#crosshair is not a morning person

[thecoffeelorian]

He's Just Not A Morning Person...

...A little fun I had on SWTWT (Star Wars Twitter) over the weekend.

Also, Happy Omega Monday.

@skellymom @ladykagewaki @groguandthebadbatch @wolverina2002 @megmca

@intrepidmare @leenathegreengirl @orangez3st @thora-sniper @crosshairs-dumb-pimp-gf

[kodyisover]

I wasn't sure if folks would want webcomic promotion shoved in their face following the news that the U.S. just voted away its own democracy. I wasn't sure if I - a BIPOC trans person living in the country that just voted away its own democracy - would want to talk about that webcomic. But I looked at the news Wednesday morning, felt about 15 seconds of despair, and then I was immediately filled with resolve.

If my queer, trans existence has become an act of defiance, then let me rebel. If the content of this comic becomes unpalatable to the law, then let me go until they stop me. I'm going to keep creating art and Keeping Time because I need to, for myself, foremost. This story is queer and messy and not meant to be an ethics guide, and might be the kind of work that'll find itself under the censorship crosshairs of the upcoming administration. But until then. Until I have no options. I'll be here, making my queer as fuck art.

I guess, to borrow the words from Denver here...

Fuck it.

Let's keep going.

Start from the beginning | Latest Update

[questforgalas]

Thinking about Crosshair and him accepting the unconditional kindness of the people of Pabu. Thinking about how he only ever saw his value in his worth and skill and what he could contribute, and now he's free but with one hand and he was a sniper for all of his life he has no other skills, what in the maker could he offer these people? How long until they realize he's worthless and not worth the effort of keeping him on the island?

He waits for it. But instead, he receives kind greetings as he walks through the market, waves and smiles like they're genuinely happy he's there. Shep greets him every morning with a fresh fruit in hand and offers to take a walk with him, Crosshair's own personal Pabu guide. The fisherman love to bring him on their boats because yes, he can spot the best fish miles before they can, but they love his quiet humor and his quiet wit. They love regaling him with their rolodex of stories gained over the years, and he'll even share a few of his own from the cadet years. He's the most popular with the elderly because he can reach anything they can't, warm thanks always on the tips of their tongues and yes of course he'll sit down for a cup of tea with them, he's used to sitting for long periods of time.

Eventually, the teenagers all gather the courage to ask him to give them some target lessons, and when he spots their slingshots and piles of fruit, he enthusiastically agrees and tells them Hunter in particular makes a great practice target thanks to his senses. Crosshair has never laughed harder than when Hunter was wiping meiloorun off his face.

Thinking about Crosshair healing and accepting with the help of a little island community who never dreamed of giving up on him.

[sokadraws]

- Echo still can't sleep well. He either suffers from insomnia, or from pain, or from nightmares.

- When Echo has nightmares, he hides his face in his pillow. Nobody really knows why. Everyone agreed that he doesn't realize where he is when he sleeps, which means that he cannot feel safe.

- Actually, it's true. But deep down, Echo also doesn't want anyone to see him like this - trembling and crying.

- PTSD is a topic that no one brings up. He is afraid of medical equipment, syringes, droppers, droids... The creak of a rubber glove is worse than death.

- No matter how strong he may seem, the complexes follow him like a shadow. Echo hates each of his implants, he is annoyed by the reflection in the mirror. Whitened skin, dark circles around the eyes, gray-yellow iris. "Looks like I'm dead," he jokes. But everyone knows that this is not a joke.

- Hunter says being able to kick someone with an iron foot is cool. Omega sometimes sticks stickers on prostheses. Echo is still beautiful no matter what he thinks.

- Even if he can't convince himself of this, Echo remains incredibly grateful to the guys for their support. He removes the stickers only when they are completely worn out.

- Omega will always find more.

- Wrecker always succumbs to him in arm wrestling. He is definitely a great actor. Echo still didn't quite understand. Yes, definitely.

- Echo sleeps peacefully when someone hugs him. This duty, without any hesitation, took Tech.

- Echo sleeps peacefully when someone hugs him. This duty, without any hesitation, took Tech.

- Sometimes it happens that they stop somewhere to rest a little, and then it happens that the team has to be woken up in the morning, otherwise they can oversleep until the evening. Of course, this is what Echo does. He turns up his favorite songs so that they can be heard throughout the Marauder.

Bonus: Echo was the first person Crosshair not only allowed himself to hug, but hugged back.

[grandline-fics]

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

[dystopicjumpsuit]

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)

Masterlist | Sign up for my tag list

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

[cc--2224]

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.

[himasgod]

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

[nahoney22]

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

[vodika-vibes]

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.

[oceansssblue]

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:

[ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff]

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.

[leapingbadger]

The Phantom

Summary - Six months after Tantiss and Crosshair still struggles with nightmares. Hunter tries to help his Brother through his biggest hurt.

Word Count: 1403

Read on AO3

Hunter flew out of the fresher, wrapped a towel around his waist and grabbed his virboknife from the bundle of clothes on the floor.

He’d heard a loud scream and instinct had taken over. He stood in the middle of the common room, dripping onto the cold stone floor. He heard the soft breathing of Omega to his right, the booming snores of Wrecker in front of him. He pushed his hair back and out of his eyes and walked slowly to the room on the far left.

Nudging the door open, a thin beam of light illuminated his brother, crumpled on the hard floor under a handwoven blanket, instead of in his lofted bed. He was restless, extremities shifting and jerking this way and that. Batcher must be in Omega’s room otherwise she would already be at work, calming him.

“Mayday” Crosshair cried into the dark.

Hunter put his weapon down on the arm of the couch and slowly pushed his way inside the blackness of the room.

“Cross?” Hunter whispered, hoping not to alarm the sniper. There was no response. He scratched his beard and tried again, a little louder, “Cross? you, okay?”

Hunter was next to him now, knelt down at his brother’s side, hand tentatively hovering over his shoulder, not sure whether to wake him or let the nightmare pass. He could hear Crosshair’s heart beating rapidly in his chest, he could have been running with the speed of it. He jerked again, left arm flying up and almost smacking Hunter in the face.

Hunter shook his brother gently on the shoulder, “Crosshair, it’s me. Wake up. It’s just a nightmare. You’re safe.”

All of Crosshair’s limbs moved at once as he threw himself into a sitting position. Hunter held his face level with his brother’s, his hand holding on to his shoulder to steady him.

“Mayday?” Crosshair asked, heavily lidded eyes struggling to focus. Tears glistened on his cheeks in the dim lights of Pabu through the window and Hunter felt his stomach clench. It had been one of those nightmares.

“It’s me, Cross. It’s Hunter.” He said in what he hoped was a reassuring tone.

Hunter saw Crosshair’s eyes finally come into focus and rest on his face. He sat up straighter, pushing his brother’s hands off his shoulder as he did so.

“Hunter…why are you wet?”

“I was in the fresher; you were having a nightmare.”

“I’m aware.” Crosshair said witheringly.

His eyes had narrowed into the characteristic scowl, his lips pressed into a thin line. All that was missing was a toothpick, Hunter thought.

“Go dry off, Hunter. I’m fine”

Hunter hesitated but nodded and made his way to the door. “I’m here. If you want to talk about it.”

Crosshair laid back down on the floor, pulling the blanket over his head, obscuring him from his brother’s view.

***

Hunter sat at the small kitchen table, the warm Pabu sun streaming through the windows. The front door was propped open, letting the comforting breeze and occasional moon-yo in. He swirled his hot caf once before taking a sip. It was a habit he’d picked up long ago that had become a tradition with every cup. He felt the bitter liquid scorch his throat as he swallowed.

He looked down at Tech’s old datapad, casually scrolling the latest news of the galaxy.

“Morning” he said.

A few seconds passed before Crosshair walked over the threshold, “you know I hate it when you do that,” he said pausing in the doorway as he looked at his brother. “You shaved.”

Hunter ran his hand over his jawline and smiled, “It was getting itchy.”

Crosshair narrowed his eyes but didn’t say anything as he moved further into the kitchen to prepare a cup of tea.

Hunter turned back to the datapad. “Wanna talk about it?” He asked, hoping this time would be different. That six months on from Tantiss Crosshair would finally be able to discuss his invisible wounds.

Perhaps Omega was a better person to try to get through to Crosshair, Hunter knew she had him wrapped around her finger, like she did the rest of them. But even she had failed to unlock the secrets of the nightmares.  

“Where are Omega and Wrecker?” Crosshair asked, ignoring the question as usual.

“Fishing,” Hunter grunted.

Crosshair sat down opposite Hunter, shoving a small pink cake from the market in his mouth. He took a sip of tea to wash it down.

“Why did you shave?” Crosshair asked Hunter again.

“I told you, too itchy.” Hunter replied, not raising his eyes to meet his brother’s.

Crosshair sighed and leaned back in his chair with a creak, “you’re a terrible liar, Hunter.”

“Why does it matter?” Hunter asked, pressing a button on the datapad and putting it down.

They were at a stalemate, as usual. Hunter knew Crosshair. Knew that whatever trauma and loss he’d suffered would be discussed when he was ready and not a second before. And Crosshair must have known that Hunter wasn’t going to pry. Forcing information out of someone rarely had the anticipated consequences, even if the intentions were noble.

As always, Crosshair liked to subvert Hunter’s expectations.

“Mayday,” he croaked into the quiet, sunny kitchen as though fearful the walls would hear.

Hunter kept his eyes low, not wanting to intrude but unable to fully look away. Crosshair’s face had twisted into a pained expression, as though every piece of him was desperately trying to hold itself together. All the color seemed to drain out of his face. His chestnut eyes were wide but dimming to the color of mud with sadness. The tattoo over his right eye, usually scrunched, was stretched, a rare full glimpse of then namesake mark.

“He saved my life on Barton IV. Twice. He…you…you look like him sometimes, in the dark.”

Hunter nodded his understanding. “He had a beard,” Hunter said into the gaping silence. It wasn’t a question. As soon as he had let his facial hair grow, Crosshair had had a visceral reaction, like he’d seen a ghost.

“Uhuh.” Crosshair said quietly. He held his tea close to him in both hands, real and prosthetic, as though hoping the warm liquid would scare off the chill of the ice planet that he had never fully left.

Hunter wanted to ask so many questions, find out what happened, every loss, every terrible thing. The more information he gathered the more he would be able to help. His tactical mind whirred, desperate for an explanation, for a solution. But he held his tongue.

“The helmet was his.” Hunter stated. He remembered watching Crosshair, his broken brother, methodically lay out helmet after helmet on the abandoned imperial crates in that frozen outpost.

Crosshair nodded but didn’t speak. Couldn’t speak, Hunter realized.

“I didn’t know what it meant, for you to go back there. I’m sorry I was so…”

“Hostile?” Crosshair supplied.

“Confrontational.” Hunter said seriously.

A small smile tickled the corner of Crosshair’s lips. Hunter let out a sigh.

“Is there anything I can do? Apart from shaving more often?

Crosshair shook his head, holding the warm cup up to his heart as though trying to help it thaw. They had come a long way since Barton IV as a family, as brothers, but Hunter knew there was more to discuss, more to process, when they were ready.

“Understood” Hunter said before standing up and placing a reassuring hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Thanks, Cross.”

“For what?”

“Helping me understand.” He said quietly.

His brother nodded. It may have been Hunter’s imagination, but Crosshair’s shoulders were slumped a little less. With every revelation about his time with the Empire he was able to rise above the weight of it. One day he would walk tall again.

Hunter crossed to the far cabinet for a bottle of spirit. Back at the table he took the cup of tea from Crosshair’s hands, replacing it with a large glass of amber liquid.

“What’s this for?”

Hunter poured his own glass and raised his hand, “For Mayday,” he said gruffly.

Crosshair’s voice caught in his throat. “Mayday,” he said raising the glass is his prosthetic hand, it quivered a little, sending a splash of spirit onto the table. Hunter pretended not to notice. They clinked the glasses together and Hunter watched his brother down the drink in one shot and promptly followed suit.

[sinfulsalutations]

𝕓𝕒𝕕 𝕙𝕒𝕓𝕚𝕥𝕤 ⋆*･ﾟ 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕓𝕒𝕕 𝕓𝕒𝕥𝕔𝕙

➼ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ☆ ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ ꜱᴇɴᴅ ᴛᴡᴇᴇᴛ

⋆ ★ ᴜʜ ʜᴇʀᴇ'ꜱ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ɴᴏɴꜱᴇɴꜱᴇ ɪ ꜱᴘᴇᴡᴇᴅ ᴏᴜᴛ

⋆ ★ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀᴏ3 ⋆*･ﾟ ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀᴍ

Hunter

The sergeant is very unruly in the bathroom.

He is the shittiest person to share a fresher with.

Somehow manages to leave the whole thing wet as he gets out of the shower, has hair all in the drains and clinging to the shower wall, and the mirror is totally fogged up to the point you have to air out the room for a solid few minutes.

All of his hair products and body care stuff also take up so much counter space, leaving barely enough for yours (which is much more minimal).

You’re trying your best to help Hunter implement new, better habits as time goes on, but it’s proving difficult.

He’d never believe you, but you might insist he’s this way because he likes to relax and not bother in the fresher, as it’s the only time for himself to truly unwind and enjoy himself.

But no. That can’t be the reason why. Right?

Tech

He is a CHRONIC nail biter and skin picker.

It’s just a constant fiddle thing.

Helps him focus on something but he also just gets picky with the state of his nails and the skin surrounding it.

Consistently gets to a point where the poor things are red and swollen and just look painful.

Subtly you try to make him stop; switching to a new soap, coating his nails with bad tasting polish and finish, etc.

It doesn’t work.

He somehow always manages to swerve around it and continue biting his nails.

One day you’ll find a strategy to get him to stop; hint, it might be letting him fiddle around with your hands a little…

Wrecker

Sloppy with food. Like, very sloppy.

If you hand him a full plate, a good portion of it will find its way onto the table, the floor, his pants, his shirt, and the surrounding area of his mouth.

He just can’t seem to keep it all in one place.

It’s not that big of a deal; if he’s truly conscious about it, he won’t actively make a mess (though he might still get some on his clothes and mouth), but a lot of the time, he isn’t.

Either way, it’s kind of charming. Seeing him snarf down food enthusiastically only fits so well with the rest of his character.

Crosshair

This man’s sleep schedule is fuuuuucked; more fucked than Tech’s, even.

He will go to bed early, wake up in the middle of night and stay up until the morning when he finally does fall asleep for a few hours but is forced to wake up and start the day.

Or alternatively, he’ll go to bed very late, sleep until noon, and spend his day taking minor naps only continuing his habit of sleeping later.

The worst part is he doesn’t make any effort to fix it and practically enables it.

What kind of fucked up form of masochism is this? you think.

He’s a quiet riser and sleeper so this habit of his manages not to affect anyone else, but it especially bothers you out of your care for crosshair and his well-being.

You might try and coax him to sleep and wake up at proper times with you, and it might work every now and then— but Crosshair’s sleep schedule doesn’t follow anyone’s orders.

Echo

This boy has really bad posture.

It’s not very obvious compared to Tech’s posture, but it causes him lots of shoulder and neck aches, especially when he’s sitting in the cockpit for too long.

You make jokes about getting him a back brace and he grumbles with a laugh, “I already got enough metal hooked up to me.”

Sometimes when you notice it and see him rubbing at his neck, you get his attention and sweetly tell him ‘shoulders up, love.’

Without fail, he does so with a soft smile and leans over to kiss your cheek as a way of thanking you for the reminder.

ragu list: @starstofillmydream @pb-jellybeans @corrieguards @badbatchbabe @ladytano420 @jediknightjana @sleepycreativewriter @shinyshayminflower @thebahdbitch @secondaryrealm @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius @dukeoftheblackstar @kimiheartblade @followthepurrgil @wolffegirlsunite @starrylothcat @sev-on-kamino @aconstructofamind @padawancat97 @littlemissmanga @starqueensthings @anxiouspineapple99 @freesia-writes @wings-and-beskar @clio3kantarella @secretthegriffin @idontgetanysleep @523rdrebel @dystopicjumpsuit @mandos-mind-trick @sunshinesdaydream @clonemedickix @andrakass2 @jesjestraverse @crosshairlovebot @wizardofrozz @dangraccoon @lickylickylicky @captainfresh501 @thebomb-diggity @urmomsmattress @jedi-hawkins @who-would-want-a-broken-heart @cw80831 @bluebird-dreams @ladyzirkonia @multi-fan-dom-madness @moonlightwarriorqueen @eyeluvmusic21 @mythical-illustrator @a-single-tulip

[fanfoolishness]

A New Fascination

Tech isn't sure why Phee fascinates him so, but when she tells him about an intriguing creature by the shore, he takes a chance to further investigate things. Fluff, the teensiest hurt/comfort, long conversations, and several firsts all wrapped in a bow; TechPhee and a little bit on Tech & Crosshair. Canon-compliant, set after Pabu. 8100 words.

---

Tech sat in the boughs of the great weeping maya tree, recording sounds.  Omega’s morning flying lesson had been bracing, her inexperience and bravado combined nearly enough to cause him to ponder his own mortality, and now that they were safely back on solid ground he thought he would focus on less potentially deadly pursuits.  

He always cataloged new sounds as he came across them, but the challenge came in when they were layered and stacked and interlaced with each other.  Wingbeats of the fluttering jeweled finches were swallowed up by the sounds of their vocalizations, mixed with rustling leaves and the voices and footsteps of passersby.  His datapad did a fine job of sorting things on a cursory level, but it often required manual input for greatest accuracy.  Up here, higher above the colonnade, the sounds were crisper and easier to parse.  

He had pleasantly lost himself in this pursuit for some time when a voice broke through his focus.

“Didn’t take you for much of a climber, Brown Eyes.”

He lifted the visor up with its stream of data, peering down at her through his goggles, the leaves, and the afternoon shadows.  She stood ten feet below, shading her eyes and gazing up at him.  

“It is the best area from which to collect direct recordings of the local avians.  The jeweled finches, particularly.”  

She sat on the large bough beneath him, grinning.  “Sure you don’t want to listen to them from down here?”

Tech frowned.  The recordings would contain more interference and ambient sound the further away he was from the canopy the birds frequented.  However, coming down would provide a better opportunity for conversing with Phee.  And Phee was fascinating in her own right.

He paused.  He had not yet determined why Phee so fascinated him, but she did.  His initial hypothesis had been that her treasure hunting, or “liberation” as she colorfully put it, required a wide subset of skills, an ability to quickly adapt, and a nimble intelligence.  That was certainly part of it.  But he had met many intelligent and skilled people throughout the galaxy, his brothers, certain reg clones, people like Romar, and none of them had inspired this type of interest from him before.

He had considered pheromones as a possible trigger, though human pheromones were significantly weaker and less effective than those of many other species.  He could not discount them, though, or how else could he explain the way he enjoyed being near her for no apparent reason?

“You coming?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said determinedly, climbing down.  He sat beside her and she gave him a bright smile, tilting her head to one side.  It was a smile that was full, easy, beaming.  It was new, having such a smile frequently directed at him, but it was… very nice.  

Of course, he had also considered the fact that she was objectively beautiful.  Warm brown eyes, a musical laugh, luxurious hair, a sleek and strong figure… he was not blind to these things, and appreciated them as he would any source of beauty.  He simply wasn’t used to appreciating beauty in the form of a curious and clever person who seemed to appreciate him, too.

Perhaps that was why he always felt slightly off-kilter near her.

His datapad chimed, finishing its collation of data.  He took off his helmet and set it beside him, then hunched his shoulders to get a better look at the screen.  He needed to sort the information he had gathered before it became less fresh in his mind.

“Whatcha got there?” she asked, scooting closer so that she could lean over his shoulder, nearly touching him.  His heart beat more quickly.

“Samples of the finches, separated out from the sounds of the weeping maya, the wind, and the marketplace,” Tech said.  “I find it engrossing work.”

“What are you saving the recordings for?”

“For?”  Tech pondered the question. While there had been times his recordings had been extremely helpful on missions - Skako Minor came to mind as a particularly memorable instance - most of the time the data was simply stored, saved carefully where it could be retrieved at a moment’s notice.  “I enjoy collecting sounds.  It could be considered a hobby.”

Phee chuckled, apparently surprised by his statement.  “I like that.  Everyone needs a hobby.  And I, of all people, understand collecting things.”  She looked out at the busy marketplace, concentrating as if listening.  “You know, Pabu’s got its share of interesting wildlife.  Do you like nature sounds the most?  Or any sounds?”

“All sounds are interesting,” said Tech, raising his eyes from his datapad to look over at her briefly.  She was looking at him with curiosity, her full attention focused on him.  He quickly turned back to his datapad.  “Machinery generates patterns that can easily form a type of music.  Battle sounds are both highly varied and highly predictable, depending on the situation.  Natural sounds provide some of the most unique samples, though.  Animals with different vocal apparatuses and anatomy can produce a nearly infinite variety of sounds.  Some are not even made with mouths.  Have you ever heard the sound of a winnowing wood-snipe from Batuu?”  

“No, I can’t say that I have.  I’ve been to Batuu a few times, but only to the outpost,” Phee said.  “It wasn’t exactly crawling with wood-snipes, whatever those are.”

Tech quickly found the pertinent file and played it.  Ghostly, high-pitched twittering emitted from the datapad in waves.  Phee looked intrigued.

“That wasn’t an animal call?”

“No.  It was created by small, uniquely-shaped feathers at the base of the bird’s tail.  When soaring and diving, the airflow creates these noises,” said Tech.  Reading of the bird’s description beforehand had not fully prepared him for the startling nature of its sounds.  “There are thousands of such examples of unique adaptations across the galaxy.”

“Hey, now that’s all right,” Phee said, nodding, clearly impressed.  “I would’ve never guessed that wasn’t a song.  Not sure there’s anything quite like that here, but there’s still some interesting wildlife, especially down near the shore.  I remember Shep telling me about some creature that sings near the caves.  Want me to get some more info and get back to you?”

Tech paused.  She did not need to bother herself.  “I could also ask Shep, if you are busy.”  It did sound interesting.

“Suit yourself,” Phee said, “but I don’t mind asking as a favor.”  She smiled again, then clapped a hand against his shoulder.  Her touch was brief, but electric.

Ah.  She wants to do it.  He nodded, not wishing to discourage her.  “If you would like to find out more information, I… would be grateful.”

Another of those bright, beaming smiles.  He tried one back, though it was nowhere near as wide and carefree.  She nodded, looking pleased.  “I’m on the case.”  She swung her legs off the bough, slipping back down to the ground, and waved goodbye.  “See you around, Brown Eyes.”

---

She found him the next morning attempting to clean up after some much-needed repairs to the Marauder.  Another flying lesson with Omega had been… bracing.  He sat amidst a pile of spanners and tools, covered in engine grease, sorting the tools to put away when he wasn’t distracted by the sounds of the finches.  There was a new vocalization he could hear -- perhaps young birds begging to be fed -- and he had left his datapad inside.  He switched on the auxiliary recording function on his goggles, making a note to import and analyze the sounds later.

“In the middle of something, I see.  Those flying lessons out there looked a little rough this morning,” Phee said, casting an eye over the tools strewn around him.

“Omega is still mastering the concept of incline control,” Tech said.  “It’s creating some extra wear and tear on the engine, but nothing I cannot repair.”

“Never doubted that.”  She dropped down to squat beside him, idly picking up a spanner.  “That’s a solid one.”

“Standard Republic issue.  I have since seen some of the Imperial repair kits, and they are inferior, clearly turned out quickly to keep costs down.”

“Sounds like the Empire all over,” Phee said, sighing.  “Quantity over quality.  I guess you’d know all about that.”

Tech nodded.  The Empire had discarded the clones similarly, of course.  

“So, I talked to Shep about this creature.  He said it’s something the people here call a sea ghost.”

Tech made a face.  “A rather whimsical name.”

“Not much for whimsy?” Phee asked, looking amused by his response.

“It is not remotely descriptive,” Tech complained.  “Is it mammalian?  Avian?  Some type of cartilaginous or bony fish?  ‘Sea ghost’ does not give us any indication as to what kind of creature could be expected.”

“Well, I’m guessing it lives by the sea with a name like that,” Phee laughed.  

Tech gave her a look.  She had him there.

“He said it lives down near the northwest cove, whatever it is,” she continued.  “It goes out to sea sometimes but often comes back to sing in the caves.  He said its song is supposed to be hauntingly beautiful.  Hence the ‘ghost.’”

“If it sings in the caves, it may be taking advantage of the area’s natural acoustics,” Tech mused.  “Is it sentient?” 

“Not exactly, I think.  More like a wise animal is how he described it.  People here used to tell stories about it, long ago.”

Tech wiped his hands off on his thighs, smearing the fabric with oil as he got to his feet.  “Well, I am game to search for this creature if you are.  Give me a few moments to gather these up and we may go.”  Hunter’s intense aggravation the last time Tech had left his repair work for later would be an irritating way to start such a promising day, and he had no intention of letting that distraction interfere.

“You want me to come?” Phee asked, raising an eyebrow with a sly smile.  “Not Shep?  He’s actually seen it, you know.”

“Shep may be best suited to finding the creature,” Tech said, adjusting his goggles.  “But I am asking you because I would like for you to be there.”

He hoped he had not miscalculated.  He thought that it was what Phee had been intending all along, that this would be a time for the two of them to be alone during an enjoyable and interesting activity, but for a moment, he was unsure.  It was one thing to calculate his own thoughts, responses, plans.  It was quite another to attempt to guess what Phee might desire.  He swallowed, watching her closely, hoping he had read the situation appropriately --

She grinned.  “Why, Brown Eyes, I thought you’d never ask.”

---

They took the winding stairs down to the beach, passing islanders as they went.  Several nodded or said hello to Phee, and a few said hello to him as well, perhaps remembering their efforts from the night of the sea surge a few weeks ago.  Tech nodded to them as they passed, surprised they remembered him.  He commented on it to Phee.

“You and your brothers don’t exactly blend in,” she said.  “You might all be clones, but here you’re the new kids in town, and that makes you easy to remember.”  

“I suppose that would be the case in a place with a relatively small population,” Tech said.  “It is still unexpected.”

They rounded a corner and ran into Hunter, Wrecker and Omega, carrying woven bags of foodstuffs and supplies.  “Tech!  Phee!” Omega said.  “We’re going to try some new recipes for lunch.  Are you coming back up?”

“Recipes?” Tech asked.  “None of us has ever shown any aptitude at cooking.”

“We’re going to try,” Hunter said heavily.  He appeared dismayed at the prospect.  “Wrecker’s promised to eat anything that goes horribly wrong.”

“It’ll be a sacrifice, but I’ll make it happen,” Wrecker said.  He narrowed his eyes, looking between Phee and Tech.  “You two going somewhere?”

“Phee has informed me there is a creature with an unusual song that visits near the beach,” said Tech.  “We are going to investigate.”

A wide, eager smile stole over Wrecker’s face, and he was about to speak until Hunter elbowed him subtly in the side.  He closed his mouth again.  “Uh, that sounds nice,” he said.  

Tech was certain that had not been what he was originally going to say.

“Good luck,” Hunter said, giving them an odd look that Tech did not know how to interpret.  “If there’s leftovers later, you’re welcome to try them.”

“But Hunter,” Omega asked, “wouldn’t you be able to help them track the creature?”

Hunter paused, searching for words.  “Ah, they don’t need my help, Omega.  And I promised I’d help you with this recipe of yours.  They’ll be fine without us.”

“We appreciate the vote of confidence,” Phee said.  “Bye, boys.  See you, Omega.”

“Bye, Phee!  Bye, Tech!”

Phee and Tech continued down the stairs.  “That’s cute,” Phee said.

“What is?”

“Wrecker wanting to tease you about me, and Hunter trying to play it cool,” she laughed.  “Reminds me of my cousins growing up.  They used to tease each other mercilessly.  Especially if there was a boy or girl involved.”

“Wrecker often attempts jokes at my expense,” said Tech.  “Though… this is certainly the first time a ‘girl’ has been involved.”  He felt a flicker of warmth in his cheeks, that funny sense of being wrongfooted that he seemed to only feel around Phee.

“I thought that might be the case,” Phee said.  She turned to him, laying a hand on his arm and keeping him from descending the next flight of steps.  “Look, Tech -- I think it’s clear we like each other.  Right?”  One of those warm, sunny smiles again.  He nodded at her, feeling slightly lightheaded.  “But if this is all new to you, I don’t mind taking our time, you know?  You’re worth doing this right.”

His mouth seemed incredibly dry.  With a great effort he swallowed, managing to find enough saliva to speak again.  “I -- I will take that under advisement.”

Phee snorted.  “Glad to hear it.”  She nodded towards the last set of stairs.  “Come on, we’re nearly there.  Let’s go find this ghost.”

---

The path to the cove was hidden and cunning, half-covered by tidewaters or stretches of exposed seagrass.  Tech thought that even Hunter would have had a difficult time picking his way through the stretches of rocks, sand and shallow water.  Phee led him through a narrow cleft in the rocky wall, both of them forced to turn to the side and creep through, hands scraping the rocky surface.  At one point Phee’s hand brushed his, and she paused for an instant before she pressed forward once more, to Tech’s disappointment.  He would have liked it had her hand lingered.

She led him around a bend and a large pool of gently lapping waves, sheltered from the main beach, lay before them.  Beyond that Tech could see the entrance to a cave, carved out from the rocky walls as if by invisible hands.  Phee stared appraisingly at the pool.

“We’re going to have to wade for it,” she said.  “Shep said with most low tides this water’s receded, but some are lower than others.  Guess we got lucky.”

Tech nodded, sitting down in the sand to pull off his boots.  While they were water resistant, they had not been designed for complete submersion, and he did not relish the idea of walking the return path in soaked boots and footwear.  That had been troublesome enough after the underground river on Ipsidon.  

He peeled off his socks and rolled up his blues to his knees.  At least his datapad was waterproof, so that would not be a problem.

Phee pulled off her own boots, then removed her jacket and blouse, revealing a skin tight sleeveless shirt in a pretty blue color.  She folded up her clothing and stuffed it into the bag she had brought.  He gazed at her bare shoulders, her toned arms, the curve of her breasts and waist, until he heard the sound of a throat clearing.  “Ready to go?” Phee asked, with a look on her face that suggested she knew he had been staring at her, and didn’t mind.

He turned away, nodding.  “Yes.  I’m ready.”  

He followed her into the pool.  The water was warm and gentle, a perfect temperature when combined with the soft cool breeze blowing in from the sea.  It came up to his knees, then his thighs, then past his waist.  Phee waded beside him, one hand holding her bag safely above the water, the other swirling random patterns in the surface of the water with every step.

“Ever do much swimming?” she asked as they made their way through the pool.

“Swimming proficiency was mandatory for all clones,” said Tech.  “Kamino is a waterbound world and it would be laughable to fail to instill swimming skills in that setting.  There were also special clone commando units with additional training in underwater operations, though our squad had only cursory training in that department.”  He paused at the look on her face.  “But yes, I am an adequate swimmer.  It is not my specialty.”

“You’re like me.  Flying’s really where we shine, right?,” said Phee, wading towards the shore.  The cave’s entrance rose up before them, and Tech could see the reflections of blue and white from the water’s surface painting the walls of the cave.  “But I can swim if I need to.  Once I had to retrieve an artifact from a Naboo battlefield over an old Gungan settlement.  Place was boobytrapped to high heaven with battledroids, but not in the water.  Turned out the droids were the least of my worries.  You ever been to Naboo?”

“No,” said Tech.  “There were no clones in service during the battles on Naboo.  Kaminoan production only began in earnest shortly after that time.  My brothers and I had not yet been designed, let alone decanted.” 

Phee shook her head.  “Clone aging… that’s still a hard one to wrap my brain around.”

Tech shrugged.  “We age at roughly double the rate as unaltered humans.  It is simply a fact of life for us.”

Phee was quiet for a moment, a hint of something sad behind her eyes.  Her mouth twisted to one side.  Then she shook her head again, and continued.  “Well, anyway -- Naboo’s a nice place. If it wasn’t for the Empire, I’d say you should try to visit sometime.  But avoid going underwater, there are some freaky things down there, and I don’t mean the Gungans.  Nearly got eaten by five different giant creatures.”  She shuddered.  “Got the artifact, though, so it wasn’t all bad.”

“I am glad you were not eaten,” said Tech.  “It sounds as if it would be most unpleasant.”

She reached the shore, climbing up but slipping for a second on a rock.  Tech closed the distance between them, reaching out to steady her with a hand on her shoulder.  She refound her footing and clambered up, turning back to him with a grateful smile.  “Thanks.” 

He followed her up, water dripping down his legs, running in rivulets down his feet.  Phee was just as wet, her clothing clinging to her in a way he quite liked.  He turned his attention back to the cave, listening closely.

“I do not hear anything.”

Phee screwed up her face in concentration.  “Me neither, but it might be in deeper.  This cave system goes in for a little ways.  I don’t feel like getting deep into spelunking for this, but there might be something in one of the near chambers.”  

She carefully picked out a path on the rocky shore as they entered the cave.  There was a narrow spit of rocks encircling the water, and they climbed atop this, looking down into the water below for signs of movement.  Light dancing on the water’s surface helped to light the cove, as did glimmers of sunlight peeking in from up above them through small gaps in the rocky ceiling.  They were quiet for a few moments, concentrating on their footing and the gradually dimming light within the cave.

Phee was surefooted, leading the way without hesitation, occasionally pausing only to study the water beneath them.  He watched the water too, but his attention was divided between the gently lapping waves and Phee herself.  She moved with an easy elegance that was intriguing; long graceful neck shifting to allow her a better view, hands held out to her side to steady herself, legs balancing adroitly on the uneven rocks.  He followed in her footsteps, occasionally startled when he noticed her looking back at him with a similar focus.  

The light dimmed further, and up ahead was largely darkness.  She stopped her, sitting down on a rocky outcropping and resting her arms on her legs.  She gave him a nod, and he sat down beside her at the invitation.

“Seems like as good a place as any to wait,” she said.  

“What else do we know of this creature?”

“Not much,” Phee said.  “Last I checked, Pabu doesn’t have a marine biologist, and it’s not exactly a place that’s been extensively studied.  One of the disadvantages of being so out of the way.”

“I could change that,” said Tech thoughtfully.  “If we’re to spend more time here, I would like to continue learning about the local ecosystem and culture.”

“I think you might be the most curious person I’ve ever met,” Phee said quietly.  “I like that about you.”

“I have never understood a lack of curiosity,” he said.  “There is so much to learn and understand in this galaxy.  I could never begin to come close to learning all of it, but I would like to try.”  He smiled.  “You, of course, also seem to be a very curious person.  I… like that about you, too.”  

She smiled brightly at him.  Her brown eyes glinted with the dappled blue and white light reflecting off the water.  She leaned in, listening to him.

He wondered, suddenly, what it might be like to kiss her.

“I guess I’m just a curious soul,” Phee murmured.  

His heart seemed to be beating rather faster than normal, and he searched for something to say.   “You have asked me a great many questions about myself, for example.”

She laughed quietly, the sound echoing sweetly off the water and the walls.  “I’ve just never met anyone like you before.  You’re one of a kind, Brown Eyes.”

Perhaps she was teasing him.  He leaned back, shaking his head.  “That is blatantly incorrect. While I am unique in being a genetically modified clone, I am still one of millions --”

She reached out, fingertips brushing his cheek, her touch feather soft.  “No.  There’s no one like you, Tech.”

Oh.

He stared into her eyes, frozen.

And then he heard it, faint in the distance, coming closer.  A sound, haunting, beautiful, delicate piping layered with echoes of reflected notes building upon each other.  Phee dropped her hand, focusing intently as Tech quickly pulled out his datapad and started recording.

“The ghost, there --” Phee started, pointing past him.  He reached out quickly and took her hand, holding it closely within his own.  She turned back to him and he made a shh gesture with his free hand.  She nodded, staying quiet and still as the creature swam into view.

A pale gray shape skimmed the water’s surface, its form rounded, plump and smooth-skinned.  As it drew closer Tech realized the dappling on its back was not only due to the reflections in the water, but also due to speckles of white and darker gray spotting its skin, crisscrossed with the shapes of faint scars.  The creature was sirenian in nature; he remembered a similar manatee-like animal that had swam and played in the pooled waters of the vast wroshyr root system on Kashyyyk.  But the alshyyyr of Kashyyyk had had no voice like this.

Phee leaned in close to him, her bare shoulder brushing against his, and he realized he was still holding her hand.  His focus shifted from the fluting calls filling the cavern and back to Phee.  Her face held a look of wonder as the ghost sang, its ethereal music resonating with the water and the stone, but that had fallen into the background for Tech.  

Phee’s hand was soft in his, but strong; his thumb glided over her knuckles, the back of her hand, mapping fine hollows and ridges, tracing small old scars.  She gently squeezed his hand, and he squeezed back, marveling at how such a small motion could be so engrossing.  

She nudged him, slightly, and he looked back up at her.  “Sea ghost, remember?” she whispered, winking.

Tech nodded, gazing back at the ghost and its sweet singing.  He closed his eyes to listen to the music, alien, haunting, singular.  He was grateful they had found it, and glad that he was recording it to analyze and assess later.  Of course he should be studying the animal after their work to get here.  

But Phee’s hand in his fit perfectly.  He liked holding it.  Liked touching her.  This new thing between them, smiles and stories and laughter and touches, was truly what he had come here to investigate, and the sea ghost, lovely as it was, took a distant second in his concentration.  He could not explain it, even to himself; it was confusing.  It was new and strange.

It was mesmerizing.

---

They listened to the music of the sea ghost for nearly an hour before the dappled gray creature dipped below the water and vanished into the dark.  They waited for a few more minutes, but at last Phee turned to him and said, “I think it’s taken its leave.  We should probably go too, before the tide comes in further.”

Tech nodded, turning off his datapad and slipping it back into its pouch.  He felt a little disappointed at seeing the creature go; though how much of that was due to the ghost’s departure, and how much of it was due to the fact that this moment between him and Phee would end?

They made their way back along the rocks, Phee following along behind him.  His bare feet gripped each rock tightly.  It was slick along here as the tide had begun to come in and water had splashed on the rocks.  He picked out his path carefully while he led them back to the mouth of the cave, deep in thought.  

He narrowed his eyes as they stepped out of the cave.  The sun was now in full afternoon brightness, and even with the adaptive settings on his goggles it was still difficult for his eyes to adjust after the dark quiet of the cave.  

“Phew,” she said, rubbing her eyes.  “It didn’t seem that dark while we were in there, but that is intense.”

He turned to her once the brightness of the sunlight no longer forced him to squint.  “Thank you for coming with me.  I would not have been able to find this on my own.”  

“Everything you were hoping for?” Phee asked, crossing her arms.  “I have to say, that was some concert we were treated to.”

“I am looking forward to analyzing the recordings of the sea ghost,” said Tech.  He turned to her, smiling faintly.  “But I also enjoyed spending this time with you.”

Her face creased in a grin.  “Me too, Brown Eyes.  This getting to know you thing?  It’s all right.”  She waded into the deep pool between the cave and the rest of the shore, the water rising up to her chest.  He followed her, the warm water rising up past his waist within a few steps.  “I’ll admit, I wasn’t sure at first if you were interested.  And I didn’t want to scare you off if this was all new for you.”

“It is new,” Tech admitted, taking another step behind her.  “But that is not a problem.  It is very intriguing.”  He hesitated.  “You are intriguing.  And… I wish to learn more, if that is also what you want.”

He reached out, and took another step --

Pain.  Blinding, searing, lancing pain shooting up his right foot and leg.  He groaned and stumbled, falling forward, the water closing over his head.

“Tech!”  There was a frantic scramble of limbs and splashing of water, and after a few confused, agonizing moments he realized he was back on the sand, Phee kneeling beside him and pulling something out of his foot.  “Ahh, kriff, you stepped on a shore urchin.  That would do it!”  She tossed away a shard of bright purple material.  “How’s it feeling now?”

Tech blinked, his head swimming, though he wasn’t sure if that was from the sting or from Phee’s look of concern.  He tried experimentally to move his leg.  The pain was receding, leaving a buzzing, prickling sensation rolling up and down his foot and shin.  He stared down at the leg, realizing that the right foot was already approximately twice the size of the left.  

“Ah,” he said sagely.  “It seems to be venomous.  Fortunately, the venom also seems to have an anesthetic component.  The blinding pain has stopped and I can no longer feel my foot at all.”  He let out a long hiss of breath, trying and failing to wiggle his toes.  

“Well, I gotta love the optimism,” Phee said, her face a mixture of amusement and worry.  “I know it looks bad, but it’s not serious.  Your foot’s gonna blow up like a puffer pig for a day or two, but it’ll be all right.   Happened to me once.”

“Really?” Tech asked.  The knowledge did bring a small measure of comfort.

Phee gave him a guilty look.  “No, I was just trying to make you feel better.  But hey.  I really have heard of people stepping on these things and being fine.”

Tech reached up, disengaging his goggles to wipe them on his shirt.  He squinted up at her.  “This is an inauspicious end to our afternoon together, unfortunately.”  He slipped his goggles back into place, blinking.  

“Well, it’s not over yet,” Phee chuckled.  “We still need to get you back in one piece.  I have a feeling your family would have strong words for me if I left you here for the birds.”

“The gulls would not be interested in me unless I had already died,” Tech pointed out.  “I am far too large to register as a prey item for this species.”

“Ahhh, there’s that charm,” she said.  “Here.  Let’s get you situated.”  She pulled her bag over her head.  It was now soaking wet, which Tech realized must have happened when she dove in after him.  She reached in and pulled out a spare kerchief, similar to the blue one she wore most frequently, and wrung it out until it was no longer sopping.  She carefully bandaged his right foot, which scarcely resembled the left.  It was now mottled an unappealing red, white and purple, though at least the anesthetic properties of the venom were holding.

She gathered their shoes they had left in the sand, putting his right boot into her bag.  He wiped as much of the sand from his foot as he could before jamming the left boot back on.  It was going to be an uncomfortable walk up the stairs, he wagered.  But at least he would be in good company.

“All right.  Let me help you up.”  She held out a hand, bracing herself in the sand, and got him up.  She pulled his arm over her shoulders.  It was a very pleasant sensation having her so close, his arm draped over her shoulders, her arm slid around his waist.  It would have been better without the prickling-numb swollen foot he was dragging, however.

“It is a shame we had to sever ties with Cid,” Tech mused.  “There was no chance to retrieve AZI-3 from her bar before coming here to Pabu.  He would have been particularly helpful in a time like this.”

Phee nodded, beginning to walk, going slowly so that he could hop along with her.  “Well, I don’t think she’d be all that happy to see you if I brought you back there.  But there’s first aid options here.  Old Namira’s got a pretty good setup at her place for minor wounds and injuries, we’ll figure it out.”

“Thank you for the support,” Tech said, focusing on keeping his balance in the sand.  “It is a pity it was my right leg that was affected.  The left is still slightly weaker after I fractured it earlier this year.”

“Omega was telling me about that,” Phee said, concerned.  “That must have been painful.  Rough year for you, huh?”

“It was unpleasant,” Tech said.  “Femoral fractures are intensely painful.”  He shrugged, taking another hopping step, his left leg sliding in the sand.  Phee stabilized herself against him, compensating for the uneven terrain.  “Between AZI’s ministrations and the increased healing abilities of clones, I was only disabled for a matter of weeks.  It was still not something I am eager to repeat.”

“Do all clones heal quickly?” Phee asked as they finally reached the first staircase.  

“Yes, it is something we share with the regs.  A sublimely useful modification by the Kaminoans, particularly for soldiers,” Tech said.  They took the first step, and Tech winced as his dangling foot accidentally hit the first step. It gave a peculiar burst of sharp yet muted discomfort before fading back into numbness.  He gave it an appraising look.  “It appears to be swelling even more.”

“You good?  Or do you need a rest before we start heading up?  We can take a breather.”

“I’m all right.  Let’s continue,” he said, adjusting his arm so it lay more evenly across her shoulders.  Their cheeks brushed, and he swallowed.  His senses buzzed, each small touch from Phee electrifying.  This close he could smell her hair if he turned his head, and he caught the scents of a rich woody oil and the flowers of the weeping maya tree.  It was intoxicating.  He shook his head, trying to redirect his thoughts.  

“You’re right,” she said, wincing.  “It is getting bigger.  I’m sorry, Brown Eyes.  Not how I thought the day was going to go.”

“One never knows what hazards may be encountered in the wild,” Tech said.  “It reminds me of something that happened to my brother.  That was an insect envenomation and not an echinoderm encounter, but it triggered an intense hypersensitivity reaction.  Not only did his hand swell up, he broke out in hives everywhere.  Of course, he kept insisting he was fine -- up until his eyes threatened to swell shut.”

“Oh dear,” Phee said as they reached the next flight of stairs, breathing a little harder from the exertion.  She readjusted her arm around him, pulling him closer.  “Let me guess, Wrecker?”

“No, Crosshair,” he said.  He could still recall Crosshair ripping off his helmet to reveal an appalling urticaria over his entire face, his eyes swelling until they could only see narrow slits, his hand barely able to bend over the butt of his Firepuncher, let alone pull a trigger.  “Luckily, a few antihistamine injections were all we needed to reverse the effects.  We knew that he would make a full recovery when he began complaining again.”  

“Hang on,” said Phee, pausing.  “Who’s Crosshair?”

Tech turned to her in surprise.  “We have not spoken of him?  ….No, we have not.”  He looked up at the stairs above them, then at Phee, still breathing hard.  “Here.  We should rest a moment.”

She helped him get down to a sitting position on the stairs, then sat beside him and lifted his leg to rest it on her lap, keeping it elevated.  She rested one hand loosely on his knee, another electrifying touch.

“That’s better,” she said.  “Only… fifteen more flights to go.  We got this.”  She laughed.  “But come on, who’s Crosshair?  Another brother?  You don’t talk about him.  None of you do.”

“No,” Tech said.  “Hunter prefers not to.  Wrecker and I do speak a little of him, sometimes; Omega would speak more of him, but she was only able to spend a small amount of time with him.  He is our other brother, but as you have seen he is no longer with us.”

Phee covered her mouth with her hand, her brown eyes soft with pity.  “He died?  Oh, Tech, I’m so sorry.”

Tech’s eyes widened, and he adjusted his goggles hastily.  “What?  No, he is alive.”  He amended that statement, as he could not be certain of the veracity of it.  “Or, we hope he is.  He has chosen to remain with the Empire.”

“Oh.”  Her voice and her face shifted, a hint of coldness coloring her expression.  It looked out of place on her.  “Sorry to hear it.  I guess that’s why you don’t talk about him.”

Tech frowned.  He knew how Hunter felt about Crosshair’s decisions, but he could not fully agree with Hunter’s interpretation, and it seemed somehow important to him for Phee to have a better understanding of the situation.  “It is difficult to explain,” he said.  He took a moment, focusing on what he would like to say.   

“The Empire built a failsafe into all clones as a means to control us,” he began.  “With assistance, Wrecker, Hunter, Echo and I were able to circumvent this, but Crosshair was not.  The Empire was able to use this to divide us, forcing Crosshair to do terrible things.  But at some point, he chose to no longer be controlled -- yet continued to remain with the Empire.”

“Why would he do that?” Phee asked.  “Surely he’d want to escape, especially if they were forcing him to do something awful.”  Her brow furrowed as she tried to understand.

“I believe that the things he was made to do while under Imperial control disturbed him,” said Tech.  Crosshair’s agitated behavior on Kamino, coupled with his desperation in attempting to convince them to join him, had suggested as much.  “But Crosshair is a very proud man, and most unyielding.  I suspect it caused less cognitive dissonance for him to believe he would have acted the same, with or without that control, than to accept that he had been forced into doing things against his will.  So he has remained with the Empire rather than admit the Empire, and by extension himself, has done wrong.”  He gave her a small shrug.  “That is my understanding of what has happened.”

Phee looked horrified.  “That’s terrible.”  She rested a hand on his shoulder.  “It must be difficult to feel like you’ve lost him, even though he’s still out there.”

“It is strange to know that he was once here with us, but is no longer,” Tech agreed.  “I wish he could have chosen differently.  But if he had, he would not be Crosshair.”  

“You really care about him, don’t you?” Phee asked.  “Even after all of that.”

“Yes,” said Tech.  “I thought that was obvious.”

She gave him a small, sad half-smile.  “I’m sorry.  Maybe… maybe someday he’ll come back to you.”

“It’s possible.  But it is difficult to imagine a path forward where he chooses to do so, unless he is able to change,” Tech said, looking out at the sea.  It had begun to turn reddish gold in the late afternoon light, dancing with sparkles of white reflections.  He thought of Omega, huddled in the blue dark of a cave on Ipsidon, reaching out to him for understanding.  Perhaps what he had learned that day would help Phee understand.  “Our… family… has not been the same without him.  I have not been the same.”

“You were close?” she murmured.  “Before?”

Tech nodded.  “As you may have noticed, I often have a great deal to say.  Crosshair was always an exceptional listener, no matter the subject.  That is not to say he always remained quiet -- he could be quite cutting when he wished -- but there were many times he indulged my observations without complaint, even when I was particularly… exuberant.”

“Well, that’s something the two of us have in common,” Phee said, giving him a teasing smile.  “I like your observations.”

“It has not escaped my notice.”  He smiled slightly.

“Come on,” she said, patting his leg.  “Let’s see how much further we can get before sunset.  Up and at ‘em?”

“Yes,” he said.  They continued up the stairs, one at a time.  It was not easy work to do one-legged, even with Phee’s support, and he distracted himself by telling her more about Crosshair.  He had not spoken so freely about their brother in some time, and he was surprised by how it gave him a sensation of something loosening within his chest.  It felt good.

“So what was Crosshair’s role in your squad?” Phee asked, perhaps sensing the necessity of the distraction.

“He was an exceptional marksman,” Tech explained.  “His enhancements included heightened visual acuity, improved depth perception, and the ability to calculate complex ricochets in real time.  He is not proud without reason. I am a fair shot myself, but there were times it was simply enjoyable for us all to watch Crosshair set up a difficult shot and see him execute it to perfection.”  

“I can see how that would come in handy.  You’re all impressive in action, but it’d be interesting to see how a sniper in the mix changes things up,” said Phee.  She whistled.  “I’d have hated to be up against all of you.”

“We were indeed formidable,” Tech agreed.  “Until the collapse of the Republic, we had had a one hundred percent success rate in our missions.”  He sighed.  “Of course, things have gone rather differently since then.  We have been… adrift.”

“Well, maybe this is a place where you can find solid ground,” Phee said.  “You all seem happy here.”

“We are,” said Tech.  “It is something we have been discussing.  Omega deserves a stable environment after all she has seen.”

“You do, too,” Phee pointed out.  “Your whole life has been fighting.  Maybe it’s time to find out what else is out there.”  

“There are things that are worthwhile here,” Tech said.  He paused, shifting to face her.  They were so close.  Her breath was a soft puff against his cheek.  He searched her face, taking in her sparkling gaze, fixed on him, the way her lips curved into a gentle smile.  

“Why, thank you, Brown Eyes,” she said, and before he knew what was happening, she leaned forward and kissed him.

Ah.

This was new.

His mind whirred with sensations.  There was Phee’s mouth on his, her lips soft, smooth, slightly parted.  There was the warmth of her cheeks pressed close to his.  There was her arm around his waist, her other arm sliding around him, pulling him closer, keeping him balanced on his good leg.  He responded in kind, arms curving around her as instinct drove him, an overwhelming desire to keep her close within his arms and simply hold her.  The blood rushed in his ears and his heart stammered, beating a rapid new rhythm.  

It was overwhelming.  It was extraordinary.

She pulled back all too soon, her brown cheeks a little pinker, her eyes dancing.  He blinked at her, then reached up and shifted his goggles, breathing rather too quickly.

“That was… fascinating,” he managed.  Was that an adequate word for everything that had just happened?  It seemed as if it did not even come close to describing the moment they had just shared.

Phee’s smile was the most dazzling he’d seen yet.  “Care to give it another try?” she asked slyly.

“Oh!” Tech said, unable to keep from grinning back at her.  “Yes, if you are amenable, I very much would.”  He leaned in, closing his eyes, and lost himself in her again.

---

It was well after sunset when they limped up the final stairs to the colonnade, both of them exhausted.  They had taken their time coming up the stairs.  While Tech’s foot was starting to look better -- the swelling had gone down by half -- it still was not easy to take the stairs up without bearing weight on his right leg.  

They had also gotten distracted, several times, by taking breaks ostensibly to rest and kissing through them instead.  

“Thank you for your, ah, assistance,” Tech said.  “It is most appreciated.”

“It’s been my pleasure,” Phee said, winking at him.  “Now, how are you feeling?  Your foot’s looking better, but we could still go swing by Namira’s if you want to get it looked at.”

“I believe it will continue to improve.  If you would help me get to our ship, I will monitor it through the night,” Tech said.

“All right.  But you know I’ll be checking in on you tomorrow,” she said, squeezing her arm around him.  

“That would be most agreeable.”

They made their way to the ship beneath the rising moonlight, their pace slow and steady.  He suspected part of it was that neither of them wished to break the physical contact they shared now.  He reminded himself that she would be stopping by tomorrow.  There would be additional opportunities to spend time with her then, to learn more about her, to share more about himself.  He could not wait.

He had felt this way a hundred, a thousand times, eager to learn more and to explore and investigate a new subject.  But he had never felt this way about a person before, and he did not know what to do with this feeling except to follow it as thoroughly and as passionately as he did for all things.

They reached the Marauder and Omega bounded down the gangplank to see them, Hunter and Wrecker emerging behind her.  “There you are!  Did you find the creature?” she asked.

The creature?  

Phee nudged him in the side, and he chuckled.  So much had happened since the song in the cave he had nearly forgotten their original purpose in going to the beach.  “Yes,” he said quickly.  “I would be happy to play you its song later.  It was a most intriguing creature.  Though our expedition was not without a slight mishap.”

“Your foot!” Omega gasped.  

“Don’t tell me you broke it again,” Wrecker said, concerned.

“No, Brown Eyes here had an accident with a shore urchin,” Phee said.  “Don’t worry, it’s already looking better.  He just needs to stay off it ‘til the swelling goes down.”  She let go of him and pulled his boot out of her bag, handing it back to him.  “All right then, you take care of yourself, got it?  See you around.”  

“I… will see you too,” Tech said.  She winked again, and turned to walk away beneath the moonlight.  He watched her go until he felt Omega’s hand in his, pulling his attention back to his family.

“Come on in and get some rest,” Omega said, smiling up at him.  “If you’re hungry, we’ve got leftovers!”  Behind her back, Hunter mouthed the word “no,” shaking his head.  Tech allowed her to lead him inside, gingerly starting to put a bit of weight on his foot again as he did so.  It would be better by morning, he thought.

Omega let go of his hand as they reached the doorway, heading to the small refrigerant unit.  Hunter turned to him and said under his breath, “You can give yours to Wrecker.  Just let her down easy.  She worked hard.”  He gave Tech an odd look, then smiled.  “Hm.  Looks like you both had a good time.”  He followed Omega, stepping back into the ship.

Wrecker helped him into the ship the rest of the way.  “So… what’d you two really get up to, anyway?” he asked.  “‘Cause something about you seems different, and not just your foot.”

Tech raised his eyebrows.  “I believe that is between me and Phee, thank you.”  Wrecker stared at him, mouth falling open, so surprised he wasn’t even able to make a joke.

Tech limped back to his bunk, smiling.  There were a thousand thousand topics he could eagerly spend hours discussing, overwhelming even the most patient listener with minutiae and intricacies.  He knew he would tell the others about the sea ghost in the quiet cave, play its songs for them, extrapolate on its lineage and life cycle and habits aloud.  That he would happily share in all its detail.

But the rest -- Phee’s kisses, her hand in his, the way she had felt in his arms, her laugh, her smile -- that was something he was perfectly pleased to keep to himself.

[casual-violinist-fangirl]

All I can do to Keep you Safe is Hold You Close - 2,317 Words

A part of the collection I have fondly named 'Kaminoans are Assholes.'

Omega has been having trouble sleeping because of nightmares and her solution to that is to... not sleep. Hunter's Jango Fett gene has well and truly activated!

As always this fic is on my AO3 account here, and the link to my masterlist is here.

----------

The first time he had noticed something was wrong was when Omega started asking if she could drink caff in the mornings. Jokingly, Wrecker had let her have a sip of his, him and Echo laughing when they saw the expression on her face. She clearly hadn’t enjoyed the taste. When Tech had enquired as to why she had wanted to try the bitter drink, she had simply shrugged and said that there wasn’t really a reason. 

That had been a lie.

Lying in front of Hunter was almost impossible; he could sense even the slightest of changes in a person’s body for crying out loud. To add to that, Omega was an awful liar, making it easy to spot from where he was sat. Glancing around the cabin, it didn’t seem as though any of the others had noticed this, although when he caught Crosshair’s eye he noticed an air of suspicion in his expression. He had noticed too.

The day had gone on as usual and Omega hadn’t asked any more about the caff… Hunter almost allowed himself to forget that she had even lied about wanting to drink it in the first place. She was a little girl, for crying out loud. She was full of energy and the last thing they needed was her pinging about the place before crashing in a heap when the affects ran out. That night, when he had put her to bed, tucking Lula and Trooper into her blankets with her, he had asked how she was. It had come out innocently enough, but clearly he had spooked her because almost straight away her barriers went up, and she was insisting that she was absolutely fine. Not knowing what to do if she didn’t want to talk to him, he had bid her goodnight and climbed back down the ladder from the gunner’s mount.

A week or so later it was becoming more and more apparent that Omega was exhausted. She kept falling asleep on missions at every opportunity she got to rest her legs, and it was getting to the point where Wrecker was having to carry her about. Sheer exhaustion rolled off of her in waves, and the rest of the batch were beginning to be more and more concerned for her wellbeing. She was their little sister… Hunter’s ad’ika (though he would never admit that to his brothers) she deserved to be happy and healthy like all little girls her age. 

After one particular mission, Omega had collapsed in a heap in Cid’s bar; the loud music didn’t seem to bother her as she slept, drawing the attention of the Trandoshan. 

“What’s with Tiny?” she asked, nodding her head towards the booth where she was resting. Hunter scowled, but that was more because he didn’t know the answer than because she was prying. He went to respond, but Tech stepped in.

“It would appear that Omega has… over done it on the past couple of missions,” he answered in a very reasonable tone. “She clearly needs to go to her bunk when we get back to the ship.”

Cid hadn’t said anything else following on from that, but Hunter could tell that she didn’t buy what Tech had told her, and that even she was concerned for the little girl. “Right…” she responded. “Well you see that she does get that sleep. I can’t have clients coming in thinking I let little kids pass out drunk in my bar.”

Omega had let Hunter scoop her up and carry her back to the ship, her head lolling on his shoulder as she wordlessly took in her surroundings. He had thought there and then that maybe he’d be able to get her into bed quickly when he got back to the Marauder… 

He could not have been more wrong.

The moment he mentioned the ‘b’ word, Omega had perked up and started insisting that she wasn’t even remotely tired. “Can’t I just stay up for a little longer, Hunter?” she had asked, her big brown eyes trying to persuade him that he didn’t need to send her to bed. He had sighed, crossing his arms and trying to put on his best ‘dad’ face. 

“You need sleep, Omega,” he reasoned as he reached into the gunner’s mount and pulled her pyjamas down. She pouted at him, and for a moment he was convinced that she was going to start crying. 

“B-but…” she trailed, and Hunter could see an element of conflict on her features. She wanted to tell him something, he just knew it, but before she could get any words out Wrecker came parading into the room, a little tipsy. So much for talking to her.

"I’m sorry Omega,” he continued, watching her body deflate with disappointment. “I’m not budging on this one.”

She had gone to bed, but he had noticed how she tried to drag out every element of getting ready; she had taken nearly twenty minutes brushing her teeth for kriff’s sake. Looking back on that now, he should have seen just how reluctant she was to sleep and realised that something was wrong. He should have reached out to her. 

Other abnormalities in her behaviour should have stuck out to him, and he found himself cursing for not noticing all of this sooner. Especially given what was about to come.

——

(Three Weeks Later)

There were plenty of times that Hunter cursed his enhanced hearing; being on a ship full of snorers when he was trying desperately to sleep was one of those times. As he lay in his bunk, all he could hear was the heavy breathing of Wrecker directly above him, and the light snores of Tech from his chair in the cockpit. He had ear buds for times like these, but whilst the noise irritated him to no end, not being able to hear made him feel vulnerable and he tried not to use them unless he absolutely had to. 

Rolling over and resisting the urge to groan, he buried his face into the GAR standard issue pillow. It wasn’t exactly comfy, but being a solider meant that you had to be able to sleep anywhere. This lumpy pillow and hard bunk was a godsend compared to some of the situations he’d found himself in over the years. Distantly, he could hear the tapping of keys on some sort of device… it sounded a little like Crosshair’s data pad. Clearly he had joined Echo on watch then seeing as he couldn’t hear either of them anywhere else. They weren’t sleeping, that’s for sure.

Having Crosshair back had meant a little bit of adjusting for the members of the Bad Batch. For the first couple of days he had been incredibly isolated, not wanting to go near any of his brothers or even his little sister. Then, slowly, little by little he had started to integrate himself back into the lives of those who loved him. He had taken a shine to Omega, although he was loathed to show it to anyone except the little girl herself… now that Hunter thought about it, the only time he had seen Omega sleeping peacefully over the past few weeks was the morning she had been found in her bunk, clinging onto Crosshair’s sleeping form as though it was the only thing keeping her from floating out of the ship.

Hunter made a mental note to ask Crosshair about that in the morning, but his train of thoughts was cut off when he heard what sounded like a muted sob. Sitting bolt upright in bed and suddenly no longer tired, Hunter’s eyes darted around the room as he searched for the source of the sound. Not noticing anything out of the ordinary, he frowned, which deepened when he heard the sobbing sound a second time. Having been ready this time, he climbed out of bed and tiptoed towards the noise. Almost as though she could sense his presence, Omega’s snivels stopped as he reached the bottom of the ladder leading to her room.

“’Mega?” he asked quietly, not opening the curtain… he didn’t want to spook her or make her feel as though he was intruding on her space. There was silence for a moment before a quiet shuffling of blankets could be heard and a small hand reached to open the curtain.

Omega’s face was blotchy and red, her cheeks tear-stained and her eyes puffy from her crying; how had Hunter not noticed her sooner? He cursed to himself, making a mental note to be more aware in the future. “H-Hunter,” a small sob escaped her as she launched herself at him without hesitating and clung to his neck.

To his credit, Hunter reacted quickly; he carefully scooped Omega out of the gunners’ mount, cradling her trembling form as he wondered quietly back to his bunk and sat down. The little girl still clinging onto him, he stroked a hand through her hair and whispered soothing nothings to her as he waited for her cries to subside. 

When her breathing eventually did even out and the sniffles came to a stop, she looked up at him with a bleary look on her face. Kriff, she looked exhausted. How long had she been going on like this?

“Ad’ika,” his voice croaked as he used the term for the first time. Omega’s eyes widened at the expression, and if he didn’t know better he was convinced that she pulled him just a little closer. “Have you been struggling to sleep?”

Bingo. He’d hit the nail on the head it seemed, as the little girl in his arms cried even more. 

“E-every time I close my eyes,” she sobbed. “I see something different and it’s horrible…” she took a shuddering breath. “I’ve been trying to stay awake at night so that the nightmares don’t come.”

Hunter let out a shaky breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. “You’ve gotta get sleep, ‘Mega,” he soothed as he kept stroking her hair. 

“I’m so tired,” she mumbled as her tears slowly came to a stop, reduced to small hiccups now as she rested her head against his chest. 

An idea occurred to him, something that he hadn’t done since he and his brothers were cadets, all cowering away and petrified of Nala se. “You could always stay here for the night,” he whispered, his suggestion catching her attention. She didn’t move to look at him but nodded, wiping her eyes on the sleeve of her new pyjamas (Crosshair had insisted that she have sleeping clothes, though he wouldn’t say why he had become so interested). Shifting carefully, he set her down on the bunk next to him and went to put his back against the wall to make more space for her.

That clearly wasn’t what she’d had in mind as Omega frowned slightly and clambered over him, putting herself between him and the wall. Hunter let out a small chuff of laughter as he rolled over, letting the little girl get comfortable; by the time the pair of them had stopped fidgeting, Omega was curled into Hunter’s embrace, the arm he draped over her clutched to her chest as she hugged it like it was Lula. The sergeant was a little uncomfortable, but any thoughts of that melted away as Omega whispered something that only he could hear.

“Goodnight, buir.”

He just managed to choke back the sudden wave of emotion that washed over him. That was… unexpected. Clearing his throat, he smiled softly at the little girl in his arms. 

“Goodnight, ad’ika.”

————

A week or so later Hunter was lying in bed, reading off of his holo pad. Omega’s nightmares hadn’t stopped, of course they hadn’t, but knowing that she could go to her buir when the nightmares arrived made them that much easier to cope with. It meant that he’d had to contend with having Omega, Lula and sometimes even Trooper in bed with him but if that was the price he had to pay for the girl’s comfort? So be it.

Speak of the devil, a sniffle to his right caught his attention and he looked up only to see that Omega had snuck out of her bunk and to his bed. She looked at him with pleading eyes for only a moment before he lifted his blanket. 

“Come on,” he whispered, allowing her to climb into the bed and to her usual spot between her buir and the wall. Her head rested on his chest as he continued tapping at the holo pad; he had been doing some research into a new knife he’d had his eye on, but turned that off in favour of a mind-numbing game he knew Omega enjoyed watching him play. It was a game where you had to match three blocks of the same colour in order for them to disappear and for the items trapped at the top of the screen to reach the bottom. 

He thought the little girl had drifted off to sleep, but was proven wrong when a small hand reached out and tapped three blocks on the screen. Letting out a small laugh at her antics, Hunter pressed a gentle kiss to the girls’ temple before the pair continued playing the game together, taking it in turns. He knew they’d both be tired in the morning but they had nothing planned for the day, a little lay-in wouldn’t hurt anyone. It was in moments like these that he allowed himself to make the most of the normality of it all, in the vain hope that one day he’d be able to give his little girl the childhood she deserved. 

“Love you, buir.”

“Love you too, ‘Mega.”

Yeah, he could definitely put up with sharing his bunk with his kid and her toys if it meant that he got to have moments like these.