Hunter's cock twitches in his frozen hand and he lets out a small moan.

He doesn't look particularly bothered by your interruption. By the situation. It seems he's just more impatient to carry on, so maybe you should just turn around and leave and...

"Mesh'la... Touch me" he answers, voice deep sending tingles down your spine.

You can't help but stutter as you fix your eyes on his.

"S-s-sorry?" It's what comes out of your mouth, stunned.

You must have heard wrong. There's no chance he just asked that.

"Please" Hunter suddenly whines, words turning him into a bothered mess. "Please, mesh'la, been wanting to masturbate for so long, but it has been impossible here, and now that I finally had the space to do so I tried and I, I... I'm subsconsciously stressed they're going to come back and interrupt me any time now, and I can't also stop thinking about last mission and..."

You're still shocked looking at Hunter; though his words are starting to slowly sink in, and he reads it in your wide eyes. You're so close to him and...

"Please" he begs, quietly but desperately. "Please help me cum".

You need ten more seconds before you finally find the way to reboot your mind again and you're able to nod. Hunter whimpers in relief and inevitably strokes his cock up and down once; stopping afterwards and leaving both of his hands on ech respective thigh; widening them so you have plenty of space to comfortably work with him. You gulp your nervousness down and slowly approach him.

Hunter's dark gaze doesn't leave your eyes as you sink down on your knees between his legs impossibly slowly. Your eyes swipe down over his perfectly trained body, and his cock twitches again against his stomach. The sight makes you bite your lip in a mix of desire, nerves and shyness; and Hunter groans torturedly.

"Mesh'la..." he calls you again, needy, and you breathe in and glance up at his face before setting your resolve.

Your left hand caresses up Hunter's left thigh, thumb squeezing once on the dip between his pelvis and leg; while your right teases down Hunter's abs to finally close around his length. Hunter's impossibly hard. You start with your first movement up and down his cock; and Hunter moans.

"Y-yeah... Yeah, cyare, thank you, yes..." he stutters in half whimpers, half relieved moans, and you have to contain one of yours.

He looks so good like this, so needy, so lost. So desperate.

"You look hot as fuck, Hunter" you tell him, voice barely more than a whisper.

Hunter moans needily and his hips cant forward towards your hand.

"M-mesh'la... M-m sorry for springing this on you so suddenly, just... Just wanted to cum and... Wanted you for weeks too, mesh'la, so pretty, fuck..."

Okay. Okay. Breathe. Hunter's a talker during sex, the kind of person that just looses himself in it and talks his mind of, and that's perfectly fine. You aren't gonna pass out. You are going to cope with the fact that he's gonna ruin yourself for everyone else and help him out.

"It's okay, Hunter" you soothe him, right hand moving upwards and twisting gently towards the end, another tiny involuntary buckle of his hips following you. "Just breathe and relax. I got you, okay?"

Hunter sighs and slides lower on the bed, though still proped up. He closes his eyes momentarily before focusing on you again, then staring at your hand working him up.

It doesn't take too long for him to cum. He's obviously being holding himself back; and finally in a safe place, with you as an additional stimuli, his mind locks on the growing pleasure and his hard cock twitches when he reaches his orgasm. Part of it lands on his stomach; some stays on your hand, and the rest pools on his pelvic, dripping down to a slow. His chest moves up and down with his heavy breathing; his eyes closed shut and head tilted back, neck exposed, muscles showing. And his sounds are music to your ears; raspy, broken. Relieved.

When he opens his eyes again, and Hunter looks at you, he seems more like himself; like this desperate lost version has been pushed back again under the surface. You read shame and guiltiness mixed in his expresion; and smile to soothe him.

"Don't even bother with excuses" you chuckle, using his discarded shirt to clean your hand and passing it to him next. "You were enjoying your privacy and I surprised you, and neither of us did what we should have done, and here we are. We're just gonna move forward and you're gonna invite me to a date".

Hunter gives you a tiny happy smile. It quickly turns onto a smirk.

"Okay. Tomorrow afternoon, then. I'll be sure to take care of everything this time".

You know what that means, and you smirk too, though flushing slightly. Yes, please.

THE END.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Taraa! Decided not to write it too long, hope you've liked it!

remind you that im still working in some other requests. I'm considering not writing every single one though, just those with whom I feel inspired... Dont want any of you to have a go at me though lol. Idk what I'll end up doing honestly, I might just write those with which I feel more inspired forst and then move down the line. We'll see!

Stay tunned for more,

XX,

Sky.

Back to my general masterlist here:

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ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff · 1 year ago

Text

A Spark To Ignite (Bodyguard!141 x Famous!Reader Preferences) Mild NSFW

Summary: You see each other every day. He works to keep you protected - a perk of your job and his. Occasionally feeling moments of passion and promises of something more between you two are only normal, right?

AN: I've got another bodyguard!AU for the 141 that's more angst based. I'll post that later. I've also got a Price x Escort!Reader in the works plus the end of "Star-crossed in the Crosshairs". Let me know if you have any requests/anything you'd rather see first <3

Content warning: Minors DNI, 18+ only, allusions to sexual tension/arousal, second person, no use of Y/N

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Another notification of being tagged in the same paparazzi image hit your notification inbox, yet you still opened it and shared a giddy grin at the Instagram feed.

You hadn’t been fussed about going running; it was the company rather than the activity that attracted you. But one thing you were certain about the sport was that no one ever looked flattering whilst doing it.

Yet there he was, your Kyle, looking like a model for Sports Direct. He was snapped midstride, his biceps practically rippling in the glow of the morning sun. There was even a hint of his lean washboard torso with the flap of his t-shirt’s raised coyly.

However, his dimpled smile aimed was the main focus of the headline – mainly because it was aimed at you and your equally elated expression. You blamed the euphoria of exercised endorphins but the way the photo was framed (plus the gaudy text declaring it so) made it seem as if you and Kyle were a true couple in love. It looked incredibly staged. Kyle was an “unknown” though so most budding theorists did not support any claims of it being a publicity stunt. Just two lovers out on a jaunty little run together.

You saved then added the photo to the folder of photos that captured you out with your bodyguard and the headlines that (sadly) misidentified him as your new boyfriend.

“Hey Kyle!”

Blending some fruits. His duties did not include head chef but you had long since allowed him access to your kitchen, even storing some of his favourites around the cupboards and fridge in case he fancied a snack.

Your phone was thrust up into his eyeline, you beaming behind it, “Another Pulitzer.”

Abandoning his smoothie temporarily, Kyle cupped his hand around yours to steady your swaying phone.

“They need to up their standards. Taking you for a jog is hardly a date you deserve,” He commented.

“Ooo, do tell: what do I deserve?”

“Well,” Kyle began pouring the smoothie into a glass, “I could go classic, take you to out on the town to a special place only I know about.”

You leaned onto your elbows, chin resting in your palms, cheeks creased in a cheeky smile. “Mm-hmm.”

“Wine you, dine you, treat you like a deity,” Kyle said as if he was listing off menial tasks on his day to day whilst collecting another glass for the remaining smoothie. “Take you back to mine if you fancied it, another drink whilst we talk the night away and time passing without us noticing.” Graciously, he slid the other one across the countertop, and your fingers locked against his warm ones wrapped against the cool glass. “Then work up a sweat in a whole other way.”

Blinking away the glaze that had coated your eyes, you restrained the urge to gulp back your desire. A fresh breath in your lungs recovered you quickly and you managed to conjure a teasing quip amidst the fog that had settled over your thoughts.

“Think you could keep up with me?” You said before sipping the smoothie.

The sweetness of it countered Kyle’s smirking reply: “You and I both know I can more than handle you.”

“Better train harder then,” You said, proud of yourself for not stumbling over your playful banter, “I’m a catch, so you better be fast enough.”

“Jog, same time tomorrow?”

“Sure.” And, not missing in the reflection of the oven door how Kyle – for a split second – looked you up and down, you did your best not to collapse or squeal during your return to the sitting room.

-----------

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish

You leant against the ropes of the new boxing ring with a panting chest and aching legs. Jellied bones dared to let you collapse to the ground but at least, since your self-defence training had begun, you were lasting the full session rather than just after the warm-up.

“I think we’re done for today! Did good, held your own.” Johnny gave you a hearty slap on your back that almost ricocheted you off the ropes. “I’ve still got a few reps to get in.” He leapt out the ring and swigged from his water bottle, tossing you your own.

“Show-off!” You called out after him, though all in good fun, as you caught your bottle and your breath.

Technically, since you didn’t have anything else to do, you could get a head-start on getting cleaned up. You were in the privacy of your own gym, added at your request so that Johnny could train you better and you could do so without being ogled or papped.

Quite hypocritical it was then, that you lingered in the ring to watch Johnny stack up his weights on either side of the bar (the ones you purchased as part of his perks of working for you).

Your day-job came in handy with pretending to do some cooldown stretches, sipping from and pouring your water bottle over yourself. Well, you were actually doing those things but acting as if they were the only things that occupied your thoughts was the main role you were playing. From the corner of your eye, you observed Johnny squatted with a stack of weights lining each shoulder. God, those arms were practically popping, his thighs bulging with the effort of remaining planted on the floor and folding up and down beneath the hefty set. Mesmerising, you forgot to keep up your pretence by the second load of reps.

It left your lips before you could reconsider for the tenth time: “Bet you couldn’t lift me.”

Soap paused in a deep squat and looked up through his lashes at you. Meeting his steely blue gaze was easier than anticipated but maintaining it as he righted himself and rested the weights back on the rack with a restrained grunt was the difficult part.

At first, you thought maybe his silence was his answer. Then Johnny knelt down and assumed the plank position.

“Get on,” He said, loud and clear.

You still doubted him, “Seriously?”

“You made the bet. Now lie in it.”

As elegantly as possible, you dismounted the ring before making your way over to his side. He showed no signs of tiredness during your journey, nor did he when you balanced yourself across his broad back.

“Ok, ready,” You said, your voice close to wobbling.

And so it began. Up and down, you could feel how his body sustained you through both your and his workout gear. His back muscles rippled beneath you and his elbows kissed yours each time he lowered you both to the floor. Out of nowhere, you began giggling and you couldn’t figure out how to put a stop to it. Giddiness flooded your entire system until you were beyond drunk.

Suddenly, your world tilted and you rolled off onto the mat but Johnny refused you any respite, flipping you over onto your back again, like a pancake.

“I win,” He panted, “What’s my prize?”

Still giggling, you felt your cheeks burning at the sight of him hovering over you, his skin glowing, his chest panting. His unrelenting stare had you locked beneath him, barred between his trunk-like arms. If this was your prison, you’d commit any offence to stay in there. God you were so close you could kiss him-

Nope.

“You finish your workout early so you can have a nice hot shower sooner?” You said, covering your mouth to cough and clear your airways of whatever shit you breathed in to make you even consider making out with your bodyguard. You must’ve looked so daft; you blamed the endorphins. Then you blamed Johnny completely as he started to laugh down at you, sending your thighs quaking as he crawled off you and ordered you to get cleaned up – that he’d be in shortly after as a hint to not use all the hot water. As you drifted back to the bathroom, you tried not to think about him in the shower or how you wanted to offer to scrub him down.

-----------

Simon "Ghost" Riley

“Say the word and I’ll have him removed.”

For a man so stoic and intimidating, Simon sure made you smile a lot. You needed it after that… “interesting” conversation with one of the party’s guests – someone who you knew to be a detractor behind your back.

“It’s fine, really,” You insisted with a winning smile.

Casting a glance over your shoulder where your shadow dutifully remained was a reward you would never be exhausted of. Simon looked so good in his tux. Plus he’d humoured you and worn the silk black mask rather than his usual. You were brimming with privilege at seeing his hair styled beyond the flattened fuzz it would take on after being beneath the balaclava for twenty hours at a time. Even more so, you got to see his tattoos pairing nicely with them like a good bottle of wine.

You could hear the smirk hiding beneath his mask. His veined hands clasped firmly in front of him as he leant close, just his mask separating his lips and your ear.

“We could make a break for it. Ditch these twats. Get a drive-thru.”

He knew you never would agree to it; this gala meant a lot to you. Such a tempting offer though, in such a tempting voice too. His rough tone did nothing but delight you when you heard it. Turning to look at him, you took note of the two mere inches between your face and his.

He continued, “You’ve shown your face long enough.”

“Getting jealous of them stealing my attention?” You asked provocatively.

Simon let out a low laugh, shaking his head fondly with just a hint of patronising, “That’s funny, sweetheart.”

“Well, I’m sure there are plenty of people who are dying to still talk to me.” You gestured with the glass he’d gotten (and checked for any malicious interference) for you around at the room, those who would never have the privilege of being a part of your and Simon’s bubble.

“Just as long as you and everyone else knows that I’m the one who takes you home.”

The implications of that statement swelled in your chest, nestling into your heart like a cat in a warm patch of sunlight. Intently, he looked at your face for your reaction. That was the thing with Simon: always observing, recording every flicker, every possibility in that incredible mind of his. You were certain he could see into your soul with those all-seeing eyes. He kept you safe, kept you on your toes, kept you happy.

But the bubble burst before you could hit back and you abruptly checked yourself back into work mode. The person who’d spoken loud enough to bring you back down to Earth didn’t seem to notice your slip up. You, however, were more than acutely aware of Simon’s lingering presence at your side. So close the hairs on your arm extended on goosebumps, coaxing and begging to touch him.

As you were once again left alone, you found yourself stifled by your need to be nearer to Simon and quickly decided the alcohol was to blame. “I need the bathroom.”

“This way.” His hand grazing the small of your back had an impact tripled, but you managed to submit it to travelling through your nose, rather than gasping out your mouth. But you were certain that Simon had caught you. He never missed a thing.

-----------

John "Bravo Six" Price

After shaking hands again with the presenter and declaring a few thanks to the crew, you were guided straight to the dressing room by Price. You took off your own microphone and handed it to him, which he immediately passed to a nervous stagehand. Your name in Arial font on an A4 sheet of paper greeted you from the dressing room door.

Sometimes you needed that extra time to decompress and he knew before you did more often than not. Today was not one of those days, though you did request to stop and pick up the bouquet that had been there to welcome you in when you first arrived. It was so large, your favourites blooming in the dew-dropped cellophane, that you had trouble waving to the folks who’d stuck around at the barrier, Price’s arms keeping you walking and guiding you towards the car.

For your safety, you had to go in the back where the tinted windows offered you a hint of privacy. It was a thorn in your side though. You longed to sit beside Price as he fought playfully with you over the music, grumbled with the directions his phone offered, collected your drive-in order. Then maybe your daydream of being his partner could have a little more to stand on.

A true gentleman as well as your protector, Price walked you up to the house and let you set up your evening meal while he made final checks to secure your house again. Normality for you was hearing him walk around and jiggle door handles and returning only when he was certain none had been tampered with and your cameras were fully functioning.

“Anything else you need from me before I leave for the night?” He asked, standing at ease in front of you.

You gestured to the bouquet you were cradling like a baby, “Thank you for the flowers.”

His brows furrowed for a split second then a sheepish smile smoothed out the lines in his forehead, highlighting his eyes instead.

“You caught me,” He said quietly, sparing a look at the flowers he asked the host to order for you, then back at you.

Squinting mischievously, you asked, “Were you really hiding it?”

“I suppose not.” He let his smile soften and dull. Back to business. Yet you could’ve sworn he glanced at your mouth before he asked, “Anything else you need?”

Your heart yearned to beg him to stay and tell you what else he did behind the scenes without a hint of expecting more, so that you could show him how much you cared in an appropriately equal response. His favourite whiskey perhaps for when he was off duty, or one day doing something together that he wanted to do so it wasn’t just looking after you. It was more than that, the job. He’d told you so. But you didn’t want to just be a job to him.

Quietly, you maintained your decorum, “No, thank you.”

John nodded his head, “Of course.”

It was as he was about to cross the threshold when you started to ask, “Do you-”

Not even three words made it out before Price whipped around, already returning to where he’d stood before. You could feel your lungs struggling under the strain of maintaining steady breathing at the gesture, suspending all the blood in your face (and maybe your groin). It stopped your question in its path, as if it was waiting until Price was listening attentively (he always was for you).

“Yes?” He prompted, his voice soft as if to coax you out of your hideout.

Fidgeting with the bouquet still, you cleared your throat and began again, “Do you want to join me, for dinner?”

Price’s hands, now at his sides, tapped on his thighs thrice before he said, “Two conditions.”

“Name them.”

Perhaps you said that a little too quickly because it made him laugh, which only made things worse for you. You had a real weakness for that laugh.

“You teach me whatever you’re planning on making, and you let me help you make it.”

Your heart accelerated and you dismissed his with a smile and a slight self-deprecating remark to soften the weight of this decision you were both making: “It’s nothing special.”

“Those are my terms,” Price insisted. His eyes creased as a smile grew on his face, more beautiful than the flowers forgotten the second you placed them into the vase. But at least it gave you to excuse to look away and gather your expression into something more collected as you ordered him to go and wash his hands.

#kyle garrick fanfic #kyle garrick x reader #gaz x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish fanfic #soap x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley fanfic #ghost x reader #john price x reader #john price fanfic #captain john price x reader #cod x reader #cod fanfic #my writing #preferences #r: gn

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drafthorsemath · 2 days ago

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Recorded Hope

Written for Pheebruary!

Prompt: Rebuilding Mel

Warnings: None, really. Mention of Tech going on the mission to Eriadu. Includes angst and hope.

A/N: This is a Tech Lives fic and a Tech Lives blog.

Word Count: a little more than 800

Another successful mission complete, Phee landed Providence on Pabu and patted a partially-functional-but-now-powered-down Mel on her way out the door. She put the crystal dagger she’d recovered in the Archium and paused next to Lula and Tech’s goggles. Her heart ached. She wished she could see him again or at least redo their last encounter. She wished she had been braver with her feelings, or offered to come with them, but she couldn’t change that now. She dragged her feet back home and slouched into bed.

The next morning she grabbed a bite of fruit for breakfast and headed back to the ship to work on Mel. She’d been her usual helpful droid self, but some severe blaster fire meant Phee needed to rebuild her again.

She sat in front of Mel and twirled a spanner before powering her up. The droid made a whirl, some of her lights coming on and others not. Phee removed the burned-out photoreceptor and a few wires that needed to be replaced. A new photoreceptor was modified and Phee hummed a tune to herself while replacing the wiring. Mel’s lights came on as she attempted to take in the information around her, almost panicked as if she was still on the run from yesterday.

“It’s okay,” Phee said, “We're home, but I'm not done with you yet.”

The droid relaxed and Phee was at least pleased that the new parts were working. She pulled out part of Mel’s front panel and sighed at the piece. It was completely covered in carbon scoring and while it protected some of the inner workings, some shots had managed to disrupt a power coil and a memory bank. Phee grabbed a spare metal scrap and continued to hum while cutting it down to size for Mel. She attached the front panel and left it open while she dug around to assess the damage to the memory. It wasn’t too bad. A little light was off, indicating part of it wasn’t working like it should. Another wire was replaced and the light came on, but started blinking. Phee knitted her eyebrows in frustration, but then found a small component attached to the back of the memory bank. It looked like a tiny restraining bolt. How did that get there? She picked it off and the blinking light stayed on strong. Once she replaced the memory bank and closed the panel, Mel beeped at her.

“A recording?” Phee asked. “Why didn’t you mention that before?”

Mel indicated that she didn’t know it was there before. Phee was getting more suspicious of the little restraining bolt. Someone must have put there without her knowledge between now and the last time she rebuilt Mel, but the only person who helped her with the droid since the last time she was rebuilt was Tech. Phee felt like she was falling upside down and spinning. Had she been standing, she would have toppled over. It was all she could do for the words to get from her brain to her tongue.

“Play the recording, Mel!”

Mel started playing a holovid. Tech’s face appeared right in front of Phee and she felt hot tears at the sight of Brown Eyes adjusting his goggles before he spoke.

Hello Phee. If you are seeing this then my family and I, or perhaps only some of us, are missing in action. It was our intention to retrieve information vital to saving Crosshair and keeping Omega safe, but as you know, things do not always go to plan. I have taken the liberty of hiding codes and secure information in Mel. I know the Imperials are not smart enough to find this data and leaving it solely in the hands of my brothers seems reckless should we all be caught. It will only be a matter of time before you have to rebuild her and I am certain you will easily find this recording. With the information I’ve left in Mel, you should be able to retrieve any recordings on my goggles and datapads including those behind an extra layer of encryption. There is also an encrypted backup on the Marauder’s computer. Should something happen to us, I will try to leave behind what clues I can. While I hope this is all for naught, I know that if any of us goes missing, there is no one better to find us than you.

Tech’s soft smile pulled at her and she watched him reach forward to stop the recording. Phee stared at Mel in shock before reaching for the button again. She paused on Tech’s image as the projection restarted and tears fell on her cheeks. Mel beeped at her almost asking if she was okay.

“Come on,” she said, rising to her feet, “We have to get to the Archium.”

#pheebruary #techphee #phee genoa #tbb phee #the bad batch #tbb mel #tbb #tbb fanfiction #the bad batch fan fiction #tech lives #tech actually lives #tech records everything

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rooksunday · 1 month ago

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fluffcember day thirty: warming up

Life on Pabu had taken on a rhythm that Crosshair would have resisted more fiercely if it hadn't been for Mayday finding comfort in routine. For Crosshair, Kamino had been rigidly scheduled, and time with the Imperials even more so, and as for the prisons before Omega and her break… Well. Crosshair enjoyed having a life without expectations attached. Mayday, on the other hand, had spent his war with long, cold days yawning ahead of him into a dismal blur, and he needed to know what and when and how.

Crosshair would've put up with a lot of things for Mayday's comfort. As it was, having sushi every Taungsday and hosting Batch Breakfast every other Benduday and being the one to dry the pots while Mayday washed were hardly among the most taxing or unpleasant chores that Crosshair had ever done.

For his part, Mayday was steadily inviting more spontaneity into his life, though the restaurant they'd tried instead of sushi one week remained the worst meal either of them had ever eaten outside of protein mush.

Some experiments are meant to fail, Mayday had said, rubbing his thumb in circles over the scars on Crosshair's scalp. In his turn, Crosshair had unerringly found Mayday's single facial scar, on his temple, where every surviving clone bore one mark or another, and had not replied.

Since finding each other—and themselves—again, Crosshair and Mayday had seen nearly an entire year on Pabu. Omega had attended the local school more often than she hadn't, while Wrecker and Hunter had turned their hands to anything requiring a spare pair, learning to build and fish and hold on— and let go, sometimes. Phee had helped with that by stealing Tech away to her ship and from there to the stars, and Echo and Rex's rebellion, as often as it took to clear the blankness from Tech's eyes.

Each time, Tech remained on Pabu a little longer when he returned. Another kind of routine.

Crosshair rubbed his face. The worst part of the life and routine he'd fallen into might've been one he could never tell Hunter about. Hunter had never been a morning person, and Crosshair had always been smug about being so, always getting the last and best portion of firstmeal.

Mayday, it turned out, would never leave bed if it weren't for his competing addition to caf. So there Crosshair was, brewing caf and dumping in sugar for the sweet tooth Mayday was determined to cultivate, and carrying it through the little house to their bedroom.

"Like some kind of droid," Crosshair muttered without heat, as he crossed the threshold. He raised his voice. "Your caf, sir."

"My caf and my Crosshair. The perfect morning," Mayday murmured, opening his eyes to slits. Half of his smile disappeared into the pillow he remained smushed against.

Crosshair's chest went tight at the sight, but he'd grown used to that particular pain.

"You say that every morning."

Mayday's smile became clearer. "Every morning it's true. Come back to bed. It's cold without you."

A sequence as familiar as any training drill. Every morning, the caf and the invitation. Crosshair didn't need to acquiesce. He could walk away. He could always walk away.

But hadn't he done that once?

Some experiments are meant to fail.

Not every routine required resistance.

Crosshair let himself smile back, and took the next step in the pattern.

#fluffcember #rook does fluffcember #rook writes things #maycross #cloneshipping #tbb crosshair #commander mayday #star wars #the bad batch #i had absolutely no inspiration for yesterdays prompt and also have been playing veilguard for three days #ahem ahem

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