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sephirthoughts · 6 months ago

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First Soldier

it's a double entendre i'm hilarious shut up

this is a glennseph one-shot i've been threatening to post for a while but didn't get around to. it's extremely explicit and sephiroth is a teenager so obligatory disclaimer ahoy:

ALL CHARACTERS HAVE REACHED SEXUAL MATURITY AND ARE ABOVE THE LEGAL AGE OF CONSENT IN THEIR COUNTRIES OF ORIGIN

fucking fight me you little puritan fucks

SUMMARY: big dumb puppy glenn pets the hissy little kitty but instead of getting clawed, the hissy little kitty rubs against him and purrs NOTE: did everyone know glenn is only 23 during first soldier? twenty-fucking-three!!! he must have the cid highwind premature weathered old man gene cause damn TAGS: sephiroth x glenn lodbrok, sephglenn, cute smut, fluffy smut, no plot, pwp, etc. WARNINGS: dead dove, don't like don't read, grown-folks content, no minors allowed, minors DNI, etc.

“Out here, the only way to survive is to kill them before they kill you,” he said, forcing back the tears that were burning in his eyes.

Glenn advanced on him. Towering and almost menacing, it seemed, to the teenaged boy. Sephiroth steeled himself. He didn’t want to hurt Glenn, but he was at his breaking point, and if the man wanted to make this physical, he’d regret—

All of a sudden, Glenn’s arms encircled him, and he found himself being squeezed tightly, with his face buried in a big, broad chest.

His senses were flooded by Glenn’s earthy, masculine scent and the firm pressure of his arms, holding Sephiroth against the sturdy, solid warmth of his body.

Sephiroth crashed to desktop, like one of those old computer programs, in the SOLDIER testing center.

He wasn’t that ignorant. He’d seen people hug one another, before. It was just that no one had ever done it to him. No one would have dared to invade the little monster’s personal space, except Professor Hojo. And Hojo only touched him to test his pain thresholds.

On the heels of his initial bewilderment, his indignation flared up, white-hot. Physical touch was a method of pacifying infants and children, who were too young to respond to reason.

Did Glenn think of him as a brainless infant, that needed that kind of soothing? Was this another demonstration of disrespect, because of his age and inexperience?

The man’s next words thoroughly defused the boy’s rising anger, though.

“You’re right,” Glenn said. His deep voice vibrated in his chest, and tickled Sephiroth’s ear. “Out here it’s life or death.”

When the man released him, he was in a daze, hardly able to process what had happened. All he wanted to do was to grab hold of him and bury himself in his warmth and his scent and never, ever let go.

No. That was something a baby would do. Sephiroth had been very clearly instructed that he was to conduct himself with the dignity incumbent upon him as a man, a SOLDIER, and Shinra’s representative in the field.

“But Sephiroth, you don’t have anything to prove,” Glenn continued. “We know how strong you are. Maybe you could show some compassion. I know you’ve got it in you.”

He clenched his teeth and fought it as hard as he could, but a tear escaped down his cheek. It was unseen by the others, however, because Glenn was standing between them, like a shield.

“I’m not a cyborg.”

Those arms enfolded him again, a gently crushing pressure on his tense-up body. Glenn’s voice was hoarse, with uncharacteristic emotion. “I know. I’m really sorry I said that.”

“I…I never wanted to be…” he mumbled, into Glenn’s coat, trailing off before finishing his sentence, because he was still trying not to cry.

“I know. I know,” Glenn said, then gave a strangled sounding grunt, as the boy’s arms constricted around him, like steel pythons. “Seph could you—hngh. Can’t…breathe.”

“Oh. S—sorry,” Sephiroth said, hastily letting go. ��I forgot how fragile you are.”

He’d meant that in complete earnest, but Matt and Lucia burst out laughing, like it was the best joke of all time. Their laughter made Sephiroth feel warm and pleased, and he laughed as well. Glenn snarled and scowled and stomped around a little, but he wasn’t really angry, and no one was afraid of him, anyway.

The team was in better spirits, when they sat by the campfire, that evening. Sephiroth had his jacket off, so Lucia could patch up his gunshot wound. He didn’t want to tell her it was unnecessary and he’d be good as new before he went to bed, so he just politely accepted her help.

Meanwhile, his sleeveless, black thermal left little of his leanly muscled torso to the imagination, and both Glenn and Matt commented admiringly on his physique.

“When I was your age, I was a scrawny little fucker,” Glenn reminisced. “Had a growth spurt around seventeen. Shot up like a tree. What about you, Matt? You have your growth spurt, yet?”

“Oh, you’re so funny,” Matt returned, tossing a bit of biscuit at him. “I’d rather have brains than brawn, anyway.”

“I never met a problem I can’t punch my way out of, professor smartass,” Glenn said, puffing his chest out.

Sephiroth was eyeing the large man enviously. “The professor says I’ll grow very quickly, in the next several years. I wonder if I’ll ever be as tall as you.”

“Even if you’re not, there’s nothin’ wrong with that. I’m a pretty big dude.”

“Mm-hm, with a mouth to match,” Lucia interjected, at which Matt laughed. “Alright, I did my best,” she said, closing the med kit. “Not pretty, but your healing factor is so fast. You’ll probably be good as new by morning.”

“Thank you, Ms. Lucia,” Sephiroth replied, earning a ruffle of his hair from the young woman.

“Anything for a handsome gentleman, like you,” Lucia smiled. “I’m gonna turn in. Don’t keep the commander up all night, Glenn.”

“Yeah, yeah, I won’t,” Glenn said waving her away.

“Goodnight, Ms. Lucia,” Sephiroth said politely.

“Night fellas.”

When she’d gone off to her tent, Glenn bumped Sephiroth with his shoulder and gave him a knowing wink, and Matt chuckled over the rim of his canteen. Glenn looking at him like that made Sephiroth’s cheeks flush, which just made the two older men laugh even harder.

This was the third or fourth time something like this had occurred. He wasn’t actually sure what their raillery meant, but he knew it had to do with Lucia, and that he was supposed to understand, somehow.

He didn’t want to be called a cyborg, again, so he usually kept his mouth shut and just let them have their joke (well, Glenn’s joke. Matt only ever laughed along). But Glenn hugging him, earlier, and apologizing for the cyborg comment emboldened him, this time.

“Why do you two laugh and look at me that way, when I talk to Ms. Lucia?” he asked.

Glenn squinted an eye. “What, you really don’t know? Young man your age?”

“Don’t know what?” Sephiroth asked, looking back and forth between them.

“That’s my cue to turn in,” Matt said, getting up from his spot, across the fire. “You two have a nice talk.”

“Well, Seph, my friend, it’s like this,” Glenn said sagely, throwing an arm around the boy’s shoulders, as Matt retreated. “There’s birds, you know? And bees. And those all have…something to do with spring. Spring is the time for, uh. Well, when two people—”

“I know about sexual reproduction, Glenn,” Sephiroth said flatly. “My education has been very thorough. What does that have to do with you teasing me about Ms. Lucia?”

Glenn withdrew his arm and scratched his head, awkwardly. “Ah, well. You’re a healthy young man, ya know? And she’s a very pretty girl.”

“Is she?”

“Sure. You don’t think she’s pretty?”

“It would be inappropriate for me to judge my teammates, based on appearance.”

“Yeah, of course. But for real, though. Don’t you like her?”

Sephiroth considered this gravely. “Ms. Lucia is a strong and competent person, and she goes out of her way to be kind to me. I suppose I like her, yes.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Glenn said, shaking his head. “I mean like…the kind of ‘like’ where you want her to hold your hand.”

Sephiroth looked down at his hands, then up at Glenn, perplexed. “Hold my hand? For what reason?”

“Just…hold it. Like, the way people do, when they like each other. You know?”

“I don’t know.”

“Uh. Wow. How the hell do I explain this.”

“Why don’t you just show me what you mean,” Sephiroth suggested.

“W—well, I…ok. Just to show ya.” Glenn crossed his wrist over Sephiroth’s on the smooth log, between them, and pressed his palm to his, then laced their fingers together. “See? Like that. Nothin’ to it.”

Sephiroth found himself unable to reply. His mouth had gone suddenly dry, and he could judge how pink his face probably was by how hot his cheeks felt. He kept his head down and nodded faintly.

When he felt Glenn’s grip begin to loosen, he unconsciously tightened his own. Glenn stiffened. But he didn’t pull his hand away. Neither did Sephiroth. Several long beats passed.

By then, it was far too late to pretend it was an accident. They were both too embarrassed to look at one another, though, so they just sat silently like that, hand in hand, staring at the low-burning embers of the fire.

Sephiroth’s body was outwardly calm, but his mind was racing, frantically attempting to explain this sensation to himself. It was a completely new and alien feeling, this holding hands. It seemed like a pointless gesture, but there were all sorts of unexpected physiological reactions attached to it. Mostly turbid and confusing emotions, along with a heavy dose of shame, at reacting so strongly to something so trivial. He didn’t hate it, though.

After a while, he dared a sidelong glance at Glenn. “What else do people do, when they like each other?”

Even in profile, by firelight, he could see the color in Glenn’s cheeks. “Well, they, uh. They hug and uh…k—kiss. Things like that.”

Sephiroth looked down at their interlaced fingers, and seemed to have realized something. His blue-green eyes widened. “You hugged me. And you’re holding my hand.”

“Uh—ahem. Mm-hm.”

“Do you want to kiss me?”

“Do you…want me to?”’

“I don’t know.” Sephiroth frowned thoughtfully. “I liked when you hugged me, and I like holding hands. I think…yes. I’d like for you to kiss me.”

Glenn glanced down at Sephiroth then quickly away.

“Fuck,” he muttered, passing a hand over his forehead. “Fuck it. I’m already goin’ to hell, why not punch an express ticket.”

Releasing Sephiroth’s hand, he coiled his arm about his waist and leaned close, tilted his head slightly, then ever so gently pressed his smooth, firm lips to Sephiroth’s.

Sephiroth’s heart lurched and ran ragged. Reflexively, he reached out and grabbed Glenn’s collar. He didn’t know what else to do

“Open your mouth a little,” Glenn whispered, breath warm against his lips. His low, rough voice sent goosebumps up the back of Sephiroth’s neck. “Just follow my lead. Try to do what I do.”

Sephiroth let his jaw slacken and Glenn’s lips pushed his apart. When Glenn’s tongue slid forward into his mouth, he was too stunned to respond, for a full ten seconds, then he recalled Glenn saying he should follow his lead.

Sephiroth pushed his tongue forward and tried to mimic Glenn’s actions. It was clumsy and awkward, but when his tongue crossed the barrier of his teeth, and touched Glenn’s, he couldn’t help giving a soft little groan. Glenn hummed in his throat and pulled him closer.

Sephiroth’s ears were burning hot and his stomach was doing dizzy flip-flops, like he was coming down with a fever and an inner-ear infection, and yet…this was the best thing he had ever felt. The best thing he’d ever imagined feeling. He wanted to do this and nothing else, from now on.

He learned extremely quickly, and before long, his tongue went from tentative and uncertain, to hungry and demanding, pushing forward and chasing Glenn’s.

“Whoa, slow down there, cowboy,” Glenn said breathlessly, pulling back to look at him. “Anything past this, and I’m in serious shit. Actually, if you decide to tell anyone, I’m in serious shit, anyway.”

The boy’s catlike pupils were blown wide and round, in his blue-green irises. “Why would I tell anyone? Come back, I want to kiss more.”

“Probably ain’t a good idea to do this out here, in the open.”

“Where?”

Glenn glanced around and then stood up, jerking his head toward the little clearing, where he had his tent, a dozen meters away. Sephiroth nodded and followed.

Inside the tent, they took off their boots and coats, and Glenn spread out his sleeping bag, so they could both lie on it. Sephiroth hardly gave him time to lie down before he was pulling and tugging at his clothes.

“Hang on,” Glenn said. “Couple things. I got more experience than you, but that doesn’t mean I know everything. You gotta tell me to stop, the minute you don’t like something, ok? I won’t be mad or anything, you just gotta say it.”

“I promise,” Sephiroth replied solemnly. “I’ll tell you as soon as I don’t like it.”

Then Glenn took the boy in his arms, tangling their bodies together, while their tongues caressed, sloppy and urgent, till they were both flushed hot and panting. Glenn peeled off his thermal undershirt, then helped Sephiroth pull his off, over his head.

When he compared his smooth, slender, milk-white chest to Glenn’s—hairy, suntanned, and heavily muscled—he wanted to reach out and touch it.

As if he’d read his mind, Glenn grabbed Sephiroth’s hand and put it on his chest. “Go ahead and touch me. I don’t bite.”

Sephiroth hesitated, then gave free rein to his curiosity, playing with Glenn’s curly, golden-blonde chest hair, cupping his big pectoral muscles, and sliding his hands up and down his solid torso. He liked the ridges of his abdominal muscles, and the trail of hair leading down from his navel into his waistband.

When he noticed the big, oblong bulge of Glenn’s penis, through his trousers, he blushed crimson and looked quickly away, which made Glenn chuckle. Not liking to be laughed at, Sephiroth set his jaw defiantly and put his hand on the bulge, squeezing it through the fabric.

Glenn laid his hand overtop of Sephiroth's and slid it up and down the thick shaft. To his astonishment, his own responded, beginning to swell and thicken inside his tight underwear.

Sephiroth had never had a reaction to any person’s body, male or female. He’d only ever felt something happening down there, when he was required to give semen samples, in the lab.

The device used to collect the samples induced erection and stimulated him to ejaculation, without his participation. This was the first time he’d become erect on his own, aside from the normal, autonomic erections, when he’d first wake in the morning.

Those didn’t feel like this. Those he ignored and they went away, usually before he’d finished brushing his teeth. This was like an itch but deeper and more maddening. His penis was rigid and aching, and he could feel a wet spot forming in his underwear. He had to force back the urge to push it against Glenn, while they laid together, kissing and groping each other’s bodies.

Glenn saved him the trouble, when he grabbed his ass and rocked his pelvis, grinding his much bigger shaft against Sephiroth’s.

“Hm—ah,” Sephiroth panted. “I want…I want…”

Glenn’s breath was hot and wet on his ear. “Tell me what you want.”

“I don’t know how to say it.”

“You want to fuck?”

Sephiroth’s body tensed with mild panic. “W—what? What do you—how can we…we’re both men.”

“Sorry, that wasn’t nice of me,” Glenn said, grinning sheepishly. “I was just messing around. I kind of wanted to see your reaction.”

Silver eyebrows lowered and pouting lips were pursed. “No, you wanted to gauge my reaction, without committing to anything. Now, tell me what you mean. Can two men really…do that, together?”

So deftly hoisted by his own petard, Glenn was at a loss, and became embarrassed. “Uh…um. Well, yeah.”

“How?”

“There’s a lot of ways. You can use your hands or your mouths, or—”

“Mouths?” Sephiroth said, incredulous.

“Yep. You can even put it in the, uh. The back.”

“In the…” Sephiroth’s eyes went wide. “But why?”

“Because sex feels good? Why else?”

Sephiroth was thunderstruck. He’d only been taught about copulation between a male and female, so far as it related to reproduction. He’d never imagined that men would want to do this, with one another, when it served no biological purpose. No. He couldn’t see it. Glenn must be messing with him again.

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Are you suggesting that it feels good, to have an erect penis inserted into your anus?”

“If it didn’t, millions of guys wouldn’t do it.”

“But it’s so small,” Sephiroth argued. “How does it…go in?”

“Lube and patience,” Glenn said flippantly, then cleared his throat. “It’s not that complicated. It’s very…stretchy, down there. You use a lot of lubrication and you put your fingers inside, first, to loosen it up. Once it’s stretched out and slippery, you can…you know. Go in.”

“And that feels good?”

“I mean, it hurts, if you’re not careful. Especially the first time. But yeah.”

“How?”

“There’s a shitload of nerves back there. Plus, the um. The guy’s dick rubs against your prostate, inside. It feels good, and you can even come that way.”

“Come?”

“E—ejaculate.”

This was an overload of information, for Sephiroth. The whole thing was too bizarre to imagine. Except that he suddenly did imagine it. Glenn on top of him, pushing his big, hard penis—wait, Glenn said dick, so he should say it that way—pushing his big, hard dick into him.

His head got hot suddenly, and his own dick throbbed with desire. He laid both hands on his cheeks, to cool off his overheated face, while he processed all of this.

After a few minutes, Glenn nudged him. “Seph? You ok?”

“Hm?”

“You ok? You zoned out.”

“I—I’m ok. This is a lot to think about.”

“I didn’t mean to freak you out. I had no idea you didn’t know this stuff. You said you’d had sex-ed, before.”

“I did, as related to biological reproduction. No one ever told me the…other things.”

Glenn looked awkward. “Ah.”

“Have you done it?”

“Huh? Done which?”

“Have you had sex with another man?”

“Well, yeah. I’m gay, so…”

“Gay?”

“Homosexual. That means I only have those feelings for men, and I don’t like women that way.”

“Oh.” Sephiroth frowned thoughtfully.

“What’s that look? What are you thinking about, now?”

“I think I’m also gay.”

“Oh yeah?” Glenn smirked.

Sephiroth nodded. “I tried to imagine doing the things I’ve done with you, tonight, with a woman, and the idea was repulsive. But I liked doing them with you. So, I must be gay.”

“I guess…I can’t argue with your logic. It just, uh. It seems a little quick for you to make such a big decision.”

“No, I’m sure,” Sephiroth said firmly. “I’m gay. I want to have sex with other men, and not women.”

“Well, um. Congratulations on your self-discovery.”

“Glenn, I want to have sex with you. The way you said. I want you to put your dick in—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hang on. You just went from virgin who’s never even heard of being gay, to full-on put your dick in me mode, in ten seconds, flat. That’s way too fast, Seph.”

“How long did you wait, to have sex? After you realized you were gay?” Sephiroth challenged.

Glenn’s face went a little pink. “I’m not a good example. I was a rebellious kid and I lost my virginity pretty young.”

“How old were you?”

“Fourteen.”

“I’m fifteen. Why can you decide what you want, at fourteen, but I can’t at fifteen?”

“It’s not that, it’s…there’s more to sex than just the mechanics. It’s complicated.”

“Oh. I see.” Sephiroth lowered his head dejectedly. “It’s that you don’t want to do it with me.”

“No, no—don’t get all sad like that. You’re…fuck. You’re so gorgeous I can hardly believe you’re real. But you’re still just a kid. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Sephiroth lifted his chin, haughtily. “You couldn’t hurt me, even if you did want to. I’m many times stronger than you.”

“Yeah, I know you are,” Glenn chuckled.

“So?”

“So…what?”

“So do it, with me.”

Glenn wavered, but he knew he was already a lost cause. Here was the most beautiful creature he'd ever laid eyes on in all his twenty-three years, basically begging him for it. He was in no way equipped to handle this kind of temptation.

After some admittedly muddle-headed self justification, he grabbed the med kit and dug out a tube of surgical lubricant.

“Ok. Ok. I'm ready. Let's do it.”

“Shouldn't we take off the rest of our clothes, first?” Sephiroth pointed out.

“...”

The process of two people undressing in a one-person tent was awkward and unsexy, and the less said about it, the better. One way or another, they managed to get naked together.

Glenn felt like he was drunk or dreaming, mind sluggish and hazy with lust, kissing his way down this silky, seraphic body, pushing apart a pair of slender thighs.

“Hold your legs up, for me.”

Sephiroth pulled his knees up, making a face. “I feel stupid, in this position.”

“You don’t look stupid,” Glenn murmured, as he slicked his fingers with the surgical lube. “You look amazing. You’re so fucking beautiful.”

Sephiroth grimaced and shifted uncomfortably, as Glenn’s finger pushed slowly in, through the resistant ring of muscle. It didn’t hurt, per se, but it didn’t feel very good, either. Glenn took his dick in his other hand. Sephiroth gasped and jolted, as his hot mouth closed around the head.

“G—Glenn!” he sputtered. “What are you…ha...ah!”

His protests unraveled into incoherent jumble, as Glenn took him all the way to the back of his throat. His big, calloused finger was still sliding in and out, and when it started pressing on something inside, Sephiroth had to bite into his forearm, to stifle his moans. It was like hot bolts of aching lightning, pulsing through his gut, into his balls, whenever Glenn’s finger prodded him there.

Glenn pulled off to look up at him, but he kept stroking it with his hand. His dick was leaking so much clear fluid, that it ran down Glenns knuckles. When he pushed a second finger inside, sephiroth choked and went quiet, but Glenn felt his insides clamping down tightly on his fingers.

“That’s it, baby, give it to me,” he breathed, watching the boy’s face, with heavy lidded eyes. “Good boy.”

“Hngh—ungh! Glenn! F—fuck!” Sephiroth’s first curse word came tumbling out of his mouth, as the aching tension wound to a peak and snapped. His narrow hips jerked and his dick convulsed, spurting viscous, milky-white, all over Glenn’s hand, as well as Sephiroth’s stomach and chest. His insides squeezed and contracted on Glenn’s fingers, as he massaged him through the spasms, milking out every drop.

Glenn was so hard by now, the head of his dick looked swollen and purple, and ropy veins stood out all over the thick shaft. His balls were heavy and tight, high up against the base, aching for release. He squeezed out some more lubricant slicked it, generously.

“Seph, I’m gonna put it in, now. Ok?”

“Mn…mm-hm.” Sephiroth nodded.

With one hand on the back of the boy’s thigh, Glenn guided his dick with the other, to press the big, blunt head to the tautly puckered, pale-pink hole. Goddess, even lubed and stretched, the kid was as tight as a drum. Glenn pushed harder against the resistance and the head suddenly popped through.

“Ah! It h—it hurts!” Sephiroth sputtered, tears forming in the corners of his eyes.

“I know. I’m sorry, baby,” Glenn hummed. “Just breathe and focus on relaxing. If you stay tensed up, it’ll hurt more.”

“O—ok,” the boy sniffled.

He was looking up at him with those big, beautiful eyes, half-lidded and pink around the rims, his lips wet and parted, and tears trickling down his temples. It took all of Glenn’s self-control not to plunge in even more vigorously.

With heroic resolve, he breathed slowly and forced himself to be patient. Easing in just a little at a time, paying attention to the boy’s whimpers and groans, watching his face screw up with pain, and relax again. His pale chest heaving, with his ragged breaths. The divine, velvety heat inside him, slowly, ever so gradually accepting his cock.

“That’s it,” he said hoarsely. “I’m all the way inside. You took it all.”

Sephiroth craned his neck to look at where their bodies were joined. Where Glenn's big, ruddy tree-trunk was stuck into his slender, white ass. His cheeks and chest were flushed pink and his body was trembling, perspiration beading on his forehead.

“D—don’t move yet,” he stammered. “I’m not ready.”

“I won’t. Just breathe, baby.”

Glenn laid over him, kissing his lips and smoothing his hair back. Sephiroth’s muscles began to slacken, as his body acclimated to penetration, and his breathing became more normal. Keeping his pelvis flush against his ass, Glenn began to rock his hips gently, letting the boy get used to feeling a dick inside him, without the stress of him thrusting.

Glenn withdrew a little and pushed back in. “That feel ok?”

“Mm…ah. More. Give me more,” the boy slurred out, arching his spine.

Looking him steadily in the eye, Glenn began to slide out and rock back in, at a slow, gentle pace, pushing his achingly hard dick into the most divine body he’d ever touched. The boy’s velvety-hot hole resisted tightly as he pushed in, and sucked deliciously when he pulled out, till he was dizzy and euphoric, drunk on the absolute exquisite pleasure of fucking this angelic boy.

A bizarre, aggressive instinct surged suddenly, inside him. He wanted to nail Sephiroth down, split him open, fuck him so hard he’d cry and beg for mercy. He wanted to pump him full of his seed, till it swelled his belly and came out of his mouth and nose. He’d never felt such a violent urge to dominate and possess any other partner.

He heard sephiroth whimpering and realized he’d been fucking him harder than he intended to. But even after he was aware of it, he found he couldn’t do anything about it. It was like he was possessed, by some beast in rut.

“Sorry, Seph,” he rasped. “I c—I can’t stop.”

He pushed his knees up to his armpits and laid into him, with ruthless energy. Sephiroth’s wet-kitten mewls only made Glenn’s burning desire blaze up even hotter. He held him down and kept thrusting, harder and harder, digging into him with his furiously hard cock, like he was trying to kill them both.

His heart was thudding like a jackhammer and his muscles were on fire, sweat pouring down his chest and dripping from his chin, but he couldn’t come. He felt his dick swelling, getting harder and hotter, and his balls ached, so full and tight they felt like overripe melons, as they slapped heavily against the boy’s ass, but something was denying him release, holding him on the bleeding edge of orgasm.

He groaned, as the tension wound and twisted to impossible tautness in his gut. “I need to—I need to come! Please! Let me come!!”

He didn’t know who he was pleading to. The boy wasn’t stopping him, he was the one being brutally hammered by a maniac.

“Do it,” Sephiroth panted. “C—come inside me.”

The pressure exploded like a bomb.

“Haaa! Fuck! Ffffuuuck!” Glenn bit hard into Sephiroth’s neck, to muffle his hoarse cries, as his balls unloaded the longest, most excruciating, soul-drainingly intense orgasm of his life. He came so hard, he saw stars, feeling each individual spasm, as his dick forcefully expelled long, aching bursts of slippery-hot seed, filling the boy up and spilling out, around his shaft. Still, he kept thrusting convulsively, fucking every last drop into this perfect hole.

Half out of his senses, shaking and drenched with sweat, he collapsed on top of Sephiroth and immediately blacked out.

—

“Glenn…” a voice said, from somewhere far above his head.

“Hm?” he grunted, without opening his eyes.

“Glenn,” it called again, clearer and louder. “Glenn!”

Oh, shit, it was Lucia’s voice! Lucia was going to find him and Sephiroth!

Glenn sat bolt-upright, in a panic, disoriented and temporarily blinded by the sunlight pouring in through the putty-colored canvas of his tent.

Wait…huh? He blinked blearily around, as his eyes adjusted. He was alone, in his sleeping bag, and Sephiroth was nowhere to be seen.

“Glenn!” Lucia shouted. “Wake up, asshole!”

“I’m up, I’m up,” he called back, in his gravelly, sleep-rough voice. “Quit yelling, will ya?”

“If you answered the first ten times, I wouldn’t have to,” she retorted, giving the canvas a slap. “Hurry up and get dressed. Sephiroth caught some fish for breakfast.”

“Sephiroth can fish?”

She didn’t hear him, or more likely, didn’t care to deal with him anymore, and her footsteps went crunching away. Meanwhile, Glenn was searching his tent and person for evidence of nighttime activities, but there was none to be found. He was fully clothed, and his boots were neatly placed just inside the tent flap. His underwear, however, were soaked.

He got up and wriggled out of his pants, then peeled off the sticky undergarment. Holy shit. He never came this much, even when he was conscious. He was almost impressed.

That confirmed it, then. It was all a dream. He hadn’t lost his goddamn mind and fucked his teenaged commander till he passed out, last night.

Relief so potent he nearly teared up washed over him. At the same time, there was a tiny pinprick of bitterness, in it. A faint feeling of loss, he couldn’t quite quantify. He ignored it and shook himself back to reality.

How fucking wild was that? He’d never had such an intense and vivid dream, in his life, sexual or otherwise. He could still taste the boy on his tongue and smell his warm, musky scent. He could still hear his whimpering moans, when he—oops, shit.

He stopped thinking about that immediately, and used some pre-packaged bathing cloths, to clean himself up, before hastily getting dressed and heading over to the campfire.

Matt and Lucia were seated on the driftwood logs, drinking coffee from tin mugs, and Sephiroth was tending to some fat, juicy fish, he’d skewered on sticks, and was cooking over the fire.

“Morning, Glenn,” the boy greeted cheerfully. “Hungry?”

“Hell yeah. Smells delicious,” Glenn said, rubbing his hands together eagerly. “You caught all these?”

“Mn,” Sephiroth nodded. “I was up early, so I thought I’d take care of breakfast.”

“Well now, that’s downright decent of you. Hey, can I get some of that coffee?”

“Kettle’s right there,” Matt said. “It’s just instant packets, from the MREs.”

“How early did you get up, anyway, Sephiroth?” Lucia asked, offhandedly, as she passed Glenn a mug. “I was out at sunrise, to report in, but I didn’t see you, anywhere.”

Glenn felt an ominous prickle on the back of his neck, but Sephiroth answered naturally, without a hint of anything off, in his manner.

“I went out before that. Fishing is easiest just before dawn and just after sunset,” he explained, turning the sizzling skewers over the coals. “Fish have poor eyesight, but strong shadows can scare them away. Plus, most of the insects they prey upon are crepuscular.”

“Well, that explains why I never catch anything,” Lucia grumbled. “Who wants to be out fishing at the crack of dawn?”

“You’ll never be a pro-angler, with that attitude,” Glenn chided.

“There goes your fallback career,” Matt put in.

When the fish were done, Sephiroth handed them out, as-is, since the skewers obviated the need for plates or flatware. Then he took his own and sat beside Glenn on the log.

Glenn couldn’t help leaning back a little and surreptitiously inspecting the boy’s neck. In the dream, he had bit the kid hard enough that there’d be bruises for weeks, but it was smooth and white, and there was no hint of a mark.

“What are you looking at?” Sephiroth frowned (guess he hadn’t been as subtle as he thought). “Is there an insect on me?”

“Hm? Oh—uh. I thought there was but…it was nothing,” Glenn said awkwardly. “Thanks for the fish. Really, really good.”

“I wanted to do something, to thank you all for being so patient with me. Breakfast is the least I could do.”

Matt and Lucia chimed in with their accolades, and Sephiroth practically beamed, unable to conceal how pleased all the praise made him.

“Oh, and Glenn, I wanted to especially thank you, for last night.”

Glenn choked on his bite of fish. “W—uh. For—for last…for what?”

“Our conversation. It was very educational, so thank you.”

“R—right. No problem,” Glenn said miserably.

When breakfast was over, the group dispersed, to pack up their gear. Glenn was relieved to have a minute alone, to get himself together. He was so worked up, his head was spinning. He really had to stop eating whatever weird fruit he happened to find, on this island. These intense dreams were not good for his stress levels.

He was rolling up his sleeping bag, when he froze, and his face drained of color. There, on his pillow, was a single, long, silver hair.

THE AUTHOR HAS SOMETHING TO SAY

was it a dream or not?? you tell me!

26 notes · View notes

robo-writing · 2 years ago

Text

A Commander and His Second

“Cidolfus Telamon, Lord Commander of the Royal Waloeder Army.” He introduces himself, a smile upon his lips. “A pleasure to meet you, my lady.” His lips greet your skin tenderly, a gentle caress. You nod in his direction. “A pleasure to meet you, Lord Commander.” You pray he doesn’t sense how tense you are. “Oh, none of that,” He replies cheekily, head tilted in amusement. “My enemies call me the Lord Commander. You may call me Cid.” Feeling bold, you ask. “And who is allowed to call you Cid?” He lets your hand go and rises from his spot, arm slung over his sword once more. With a grin, he replies. “You’re a smart woman, I’ll let you figure that out.”

Pairing: Cidolfus Telamon/Reader Rating: Explicit, MDNI Word Count: 9.8k Words Warnings: Smut, like really really long smut. Read On AO3! Author's Note: Let's pretend like I haven't been MIA for two months! I've had this in the backlogs for a while and I wanted to try and make this the best it could be, but then life stuff happened. Hopefully the quality made the wait time worth it!

You first met The Lord Commander within the hallowed stone walls of Waloed.

Lord Tharmr expected—no, demanded absolute loyalty and perfection from all his soldiers, you being no exception; Those he found promising were offered a place beneath his wing, a status sought after by the many men and women of the Waloed army. It is after many years of servitude that your actions caught the eye of the war-hungry king, making a name for yourself as an effective assassin.

Silent as she is deadly, the bane of any who dare become an enemy of the state. A tool, and an effective one at that. It is after many years of servitude that your actions caught the eye of the war-hungry king.

An invitation was sent to your quarters, a private meeting amongst his personal garrison. Finely decorated as it was, you knew the letter for its true nature; Recruitment to become one of his personal men.

It is at that same meeting, surrounded by others of equal rank, that you meet the Dominant of Levin for the first time.

You enter the room and bow at the sight of King Tharmr, head bent until you hear his command to rise. Only then do you see Lord Barnabas in all his glory, the very image of absolute power.

Beside him is another man, dark hair and even darker clothing. The Lord Commander, you assume. When he turns to look at you suddenly you’re nervous for a whole new reason.

He’s handsome, unfairly so.

An arm slung lazily around the two swords at his hip, a charming smile stretched across his face. Your eyes trail down to the exposed valley of his chest beneath his tunic, and it takes every bit of willpower to force yourself to behave.

Oh no.

“So, you’re the young lady who’s caught the attention of our king.” He asks confidently. You feel yourself swoon.

Oh, he even sounds divine, gruff and husky in the best kind of way. You could listen to him speak for hours.

Your body visibly stiffens, an unfamiliar feeling in your chest blossoming at the sight of his pretty green eyes, the same eyes that move quickly against your figure from afar.

You feel like a young girl again, skittish, naive. You almost forget where you are.

Your attention is only brought back by the sound of footsteps, slow and deliberate. With a gentle grasp, he takes your hand in his and places a kiss against it.

Fuck me, this is seriously a problem.

“Cidolfus Telamon, Lord Commander of the Royal Waloeder Army.” He introduces himself, a smile upon his lips. “A pleasure to meet you, my lady.”

His lips greet your skin tenderly, a gentle caress.

You nod in his direction. “A pleasure to meet you, Lord Commander.” You pray he doesn’t sense how tense you are.

“Oh, none of that,” He replies cheekily, head tilted in amusement. “My enemies call me the Lord Commander. You may call me Cid.”

Feeling bold, you ask. “And who is allowed to call you Cid?”

He lets your hand go and rises from his spot, arm slung over his sword once more. With a grin, he replies. “You’re a smart woman, I’ll let you figure that out.”

You’re frozen in place, not daring to move in the presence of His Highness. You listen, but your attention is elsewhere, your hand still burning from his touch. You chance a glance in his direction and don’t miss the not-so-subtle wink he sends your way.

Gods above, if I don’t meet my end on the battlefield, he will be the death of me.

You would’ve hoped that your schoolgirl crush would end the moment Cid became your commander.

It did not. If anything, it only became more intense the longer you spent time together.

Eikon of Ramuh, you had initially thought that his high ranking was simply due to his status as a Dominant, but longer exposure proved that wasn’t the case. He did wield the power of the gods, but Cid proved himself a masterful tactician as well as a danger on the battlefield, perhaps through Ramuh’s blessing or his own experience. A keen eye able to discern even the most minute weaknesses in the worst of situations, that was the Lord Commander.

But in the same breath you can admit that a good portion of “strategic escapes” are anything but. Gods know how many times you’ve had to bail him out of a tough spot only to have him look up at you with that radiant smile and forget why you were even mad at him in the first place.

The man had an aura about him that could only be described as magnetizing. Strong, not only due to his talents as a Dominant but to his compassion, full of a love for life and knowledge you haven’t seen in ages, if ever.

It also didn’t help that he had a visage blessed by the founder; Moss green eyes full of vigor that could bring you to your knees, and threatened to do so every time he glanced in your direction. In the back of your mind you knew that your feelings had no place on the battlefield, but you didn’t care. For once you let yourself be dictated by emotion, no matter how stupid of an idea it may be.

It was maddening, and yet you invited it all the same.

“Someone’s off with the faeries.” A deep voice mutters behind you. “What’s got your head in the clouds, little miss?” Ah, speak of the devil. Cid teases you from his little spot in the corner as he supervises the new recruits. You stand next to him, broken from your trance. “Am I not allowed to think sir?” You answer sarcastically.

This banter, this back and forth cat and mouse game was familiar, a battle of wits neither of you have been willing to back out from in all the time you’ve known each other. He shakes his head with a grin, turning his attention away from the soldiers in training and onto you. “You’re thinking so hard I’m afraid you might hurt yourself.” He speaks, feigning concern.

“Nothing wrong with some quiet contemplation,” you add with a shrug. “You should try it sometime, maybe then your escape plans won’t always go so pear-shaped.”

He scoffs, that damned grin still painted on his features. “A bit of excitement never hurt. Besides,” he places a hand on your shoulder. “I keep you on your toes.” You look up at him accusatory. “I cannot begin to count the amount of times I nearly had an intimate relationship with the business end of a sword thanks to you.” He lets out a throaty laugh at your annoyance. “Ah, nearly being the operative word—ow!”

He rubs his arm where you’ve punched him, the faintest hint of a glare marring your features. “At least think before you run headfirst into danger!” You hiss. “I swear, if I wasn’t at your side you would’ve died by now.” He hums in agreement. “And I thank the gods every day that you are.”

The same hand on your shoulder squeezes a bit, and you do well to ignore the butterflies in your chest. “In any case,” he waves away your complaints with a shrug. “You love me. If you didn't, you would’ve asked to leave by now.” He’s right, but you’d rather him not know that. So you cross your arms in defiance, returning to watch the poor soldiers being used and abused. “I just enjoy watching the shitshow, that’s all.” The faintest smile graces your features. If you were paying attention, you would see that same smile mirrored on Cid’s as well.

“So? Your opinion?” You gesture to the men-in-training vaguely. Soldiers who were hoping to garner the good graces of the king. “Sloppy and uninspiring, I fear.” He watches as a man brings his opponent to his knees, lauding over his own victory. “No one here has that spark about them, not like you…” His voice trails off in remembrance. “...Now that was exciting.” It’s easy enough to know what he’s thinking about, you being unable to forget it as well. The day of your “recruitment”. Moving through endless bolts of levin, forced to dodge in an enclosed arena while also evading Cid’s masterful swordplay, a task difficult enough without being under the king's scrutiny. Watching, waiting for any mistake on your part. But his opinion didn’t register to you at the moment, considering all you could think of was how handsome Cid looked mid-battle. That, and the trail of magic nearly connecting with your face. It’s a miracle you didn’t meet your end that day. A huff of air escapes you. “Exciting isn’t the word I’d use.” He laughs, leaning back as he does. “And what word would you use?” “Something more appropriate for nearly dying, I suppose.” Your voice is dripping with sarcasm. “You could have killed me, so forgive me if I don’t sound very excited.” “Oh please,” he fixes you with an easy smile. “I wouldn’t have killed you. You’re too pretty for that.” Your eyebrows jump in surprise. “What did you just—” He’s already walking away from you by the time you turn your head. He looks behind him with that godsdamned smirk before winking at you and turning the corner, returning to coach the amateur soldiers. “Smug bastard…” You mumble to yourself, ignoring the heat rising in your chest. You’re starting to wonder if it’s even a crush at this point.

The tavern is filled to the brim with battle-weary soldiers, hoping to be comforted by one of many of the dames serving their drinks, Loud, raucous jeers of orders fill your ears, the young women struggling to keep up with both their constant cries and wandering eyes.

“Barmaid, more ale!” One yells, his body slowly leaning off his stool.

“Come ‘ere, promise I won’t bite!” Another says to a passing waitress, too inebriated to try to hide how his eyes are glued to her body.

You don’t usually go to after-battle celebrations, specifically for this reason. Too loud, too rowdy, too wild. Liquor brings out the worst in people, and you’d rather not be there to see it.

Of course, the only way you would be caught dead in here is because a certain dark-haired commander had invited you.

“Come now, you always disappear the moment it’s time to celebrate,” he complains, gesturing to the bar in front of you. “Loosen up for a change, promise you’ll like it.”

He senses the incoming argument and before you can let a word out he quickly follows up with: “And if you don’t, I’ll clean the chocobo stables for a week.”

A week is a very long time, so you relented. You hadn’t had a drop of alcohol yet but Cid already finished his first cup, showing no signs of stopping yet.

He watches your face contort at the debauchery before you, sarcasm evident in his voice. “The pride and joy of the Royal Waloeder Army, ladies and gentlemen.”

You watch a soldier fall flat on his ass, the surrounding tables barking in laughter. “That’s a stretch.”

He puts his cup down to look at you. “They’ve had a long day, how else to blow off some steam?”

“I’m not blaming them, far from it actually, it’s just…”

You search for the words, scanning the room full of people. “...this is not my idea of relaxation.”

“And what is?”

“Not this, that’s for sure.”

A hand falls to your shoulder, shaking you a bit. “Like I said, you need to loosen up. I didn’t invite you just for the hell of it.”

The confusion on your face is evident. “Why did you invite me then?”

He takes another swig before replying. “You’re too stiff. You work yourself to exhaustion every day and expect it not to catch up with you. Insomnia, I take it?”

You eye him suspiciously. He takes your silence as an invitation to continue. “I’ve heard the soldiers gossip about you entering the training rooms late at night. And the bags under your eyes are telling.”

“And you invited me here to watch over me. What was your plan, hope the atmosphere and alcohol would tire me out?” You finish, settling further into the seats.

“You know me so well.”

“Well I appreciate the sentiment,” you sigh, staring at the ceiling. “But I don’t need your help.”

The thud of metal on wood, Cid lowers his cup as he speaks. “If there’s anything you learn from this old sack of bones, it’s that life cannot be all work, you’ll send yourself into an early grave like that.”

He waves a young girl over, drops a couple Gil in her hands and has her return with a full cup of ale. He pushes the cup towards you expectantly.

“Drink, it’s on me. I can’t stand the sight of my right hand ready to keel over at a moment's notice.”

The amber liquid stares back at you accusatory. He’s right, you’ve been having trouble sleeping as of late, throwing yourself into training until your mind can no longer distract you and your body is forced to succumb to sleep. A symptom of your occupation, and based on the somber note in his tone, one he is all too familiar with.

Your fingers curl around the handle. “I didn’t know you paid that close attention to me.”

“And why wouldn’t I?”

There’s a silent question hanging in the air, one you’d rather not acknowledge sober. Instead of answering, you put your lips to the cup and drink. The liquid burns on the way down, and you force yourself to swallow, the sound of his laughter ringing in your ears as you gag. “I take it you’re not a drinker then.” He chuckles, watching as you recover from the sharp taste. “And you’ve been drinking that all night?!” You exclaim, interrupting yourself with a cough. “It’s an acquired taste.”

(That same “acquired taste” left you dizzy after a pint, prompting Cid to carry you back to your chambers, much to your disdain. While the hangover was awful, the sight of Waloed’s Lord Commander working the stables was worth the pain.)

“Do you believe in fate?” You two were surrounded by miles of forest, the small campfire in front of you being your only source of light in the dark. A successfully completed mission meant that you two could afford to relax a bit after days of travel and battle, but it also meant you had to deal with the aftermath. It was a particularly hard mission as well, aches in places you weren’t even aware existed. Currently nursing a busted lip and several bruises that are sure to darken by dawn, your mood is less than friendly at the moment. “I swear Cid, if this is another one of your awful jokes I am not in the mood—” “It’s not like that, I’m serious,” He chuckles, repeating himself. “Do you believe in fate?” You look at him quizzically, eyebrows raised. “Surprisingly philosophical of you Cidolfus, what’s brought this on?” “Just answer the bloody question.” He sighs, slightly fed up. “Okay okay! No need to get your panties in a twist,” You sit up slightly, contemplating his question. “It’s tough to say, but I believe that your lot in life is practically impossible to change sometimes. I mean, think of the bearers who are born into a life of servitude just because they can use magic without crystals. Not exactly like they can change that.” He nods in agreement, taking a sip from his canteen. “Spoken like a scholar.” It’s quiet for a moment, and then he breaks the silence. “If that’s the case, do you believe our death is predetermined as well?” His words snap you out of your own thoughts. This is all rather unusual coming from a man who regularly takes life one day at a time. “I’m going to be honest with you Cid, this line of questioning is very concerning,” You say gently, eyeing him up and down. “Is everything alright?” He finds humor in your hesitant tone, but continues otherwise. “No, it’s not. Or rather, this world is not.”

You watch as he speaks, the somber look a far cry from his otherwise dauntless demeanor. “Thousands of men and women die, either on the battlefield or working themselves to death trying to better their lives, and in the end it means nothing.”

He raises his hand, the faintest crackle of electricity in the air making your hair stand on end. “Take me for example. A mercenary blessed by the Mothercrystals, the power of Ramuh at my fingertips and even still I’m a slave to the wheel of fate.”

The violet hue leaves his fingertips just as quickly as it came. “Such is life, I suppose. She’s a cruel mistress.” You don’t miss the creeping of white exposed under his jacket and it makes your heart clench, proof of his burden. “That she is, Cid, that she is.” “What if it didn’t have to be?” Now your attention is grabbed. “What are you trying to say?” “I’m saying,” he leans closer to you, whispering. “What if it didn’t have to be this way? A world where people could be free to die on their own terms, not for the wills of their masters but for themselves?” You have a feeling that you know what he’s implying, but you don’t want to jump to conclusions. “Exactly what do you have in mind, Cid?” A pause, almost like he’s trying to find the words, and then he speaks. “Changing the status quo. A revolution.” Your eyes widen and watch for any signs of jest. They widen further when you find none. “Titan’s tits,” You lean in, voice hushed. “You’re not joking, are you?” He takes another swig from his canteen. “As serious as the sky is blue.” Your eyes dart around, suddenly fearful of any possible prying eyes despite the fact you’re surrounded by nothing but grass and trees.

“What you’re talking about is a crime!” You hiss. “You’d be sent to the gallows for even mentioning the idea, are you insane?”

“Maybe,” he grins, the kind of smile you know is only followed by trouble. “But is it really crazy to want a better life?” “When it results in a one-way trip to the headsman, yes!” He leans back and fishes for a cigar, placing it between his lips and lighting it with a spark from his fingertips. “And yet, I still want to try. Who knows, maybe I am insane.” He finishes with a chuckle. There’s a stillness in the air, the quiet sounds of nature interrupted by Cid exhaling a puff of smoke. “The blight takes more and more of our land each day, thousands of bearers die simply because they were born different, and Dominants are used as weapons and discarded the moment they are no longer useful. Is this the world you want to live in?” Cidolfus is a smart man, an idealist in the best kind of way; The kind of way that could get him killed. He’s as stubborn as he is intelligent, and you can’t help but admire him for it. If it was anyone else you’d call them a hack, but it’s Cid, if there ever was a person who could change the world, it would be him. You reach out, placing your hand over his own, the smallest gesture of comfort. “You’ve made up your mind, haven’t you? You’re going to leave.” It wasn’t a question. He nods in response. “I am.” Just thinking about it sends a jolt of despair through you. “If you do, you'll be hunted until the day you die. You’d be fighting for something that isn’t even guaranteed—” “And what’s the other option?” He interrupts. “Sitting and waiting for a peace that will never come?” He shakes his head defiantly. “I’ve seen what this world has to offer, and I’m tired of it. And if I have to give my life so that others can die for themselves, I’m willing to take that risk.” He says between another exhale. Your fingers rack through your hair, not quite able to process all that’s happened. “Who else knows about this little plan of yours?” The solemn look he gives tells you all. “Just you. I trust you, and I want you by my side.” You don’t think you’ve ever seen Cid this vulnerable, a man known to be the picture of confidence now sits before you uncertain. He waits for your response with baited breath. You’d be the first to admit that he’s right, about everything, but to become a deserter…it scares you. More than you care to admit. “Cid, this is far, far too much to ask of me,” You speak, voice wavering. “We’re friends unto the grave, but not if you’re purposely trying to dig it…”

That practiced cold exterior is crumbling, revealing the scared women you’ve tried to hide all these years. Cid can see the fear written on your face, and holds your hand in his, bringing it towards him. His touch brings you back to reality, but you can still feel your heart pounding in your chest. “I know that I’m asking a lot.” He runs a gloved thumb against your skin. “Know that if you decline I won’t think any less of you. But I’m hoping you’ll understand.” Your breath is stuck in your chest, caught between two choices. You could either report Cid, reveal his plans to the king and sentence him to a punishment you couldn’t even begin to imagine, or you could leave with him in search of that better life he dreamed of, assuming it does exist. That scared little girl, who spent days on the road with no one to help her and only the little coin in her pocket, who butchered men to fill her stomach, what would she have said? If she had the opportunity, would she have taken fate into her own hands? The answer was obvious, but it didn’t make it any easier to say. As your answer leaves your lips, his eyes light up with a joy you’re almost certain could put the Mothercrystals to shame. “Well, I did swear an oath to die by your side. I suppose this will do as well.”

By some bloody miracle it worked. Perhaps not as Cid said it would, but through no little effort you two officially became deserters of the Royal Waloeder Army.

You traveled by his side, freeing bearers across the far-flung corners of Valisthea. It was hard in the beginning, finding people to recruit to the cause. At first they were confused, mistaking you for bandits until you explained that you were, in fact, here to free them. Many thought Cid was a mad man, and to some extent you did too, but that didn’t stop him, if anything it only fueled his desire for success.

Every person freed was a step forward, no matter how small a step it may have been. One volunteer turned into two, which turned into four, and so on and so forth until you two had managed to garner yourself a small company of those you had helped one way or another. Some were bearers, and some just needed a fresh start, but all of them needed a home and that’s what you specialized in. Soon enough it became evident that a base of operations was needed. The location was Cid’s idea of course, right in the heart of the Deadlands, where no one would go searching for a couple of missing bearers. Inside a large fallen ruin was the beginnings of something grand, and as more and more of the exploited populated the area, the residents gave it a name; The Hideaway. A private sanctuary for bearers to live their lives as they see fit, and just like your old army days Cid led the charge, with you as his second-in-command. It wasn’t easy, and it certainly wasn’t honest work, but it felt good. After every grueling rescue mission, when the stench of blood and dirt settled, you could watch the faces of the newly liberated light up with joy and it made your efforts worth it. And when you two were done, a drink would be shared in celebration of a job well done. The slam of your cup against the table is barely heard over the sounds of merriment in the bar, Martha works tirelessly behind the counter on everyone’s orders, the bar packed with old friends and new ones alike. You sit with Cid in one of the quieter corners of the tavern, swaying to the sounds of cheering and song. A familiar dizziness washes over you. “I think that’s enough for me tonight.” you say, placing your glass down.

He chuckles softly beside you, his cup nearly finished. “All these years and you still can’t hold your ale?” “As opposed to you,” You giggle, feeling just the slightest bit more bold. “You drink like a fish!” Not quite drunk, but not sober either. Your head feels just the slightest bit heavy and before you know it you’re fully slumped onto Cid’s shoulder. A dopey grin is painted on your face, either from the alcohol or being this close, you can’t quite tell. He smells of metal and smoke, a constant reminder of his vice. Gods, he’s so fucking warm.

“Enjoying yourself down there?” He teases. His arm snakes around your waist to keep you upright, your body lighting aflame with just a touch. “Mmmm,” you purr, pushing yourself further into his side. “Gimme a couple more minutes like this and I’ll tell you.” He laughs at that, amused at how completely relaxed you are. “You certainly look the part.” Everything is so nice, so freeing. Everything melts away until it’s just you and Cid, and nothing else. Cid finally places his glass to the table, eyeing you up and down for a moment. His gaze softens at your form, focused on you and you alone. You bite your lip, attempting and failing to suppress a smile. “What are you looking at?” He returns the gesture, giving you a pointed look. “I’m looking at you, dear.” The nickname never ceases to fluster you, but something about the way he says it now has you rooted in place, intimate in a way you haven’t heard from him before. You hope you’re blessed to hear it again.

Before you know it he’s holding your chin between two fingers, raising your head to look up at him. Were his eyes always this inviting? You can’t seem to pull yourself away. You’re not sure if you want to. His thumb brushes the skin of your cheek and you tilt your head into the gesture, as if to ask for more. He lets out a shaky breath in response. Leaning in, closer and closer. His lips look so nice. You wonder if they feel as good as they look. “You…” He whispers, closes his eyes before stopping whatever thought he had with a shake of his head. “You’re drunk. Let’s get you home.”

As if awoken from a spell, your senses return to you. “‘M not drunk.” “A blind man could tell that you’re plastered.” He muses. “I’m a grown woman!” You whine in defiance. “Do I look like I need a bloody babysitter—!” Cid drops a bag of gil on the table and your view is suddenly much higher than before. On further inspection you’re in someone’s arms. Cid’s arms.

“You can get angry at me in the morning.” He grins, before stepping outside. Any protest you had dies on your tongue as he carries you out of the tavern and into the nearest inn.

It’s been a week since that night, and your mind still recalls how gently he raised you in his arms. Restless, you close your eyes at night and without fail, your thoughts wander to him.

Visions of skin on skin, hands touching where they shouldn’t, kisses that steal your breath and your sanity all at once—

You cannot live like this. It’s why you quickly left your room and made your way to the practice dummies as a hopeful distraction.

It helps a little bit, but just barely. The stone walls and empty air help clear your mind for a moment, until that peace is interrupted.

“Thought you kicked this bad habit ages ago.” You whip around, poised to strike. The motion is quickly stopped by a hand on your wrist, followed by another at your shoulder. “Calm down my dear, it’s just me.” A familiar deep voice rumbles beside your ear. “Surprised it took you this long to notice, getting sloppy are we?” You want to reply, but his chest against your back turns your tongue into lead. You tilt your head back to find Cid looking rather amused. “What are you doing here?” You muster, eyes locking onto him. He gives you a charming smile in return.

“Gav mentioned he heard someone in the training rooms, thought I would check it out.” He purrs beside you. “Didn’t expect to find you here though. Still having trouble sleeping?”

Your body relaxes, but Cid still holds you close. Uncertain if you should pull away, but he makes no move to do so and neither do you. “I thought everyone would be asleep by now…” You trail off, acutely aware of how his thumb rubs circles against the exposed skin of your shoulder. He shakes his head. “Couldn’t sleep either. Was hoping to tire myself out on the dummy, but since you’re here now…”

A devious grin stretches across his face. “Suppose you could help me?” You nod wordlessly, missing the heat of his body as he walks away from you. He gestures towards you. “After you, my dear.”

You hold your hands in front of you, rolling your eyes as you take a step forward. “Such a gentleman.” A subtle smile passes between you two and you begin, falling into a familiar rhythm. Foot forward, hands at your front, just like you were taught.

You two often sparred as part of your training, but there was something different this time, a lingering tension that filled the air.

Maybe it was the setting, closed off from the rest of the world, where it was just you and him in a confined space.

Maybe it was the adrenaline, your heart beating in time to the movement of your fists.

Maybe it was the flashbacks of your less-than-appropriate dreams that plagued you with each jab. Or maybe it was the way he stared at you like a beast with each move.

It’s all training of course but his hungry gaze, his jab at your awareness before, it all makes you feel like you’re back in that throne room again trying to prove your worth. As you dodge another blow his smile widens and in turn, so does yours, a dance of fists between two opponents.

Eventually you get the upper hand and wrestle him to the ground, your full body weight against his.

The image of Cid below you is alluring. Hair disheveled, chest heaving, docile beneath your own body as your hands pin him to the floor. “Who’s getting sloppy now? Perhaps your age is catching up to you.” You tease him.

“Ah, you never cease to amaze me.” He grins below you, not making any attempt to release himself from your hold. “Seems like you’ve defeated me this time.”

“Why doesn’t it feel like I did?” You huff in response. You can feel his wrists beneath your palm, relaxed and pliant. You give them a squeeze and his smile widens. “Who knows? Maybe I just wanted to look at you.”

You force yourself to ignore how deep his voice gets as he speaks.

Not one to back down from a challenge you reply. “Gaze as long as you wish, I don’t mind.”

A grunt, and suddenly your grip on his arms is pried apart. He surges forward, his newly freed arms snaking around your torso, bringing you even further onto his lap. The smile on his face is impish. “What was the first rule I ever taught you in battle?” “Never let your guard down.” You recite. But you always seem to do so around him.

He nods, pleased with your answer. “That’s twice now i’ve caught you by surprise tonight, mind telling me what’s gotten you so distracted as of late?” You do. You with your stupid jokes and pretty eyes and your smooth voice— “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He raises an eyebrow. “I think we both know that’s a lie.”

You try to wiggle out of his hold with no avail. If anything the attempt only amuses him even further. He hums, his free arm tapping against his chin as if he’s thinking. “You won’t mind if I wager a guess, would you?” You’re already trapped, it’s not like you could stop him anyway. “Ask away.” “It wouldn’t happen to be about me, would it?” Oh, so this is what death feels like. Cid laughs upon witnessing your wide eyes, the sound echoing in your ears. “Well now, that seems to be one mystery solved.”

You want to deny it, but every attempt is met with only half-finished sentences and incoherent words. “I—I mean, that’s not exactly—”

He watches you from lidded eyes, a fond smile on his face. A finger against your lips silences you, trailing down, down, down, until you can feel his hand against the side of your neck, caressing. “You’re pretty when you’re embarrassed.” Your brain turns to mush. You turn your eyes away but his hand gently brings you back towards him, thumb reaching out to draw circles against your cheek.

“I never took you to be the shy kind,” he says, holding you in place. “Come now, look at me.”

You chance a glance at him, expecting some sort of mockery but you’re met with a gaze full of adoration.

“There she is,” he breathes. “Pretty girl like you shouldn’t need to hide herself.” You lay your hands flat against his chest, his heart beating faintly underneath it. “Do you mean that?” A nod. “Every word.” There was a growing heat pooling inside you. “If this is some kind of joke—” “About you?” He says, leaning forward. “I’d never dare.”

The atmosphere suddenly intensifies, nearly suffocating. He looks at you with those moss green eyes and it all makes sense now. He planned this. This meeting was not an accident. You feel like an idiot.

“How long?” You ask, settling into his arms.

Chest to chest, you can feel the soft rumble of his voice move through you. He hesitates for a moment, staring at your lips before they return to your face. “I want to be modest, but I’d be a liar if I said I didn’t want you since the moment I saw you.”

He noses at your cheek, just barely brushing at your face. You chase the feeling of his stubble, closer and closer, the faint smell of nicotine filling your nose with each breath.

The tension that had once been playful had evolved into something undeniable, something that demanded exploration. Uncertainty crackles in the air, weighs heavy on your chest the longer the two of you wait.

An impasse. An invitation. You let out a shaky breath, unaware that you were holding it. “Fucking hell Cid—” “Gods,” He growls, hands splayed possessively against your back. “Say my name again, just like that—”

So you do, his eyes darkening when your hand rests on his exposed chest. You’re not quite sure who moved in first, but in that moment you found out what his lips felt like against yours and you wondered how you had lived with anything less up until that point. The unrestrained drag of his lips against your own remind you of the very same levin he commands on the battlefield; Calculated and forceful, unyielding in its ability to bring you apart. The glide of his hands at your sides serve to put you back together again with a practiced ease.

A rush of emotions grips you tight, taut. A sense of longing, followed by an increasing want, a need to be closer than you’ve ever been with another man. You feel yourself coming undone in his embrace, every touch leaving you aching for more, greed seeping from your very being. “Cid—” You beg, holding onto the front of his shirt like a lifeline. Any other time you’d laugh at yourself for your desperation but right now you can’t bring yourself to care. His timbre echoes between your bodies, breathless as he mumbles against you. “I know darling, I know,” He gasps, pushing you impossibly close, his lips buried against your neck. “But not here, you can make it back to my quarters can’t you?” You nearly tell him no, that you’ll die if you don’t feel his touch right this moment, but what little sense you have left lets you nod your head as he drags you back to his room hurriedly, neither of you giving care towards being subtle in the slightest. The moment you walk through the entrance of his bedchambers he doesn’t hesitate to press himself behind you, keeping you in place with a hand around your front. An airy laugh escapes you, his lips burning a trail against your exposed skin as he turns you around, pushing you against the nearest wall roughly. “What’s so funny?” He mumbles, slotting his pelvis against yours. His hands continue to explore your body excitedly, never stopping. “Liked you too, Cid—” A moan leaves your lips, hips grinding against each other. “Liked you, for a while—could’ve been doing this the whole time.” “I figured—thought you were too pretty for me,” He whispers against your lips. “Didn’t think you’d want someone like me—” You scoff. “Me? Too pretty for you?” Your hands cradle his face, foreheads touching. “You’re an idiot.” He cocks his head to the side, eyes full of tenderness. “I’m your idiot.”

It’s sweet, far too sweet for your current position. The words pierce your heart with striking accuracy. My idiot indeed. In this moment of serenity you stare up at him, doe-eyed, saccharine. “Do you want to know a secret?” His hands are firm against your hips, lightly squeezing. “By all means, do tell.” You gently turn his head, whispering coyly into his ear. “If you had asked, I would’ve let you fuck me the first day we met.” A range of emotions flash across his face. You think it’s the first time you’ve seen Cid so awestruck. It’s also the first time you’ve seen him so hungry. “By the Gods—” He growls, his hands moving again with renewed vigor. “You’ll kill me woman, you know that? Can’t tell me shit like that or I’ll go mad—”

You feel it, the shift in the air, the way Cid pulls you flush against him and grinds himself against your thigh, a promise of things to come.

“I mean it,” You gasp, tugging his shirt away from his body. “Would let you take me on his majesty’s throne if you wished it.” “Fucking hell woman—” Everything moves by in a blur, a mess of lost clothes and lost sanity. You’re not quite sure when you ended up on the bed, but far be it from you to complain.

He stands above you, a man possessed. You lie beneath him, equally as desperate. It’s unlike your years before, chancing glances at Cid during training in hopes he didn’t see. No, It’s here you can fully appreciate him in all his glory, a stature refined from years of combat, the occasional faded lines from various encounters that only enhance his natural beauty. Spots of white creep up his forearm, a sight he tries to hide behind his back before you grab his wrist, hold him there and watch his eyes soften when you trace invisible shapes into the marbled skin.

There’s a look shared between you and he understands, doesn’t resist when your fingers move higher until they meet the separation between skin and stone.

“Have I ever told you you’re beautiful?”

He chuckles at that, deep and whimsical. “You could stand to say it more.”

He sucks in a breath as your hands reach to trace his abs, the hard plane of muscles rippling under your touch.

He grabs your wandering hands, keeping it still as he speaks. “Why, see something you like?”

You nod, your nails lightly scratching at his skin to incite the most beautiful reaction from him, eyes fluttering shut. “I do.”

You ogle him shamelessly, as he does to you. You don’t miss how his eyes are glued to your legs. “Been waiting for this for a long time,” His palms gently run against your thighs. “Be good and let me see you.” Your legs open under his guidance, a sinful noise spilling from his lips. His eyes never leave your body for a second, as if memorizing every dip and fold before he comes closer, moves in until you can feel his breath fanning across your skin. You feel exposed under his gaze, moving to close your legs before a hand stops them, stern looking at you with disappointment. “No need to be shy, I’ll take good care of you.” A kiss to your inner thigh has you breathing just that bit heavier. “Let me do all the work, yeah? Just lay back and enjoy yourself.” He finishes with a wink before removing your underwear, fully exposing you to his watchful eyes. Laid bare, vulnerable, he groans at the sight of you spread open for him, and only him. Reverence in his embrace, he holds you firmly as he speaks, sings praise between your legs before he’s even had a taste.

“Better than I could have imagined,” He groans, hands splayed possessively on your legs. “Could stay here for the rest of my life, just like this—”

The bed dips under his weight, tracing his fingers everywhere except where you need them.

He takes his time, admiring the mess you’ve made of yourself with bated breath. Teeth nibble at the soft flesh of your thighs, your squirming body held in place as he leaves his mark upon them, gazing at the reddening skin in fondness before repeating the cycle all over again. He pays no heed to the slick that slowly flows from you, nor does he when you try to push him closer, begging for more. Your hand finds his dark locks, attempts to pull him closer only to be swatted away, a particularly harsh bite leaving you whimpering as he speaks.

“I know she’s needy, I know,” he coos, kissing away the pain before moving back to his torturous cycle. “I can see her twitch, just waiting for me to fuck her.”

Confusion, followed by a realization that sends you reeling when his hand splays right against your pubic bone. He’s talking to your pussy.

He doesn’t stop, a single finger reaching to play with the wetness that’s already leaking from your understimulated cunt. “Look at her, barely even touched and she’s crying out for me—“

He taps lightly at your mound, laughing as your hips rise involuntarily. You glare at him, a mix of frustration and want before he finally pulls you towards his face.

“Alright, enough of that,” he breathes. “Let me finally have a taste.”

Only when you’re fit to burst does he indulge you, placing his lips against your sex. Hot and wet, his tongue laps at you, your body relaxing into the sheets as he drinks from you like a man parched. The languid pace he takes feels like heaven, mind-numbing in all the best ways. Toes curl, your voice growing more and more high pitched as he works miracles between your legs, his own grunts joining in as he savors your taste.

“You look good like this,” he chokes, forcing his thick tongue into your weeping hole as you shake. “Taste even better.”

You bring your head from the sheets to look at him between your legs and the sight could’ve had you coming undone right then and there. Both thighs firmly in his grasp, Cid moves against your cunt with a practiced ease, making no attempt to hide just how much he’s enjoying your taste. Verdant eyes darkening, you watch as his thoughts seep out of him, filled with a drive to bring you to pleasure, instinctual and mindless, wanting nothing more than to witness you fall apart under him. Your lust-addled brain can barely decipher his muttered words, singing your praises against the warm embrace of your sex.

“So good, fucking delicious,” A hand presses below your stomach, keeping you still as his mouth moves faster and faster. “A meal all to myself—“

Your head falls against the sheets once more, arching into his touch, legs gaining that telltale tremble that signals your end. Without warning he stops, sits back on his haunches and before you can protest you’re pulled further down into the bed, legs dangling on his muscled shoulders. A noise of shock escapes you, followed by a high-pitched cry as Cid absolutely buries his face against your pussy, giving little care to the mess he makes against your thighs. You can feel him smiling as he does so, not looking away from your shaking form for a second.

Your fingers snake through his hair, tugging at the dark strands to bring him closer, an action he makes no attempt to stop. The drag of his stubble leaves your thighs raw, the slight burn both comforting and torturous as he sucks your clit.

The way he goes at you almost hurts, legs pushing away uselessly against the strength of a Dominant, a choked-off laugh escaping him before he returns to his ministrations. His name becomes a personal mantra, the only thing you can say when faced with such insurmountable bliss.

“Cid, Cid, Cid—“

“Mm, I know love, I know, fuck—“

He shushes you, soothes your aching pussy with a kiss, goes back to lapping at your heat and starts the cycle all over again.

The filthy sounds of his tongue against your slick fill the room, a long finger curling inside you, followed by another that makes your vision blur and your back arch. Ecstasy flows through your body, a sensation that has you falling apart, succumbing to Cid’s talented mouth. You can’t help the whines that leave you, nor can you stop your legs closing around his head.

He seems to enjoy it though, moving even more enthusiastically—as if the pressure encourages him. “Lemme hear you love—let me hear how pretty you sound when you come.”

Your orgasm ripples through you, leaving you limp against the sheets. He doesn’t stop the abuse for a second, wringing every last bit of pleasure he can greedily. Locked in a vicious cycle, every moan of his name forcing his fingers deeper and deeper until you’re forced to beg for a reprieve, whimpering for a mercy that doesn’t come. He laps at your wetness, only stopping when he’s satisfied you’re a trembling mess.

Dazed and lethargic, you mutter under your breath, trying to recover from the mind blowing orgasm you just had. You chance a glance between your shaking legs and there lies Cid, looking far too much like the cat that ate the cream.

Red faced and heaving, he wipes any remaining juices from his face, locking eyes with you as he licks your essence from his fingers. A growl escapes him as he messily laps at his fingers, taking no care in being civil. “Knew you’d taste heavenly dear.”

Words fail you, following the movement of his mouth as he finishes with a groan. He laughs at your reaction, a gravelly sort of noise before crawling on top of your weakened body.

Full of fire and passion, he attacks your senses, the taste of yourself on his tongue, the welcome feeling of his hands against your body, the drag of his clothed cock against your drenched pussy—

It’s too much, it’s all too fucking much, and you need more.

You separate yourself with a gasp, tugging at his underwear impatiently. “Off, now.”

He does so wordlessly, freeing himself. His cock stands at attention, twitching, waiting, flushed a pretty pink as he sits back and slaps it against your folds, a salacious grin at his lips. “This what you wanted, right?”

The words rattle in your head, every memory you have of Cid flashing before your eyes.

Your answer is hastily whispered between kiss-bruised lips—Yes, please—before Cid descends on you once again.

You pull him closer, a leg at his side as you grind yourself against his naked form, a shudder escaping the both of you when the head of his cock just barely catches at your entrance. The air rings heavy with anticipation but he still finds the time to hold you close, bite at the skin of your neck and hiss when your nails scratch at his back. “Impatient little thing aren’t you?” He huffs, but his hips move enthusiastically against yours, so close and yet so far. Your pathetic whines hit his ears, a sick satisfaction blooming in his chest when you pull him close.

“Cid, please, just fuck me already.” you mewl.

“I don’t know dear,” He pulls away to tease your entrance, the flared tip catching at your overstimulated clit in a way that makes your breath hitch. “You haven’t exactly shown me you deserve it.”

Another thrust of his hips and you swear you see stars.

He whispers against your skin. “Ask nicely and I’ll give you what you want.”

It’s painful how much he teases you, and yet you wouldn’t dare ask him to stop. “Please, Cid—“

Another sharp press of his cock against you. “You’ll have to try harder than that. Makes me think you don’t want it.”

You cry out in frustration. “I need you to fuck me, need you to fill me up, please—I fucking need you.“

He grins, satisfied with your answer. “There now, was that so hard?”

You move to reply but any thought you have is left unfinished when he finally gives you what you’ve been craving, that increasingly fullness that has your words die in your throat. Inch by tantalizing inch, he sheathes himself into your heat, grunting as he does so. When he bottoms out you cry, hands reaching to grab at his arms, his back, anywhere they can reach in hopes that it can somehow steady you from just how good he fucking feels. He responds in kind, head bowed, leaning on his forearms to cage you in and take your wandering hands in his own.

A moment passes, but it feels like eons. He looks at you like you’re the sun, as if your radiance threatens to consume his very being.

“You should see yourself right now,” He presses his lips against your neck. “It’s hard to keep myself in control when you feel this fucking good—”

As if on queue your pussy hugs him, the sensation of you squeezing around him forcing a moan to pass his lips.

You shake your head. “Don’t—wouldn’t want you to—” “Filthy mouth on you,” he grunts, kissing at your face, your lips, anywhere he can reach. Breathless, it becomes harder and harder to think as his hips shallowly press against yours, the slow drag of his cock driving you insane.

A cheeky smile graces your features. “Perhaps you should shut me up then—” You’re interrupted by a hard thrust, and whatever you were going to say next is replaced with a wail. “Not when you sound like that.” He growls.

Another hard thrust has you fully arched from the bed, followed by another, more and more. Cid holds your squirming body with both hands and with only a single nod as a warning, grips you firmly as he fucks you with abandon.

There is little restraint in his actions, brow furrowed together in concentration. He uses you like his personal toy, watches in delight as your face contorts with pleasure, encourages you further when your pussy leaves a ring of white around his cock.

“Shameless aren’t you?” He says, his own breathing ragged. “Look at you, spread open for me.”

You can only moan in response, far too lost in your own world to truly respond. Even thinking feels like too much effort.

A choked noise leaves him at the sight of your cock-drunk expression, nearly sending him over the edge. Your legs grow tired and fall to his hips, pulling him even closer as if on instinct, mindless ramblings of his name followed by pleas.

“More, more—“

“Greedy fuckin’ thing ain’t you?” He rasps, but your blissed out sight is enough to have him pressing you into the mattress until the bedframe begins to creak. He’s lost in the feeling of your slick walls hugging at his cock, the urge to possess you taking over. You’re breathless, unable to mutter a single word that isn’t his name or a broken attempt at speech.

You’re the first one to feel a jolt of euphoria, white-hot as it licks up your spine, followed by an uncontrollable quake in your thighs. Tears brim your eyes, unable to tell him but Cid knows, pressing his thumb against your hard nub.

“That’s it, there you go,” he hisses between clenched teeth, talking you through another earth-shattering orgasm. “Don’t hold back, show me how good it feels darling—“

You sob, coming for the second time that night. Your voice gets the highest it’s been, so engulfed in pleasure it blinds you. He fucks you through it all, you try to push away but he pulls your weakened body back towards him with a heavy hand.

“Oh no, you get back here, we’re not done.” He growls. Wrists captured, he continues his assault on your senses once more, this time with no chance of escape.

His own body shakes with the weight of exhaustion but he doesn’t, no, won’t acknowledge it. Not when you’re so pretty lying below him, not when your pussy is so inviting, stuffed so full that he can feel his outline when a hand reaches to press at your navel.

When your eyes glaze over he takes you by the chin, waking you from your lust-based stupor.

“Come on darling, keep those eyes on me,” he says, thrusting slowly into your warmth. You nod your head weakly, too gone to speak.

“That’s my girl,” he says, pausing to sit back on his haunches. He enjoys the sight of you limp before speaking again. “I’m gonna be a little rough darling, but you can take it can’t you?”

Your eyes rolling back, a chorus of no, I can’t spills from your lips before Cid takes your face with both hands.

“Yes you can,” he mumbles at your bruised lips. “I know you can take me pretty girl, I know it.”

He smoothes over your hair, kisses your tears away, gives you a moment of reprieve after what felt like hours.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you,” he exhales, letting his thumb stroke your cheek ever so gently. “I’ll make you feel good, promise.”

You’re distracted by his gentle words, a noise of surprise escaping you when he begins to bear down on you, this time with more ferocity.

You’re both obscenely loud, neither of you giving a damn if you get complaints the next morning.

His hips slap against yours, the result of years of pent-up tension echoing off the walls. His lips attach to yours, swallowing every noise you make greedily, barely parting for air before assaulting them yet again.

His presence is suffocating, his entire weight forcing you further and further into the sheets. Your body aches with exhaustion, and even your voice has gone hoarse with how much you’ve sang his praise between the four walls of his bedchambers. Carnal, frantic you can feel the need in every movement, how his cock throbs inside you, the beginnings of another orgasm creeping up on you. You’re both shaky, head pressed into your shoulder whispering both filth and reverence under his breath.

“Gods, your pussy is divine—“

“I can’t believe I’ve gone this long without it—“

“Might have to fill you up and make you mine.”

That last sentence makes your toes curl, your cunt throbbing at the thought. An achingly slow grind of his hips, he slows down just enough to let you speak.

“That excited you huh?” He husks. “Want me to come in this pretty little pussy?”

Your answer is a moan, nodding your head as you hold the sheets between shaky fingers.

“Okay then, say it,” he murmurs into your skin, resuming his brutal pace. “Say you want me to come in you, say you want me to make a mess of you—“

Sweat drips from his brow. He’s so close you can see it in his eyes, feel it in the way his hips slowly stutter and start again, if only to draw your pleasure just that bit longer.

You stare back at him, voice quivering. “Yes, yes, please—come in me Cid.“

Your words give him the permission he needs, his body curling over yours. “Fuck, fucking hell—“ he cries your name, a searing warmth filling you as he cums, the action making your legs shake once again as another orgasm catches you by surprise.

He collapses at your side, exhaustion finally taking hold. You feel your legs shake once again, staring into his verdant green eyes. You can see the love that shines through them, and it’s evident that your bond is something beyond just physical, something that puts the word “love” to shame. He is yours, and you are his.

There’s a long stretch of time where it’s just you and him, basking in each other’s warmth. Chest to chest, skin sticky with sweat where you simply exist.

It’s calm. You could get used to this.

A breath escapes you with a smile. “This whole time.”

You feel Cid smile into your shoulder in turn. “This whole time.”

Another silence.

“Cid?” You ask.

He turns to look at you, a smile on his face. “Yes darling?”

“I can’t feel my fucking legs.”

His laughter is infectious, turning to watch as you give him a pointed look that eventually turns into your own giggle fit.

Cid attempts to sympathize with a half-hearted kiss to your shoulder. “If it’s any consolation, I can’t feel mine either.”

#final fantasy xvi #final fantasy xvi smut #cid telamon #cidolfus telamon #cidolfus telamon smut #cidolfus telamon x reader #robo writes #reader insert #cidolfus telamon/reader

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din-miller · 2 years ago

Note

Hey, I humbly ask for the bad batch x femreader (separately) who has muscles? Like she's super insecure about them because she feels like she can't wear anything nice because she looks to bulky?

Fluff or smut it's up to you!

❤️

Ooohhh that’s a cool ask. I’ve never really had toned muscles so this was a challenge to do in a sense that I don’t have those insecurities about my body. Hopefully for those badasses who do, I didn’t completely fumble this ask.

Insecurities Get Us All, Just Thought You Should Know

Pairing: The Bad Batch x Female Reader

Words: all together is 3.8k

Warnings: 18+, implications to sexy times, Crosshair’s is spicy, insecurity, female reader, talks about how women should be soft and feminine for male pleasure, ugh, our boys will step on those men

A/N: unfortunately after spending two days thinking about how to do Echo’s part, I gave up. He will be missed. Crosshairs part is maybe (?) a little rough around the edges but I really struggle with his character. Tech loses the ability to speak with big words because you know, women with muscles leave us speechless. Dividers by @saradika

WRECKER

You stare at the dress in your hand – if you can even call it such – and wonder if you could get away with murder; more specifically the murder of one trandoshan.

While you tend to hate the missions she sends you and the Batch on, this one definitely is on top of the hatred list. You turn the dress around, eyes taking in all the straps that make up a complicated crisscross pattern, a poor excuse for a back. The dress is floor length, more elegant than daring, looser than fitting but it’s sleeveless.

It’s not ugly, the deep shade of purple is stunning to be honest. It’s just that, well it highlights the part of yourself that you keep hidden under baggy clothes. Your arms have always been an issue for you. Out of all the boys only Hunter and Wrecker’s arms are bigger than yours. The former just barely.

You were admittedly scared at first when the boys saw your bare arms. You had expected them to judge you, make fun of you, but instead they asked about your workout routine. It mostly involves saving their asses and a hundred pushups before bed.

They let you feel free to unapologetically be yourself, muscles and all. But this isn’t a hot afternoon or a Sunday swim. This is a stupid mission to a sneezy cantina.

A knock at the ‘fresher door startled you. Cid had allowed you to use her private fresher to change. The only people who’d be knocking is her, Omega, or the boys.

“One second.” You call out realising that you’re still standing naked in the room save for your undergarments.

You get to work changing, slipping the dress over your head before realising that was a mistake and you’re now stuck tangled up in the fabric. You try wiggling your body, shifting your arms as much as you can but nothing proved helpful. You’re one hundred percent stuck.

You must have made a noise because the knocking is back followed by a concerned voice, “Everything okay in there?”

Wrecker.

Sweat, loving, Wrecker.

Wrecker who playfully challenges you to arm wrestling matches despite knowing he’ll win every time. Never once making a stupid comment like if you were a man you’d be able to beat him. Wrecker, who has never made any negative or cruel comments about your appearance.

Wrecker, the man you’re oh so helplessly in love with.

The man who has never seen you in a dress, who has never once seen anything bare except your arms. That’s about to change now ‘cause there is no way you’re going to be able to get unstuck without ripping the dress. So, you swallow your pride; “I think I need help-,”

“Help? Are you hurt? Wait there, I’ll go get Tech-,”

“No, I’m not hurt. Well maybe my pride is a little,” You grunt, trying to free yourself because honestly this is not how you imagined Wrecker helping you with your clothing. No, he’d be taking them off, not putting them on, “I’m stuck.”

“Oh,” Wrecker clears his throat, sounding lost, “Do you want me to come in?”

“You can, but I’m sorta…” You frown, trying to figure out the best word, “Indecent.”

Wrecker cleared his throat again, this time a little louder, “Oh, you’re naked. I can go get Cid.”

“No! You send her in here and she’ll be coming back out in a body bag,” You warn him, completely truthful, “And I’m not naked, I have underwear on. Look it’s okay, I can get one of the other boys-,”

“Yeah, that’s not happenin’.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you. I’m going to unlock the door. Is anyone else out there?” You ask, unlocking the door for him, a little awkwardly as you can’t move your arms without your entire upper body going with. You had to bend at the waist and blindly find the doorknob.

You hear shuffling from the other side, footsteps coming closer until they stop just shy of the door. You can see the silhouette of Wrecker’s boots, “No, just me. ‘sides I wouldn’t let anyone see ya half dressed. Bad enough some besom is going to eyein’ you all night like you’re some slab of meat.”

Your stomach turns unpleasantly at the thought of being subjected to lust gazes all night long, so you push away all thoughts about the mission and the foal men before they can consume you. One fear at a time.

You relax your arms, making sure you don’t flex. Good practice for tonight you think bitterly and move away from the door to let him in. He was quick, door closing hot on his heels. You avoid his gaze, not wanting to see the look of disgust as he takes in your muscular body. Thankfully nothing private is showing, leaving you with some modesty.

Your hands are stuck in the air, trapped by fabric and straps, the gown part of the dress is bunched up around your waist, leaving just enough fabric to cover your private part.

You keep your eyes on the wall in front of you as you try to ease the awkward tension in the air, “Didn’t Hunter ban you from using such foal words?”

“Only in front of Omega.” He replies, stepping in close and his fingers trail down your arm, from your elbow to your shoulder where the straps all twist together.

The first brush of his fingertips against your shoulder blade has your knees going weak. His breath is hot against your neck as he asks, “Got a reference to how this is ‘posed to go?”

“Oh, yeah I think the package had one actually,” You half-blindly search for the package before handing it to him, “Here.”

Wrecker studies the picture for a few seconds before giving a small ‘aha’, “I think I understand.”

His hands are back on you, warm and welcoming as he works in silence, occasionally grunting when a finger gets tangled up in the straps. In those moments you snort and he gently pinches your side in response.

Either the dress is more complicated than you originally thought or Wrecker is going at a snails pace – almost like he’s milking the closeness and skin on skin contact for all its worth. You hope it’s the latter and you’re not hopelessly reading into the way his fingers are caressing your skin even though the task at hand doesn’t call for such loving touches.

“There, all done.”

“Thank you.” You give an experimental wiggle of your shoulders to make sure the straps stay in place for tonight before rewarding Wrecker with a kiss on the cheek before thinking better of it.

Realising what you had just done, you hastily turn away, missing the dorky awestruck expression on his face, and in your turn you catch your reflection and oh.

Your arms, well, they’re not hard to miss. Your eyes are drawn to them, impossible not to see. You don’t necessarily hate your muscles, they’re what have kept you alive. You don’t survive a war ridden galaxy by having noodle arms. It’s just seeing them on display like this, for people to see and judge you, mock you, it’s too much.

If it wasn’t for your arms you’d actually consider yourself attractive in this entire – or at least attractive in the eyes of men.

The rest of the dress is flowy, with a little support for your breast, but other than your arms it highlights no other muscular features your body has. Still you try to make yourself appear smaller, more feminine, but it’s not working and your stomach is starting to turn again unforgivingly.

In the mirror you catch Wrecker taking small steps towards you, “Any chance you’ll let me know what’s going on in your head, mesh’la?”

You give a deep sigh, “Cid picked the wrong person for the job. Slap some lipstick on Crosshair and he’d get more attention than I would. How am I supposed to seduce anyone when I look like a hairless lasat? The moment I step foot in the cantina all eyes will be on me but none of them will see me, you know?”

The corner of Wrecker’s lips tilt down, sadness brief in his eyes before he shakes his head and pulls you back into his embrace, taking you by surprise but you melt against his chest all the same.

“You know what I see?” His arms come to wrap around you, hands locking together over your stomach, “I see strength. Arms that are strong to carry your kin to safety. I see warmth and comfort; a safe place to rest, to be held. I see a strong beautiful woman. I see you.”

You gasp, eyes wide and locking onto Wrecker’s for a split second before turning in his arms and pulling his head down to catch his plush lips in your own. Wrecker lets out a startled noise before moaning softly against your lips, arms wrapping around you to pull you in closer to his body.

His mouth separate from yours for a brief second and mirth colours his next few words, “If you need help taking off your dress-,”

“Oh, I will.”

HUNTER

You flop yourself in bed, body aching in every sense possible. You hadn’t even done much. A simple supply run, nothing too demanding of your body but lo and behold your leg decided to cramp up and you did the entire walk back to the ship trying your best to mask the limp you took with every step. If Omega had seen you struggling she’d immediately call Hunter and Hunter would get Tech, who would tell Wrecker to carry you back to the ship, where Crosshair would be waiting seemingly indifferent about your pain but he’d hover over you nonetheless.

It would be an absolute shit show.

So you hid the pain until you got back to your private bunk, or the small storage room that has been rearranged to house you, you should say. Your plan for the night is to sulk away and hope the cramp eases up through the night.

The worst part is that in your hurry to get back to the ship and lay down, you forgot to stop and restock the ship’s supply of heat packs. Something that would most certainly come in handy right about now.

A knock comes from the door and you groan. The last thing you want right now is company. Knowing that shooing whoever it is away would only result in the entirety of the Batch piling into your room to make sure you're okay, you have no choice but yell for them to come in.

Hunter – of course it’s Hunter – peeks his head through the door before stepping all the way in, “Hey, can I come in?”

“It’s your ship.” You point out, straightening yourself to sit up properly on your bed.

“We both know it’s Tech,” He laughs, stepping into your room, face turning serious for a moment, “Omega said you were walking funny earlier. Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“You should know by now that you can’t hide anything from me. You also should know that I don’t like it when you try too. We’re an allit, which means we take care of each other.”

“Even if that person in dumb and forgot to get supplies that could actually help them manage the pain?” You ask, self blaming as you start massaging your leg. No point in hiding the cramps now.

“Especially then,” Hunter states before dropping down beside you. He shifts himself until his back is against the wall, sitting himself upright before laying your legs on his lap, “Crosshair gets really bad cramps. I learned a long time ago how to rub the knots out. Allow me?”

Hyper aware he can feel your muscles under his fingertips you hold your breath waiting for a comment that never comes. His fingers tuck themselves under the hem of your sweats, rolling them up the slightest as he asks, “May I? It’ll help if I roll your pant leg up so I can see the knots clearer.”

You swallow around the lump forming in the back of your throat. May he? Could you push away your fear of judgement to receive help? Your legs are the most muscular part of your body for you were raised in a small village, no public transport, everything was in appropriate walking distance from your house. And now running with the Batch you’re on your feet more than ever. Always trying to stay one foot ahead of imperials. It’s no wonder why your leg is throbbing.

“I’m sorry,” Hunter's hands leave your leg, “I obviously overstepped.”

“It’s fine,” You say meekly, willing your body to relax in his embrace. He gives you a look and you sigh, “Truthfully, my legs are seen as unattractive in some beauty cultures and I don’t feel like hearing snide comments right now.”

“Unattractive?” He repeats, brows drawn together as he takes a second to sort his thoughts. His lips eventually purse together briefly before nodding slightly, “You are incredibly well built, it’s something I find admirable about you. You’re fast, saved our asses a few times in battle because of these muscles in your legs, and that’s not to be taken lightly. I don’t know what ‘beauty standards’ you were raised with but I find your body to be very attractive, mesh’la.”

You study him for a minute, “You’re being honest.” It’s not a question, more of an observation and you are a bit taken back, “It truly doesn’t bother you that I’m built like a lasat?”

“A lasat? I wasn’t aware you only have four toes.” The amusement in his tone has you rolling your eyes. His hands return to your leg and he gives a reassuring squeeze, “If you allow me to continue, once I’ve got all the knots out, I’d love to take you out for dinner and maybe afterwards I could show you just how attractive you truly are.”

You grin, laying your head down in the crook of his neck as you watch his hand slide your pants up, “I’d love nothing more.”

TECH

“You should not have done that,” Tech scowls at you, arranging the necessary medical tools, “It was reckless and could have been avoidable.”

You’d wave his scowling off if the action didn’t cause your body to scream in protest. He’s right, you could have totally avoided showing off your impressive speaker skills – or at least not fail at jumping that ramp.

It could have been worse. The scanner picked up no broken bones, just a deep laceration on your stomach and some small ones paired with bruises that’ll bloom into some nasty colours. You had shredded your pants in the crash too, the fabric now hanging loosely in some places.

Tech sets his jaw and orders you to lift up your shirt, “I need to flush your wounds before applying any bacta.”

Panic floods your body, “No.”

Tech brows rose ever so slightly, just visible above his goggles, “No? What do you mean by no?”

“No, I will not lift my shirt up.” You will not allow him to see your less than feminine body. Will not face the hard truth that the man you’re crushing on is repulsed by your body. You would not survive it.

Tech, oblivious to your inward panic plainly states, “You do realise that in order for me to stop the bleeding and clean the cut so it doesn’t get infected, I need access to the wound?”

Honestly, bleeding out is better than Tech seeing your stomach. You don’t necessarily have abs, not like Hunter. You’re built more like Wrecker; big bodied. Far from soft and delicate. Never feminine like the girls in the holo movies.

Tech gently lays his hand on your arm, tilting your head up with his other, eyes holding yours hard like his next words are the most important he’ll ever say, “If you’re afraid I may try to take advantage of you in your undress state, I can call one of the boys-,”

“No!” You yell, desperately needing him to know that’s not true, not even close, “That didn’t even cross my mind. I trust you, Tech.”

His body relaxes at your words, “Then I see no reason for me not to clean the wound.”

You draw your bottom lip between your teeth and admit defeat. You pull your shirt up enough for the wound to be visible but not high enough for Tech to see your chest band. Your body is tense, awaiting an insult that normally comes by now. But instead Tech makes a noise at the back of his throat, an audible swallowing sound followed with a quiet ‘oh’.

You don’t dare to look at his face.

“I’m sorry.”

Tech doesn’t try to gain eye contact this time. He gently wipes away the dry blood flaked on your skin, “For pulling the stunt or getting hurt?”

“For worrying you,” You softly say, tone apologetic, “And for you having to stare at my stomach. I’m sure you could be spending your time fixing the ship or watching holo videos of twi’lek.”

Tech blushes at the last part, “I don’t indulge in such videos. And while I do find twi’leks’ pleasing to the eye, my ‘taste’ is, well,” His eyes linger in your bare skin, darkening a little when you flex your stomach, “You. Not just your body, but your mind, your personality. You’re beautiful, strong, caring. Any man would be lucky to have you as a partner.”

“Any man?” You ask, lips turning up, finally meeting his eyes. You lean in close to his body, taking the medical equipment from his hands and set them aside, “Does that include you?”

Tech adjusts his goggles, lips holding a shy smile, “Most definitely.”

There’s a dull ache in your stomach when you lean up to kiss him but you don’t care. The softness of his lips and the way he draws in a sharp inhale makes it worth it.

CROSSHAIR

“You have to be kriffing kidding me!” You huff, kicking the side of the dryer, “Echo said he fixed this blasted machine.”

Behind you came a snort, “He did. That’s him fixing it.”

You raise a brow at Crosshair, “Not helping.”

“Wasn’t trying too,” He quips, toothpick switching from one side of his mouth to the other, “You could borrow one of our shirts. Wrecker’s would be too big for you and Tech is very picky about his clothing.”

“And Echo’s are specially designed to regulate his body temperature. I’d sweat to death in the first hour.” You sigh, that leaves you with two options: Hunter’s or–

“Take one of mine for the day,” Crosshair says, deciding for you as one of his shirts hits you straight in the face, “Oops, I was aiming for your chest.”

“Sharpshooter my ass.” You grumble under your breath and wait for Crosshair to turn away. The clone raises a brow, smirk on his lips as he cocks his head, gesturing for you to start changing. You give him the middle finger as he finally turns away from you, mumbling something under his breath about missing a good show.

Bastard.

You take off the shirt you’re currently wearing, nose scrunching up at the stench soaked into the fabric. You easily manage to slip your head through the neck hole but as you insert your arm into the sleeve you realise it’s much tighter than your baggier clothing, leaving you with a challenge. You eventually get both arms through but when you pull your shoulders forward a loud rip sounds through the small corner of the ship.

Crosshair’s ears twitch and his head turns a fraction to the side, not fully able to see you, “Did you just rip my shirt, cyar’ika?”

That’s a question you’re afraid to find the answer to. Nonetheless you slowly lift your arm up and wince at the slight breeze you feel on your skin. You bite down on your lip, eyes shifting to the hanger door and you wonder if you could escape without Crosshair catching you.

“Don’t even attempt it,” Crosshair huffs, “I’m going to turn around now.”

You stand frozen, holding your breath waiting for him to snap at you or worse, make a snide comment about how a ladies arms should never be bigger than a mans.

Crosshair's face holds no telltale sign of what he’s thinking as he take in the ripped fabric and the places where the hems are starting to come apart at the seams as your muscles threaten to rip the fabric even more.

His eyes go dark and he starts walking towards you, following as you take steps back until your back presses against the wall behind you. You swallow audibly, unsure of how this is going to turn out, “Crosshair? You have every right to be mad-,”

His left hand slams against the wall beside your head, palm flat on the wood whilst the other hand comes to your arm and squeezes the muscles over your shirt.

“If you wanted me to look at your arms you could have just told me and saved a good shirt from being ripped,” He chided, hand slowly trailing down your arm, “I see fear in your eyes, none of that, cyar’ika. I’m not like those osi’kovid who feel threatened by the strength of a woman.”

His legs nudge yours apart, leg slipping into the gap he created and presses his thigh against your core. His fingers slip under the bottom of your shirt – his shirt – to pull it over your head but the fabric doesn’t bunch, seemingly glued to your muscles. With an annoyed grunt Crosshair tears the shirt down the middle, no longer caring about seeing if it’s salvageable.

“A woman like you should be worshipped,” He whispers into your ear, teeth grazing against the flesh, pulling a whimper from you. He pulls back, a cocky smirk on his face before he’s dropping to his knees, “Allow me to taste you, to feel your strong thighs squeezing around my head as I bring you pleasure a true man could only hope to achieve.”

Your head is spinning; everything is happening so fast, your pussy begins gathering arousal between your folds as Crosshair breaths promises against your clothed sex. His words are unlike him, different from anything you’ve heard before. No snappish tone, only plain lust.

Of course, Crosshair is Crosshair, and the next second his eyes dance with mirth as his fingers slip under the band of your pants, “Don’t worry, I’ll be fucking that shock look off your face soon enough. Bend you over all surfaces until you're drunk on my cock, begging for more.”

#the bad batch #wrecker x reader #hunter x reader #crosshair x reader #tech x reader #female reader #tbb crosshair #tbb wrecker #tbb hunter #tbb tech #justice joy writes #tw: implications to sexy times #warning 18+ content

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noblelightfighter · 3 months ago

Text

Pairing: Crosshair X Oc (Novali)

Word count: 3,391

Note: I barely proof read this. I'm so tired but I want to get this posted before bed 😴 sooooo yeah

Warnings: sfw, Sibling teasing, and a fake moon with a canon planet

Now I would say this is a typical enemies to friends story, with one person hating the other, then both hating each other, then circumstances force them to save each other and then begrudgingly become friends, but then halfway through there is a beach episode gone wrong mixed with a dream episode gone horribly wrong which made the friends become closer, with more events pushing them together and then this story turns into a friends to lovers story.

That sounds typical, and not my kind of thing.

I figured it wouldn't be.

…But how does it start?

Pardon?

How did they meet? How did this story begin?

So! About fifty years ago there was this guy named George Lucus-

NONONONO! This Story!

Hahahaha! I couldn't help it! Okay Let's start there….

It had been a few weeks since the Adventure on Idaflor had taken place, and the Bad Batch were on their way to Ord Mantel when a new mission from Cid came to them. An Old Republic Senator wanted plans that an Old Separatist was trying to sell to the Empire so that the Empire couldn't use them.

“Your target is Victor Reeshe,” Cid’s holo cracked as they flew through hyperspace, “a Pantorian with great connections to members in the Senate. He's trying to sell weapons to the Empire that could destroy starships very easily.”

“Now this is a mission I can get behind on.” Echo whispered to Hunter, who nodded in response.

“I'll send over the information, and I hope you boys have some other enhanced skill,” the all flinched, “‘cause you're gonna need it.”

“What do you mean by that?” Crosshair sneered.

Cid snorted, as if to contain her laughter. “I'll let you find out for yourself.” The holo ended, leaving the batch in a tense state.

“Do you think she found out?” Wrecker asked as he scratched his head.

“I highly doubt it.” Tech said. “Due to our hosts being very protective and secretive with who they were lodging with, and with silencing our enemies when they did find out, it is unlikely that anyone knows of our new enhancements.”

“Except the singing part,” Wrecker added, “She probably knows about that.”

“Probably.” Hunter concurred. Thanks to a certain boy and dragon, they could all sing very well now. Much to their embarrassment. That was one enhanced skill they didn't know that they didn't want. But the other enhancements that they acquired…. They were all given the option to keep them with the risk of being hunted by more than just the Empire, with the understanding that they wouldn't be able to use them but live full lives as normal nat-borns, or they could lose them and go back to have accelerated aging. There were pros and cons to each, and in the end they all chose to keep their decisions to themselves for safety. All Hunter knew for himself was that he wanted to keep his family safe. And he left it at that.

“Maybe that's why she was holding back her laugh?” Omega piped up. Seeing Cid laugh was weird, and she guessed that the only reason why Cid would laugh and make that comment would be because she got word of them singing.

“Looks like it.” Echo frowned at the information he was looking at. “Victor is going to be making the deal at a singing contest on Reecee.” He showed the blueprints and it was not ideal. There were going to be over a thousand people at this party and the room he was going to be in was heavily guarded. “From what the record shows, the only ones allowed back there are the favorite singers from the contest. And surprise surprise! They're all female.”

Omega hopped up, “That means I can do it!” A chorus of “NO”s sounded off in the ship from all five men. Omega's scowl almost looked like Crosshair's. “Why not?! I can sing and I'm a female!”

“The Phantom.” Crosshair hissed at her. There was a blimp of fear that flashed in the girl's eyes as she remembered the four-armed giant on Idaflor. “Those men could be like him. You're not going.”

“Hunter!” Omega pleaded with the oldest brother.

“No.” He didn't have to think long on that. Crosshair made an excellent point. There were too many men at these parties who were a little grabby. “We'll figure out how to get in there without risking you.”

“Now that we know what our objective is,” Tech swiveled in his pilot chair, “we'll have to gather up supplies and refuel before heading for Reecee.”

“And where will that be?” Wrecker asked with a glint in his eyes. He was probably thinking about food.

“The moon of La Harkreus that orbits Takodona.” Tech punched in the coordinates. “It's a neutral system and full of refugees from the war, so we can blend in most effectively.”

“Oh yeah! Now we're talking!” Wrecker tried to lightly punch Tech in the shoulder, but he still managed to almost knock him out of his seat, earning himself a side glare.

“I'll be taking a nap if you need me.” Crosshair got up and moved back towards the bunks.

Hunter and Omega both looked at him, then at each other, then back at him before Omega followed the youngest brother back to the bunks. They had noticed since The Intervention happened, he had been more withdrawn and melancholy, despite the fact that he had been at the healthiest point of his life. He refused to talk about it though, only getting a grunt or hum whenever someone brought it up. So, Hunter had tasked Omega to look out for him in case he decided to say anything about it, and she had yet to report anything. But Hunter did notice that Crosshair’s mood seemed to perk up whenever it was just him and Omega, with her telling him stories of their adventures that he missed with an exaggerated flare here or there, or she would ask questions about being a sniper and everything that it entailed, or learning how to clean weapons. Today it looked like it would be a shared nap.

Crosshair climbed into Tech's bunk and layed down on it and was slightly startled when Omega climbed on him and laid down on top of him. “What are you doing?” Omega shrugged with a hum. He pushed her off and turned towards the wall, only to feel her back pressed up against his. “Tch! You're annoying as Wrecker.”

“So you like his cuddles too?” Omega piped up.

He could feel her smirk. And he couldn't help but smile. “No.” He lied.

“Hunter was right. You're a bad liar.” She giggled.

There was an icy pause.

“So. What has our brother said about me?”

Oh no. Omega tried to flee the bunk but Crosshair wrapped his arms around her and pulled her back in with a gleeful shriek.

“Spill you little spy!” Crosshair attacked her ribs mercilessly.

“Hahaha! Noooo!” She laughed.

They landed at the spaceport on La Harkreus with Tech and Echo working on the ship while the rest went to get supplies and food. The place was rather open and not as stacked up as other worlds were, resembling that of a more populated Saleucami. They got what they needed for the journey and we're about to head back to the ship, but Wrecker wanted to see a specific restaurant on the way back because of how it smelled.

“Please Sarge!” He begged. “Just a quick bite of food!”

When Hunter was about to protest, Tech commed him with some news. “It appears a creature of sorts made a residence inside the ship and chewed on some wires and filled the space with debris. This will take some time to clean up.”

“Do any of the wires need to be replaced?” Hunter asked.

“Unclear at the moment. I'll keep you informed. Please remain on standby.” Tech ended the conversation with a click, and left Hunter with a excited Wrecker and Omega.

Hunter pinched his nose. “Ugh. Fine. Let's get some food real fast then leave.” As the former two ran off in the direction of the restaurant, Crosshair took the remaining supplies from Hunter with a snide look. “Problem?” Hunter nearly growled out.

Crosshair only shook his head. “You've definitely gone soft.”

“So have you, thanks to the kid.” Hunter chided back.

“Tch!” Crosshair rolled his eyes as he left for the ship, but on the inside he was smiling. He really did like the kid. She was a ball of light and energy in their dim ship. But he knew what she- or they were doing. And he wasn't going to unload on her and tell them of his inner turmoil. Since having his chip removed he's been feeling the guilt of all that he has done catching up to him, and there wasn't a person whom he felt comfortable enough yet to talk to about. Maybe Hunter, but he felt like it was too soon. What he really wanted was just peace. A peace to squash out his guilt so that he didn't need to bring it up. And there were three people who really embodied it, and now they're all gone to a different world entirely.

Crosshair made it back to the hangar with the supplies in town and Echo paused from his work at just seeing one brother. “Where did the others go?” He asked, with a bit of worry in his voice.

“To get food.” The sniper shrugged.

“But we had a detailed list of food to purchase already?” Tech popped up beside Echo, covered in webs. “Any more excessive spending and we're going to have to cut supplies again.”

“You don't want them to have fun?” Crosshair snided as he loaded up the supplies with Echo's help.

Tech shook his head. “That is not the point I'm trying to make and you know it.”

“Well how long do you need to clean the webs?” Echo asked.

“Given the nature of this creature and how extreme the pattern is, I can only guess a few more hours.”

“I'd say that's plenty of time to eat food then.” Echo shrugged.

“So you'll leave me to do all the work?” Tech scowled.

“No.” Crosshair wiped the webs off his brother with a cloth. “You're going with us.”

“Don't be preposterous! There is still work- ACH!” Tech didn't have time to say anything else as Crosshair threw Tech onto his shoulders and began to carry him out of the hangar.

“You! Haven't! Eaten! Since! Yesterday!” Crosshair emphasized with each step.

“Crosshair put me down!” Tech tried to remain balanced but he felt Crosshair about to give out from under him and decided to jump and both ended up crashing to the ground.

Echo shook his head. “I don't know if I miss this or not.”

They made it to the restaurant in one piece, but were almost run into by a server who was scurrying about with a tray of food. She caught herself and the food expertly by doing a hop and then apologized. “Sorry ‘bout that! It's a crazy lunch rush today!” She skipped off to a table, “Welcome to Victor's Kitchen!” She yelled her greeting as she dodged a few customers and delivered the food before going back behind the counter to grab more.

“Well, this is lively!” Echo commented. The restaurant was nearly full of different aliens and people enjoying their food and each other's company, so it was surprisingly difficult to find the other three. But they found them right by the door in a corner booth, just watching them.

“Took you long enough!” Wrecker laughed with Omega giggling next to him. Hunter looked smug but also relaxed. Something about this place was putting him at ease.

“Well you could have said something!” Crosshair grumbled as he climbed into the booth, only for Hunter to shove him out again.

“You have to go order first then come and sit.” He nodded towards the counter. Crosshair groaned. That was the last thing he wanted to do.

“What are they offering here?” Tech asked.

“Mostly soups and sandwiches.” Omega answered, then held up a number. “We're still waiting on our food.”

“Order 42!” Came the sing-song shout.

“We’re over here, be careful with the food!” Wrecker sang back.

“Now you're catching on!” The girl from earlier came rushing over with a tray of their food. “Two sandwiches and a bowl of soup?” She placed them down on the table.

“Yes ma'am!” Wrecker thanked the lady along with Omega and Hunter before she nodded curtly in acknowledgement before bounding away for the next order. “I like this place!”

“Same!” Omega concurred before digging into her sandwich.

“I suggest you three go up there and order before you can't.” Hunter nodded again.

Crosshair squinted at him suspiciously. “You're in a cheerful mood suddenly.”

Now it was Hunter's turn to shrug. “Something about this place feels familiar.”

“Like a home.” Omega spoke with a mouth full of food.

“Omega.” Hunter warned her.

“Oops.” She covered her mouth.

“Let's head up to the counter then.” Tech said.

The three of them made it to the counter behind two other patrons when Tech and Echo began to argue over Tech's eating habits. “Did you seriously not eat since yesterday?!”

“I have noticed an increase in weight in my physic and wished to eliminate it.”

“Are you saying you ate too much of Nara's cooking?” Echo smirked.

Tech's face darkened. “I'm saying I have put on some unnecessary weight that could hinder my ability to perform on the standard level of clone physics.”

“Just say you liked her cooking.” Echo chided.

“And you still didn't eat enough!” Tech tried to throw back at the Arc trooper.

Nara. She had a strange sense of peace about her that felt almost tangible and it help with Crosshair's guilt. What he wouldn't give to feel that again. And then it hit him. This place felt like The Cabin. Safe, warm, and peaceful. No one here seemed to care about six new faces.

“I can take who’s next!” Called the familiar voice. Crosshair looked up and saw the girl again behind a register waving at him. He moved towards her and gave his order of a half sandwich and a small bowl of soup. “Sounds good! Your order number is going to be 66.” She beamed up at him as she handed him a card with the number on it. He flinched at the number and he saw her smile falter. “Is something wrong?”

He shook his head. “No.” He reached for the number but she dropped it back on the counter and reached for a different one.

“How about 68?” She held up the different card for him to take, and he felt himself relax. He nodded his thanks and she nodded back, her frizzy light brown hair getting into her face and sticking to her forehead, despite the fact that it was mostly in a braid. She handed him a cup unprompted before she heard a bell and then left the register in a flash to grab the next order. Crosshair slowly made his way to the drink station. Something about her seemed familiar. “Order 49!” She sang out.

“Well about time!” A different customer called back playfully.

“You just ordered, it'll be fine!” She playfully fired back.

Crosshair stuck a toothpick in his mouth as he watched her bob and weave through the crowded restaurant with a smile on her face, singing under her breath. He went back to the corner booth and Hunter finally let him sit down. “How long did it take for you to get your food?” He asked.

“About ten minutes or so.” Hunter wiped his face with a napkin. “See those men over there two booths down?” Crosshair tentatively looked over his shoulder and saw the men. They were covered in skeleton tattoos and scars, but we're chatting with an elderly couple next to them. “And another group left before you showed up.”

“Order 51!” The girl cried out again.

“Now it's time for fun!” A different customer sang.

Crosshair felt like he was going to get annoyed with this. But he saw that she went to the table with the men to give them their food and rushed off again.

“You're relaxed because there are so many people here with similar tattoos,” Tech answered, “Meaning that we blend in with our surroundings, and because we look different from the- uh- others,” Tech caught himself in time with a nod at Echo, “No one can report us.”

“Exactly.” Hunter nodded.

“And yet you still chose the corner booth closest to the door.” Omega added. “Why?”

“We're still not sure who is friendly and who is not.” Echo answered her. “And if a situation arises, we can make a quick escape.”

“Ahh….” The girl looked around and studied the room. “Well they all seem friendly so far.”

“You're still naive.” Crosshair pointed his toothpick at her. “Anyone can appear and act friendly only to stab you in the back later.”

“I trusted you, didn't I?” Omega reminded him and he paused.

“Order 56!”

“Throw it, you can't miss!”

The server made a nervous laugh. “I have before and I won't do it again!” She gave the man his order and ended up going by their table to throw away trash before dashing away again.

“I don't think that one can.” Wrecker pointed back at the girl as she made her way through the restaurant with more food. “She’s friendly and silly like Tore, but has Nara’s calm energy.”

Tech frowned. “Of course you would bring those two up in the conversation as well!” He pulled out his data pad and tried to ignore them.

“What?” Wrecker threw a napkin at him, somewhat confused. “All I said is that the little server reminds me of Tore and Nara.”

Crosshair made note of what Wrecker said and watched the girl. She called out each order with a song and the customers usually responded with a call in a rhyme for some reason, unless she knew where the customers were and just brought them their food. She hopped and danced like the minstrels, was constantly singing something either to herself or when serving food, and sometimes she would bow dramatically with the food held out as if she was addressing royalty. When she did finally bring out his food, he dreaded her singing it outloud, but she just brought it to him.

“Soup and sandwich my good sir.” She waved her hand before bowing dramatically again.

Something about her energy was soothing him, like how Nara's and the blue dragon’s used to, but seeing it coming from this energetic woman was somehow amusing in his mind. He scoffed at her performance, and he saw her flinch. Oh. She did not take that well. Hunter nudged him under the table.

“Sorry about him.” Hunter apologized to her as she straightened. “He woke up on the wrong side of the bunk.”

The girl scratched her head nervously. “Ah, well that was me yesterday, so I guess you caught it from me?” She voice pitched as she backed up. “I-I’ll see about the other orders then.” She turned on her heel and quickly marched away. Taking that soothing energy with her.

She can sing.

She can perform.

And there seemed to be a well spring of peace coming from her.

“Crosshair?” Are you okay?” Hunter asked him.

“She's the one.” He answered.

Hunter was confused. “What do you mean?”

“She's going to be our singer.”

“You mean to ask Novali to sing for the contest on Reecee?” Tech asked.

“What was that?” Crosshair looked back at his goggled eyed brother.

“Novali's her name. Have you looked at her name tag?” Tech studied Crosshair with an uncomfortable gaze, making him shake his foot in nervousness. Tech shook his head.

Crosshair looked back at the girl and saw her being silly behind the counter while she waited for more food to arrive. No one seemed to be in line now. “Maybe. Might as well ask her.”

“It never hurts to ask.” Omega piped up.

No, it never hurts to ask. But what if Novali says no? Crosshair thought.

@clonexocweek

#Clonexocweek2025 #clone x oc #Tbb #tbb crosshair #crosshair x oc #noblelightfighter #Novali #Oc

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badbatchposts · 1 year ago

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Quiet Corners of the Galaxy, Ch. 3

While on a routine mission for Cid, the Bad Batch encounter a woman fleeing from the Empire. Crosshair suspects her seemingly free-spirited, nomadic existence is actually a cover for something else, but struggles to keep his attraction toward her in check as their personalities and ideals clash.

Relevant tags: Slow Burn, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut (not for a few chapters still), Canon-Typical Violence

Chapters posted 1-2x weekly!

Read the full fic so far on AO3

Read previous chapters on Tumblr: Ch. 1 l Ch. 2

Chapter 3 summary: The mysterious woman rescued by Crosshair comes to on the Marauder. Rather than interrogate why he decided to save her, Crosshair decides to antagonize her, because that's who he is.

“Hey, hey. Easy now.” Hunter appeased the woman like a wounded animal, crouching to her level, hands held out carefully in front of him. Crosshair rolled his eyes.

“I hardly think she needs consoling,” he intoned sibilantly. “She did take out four troopers on her own.”

“That you know of,” the woman muttered under her breath. “Where’s my gear?” she demanded, shifting herself into a seated position.

“Careful there. Hang on just a minute,” Hunter continued. Crosshair could barely stand it when Hunter was like this; gentle, cajoling, infantilizing. He didn’t see why the woman ought to be treated with kid gloves. “You’re hurt pretty bad,” the Sergeant continued. “Just rest up, and we can help you out. What’s your name?”

“Who’s asking?” The woman was defensive, distrustful. As she scanned the Marauder, Crosshair felt like he could see the gears turning behind her eyes, sizing them up. Wondering what she had gotten herself into, and how she could get herself out of it.

“I’m Hunter. That’s Tech, Echo, Wrecker, and Crosshair. We’re not going to hurt you. Crosshair said Imperials were after you, so he took you back to our ship.”

Tech, the most direct among them—with the possible exception of the sniper himself—got straight to the point. “How did you find yourself out there?”

The woman eased up a bit, but continued to be less-than-forthcoming. “I could ask you the same thing.”

The squad looked at one another. “We weren’t the ones crash-landing in a stolen shuttle,” Echo pointed out.

This time, the woman remained silent.

Hunter decided to take a different tactic, easing up on the interrogation. “Not too chatty, eh?” He chuckled.

“I’m sure I could find a way to get her to talk,” Crosshair interrupted suggestively, earning him a stern glance from his brother.

Hunter turned back to her. “Ignore him. Look, we get it. We’re not exactly friends of the Empire, either, and you never know who to trust. We’re on our way to Ord Mantell. It’s going to be a few hours, but there’s a spaceport there. Take some time to recover, and then you can be on your way.” He exited, taking the co-pilot’s chair in the cockpit alongside Echo.

Tech reached for her leg to continue treating her injuries, but the woman shrank back. He regarded her seriously from behind his goggles. “Your recovery will be significantly longer if you do not receive treatment,” he observed pointedly.

“Fine,” the woman grumbled, allowing him to take her leg into his hands and begin again. The blaster looked to have only grazed her calf, and soon Tech was sitting back.

“Please remove the clothing over your torso. I need to examine and wrap your ribs,” he requested politely. Crosshair raised an eyebrow, waiting to see the woman’s reaction. She began peeling off her poncho, unbuckling her holsters, finally unbuttoning her shirt to reveal a cropped band beneath, which exposed the flesh of her ribs and belly. She moved slowly, but not self-consciously, caring less about undressing in front of the men than about minimizing the pain. Crosshair took it in, his eyes raking over the fine line of her collarbone, the sweat dripping down to disappear between her breasts, her winces, the soft curves of her hip, the purple bruising that bloomed all over her torso. He noticed a small tattoo on her ribs, but the discoloration was too extreme for him to make out what it was. A puckering of the skin on her abdomen just to the right of her belly button provided evidence of earlier wounds, and he wondered hungrily what the scar would feel like under his fingertips. When he met her eyes, she was glaring; he returned the gaze with a raised brow, amused.

Her anger flickered, interrupted briefly by pain as Tech undertook his work. “What’s your problem?” she demanded.

“Just enjoying the show.”

“Please do not antagonize her, Crosshair,” his brother admonished. The sniper smirked, thinking that he wasn’t the only one a little bit pleased; Tech’s fingers seemed, to him, like they were dwelling a little unnecessarily long against the woman’s skin as he tucked the bandages into place.

A moment later, he was looking down the barrel of Tech’s sidearm. The woman had taken advantage of his brother’s focus on her injuries to unholster it from his hip. “Say that again,” she warned. She had a steely edge to her voice that thrilled him. He only smirked wider. The rest of the squad had already raised their own weapons in turn, a series of metallic clicks echoing from their various positions around the ship indicating that she was outnumbered. She lowered the blaster, slowly, and tossed it to the floor.

Tech retrieved it and stood, unbothered, as the rest of the squad returned to their tasks. This was not the first passenger aboard the Marauder to pull a gun on one of them, and the sniper deserved it a little. “Crosshair, she has a concussion. Keep her awake.”

“Oh, goody,” came his reply as his brother left them to it.

The woman pressed a palm to her forehead before running her hand through her long, silvery hair. There were some leaves tangled in it. He wondered idly if she’d try to break his fingers if he reached over and plucked them out. “Can I at least have my pack?” She sounded more exhausted than defeated, like she had simply run out of the energy to sustain herself.

Crosshair pulled her pack from the shelf where it had been stored behind him, rolling his toothpick between his lips from one side of his mouth to the other.

“Anything… dangerous… in here I should know about?” he asked, meeting her eyes.

“Dangerous?” Between the pain and exhaustion, the woman almost looked amused. “Not me. I avoid danger. Just trying to make a life in a nice, quiet corner of the galaxy.”

“I’m sure the hijacked Imperial shuttle was all a misunderstanding, then.” He glanced through the contents of her pack, removing a few knives before returning it to her. She didn’t take the bait, busying herself instead with dumping some of the contents of a leather pouch—what appeared to be dried leaves, giving off a grassy, bitter smell—into a mug that looked to be made out of a hollowed gourd. She heated a thermos of water with an auto-camp kit, poured some into the mug, and finally sipped the beverage through a filtered metal straw, leaning back against the wall with a sigh.

“Habit I picked up on Endor,” she replied to Crosshair’s raised eyebrow.

Tech was evidently still listening from the cockpit, nosy about their passenger. “There is no civilization on Endor,” he countered. “It is inhabited only by hostile primitives.”

“I’ve seen how civilization is defined in the Galactic Empire. I prefer to spend my time with the primitives.” Her tone was mostly even, but the sniper thought he heard traces of venom in her words.

Crosshair decided to take this cue to restart the interrogation. “Is that little… ideological disagreement… how you ended up shot?” She sipped at her tea impassively, meeting his eyes but refusing to take the bait again. He would have to go on needling her to get the reaction he wanted, poking and prodding to find the limits of her self-control.

He had liked that steely edge earlier, but that wasn’t exactly what he was looking for. Nor did he care about the determination—what had been on her face as she dove behind cover and exchanged fire with the troopers, what was still detectable in her expression now as she tamped down her emotions, waiting to reveal her hand until she could thoroughly evaluate the strangers she found herself at the mercy of.

What he wanted was to draw out the woman she’d shown him before she’d known he was watching through his scope: the rage, the frustration. The despair. The pain. And yes, that gentle glimmer on her face when she’d thought she was at her end, meeting her death not with fear, but the certainty—perhaps, even, the hope—that it had come time to let go. The real reason, which he would never tell his brothers, that he had decided not to let them kill her.

Next chapter

End Note: How many times do you think someone has pulled a gun on Crosshair because he was being a little shit? It feels like probably a lot.

#bad batch #clone force 99 #star wars #the bad batch #clone wars fanfiction #tbb season 3 #tbb hunter #clone trooper tech #tbb tech #tbb crosshair #tbb fanfiction

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poipoigurl · 3 months ago

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The Nine Days of Valenwind by Sailor Poipoi

Day Four Stars/Hidden

Cid is slightly obsessed with the stars and loves to watch them through his scope, allowing him to see into the vastness of space. He also loves to go into the country to simply lie on his back to look up. The stars shine best without light pollution. Vincent would be jealous, except he knows it's impossible to compete with the heavenly treasures that have around before they were even born. The chief even has two favorite stars. Yet, Cid never tells him which of these stars are his favorite. The one time Vincent asked, Cid just grinned and said it's a secret. So, when Vincent joins him, he would spend the time trying to figure out what stars could truly captivate Cid the most. He fears this might be an impossible quest. For how could he pick just two in a field of celestial diamonds. Far too many to guess.

Cid doesn't mind Vincent coming with him to Star Gaze. Having quiet company is a pleasure in itself. Sometimes he just needs it in order to let the stress wash away from his body and mind. Yes, he loves the stars! Having been up there, he yearns to go again. Yet, these are far from his favorite stars. The two stars he loves the best lie within the eyes of Vincent, and he could stare into those forever.

#cid highwind #vincent valentine #ff7 #9 days of valenwind #valenwind #nine days of valenwind

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disastertriowriting · 1 year ago

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Bad Batch Bingo #1 Master Post

@clonefandomevents

Accidentally Cursed: The Cat Batch - An accident in Nala Se's lab leads to Omega shapeshifting into a cat. Tiny and panicked, she runs away to find her brothers so they can make it better. Which they can't, but they can adopt her as their pet. Until Nala Se comes. That doesn't stop Omega from going back. Again. And again. And then, the war is over, and her brothers still don't know she's a person. Until they do.

Adoption: Vision - She is CT-9905, but she's called Vision. Cloned from Omega when Nala Se was attempting to clone Force-sensitivity, Vision is the only success. Not only is she Force-sensitive, but she also has the unique ability to see glimpses of the future when she touches something, or someone. As she grows older, she is assigned to Clone Force 99, forever altering the course of history.

Angst: Restoration - When the Bad Batch doesn't immediately track Hunter to Kamino, Hunter finds himself strapped down to a table and tortured for information on their whereabouts... by Crosshair. Crosshair, who breaks before Hunter does, turning on the Empire to stop Hunter from suffering any further. Chipped or not, he couldn't see Hunter in pain indefinitely without snapping.

Anxiety: Mindless - In one universe, Clone Force 99 was raised apart. They share a dream connection, one which allowed them to grow up together. Their dreams only stop when together, and they have been, ever since their squad formed… until they weren’t. Wrecker isn’t ready to face his little brother again after Kamino, but something else is wrong, isn’t it?

Body Swap: To Touch A Dream - Hunter had a bad feeling about the mission from the start. It only gets worse when they stumble upon a part of the planet that looks very familiar, and then... strange things start happening. It only gets worse when they enter an old building and get trapped inside. There's something dark inside. Something familiar but impossibly elusive.

Daemon AU: Daemon - In one universe, some of the clones have daemons. Despite societal norms, the Bad Batch and their daemons have always been extremely close with each other. And then, Order 66 happens and they lose Crosshair. They always knew they’d see him again after Bracca, but Hunter had not expected to meet him the way he did, after being captured on Daro. At least he’s not alone.

Dimensional Swap: Doomsverse - It's been a week since the destruction of Kamino. A week since everything fell, or came together. On a mission gone awry, Omega opens a portal and steps into another dimension with her brothers. And what do their... alternate-selves mean it was Crosshair they lost first, not Hunter? (Sequel to Doomsday, can be read separately)

Dreams: Stolen Dreams - In an alternate universe, Clone Force 99 was separated after leaving Nala Se’s lab the first time, but even apart, they’re still together. A strange dream connection binds them together, letting them speak every night. Tech doesn’t know if the others are real, but he needs to know. But is it worth it, if it means their dreams might stop?

FREE DAY: Bloodead - Crosshair dies in the ion engine blast on Bracca. Except he doesn't. When he awakens, he's changing, transforming. He's... different. He's become something Other. He awakens craving blood. And when he finds Hunter first, nothing can stop him from feeding.

Freedom: Doomsblood - A mission gone wrong for Cid leaves Hunter as a vampire, a fact that he endeavors to hide from his squad. And then, when he's captured by the Empire, by Crosshair, after Daro, he turns his brother, because surely, if Crosshair is a vampire, he'll be able to overcome the chip and leave with them, right? Right???

Friendly Competition: Payback - Hunter thought staying with the Empire would give them some sort of stability. Instead, it just made them ten times as chaotic. And gave them a very strange Sith dad.

Food: Blood-Touched - Anakin had not expected to be literally jumped when he went to check on Echo to see how he was settling in. He definitely had not expected the secret that the Bad Batch have been harboring. But he thinks he handles it remarkably well, considering that he's turning into a vampire, too, now. Being a vampire is actually kind of fun, though.

Found Family: Blood Kin - Since getting Crosshair back on Bracca, the Bad Batch have been laying low on Ord Mantell until they’re unexpectedly attacked by a familiar face from the past, someone long thought dead. But he’s not himself, and the only way to get back the brother Echo knew may be to turn him, too, so he’s a vampire like they are. It’s time for the coven to come back together.

Hurt/comfort: On Your Love I Stand - Hunter has one question for Crosshair. Why? Why… everything? And when he, and Crosshair, awaken in the past, before everything came crashing down, Hunter can finally ask his brother the question he wants to know most: why? Did they try to go after Crosshair for nothing? Did Tech die for nothing? Why? Why did Crosshair do it?

Jedi AU: Blood-Power - Order 66 brought reality crashing back in, and it was a sharp reminder that even if they're vampires, that doesn't mean their newfound closeness is untouchable. All Hunter wants is to bring his family back together again, but with Crosshair hunting them down, and Tarkin aware of Hunter's Force sensitivity, it won't be easy.

Lost: Rewind - After Bracca, after the explosion, and after his brothers nearly killed him, Crosshair was expecting to wake up in a medbay on Kamino. Instead, he wakes up... on the way to Bracca again. And he's trapped in a time loop of the worst day of his life, though something isn't adding up.

Misunderstandings: Homowingian Part 2: Rejection - Only Force-users have wings, so when Hunter's grow in right after Bracca, none of them understand why. More than that, they're black. Only Dark Siders have black wings, and Hunter is neither. He doesn't like them, and they draw too much unwanted attention from everyone who sees them. Especially Crosshair.

Parenting: Page Down - After losing Crosshair and Wrecker on Kamino. Hunter attempts to take care of what's left of his squad. He wants them back, but they don't have a way to get to them. Until he unexpectedly runs into them both when he's on a delivery for Cid. The only problem? They want to take him back to the Empire with them.

Sacrifice: Doomsnapped - They left him behind. Hunter. Their leader. Their eldest. They left him even though they made a promise never to leave their own behind, and that is something Crosshair cannot stand for. They have to go back for him. No matter the cost. Maybe Hunter has a chip in his head, but he’s still their leader, their brother. And they have to get him back.

Senator AU: Sunkissed - As the new Senator of the Mandalorian system, Omega has a huge amount of responsibility on her shoulders. But she's not alone. Her brothers will always be with her, and they'll support her through everything. Anakin is with her, too, and she couldn't ask for a better fiancé. They'll make the galaxy a better place. Together.

Snuggling: Blood-Bound - It was supposed to be a simple mission, but it quickly spirals downhill when Crosshair seemingly randomly and unexpectedly bites Hunter. Because apparently, he got turned into a vampire when he was briefly captured by the local creatures. And now, Hunter is transforming as well. Oh well. Just another crazy day in their lives, Hunter supposes.

Soft: Miss Me - After tracking Hemlock from Eriadu to Tantiss, the Bad Batch successfully launches an infiltration to rescue Crosshair from the Empire’s grasp. Getting Crosshair was the easy part. None of them had really thought about how hard it would be to actually have him back. Until they do.

Telepathy: A Crossing of Blood - The mission to mine ipsium went badly, leaving the Batch trapped in a collapsed mine. It's not until after they find another chamber by going over a waterfall that they realize they're being followed. By Crosshair. Who is clearly not at all in his right mind since he keeps trying to bite them, to feed on their blood.

Wing Fic: Clipped Wings - Captured by the Empire on Daro, Hunter fears what the Empire, and Crosshair, will do to him. He can handle torture. He can't handle being tortured by his brother. But the Empire's plans are worse. They want to take his wings, to forcibly reincorporate him into their ranks, and that is something he doesn't know if he can endure.

Vampire AU: Lifeblood - To keep Crosshair under control once his chip starts failing, the Empire decides to use him in a risky Dark Side experiment in a bid to find new ways to enforce loyalty: by making him a vampire. Crosshair’s first mission is to find Clone Force 99 and turn them. But when have the Bad Batch ever let things go according to plan?

#star wars #bad batch bingo #the bad batch #clone force 99 #hunter #crosshair #tech #echo #wrecker #omega #tbb hunter #tbb tech #tbb wrecker #tbb crosshair #tbb omega #tbb echo #fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #tbb fanfiction

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otherworldseekers · 2 years ago

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FFXIVwrite 2023 prompt 13: Check

So here's the second scene of my brand new modern/university/fun with fantasia AU which I'm not sure what to call yet. If you missed the first scene (which was my last FFXIVwrite entry) it is here.

It was the end of the work day and Nero Scaeva, owner of Scaevan Robotics, closed the door to his office behind him. In the break room employees were collecting their belongings and preparing to leave. All except one. Wedge, an intern and student at the local university, was loudly boasting about his significant other and the skills she would be demonstrating that night in a concert of some sort.

“She’s got the voice of an angel!” Wedge proclaimed, the sappiest of expressions on his face. “You should all come and listen. She’s really going to be something someday. Famous! It’s a chance not to be missed!”

Most of the others simply laughed off the young Lalafell, but Wedge was not discouraged. He turned and saw Nero. “Boss! Boss! You should come too!”

“That’s right, boss. Go get an eyeful of all the pretty college kids while you still can get away with it,” one of the other engineers jeered.

Nero scowled. He had no interest in college kids or anyone a decade younger than him. “I’m afraid I’m busy tonight.”

“Are you really?” A new voice pushed through the end of day chaos.

“Garlond, what are you doing here?” Nero demanded. Cid Garlond was the owner of Garlond Ironworks, and his rival in all things business and beyond. “I told you to stop acting like this place is yours.”

“Oh, I was waiting out front for you, Nero, but I heard the commotion your young protege was making and thought I might be able to help." He crossed his arms and stared Nero down. “Tell me, what exactly are your plans then?”

Nero’s scowl deepened. Of course he didn’t have any plans but going home, having some dinner and a glass of vodka or two, and sitting by the fireplace with a stack of project reports. Like every evening. He rarely went out. When it did, it was usually with Garlond himself, and the other man knew it perfectly well.

“I’d wager my superior booth placement at the tech expo coming up that you’ve nothing going on,” Cid said smugly.

Nero’s scowl was turning downright dangerous. “You know perfectly well that you only got that booth placement because your father-”

“Well, Nero? Tell us about your pressing engagement,” Cid pushed.

Wedge was looking up at Nero with glistening eyes, as if he couldn’t believe his boss would lie to him.

“Fine,” Nero growled. “It would be an honor to see your lovely girlfriend perform, Wedge. But I’m not exactly welcome at the university, you know.”

The debacle between Nero and the Faculty of the Science department of the college was well known but seldom discussed. Mostly because the subject made Nero fly into a rage. But every new intern heard the story from the long time employees.

“Oh,” Wedge said, his shoulders slumping.

“As it happens…” Cid spoke up and pulled a bottle from his pocket. Nero gave him a quelling glare which he ignored. “I have with me an interesting little formula that recently came out of the chemistry department at the U. They wanted my opinion on its viability as a commercial product.”

“Oh!” Wedge perked up. “Is that fantasia?”

“The same,” Cid proclaimed. “And, Nero, it will make you a changed man.”

Nero scoffed. “Fantasia? What kind of rubbish is it?”

“I haven’t seen it used yet, but as I understand it, it allows you to choose an entirely new appearance and metamorphosizes you into that appearance until you drink another dose.”

“That’s right,” said Wedge. “You can choose your race, your gender, all your features. It’s amazing!”

“Garlond, you’re not seriously suggesting I use this snake oil?” Nero sneered.

“Boss, my best mate, Biggs, helped work on it. It’s not snake oil!” Wedge insisted. “And it would solve our problem. If no one recognizes you, you can come to the recital with no problem!” He positively beamed.

Nero took a few calming breaths. This was all Garlond’s fault. They both knew that Garlond was trying his hardest to poach Wedge from Scaevan Robotics, and they both knew what Wedge was tempted. After all, Biggs worked for the Ironworks. It was a war between them, just like everything else. Only this time Nero was at a disadvantage. He needed to keep Wedge happy.

“Very well, Wedge,” Nero reluctantly agreed. “I’ll take the fantasia. I’ll go with you to the recital.”

“Boss!” Wedge said with emotion. “I promise you won’t regret it!”

Nero grabbed the bottle from the smirking Garlond.

“Have fun, Nero,” said Cid. “I’ll come check on you in the morning and you can tell me all about it.”

#FFXIVwrite #ffxivwrite2023 #my writing #Nero tol Scaeva #Cid Garlond #Wedge #new AU

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yuki-boshi · 7 months ago

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Kai no Kiseki - Act 2 Van Route 1 English Summary

Table of Contents

"Learn to sit back and observe. Not everything needs a reaction."

Act 2: Van 1

It begins with Van being teased for getting too “cozy” with Jorda. Van insists it was just a standard night patrol and expresses concern for Ixs. Agnes worries about Jorda, but Aaron tells her to drop the "-chan" honorific, given who Jorda is. Quatre agrees, mentioning she's the sister of “him” and that he hasn’t forgiven Ixs since the Nemeth Island incident.

Renne comments that it felt like a knock-off DG cult, except there was no desecration of Aidios’s name. Van adds that he couldn’t pick up any scent of it, and since he can usually detect DG-related events due to his past, it struck him as hollow, like a fake. Bergard asks if Van couldn’t feel anything and Van confirms, explaining it felt like an imitation.

The group then talks about the fake Genesis, noting how it looks similar to the real one but lacks the ornate features. It also allowed Ixs to teleport, and many of the missing people are from the Far East, explaining why the Heiyue clan has started to mobilize. They wonder why Kincaid didn’t involve the CID, and Van recalls Kincaid scoffing, implying Van should have figured things out by now.

Van then informs the group that he took Jeffrey home. When Jeffrey woke up, he had no recollection of the incident. Renne questions what “dawn in another dawn” means and how “SiN” is tied to it all. Van adds that he exchanged information with Elaine and Daswani.

Renne mentions she has a conference to attend but will be free later. If they need anything Grim Garten-related, she can easily slip away. Just as Van is about to head out for a 4SPG patrol, Shizuna casually walks into the office, remarking that it’s been a while since she last saw everyone—back when she dropped by with a cake from Andalusia, which she had sneaked in and stolen (Kuro 2).

Van laments that it was a rare, limited item he never got to taste. Shizuna asks to join the group without pay. The group questions her intentions, given she’s essentially the leader of Ikaruga and is working with MK and the CID. Shizuna doesn’t deny it but admits she only knows part of the truth. She offers to help if the Sword Maiden isn't available. Renne, amused, hints that Shizuna had been eavesdropping the entire time.

As Shizuna joins, the group steps outside, where it’s raining. Van asks if she brought an umbrella. Agnes points out that Shizuna's clothes are dry, and Shizuna explains she simply dodged all the raindrops, leaving Judith irritated.

Talking to Victor, he seems lost in thought, wondering what Paulette wants to discuss with him (from Act 1-3, if you've been reading the NPCs!). Meanwhile, Brenda, the shopkeeper at Newberry, tells players she lost her husband in an accident on a rainy day like this. She resented Aidios for it but now hopes that her husband is doing well in the heavens and worries for Eddy still.

At Central Marche, Rixia and Ashen can be found speaking on the rooftop. They notice Shizuna has joined the group, and Van clarifies it’s only temporary. Cao and Gaolang also show up, and everyone shares information about the missing Far East and Heiyue people. They briefly mention the "three days" (Kuro 2) and are provided a sketch of the White Genesis from Act 1. Gaolang plans to give the group a copy of the sketch and share it with the authorities.

The group receives an orb-mail from someone named CC, who informs them the White Genesis (or "White Mechanical Legacy" per Falcom’s Engrish) will be auctioned. Van loses his temper, seeing the name CC as a mockery of Dingo (whose alias was C).

Talking to Cao and Ashen again reveals that Cao still calls Ashen “Ashen-sama,” much to her annoyance. She asks him to drop it since they’re now equals. Cao flatters her, and Ashen looks around for confirmation, unsure if he’s serious.

The group believes Cao is being genuine, and even Rixia has a slightly higher opinion of him now.

Talking to Gaolang, he bluntly asks Rixia if she’s seeing anyone and if she’d consider being his wife. He mentions that he may eventually need to leave descendants and believes Rixia would be a strong candidate. Rixia thinks about it but respectfully declines, explaining that as a Crossbell citizen, her current path with Arc en Ciel is inseparable from her identity.

She adds that someone conflicted and unsure like her isn’t suitable for a person like him. Gaolang acknowledges that he only knows her as Yin, not as Rixia. He retracts his proposal but expresses a desire to see the Dancing Moon Princess of Arc en Ciel when he visits Crossbell to assess its worthiness. Rixia mentions that her answer likely won’t change even if he did come to see her perform.

Cao chuckles, noting that Gaolang’s rival is “him” (Lloyd Bannings), so it’s not surprising. Aaron figuring out the hint Cao said whispers to the group that Cao might be referring to Lloyd, the "key figure at the Crossbell Police who solved the last incident" (Reverie).

Talking to Rixia again, she mentions wanting to see someone’s face after a long time. It’s not explicitly said who she’s referring to, but based on earlier comments from Aaron and Cao, it seems she longs to see Lloyd again.

(God I hope they're not trying to have a rivalry of Lloyd and Gaolang over Rixia.)

----

4SPG: Childhood Friend's Note

Luke asks Van and the group to help him find Genie, his childhood friend. She left a note saying that Luke is "too dazzling" and that she needed to move out. Luke doesn’t understand why, especially after being friends for over 20 years. Aaron bluntly asks if he ever had romantic feelings for her. Luke replies no, that he sees her as family. Everyone catches on to the situation. Luke mentions she works at a café in Seiden District, but he hasn’t been able to contact her. They head to the café for information and learn about a man named Kirk, who might know more.

At Seiden District, Kirk directs them to Main Street, where they find Baselia and Eddy reunited. Eddy reveals the secret he's been hiding... he’s been planning to upgrade from a food stall to a food truck. They argue briefly, with Eddy admitting he thought he had to do it alone.

Baselia insists on helping him as a partner. Simon, another NPC, mentions how Eddy has changed since leaving the Desire gang, showing he genuinely cares now. At the hotel, Rumsfield and the staff say they’ll monitor Baselia from afar to ensure everything goes smoothly. Van and the others ask Simon if he's seen Genie, and he directs them to the sewers near the hotel. They find her hypnotized and surrounded by monsters.

After defeating the creatures, Luke snaps Genie out of her trance, and they both somewhat confess their feelings. Back in Old Town, Van notices something suspicious about the job search site Genie had used, hinting it may have affected her.

4SPG: Ultimate Taco In Central Marche, a taco stand vendor is searching for ingredients to create the ultimate taco. After speaking to nearly every NPC who has cooked food, she settles on the idea of making the Earth Blastacos.

(This was the biggest way of an hour of my life reading)

---

Grim Garten Door 3 The group speaks to Altina, who mentions they need three different teams to clear the domain. Shizuna joins, surprising everyone as they wonder how she got in. Altina coolly explains she had access from a previous login in Kuro 2. Agnes senses some one-sided bad blood between them.

After defeating the boss, they confirm they need one more group. Shizuna also decides to try and bail.

---- In Chardin District, they encounter Detective Nate and two guards struggling to gather information about a recent cult-related incident in the sewers. Nate asks Van if he’s seen the 4SPG and informs him that Daswani has requested him to clear out a dangerous monster. Surprisingly, Nate, usually mean, asks Van to handle something he personally posted about more monsters.

Kisara, found nearby, reflects on how Chardin reminds her of Messeldam from Kuro 2, lamenting how difficult it is to express her art.

At the club, Shizuna suggests she should bring the Ikaruga members here for a trip sometime, making Agnes worry about Kurogane dealing with her antics.

In Levre District, Odette, Chloe (Judith’s mom), and Nina meet at a café, where Nina reveals she knows Odette from Kuro 2. They’re finalizing details for the GLORIA Live Stage play. Nina recites a line, and Van identifies it as Sheena Dirke escaping the capital in despair. Talking to Nina prompts more Sheena Dirke quotes, while Chloe is honored to be in the presence of a Divine Blade, which impresses Shizuna.

At Agnes’s home, Nicole from the Liberl Report is present, trying to get a scoop with the President. At the church, Rahadd has enlisted Dr. Isabel from Blacklight District to run tests on Jeffrey.

In Tyrell District, Albert is overwhelmed with his part-time job at the bookstore and informs Curtis that he intends to quit today.

Paulette is found with a nurse friend, discussing Maxim. The nurse is disappointed that Paulette still keeps in touch with him but agrees to listen.

Zin and Kilika are found discussing the events of the previous day. Kilika explains why the CID is focused on space, though she can’t share details as it’s a national secret. Van mutters curses about Rene being upfront about pushing him away. Aaron laughs, teasing Van about being upset over his “Aniki” giving him the cold shoulder. Zin asks Kilika about matters unrelated to the space program, such as the Church, Society, and Heiyue. Judith then jokingly asks Shizuna if she knows anything, but Shizuna just shrugs, saying she follows orders without questioning them.

Elsewhere, Kasim and Mirabel are spotted on a date. Mirabel talks briefly about the Garten and teases Shizuna about not slacking off on her contract.

In Blacklight District, Daswani is talking to a Jaeger about the missing people. Elaine and Alvis are seen speaking with Gin, the Tobacco Lady. Elaine comments on Alvis’s growth now that he’s been working with Van.

4SPG: Creil Support Fund Kaina and Alison ask Van for help after over 5 million mira mysteriously vanished, suspecting embezzlement by Martin, a worker for the fund. Martin is found in Blacklight District, where he reveals he didn’t steal the money but was scammed by someone posing as a Ministry inspector. He was duped into handing over the funds for verification.

Van and the group track down the imposter, the third son of the Divanshi Family, in the sewers. The son is powered by a phenomenon similar to the Erosion from Kuro 2, but slightly different. After being defeated, he tries to escape but is cornered by Alvis, Elaine, Kaina, and Rakshar.

The son threatens suicide, claiming the Bracers prioritize human life and won't dare make a move. Kaina of the Creil Support Fund calls him out for running away from his responsibilities and being a coward.

Van catches up, given three choices.

I pick the third and Van asks Shizuna to use her ability from Kuro 2 to cut off the Erosion. A flashback shows Ixs using the White Genesis device on him. Afterward, the mira is returned to Kaina, Alison, and Martin. Alison urges Martin not to shoulder everything alone again.

----

Connect Event: Quatre Quatre asks Van to show Billy and friends that are from Basel around the Capital. Quatre also questions if Van is taking Agnes’s birthday seriously. Quatre asks that Van not take them to places that are just sweets and pastries. Van agrees...

But his first stop is still a department store that sells sweets, much to Quatre’s annoyance. They also visit the new Gloria movie, the Trion observatory, and a food stall.

Later, Quatre opens up to Van, expressing anxiety about everything that happened in Kuro 2 and his confusion about his identity as aperson.

He reveals that in his body, both male and female, he feels torn between wanting to impress girls and being attracted to men’s strength. He’s also flustered by his sisterly figure Esmeray, essentially questioning his sexuality and what which of the two genders he wants to be more in alignment with.

Quatre also feels out of place compared to his friends, which is when he began distancing himself.

Van reassures Quatre with a headpat, telling him he’s overthinking it. Van reminds Quatre that even after discovering the truth about Nemeth Island, he’s still himself. After spending time together, Quatre tries to confide in his friends, but they assure him that they’ll always be there for him. They even joke about his crossdressing streams, causing Quatre to freak out about how they knew.

---

Connect Event: Shizuna Kaede, Shizuna’s attendant, arrives at the ASO to pick her up. Van informs her that Shizuna just left. A flashback shows Shizuna anxiously running away as soon as she heard Kaede’s voice. Back in the present, Kaede asks Van to help find Shizuna. After several near escapes, Shizuna is cornered in Blacklight District. Kaede reveals she just came to deliver food from home—fresh onigiri made from rice harvested in the East.

Shizuna eats it and comments that Kaede hasn’t changed. Kaede thanks Van for his support with the “Princess.”

Connect Event: Risette Van takes Risette to Chardin District to view art. Risette explains that this is her first time seeing art in a physical form, having always viewed it through VR. She reflects on her earliest memories, which begin after she was uploaded into MK virtual space.

There, she met Mirabel, who was 17 at the time and encouraged Risette that she could experience things she’d lost. Risette mentions that her entire education was through VR, leaving her unsure of who she really is before all that. Despite this, she takes pride in being able to help Van now.

----

At Chardin District, the group arrives at Chardin but initially faces issues due to a lack of reservation. Judith, realizing she had a reservation, asks the guard to check her information. Shizuna also remembers she has a reservation and pulls out her card. Once inside, they meet Najie and Zita, exchanging greetings. Zita reveals she is there because she heard about an auction item, and the group suspects it might be related to the White Genesis.

One of the auctioned items is a high-end vehicle, prompting Van to ask how much Zita can afford before Agnes interrupts him.

The final item revealed is a prototype orbment called the Genesis. Van’s group quickly notes that it differs from theirs, looking more modern, likely created within the last 20 years. They inform the auctioneer about this.

Suddenly, the lights go out, and Grimcats appears, stealing the White Genesis and mocking its name. The thief is revealed to be Rosalie of Zecht Arms from Kuro 2, angering Judith. The group chases them into a corrupted version of Mishy Wonderland overlaid on existing space, filled with 'Mishy in the Dark' mobs. Confronting the fake Grimcats, they find her with CC and Simeon. After defeating Rosalie, Shizuna goes all out against Simeon, nearly destroying the entire labyrinth.

Van transforms into Grendel to stop the destruction and identifies CC as Campanella from previous games. Van, furious, accuses Campanella of mocking Dingo’s alias "C," but Campanella clarifies that "CC" stands for Clown Campanella, not a slight at Dingo.

Campanella explains that the Society had no involvement in creating the White Genesis and tosses it to Van, challenging him to figure it out. At that moment, Renne, Zin, Elaine, Walter, and Lucrezia storm the room, revealing that Campanella had invited a large crowd. Campanella begins the third phase of the Orpheus Final Plan, and the observation for the Eternal Recurrence Plan. As he prepares to teleport away, he leaves Van with a cryptic hint about the AD cult chant, saying that "Another Dawn" (もう一つの夜明け) refers to "Alter Dawn" and that's what the A-D stands for.

After teleporting away, everyone gathers to discuss (including the other Ouroboros members like Walter and Lucrezia) while Shizuna secretly leaves.

#kiseki series #trails series #summary #translation #kai no kiseki

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madeimpact · 1 year ago

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I am completely clearing out my inbox and drafts, with the exception of, like, one or two newer threads and anything from starter calls that I've recently liked.

I am feeling overwhelmed and guilty for not having responded to old things, while also feeling down on myself for watching all of this talent on my dash and feeling inadequate / unqualified / otherwise, somehow, not allowed to join in on it. I know that's just in my head, but it's just how I feel, and this will give me the breath of fresh air that I need to start doing things here again.

I would like to apologize to everyone who sent anything that went unanswered. I'm a chronic hoarder of replies and asks and such. My motivation is fickle. I know "the rpc is so much more insular than it used to be" is a hot topic as of late, and I feel like I have contributed to the problem by being as fickle as I am. I'm hoping that this will enable me to...not do that anymore.

Under the cut, I will list what I'm keeping. I can really only account for stuff that's either in my drafts or recently replied to. If you have an old draft from me that you'd like to keep, just let me know so I can make a mental note of it. Chances are I'm not gonna say no to continuing stuff. Alternatively, don't be shy about asking to just start something fresh.

@akashicmuses — Cid/Sora

@anger-mxnagement — with Ventus

@bloodbondcd — Riku/Sora and Aqua/Ventus

@ervaurem — ask from Sarah

@tenebriism — two threads with Ignis/Noctis (+stuff with Prompto, if you want to continue those)

@voidedgear — initial Keyblade Graveyard thread with Ventus

@wayfaringnobody — Roxas/Sora

Any starters from starter calls that I've liked that are yet to be posted

Any remaining bingo asks

I think this is a manageable list now. I would love love love to plot things with anyone whose threads I've dropped, and again, I feel like I need to apologize. I've bitten off more than I can chew and I feel like that's how I ended up the fickle, unresponsive scatterbrain that I am.

#okay. i've had a meal and a shower. i think i'm a little more clear-headed now #i don't know how i'm going to keep my load manageable. but i'll figure it out #❛ ooc: shut up neg.

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cryptictongues · 1 year ago

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wip tag game rules :

post the names of all the files in ur wip folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. let people send u an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it! tag as many people as you have wips!

Thank you for tagging me @pinkkittysaw for allowing me to share my ideas publicly LMAO

Would like to note that I don't usually create titles until I finish something!

Tagging whoever wants to partake!

Joshua Rosfield x Leviathan!Reader (Chaptered): Reader and Joshua were betrothed to one another at a young age until the fall of Phoenix Gate. 18 years pass and Reader is the ruler of Aquaos, a safe haven kingdom for war refugees and bearers.

Barnabas Tharmr x Leviathan!Reader (Chaptered): A love story that turns sour (Thanks Ultima boooo)

Clive Rosfield x Flower!Reader: Throwback to when Clive had his brand removed and reader took care of him.

Modern AU: Reader and Clive are actors, and don't know what's real and what's not on set. NSFW

The Waloedian Witch: Witch!Reader finds Clive washed along the shores of Waloed. She takes care of him so he is strong enough to get back home. Unrequited Love AU

Gav x Reader Friends to Lovers AU: Everyone in the Hideaway knows you and Gav like each other… well except for you and Gav.

Clive Rosfield x Flower!Reader: Clive comes back to the Hideaway after Origin to find out you left. He stops at nothing to find you. (I'm writing this one now YAYAYAYAYAY!!!!)

Ignis Scientia x Rockstar!Reader: Ignis never thought a woman like you could fall for the likes of him. You could say the same about him.

Cidolfus Telamon x Reader: You are Cid's second in command at the Hideaway. The both of you tend to butt heads and it all comes to a head when Cid comes back from the one place you both swore never to return to… Waloed. NSFW

Barnabas Tharmr x Reader: you and Barnabas commence a marriage through a blood oath. Things get horny. NSFW

Clive Rosfield x Flower!Reader: Clive teaches you how to wield a sword. NSFW

Barnabas Tharmr x Reader: Barnabas decides to punish you the only way he knows: strap you down and make you cum until you are a mess. NSFW

Clive Rosfield x Reader: Clive avoids you like the plague and you have no idea why… that is until you see him locked down in the dungeon: Ifrit Rut fic NSFW

Cidolfus Telamon x Reader: Cid accidentally invents a vibrator. He wants to test it out. NSFW Crack fic

Clive Rosfield x Reader: Clive and Reader get heated in an argument, with the reader telling Clive how much she hates him. Clive decides to how true that statement is. NSFW

Moulin Rouge Roxanne inspo: Reader and Cid are in love, but Cid has to watch her entertain Barnabas.

Clive meets an older woman who would end up being an important figure in his life. Mother Figure!AU

Barnabas Tharmr x Reader: A fic based on the lyric “Always an Angel, Never a God” from the song "Not Strong Enough" by boygenius

Clive Rosfield x Reader Office AU: Clive is the CEO of Hide, Hideaway industries, and while visiting his brother's building, he sees Joshua has the most beautiful woman he has ever laid eyes on as his secretary. NSFW

Clive x Princess AU: During Clive’s time in the Imperial Army, he is given the task to escort you, a princess from the Northern Territories, to the Holy Empire of Sanbreque where you will wed Prince Dion. NSFW

Beware the Eikon of Death: You, the immortal Eikon, are put in charge of guiding Dominants to their peace for their life after death.

FFVII Remake x FFXV Crossover with Ignis Scientia x Reader relationship: Reader runs away from her past after the incident in Altissia only to find herself on the other side of the world in Midgar. Years have passed and she is now part of the splinter cell of Avalanche, but still has dreams about her past and her lover, which comes back to haunt her.

#tags #here i am exposing myself LOLOLOLOL

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ashes-2-ashes57cba · 11 months ago

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The Bad Batch: Specter

Episode 6: Decommissioned

edited by @ryleeeeeenn *kriff: strong expletive warnings: the Martez sisters, the word 'bastard', use of the word 'ass'

Specter winced as Omega let loose another bolt; her arms faltered at the last second causing the shot to stray toward an oncoming patron, effectively scaring her off.

“Sorry!” the girl shouted after her. She pulled back another shot from the energy bow.

“Steady,” Echo encouraged, kneeling beside her and adjusting her arms. “Arms level… and keep your eye on the target.”

“You can do it, kid!” Bolo encouraged, watching with the rest of the group.

“Not a chance,” Ketch shook his head. Specter rolled her eyes at the two: they had made a bet on whether or not Omega would ever make a bullseye. Omega grunted and strained,almost fighting with the bow before finally releasing it.

It hit dead in the center of the bullseye. Everyone cheered as it hit the target, except for Ketch as he paid up Bolo, grumbling about beginner’s luck.

“Good. Again,” Echo instructed.

“But I’ve already hit the target three times,” Omega whined.

“Out of twelve,” he reminded. “That’s luck, Omega, not skill. Soldiers need to be consistent.” Specter couldn’t help but giggle at the girl’s disappointed slouch.

“You remember when I started out?” she muttered to Hunter, who smiled knowingly.

“Oh yeah. Smallest girl anyone had ever seen, and she insisted on choosing the biggest weapons,” he reminisced with a chuckle.

“Yeah, and then I learned to kick your asses,” she nudged his side. “She’s… getting there,” Specter tilted her head as the girl pulled back another shot. She let loose, but the shot bounced into one of the holo-tables. Bolo and Ketch cackled.

“I was doing better until those two showed up,” Omega grumbled.

“Just imagine their faces on the target,” Specter encouraged. Wrecker laughed as the two quieted down and shuffled a few feet away.

“You have to learn to tune out distractions, which comes with practice.” Echo put a hand on Omega’s shoulder. “Again.” Omega sighed and turned to the target again, drawing back and releasing a bolt, missing the target by a foot at least.

“Not exactly a natural, is she?” Wrecker whispered. Hunter and Specter shrugged in agreement.

“Wha– Hey!” Wrecker bellowed, turning abruptly as Cid slapped his shoulder and appeared next to the group.

“Okay, playtime’s over,” she interrupted, pushing her way through the group. “We need to talk. You two, scram.” She shooed Bolo and Ketch away.

“I don’t like her very much,” Wrecker grumbled. If Cid had heard him, she didn’t humor him with a reaction. The woman stood eyeing Bolo and Ketch.

“Okay! We’re going. We’re going!”

Cid sneered at the pair and watched them leave, waiting until they were out of the room to finally address the gathered Bad Batch.

“I’m assuming you boys know what a tactical droid is?” The group nodded. “They were the opera-”

“The operational brains of the Separatist military-” Tech seemed to nearly pounce on the opportunity to show off his knowledge.

“Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba,” Cid interrupted, having none of it, “This is my briefing, Goggles.” Tech seemed to deflate for a moment before regaining his composure. Cid shoved Wrecker off the holo-table, turning it on. “Tactical droid intel has tremendous value, which is why you’re gonna break into this decommissioning facility on Corellia and retrieve one before they’re all destroyed,” Cid explained, pulling up the image of a tactical droid as well as the facility she spoke of. Specter was caught off guard by such a big task, looking at Hunter for his response. He met her eyes, calculating their next move.

Choose your words carefully, Sarge.

“We haven’t decided if we’re gonna work for you or not,” he said.

“Allow me to decide for you,” Cid shut down the holo, “you’re in!” Hunter was taken aback by her response, his eyes flickered once again to Specter, who gave a reassuring shrug. “I’m talking a mutually beneficial arrangement. You make money, I make money, and I watch your back. With the heat on you, it’s the best option you’ve got.” Hunter and Specter shared an apprehensive look, silently weighing their options.

“I guess we’re in,” Hunter sighed.

“I know you’re in. I just told you you’re in. And you,” Cid went to Omega, grabbing the energy-bow from her, “you’re releasing too soon because of those weak noodle arms. Build up your strength.” The Trandoshan released three shots in a row, hitting the bullseye each time. Omega stared in awe. “Lesson over.”

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

Traveling from the obscurity and alleged safety of the Mid Rim into the Core Worlds held more dangers than Specter found she was comfortable with, especially with Omega in tow. Even so, a job was a job; and with Cid’s protection, while she wasn’t sure it would be worth much, was better than facing the Empire alone. She chewed on her nails as the Marauder grew closer and closer to Corelia. Tech and Echo piloted the ship, discussing their plans to evade the sensors on the surface of the planet.

“That old trick?” Echo said incredulously, his brow furrowed.

“It’s worked for us every time,” Tech insisted.

“Yeah, but that was against the Separatists. Won’t the Empire see it coming?”

“Not if they don’t know where to look,” Tech said, piloting the ship out of hyperspace just in time to intercept the path of an incoming cargo ship.

“I don’t know, I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Echo muttered.

“Well, we’ve made it this far,” Wrecker interjected with a chuckle. With that, Tech powered down the ship, allowing it to drift close enough to the cargo freighter to magnetize to the hull. If all went according to the plan, their ship would blend with the freighter, and they would make it to the surface without being detected.

“Why is a tactical droid more important than the other droids?” Omega asked Echo, looking at the holo of one. He turned his attention to her.

“The more tactical droids fought, the more they learned… and won,” he explained.

“Yeah, except against us,” Wrecker cheered.

“That’s because our battle strategy consisted less of ‘strategy’ and more of just ‘battle’,” Specter added.

“With clones now serving the Empire, knowing how to defeat them just went up in value,” Tech added.

“We’re approaching the decommissioning site,” Echo announced, his gaze turning back to the control panel. “We can land at the industrial dockyard and go in on foot.” Specter held on as they detached and flew down to an empty lot. She readied her gear, putting on her helmet, grabbing her weapons, and preparing to exit the ship. They all carefully followed Hunter through the industrial campus to the decommissioning factory.

“Cid didn’t mention this place was guarded by police droids,” Hunter muttered as a patrolling pair walked past.

“They’re operating on a rotating quadrant scan. If timed correctly, there should be an entry point in their blind spot,” Tech reported, scanning the droids and looking around. A short and sharp whistle sounded, catching the team’s attention; Specter had already snuck away, and was waiting by an escape ladder on the side of the building, outside of the droids’ detection.

“Found the blind spot,” she teased, leaning up against the rungs and watching as the rest of them made their way over.

“Woah! I wish I could be sneaky like that,” Omega whispered in wonder.

“Well, you’re halfway there. Keep up with your training and with time, you’ll be able to sneak up on me,” Specter said, ruffling the girl’s hair. “For now, though, we need to get up that platform,” she stepped aside so the others could climb up to the platform at the top.

Wrecker gulped nervously, shifting his feet as he stared at the distance up the ladder. Hunter rushed ahead of them and up the ladder, with Tech and Echo close behind. Wrecker was next, but he hesitated on the first rung and stepped back.

“Y-you two go first,” he offered to Specter and Omega. Omega started up the ladder, but Specter paused, patting Wrecker’s shoulder in encouragement.

“I’ll be right behind you, big guy. Go on up.” With a groan, Wrecker started up the ladder with Specter close behind, quietly cheering him on. They may have been a wildly successful unit, but that didn’t mean The Bad Batch was without fear or flaw. Wrecker’s fear of heights was one of the few hangups the group faced regularly on missions. Specter was proud of him for facing it head-on and pushing through to complete the mission. She couldn't help it, but she found herself thinking of Crosshair. Though her brother never admitted it, Specter knew he was scared of being alone. Isolation bothered him more than anything they’d ever faced in war. Her mind drifted back to one particular evening when he’d quietly asked her for comfort. He rarely spoke in those moments, and he never told her exactly what was bothering him, but her brother would sit with his head on her shoulder, her arms around him, in a comfortable silence they shared as twins.

“I’m fine, I promise.”

“Well, I don’t believe you.”

“You’re annoying.”

“I’m your sister”

“...”

“And you won’t leave me, right?”

“Of course not… Hey, remember what I always tell you?”

“Not really. Whatever it is, it’s just as annoying as everything else you say.”

“Well, annoying or not, remember that I’m always with you. We’re twins, and that means no matter how far apart we are, neither of us will ever be alone. No matter what happens.”

Bastard.

As usual, she brushed it off. They made it inside the building, apparently still undetected. Wrecker collected himself in time to swiftly silence a worker who had the unfortunate chance of running across the Batch in the hallway.

“Nighty-night,” he whispered into the worker’s ear as they fell unconscious. Specter almost felt bad for wanting to laugh. They continued onward to the gangways that criss-crossed above the factory floor, crouching low and out of sight, peering at the dismantled droids that passed.

During the war, Specter fantasized about their victory over the droids, but seeing them decommissioned like this was not as satisfying as she had thought, and the Empire was not the victorious outcome she had in mind.

“Echo, Tech,” Hunter started the orders, “we’ll locate and retrieve the droid. Spec, Wrecker, cover us up top.” Wrecker groaned in complaint.

“But being lookout was Crosshair’s job,” he whined.

“Well someone has to pick up the slack, Wrecker, because in case you haven’t noticed, Crosshair isn’t here,” Specter snapped, still reeling from her memory of her twin. A moment of silence passed as her words sank in; regret crept in, Specter hadn’t intended to lash out and was already reminding herself to apologize for it later.

“What about me? What should I do?” Omega asked.

“Stay here and keep your eyes peeled for the target,” Hunter instructed. “Let’s move.” The team split up from there; Hunter, Echo, and Tech headed down to the main console while Wrecker and Specter went even higher, taking lookout positions. Specter effortlessly blended with the shadows around her, trying to keep an eye out for any threats, or at least anything out of the ordinary.

“A tactical droid is listed in the system, but only one,” Echo’s voice came in over the comm, “the rest have already been destroyed.”

“We have one shot at this. Let’s get it right,” said Hunter.

“Where was the droid offloaded?” Tech asked Echo.

“North end conveyor,” he answered. Specter followed the maze of tracks and conveyors, searching for the droid..

“Found it! Sort of…” Omega grimaced, looking through her binocs, “It’s already in pieces.” Specter tracked Omega’s line of sight, using her scope to locate what remained of their target.

“Is the head still intact?” asked Tech.

“Affirmative,” the girl answered. Specter flinched as something passed through her scope.

“Someone just ran off with the droid head,” she reported urgently, trying to track the suspect.

“I see ‘em. One of the workers is stealing our target,” said Wrecker.

“I’m on it,” Omega’s voice chimed through.

“Negative. Stay out of sight,” Hunter stopped the girl.

“Bogey with the droid head closing in on your position, Sarge,” Specter mumbled, watching the target rush around the facility through her rifle scope.

“Stay back!” Omega shouted, sending a shiver of worry down Specter’s spine as she looked back to the girl’s position. There she was, face to face with another worker, her bow shakily drawn and casting a dim violet glow between her and the intruder.

“Woah, woah. Take it easy, kid," the "worker" lifted up her mask to reveal her face, holding up her hands, bearing no ill will. “I don’t wanna hurt you, but I can’t have you getting in the way.” Omega’s grip tightened on her bow, causing the woman to step back, straight into Specter, who had appeared behind the pair with her pistol drawn and held to the intruder’s head.

“I can hurt you instead,” she snarled into the woman’s ear, cocking her gun for emphasis.

“Okay, let’s calm down, creepy lady!”

“Rafa, I’ve got the target. Where are you?” a voice came in through the woman’s—Rafa’s, as she was called—comm.

“Don’t answer that,” Omega threatened, readjusting her grip on her bow.

Specter’s pistol rested against Rafa’s temple, keeping her compliant for the time being. “Your hands look a little shaky there,” Rafa started, noticing the nervous look on Omega’s face, “Be careful, you don’t want to hurt your friend here,” she nodded back towards Specter, who pressed her pistol harder into the woman's head.

Omega stood fast, but Rafa wasn’t wrong, the girl’s hands were shaking. Her brow furrowed in concentration. She strained against the bow, and it was in that moment of weakness the girl lost control of the weapon, sending a stray shot ricocheting through the facility until it ultimately blasted through the side of the building, causing pressurized air to leak in with a loud hiss. The air blasted inside with a force that blinded Specter just long enough for Rafa to swat her pistol out of her hand and to its doom on the conveyor and wrestle with Omega’s bow. Specter lunged blindly, tackling Rafa and pulling her back into a debilitating headlock.

“Now you’ve done it,” she growled through gritted teeth, “No one threatens my kid,” her grip tightened, “and I really liked that pistol.”

Before Specter could tighten her grip, the security alarms began to blare. She watched as every exit was blocked by police droids as the workers shouted and clamored amongst themselves. The facility was locked down. Specter swore under her breath and bit her tongue. She shoved Rafa away and immediately readied her blaster.

“Try something stupid, I dare you,” she snarled and pointed the gun at Rafa.

“Jeez, alright, lady! Hey, don’t just stand there, kid. Grab a weapon,” she said, dusting herself off and grabbing her own pistol.

“I had one,” Omega grumbled.

“Just stay down, hun,” Specter advised, taking aim. Blaster-fire struck down the droids closest to them, coming from Wrecker at his post.

“Get moving!” he shouted. Specter started laying down fire as well, too occupied to notice Rafa slipping away. Omega caught her, however, and went to give chase.

“Omega, report,” Hunter came in over the comm.

“The accomplice is getting away, but don’t worry. I’m in pursuit,” she said. Specter whirled around, finding that Rafa and Omega weren’t behind her anymore.

Kriff.

“Sarge, I swear she was right behind me,” she said, panicking.

“Stay put, Omega. We already have the droid head,” he ordered. “Spec, get us a buffer with these droids.” She set to work on destroying as many droids as she could so that Echo and Tech might be able to do what they needed to lift the lockdown. She changed her rifle configuration into her shotgun, loading the cartridges and taking careful aim. She fired, sending a spray of plasma-powered pellets, hitting a few droids but most importantly, destroying the integrity of the platform the police droids poured out from, cutting off their access point. A shot came from behind, narrowly missing her head; Specter whirled around, changing her blaster again in a mere second, and fired.

“Boys, how’s that lockdown looking?” she asked, moving to a different position.

“Nice of you to join us, Specter,” Tech replied. “Wrecker just got the system online. Now, both of you get down here.”

“Copy that,” she replied.

“Specter, I need cover. Omega’s stuck on the conveyor,” Hunter’s request came in urgently. She skidded to a stop in her tracks, changing course yet again, avoiding the platforms that Hunter had managed to take down.

“Busy. So very busy,” she muttered, taking a position to provide cover fire for the sergeant and avoid blasts from the police droids. Hunter and Rafa made their way across the conveyor towards Omega, trying to dodge the droids’ attack. Specter shot those ones down, clearing their path and any other droids that approached. Hunter gave her a salute and went to help Omega. Specter continued on her route to regroup with Tech and Echo, blasting down droids that were firing at them. “Guys, I’m not having a good time.”

“Welcome to the club,” Echo retorted. “Where’s Wrecker?”

“I thought he’d be with you by now,” she replied, taking cover beside them.

“Wrecker, come in. Wrecker?” Tech tried over comms, but no response came. Hunter, Omega, Rafa and her counterpart—Trace— joined them in the meantime.

“All the exits are blocked,” Hunter reported.

“And it’s about to get worse. A larger wave of police droids is headed our way,” Echo added, still plugged into the system, before crouching by Omega and Trace, who was working to reactivate and reprogram the droid head.

“I don’t think whatever you’re planning is going to work,” Specter grumbled.

“It will! We just need more time,” Trace insisted.

“Well, time is the one thing we don’t have,” Specter replied. The droid gave an error code, and another volley of heavy blaster fire drew her out of the conversation.

“Wrecker, do you copy? Get down here now!” Specter shouted, simultaneously shooting at the approaching droids. “You better be dead or else I’m going to kill you myself.”

“Wrecker, where are you?” Omega tried, “We need your help.”

“On my way,” he finally responded, winded.

“Oh, so you listen to her and not me?” Specter quipped, trying to lessen her growing anxiety. She grimaced as another group of droids drew near, firing relentlessly at the group.

Specter hadn't felt a rush like this since their battles in the war, which now felt like ages ago. In the chaos, she found a strange sense of control; with that peace, she had the strength to keep fighting. Her heart raced, and she savored the power and adrenaline that rushed through her veins. The world around her seemed to have slowed. She laid heavy fire on each coming wave of droids, never pausing to see how many she had brought down, taking rare moments to catch her breath. It was here, with her brothers, on the battlefield, that she felt she truly belonged.

She was quickly startled from her battle-induced state as Wrecker barreled into the scene with a scream, landing on and crushing a droid while firing upon and neutralizing a group of them.

“Well, finally!” she sneered, “Look who decides to show up.”

“Yeah! I got tired of you guys having all the fun,” he said.

“Now, him I like,” Rafa muttered to Hunter, who nodded in agreement. The brute fired, taking a downed droid as a shield for himself before he was ultimately knocked back, forcing him to take cover.

Gritting her teeth, Specter prepared for another volley of fire.

It never came, as suddenly the droids on the conveyor were resurrected, stumbling about their new surroundings.

“I got it!” Trace shouted. Specter glanced back in confusion, hearing the tactical droid faintly give a command sequence. She tensed, readying herself for the battle droids’ attack, but it didn’t come. Instead, the reanimated droids began to open fire on the security droids, providing the group cover and a route for their escape.

“Okay, this is… not the strangest thing I’ve experienced, but it makes the list,” Specter mused aloud.

“Never thought I’d see battle droids helping us,” Echo agreed.

“That’s our cue,” Hunter said when the opportunity came. “Move out!”

“Roger, roger,” Specter teased, running past and leading the group out of the building.

“R7, we’re ready for a pickup,” Trace said into her comm. Police droids still approached to defend the factory, and while a few battle droids defended their back, heavy fire came at their front. “We’re almost there. Trust me, you’ll see us,” she assured Omega, who had recovered her bow and ran beside her. That was until a lucky shot blew the tactical droid’s head out of her hands. Omega covered Trace, knocking down a few droids as she did her best to recover the helmet, but it was no use. Another lucky shot rendered the tactical droid destroyed.

“No!” Trace groaned, “but that was a nice shot,” she completed, ducking behind the girl.

“It’s all about tuning out distractions,” Omega replied with newfound confidence, breaking with pride.

A ship landed a short distance away, with only a few more droids between it and the group.

“That's your ride, Martez?” Specter turned and asked Rafa.

“Yup! He’s here, let’s go!” she announced to the group. They all advanced, running past the police droids into the ship and leaving them at the mercy of their old enemy.

Specter ran straight to the cockpit and entered the coordinates of the Marauder. Rafa was close behind, watching as Specter navigated the atmosphere of the planet. Rafa patted her on the shoulder and turned to meet the others in the main hold of the ship.

“All that work for nothing,” Rafa sighed, slouching in disappointment.

“Whoever Cid’s buyer is isn’t gonna be happy,” Omega said nervously.

“Let me get this straight. You knew how dangerous the information on the tactical droid is, but you didn’t know who you were giving it to?” Rafa said incredulously.

“We’re being paid to acquire and deliver, not ask questions,” Hunter grumbled.

“If we’re going to get paid at all,” Specter interjected from the cockpit, crossing her arms. They all turned to look at her with nervous expressions, Hunter especially. “What? I’m not the only one who thinks that, and she is definitely shady,” she reasoned, holding her hands up.

“Our contact needed that information to fight back against the Empire,” Trace continued. “They’re trying to help people and make things better.”

“Why aren’t you fighting for the Empire? Isn’t that what you clones do now?” Rafa asked, pointing her gaze at Hunter. He sighed, thinking of an answer.

“Not all of us. We’re different,” he explained.

“Yeah, I’ve heard that before,” Rafa scoffed before turning back towards the cockpit.

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

Finally, the ship landed, although Specter wasn’t too thrilled about returning to Ord Mantell empty-handed; they needed the credits, and having her morals questioned was not on her list. Yet, she smiled as she stood by Hunter and watched Rafa and Trace kneel down to say their goodbyes to Omega.

“You should come visit us sometime,” the girl offered.

“Isn’t that part of Ord Mantell a little… seedy?” Trace asked, apprehensive but still smiling. Omega leaned close, as though she were whispering.

“Very. It’s great!” Specter chuckled at Omega’s spirit.

“Keep working on that bow, kid,” Rafa encouraged, standing up with her sister.

“I will,” Omega nodded, “Bye!” Specter began to lead her away to join the others.

“Bye, Omega,” Trace replied.

“Hey, creepy lady!” Rafa called out. Specter turned with a smirk. “If we ever run into each other again, I’ll replace that pistol of yours.”

“I’ll hold you to it, Martez,” Specter winked, following Omega once more. “That was certainly exciting,” she commented.

“It was!” Omega giggled, stepping into the Marauder before stopping. “They said they were going to fight against the Empire… is that what we’re doing?”

The blood rushed from Specter’s face before she responded, “There’s only so much we can do, hun. What matters right now is keeping all of us—especially you—safe. We can deal with the Empire later.”

“But why can't we fight now?” the girl inquired.

“Because it's six of us against an entire galaxy,” Hunter chimed in, placing a reassuring hand on Omega’s shoulder. “A good soldier knows how to pick their battles, and how to win.”

Specter smiled at the girl’s compassionate heart. Right now, they were alone in a hostile galaxy, but in a glimmer of hope, she wondered just how many others waited in the shadows for the opportunity to strike… and if their motley crew would join in the fight.

Since I didn't include it in the piece, I can tell you that Specter would have laughed so hard at the "is there an echo in here?/yes/huh?/I'm Echo" bit

#f!oc #star wars #star wars oc #tbb hunter #tbb hunter x oc #the bad batch #sw tbb #tbb crosshair #tbb oc #tbb tech #tbb wrecker #tbb omega #clone force 99 #tbb echo

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