#crosshair fan fiction

[sunshinesdaydream]

Eyes

Crosshair/Reader :No use of Y/N Warnings: a fistfight and some language Word Count: 1001 I think I kept this GN, if I missed something let me know! Fluff I haven’t ever used a beta, so... sorry!

Set sometime after the eventual rescue of Crosshair, going on the assumption that they will be working with Rex at that point.  Reader is a pilot with their own ship and is hiding from the empire for their own reasons.

“You know, no one else is going to break them up,” Stitch, the medic, said next to you.

“I guess you're right,” you answer, taking a final bite of the fruit you had been eating. “Let's do it,”

Swallowing your bite you toss the core of the fruit into a waste bin as you pass, walking towards the brawling pair with the medic at your right shoulder.

“Break it up, asshole, dumbass,” You project loudly towards them. “Unless you want to scrub your blood off of the deck.  We have enough work to do around here,”

You take in the pair.  Axe, who is actively an asshole to everyone, had a variety of bruises including a black eye and a broken nose.

Crosshair looked slightly better, if for only the fact his nose wasn't broken. However Axe had landed a punch that had split his lip.

“Stitch, you take the asshole to the medbay and get him cleaned up. I'll take dumbass to the one on my ship” You tell the medic. Stitch nods and drags the trooper off.

“Go ahead and run away, reg,” Crosshair shot after him.

Axe made a move to go after him again, but Stitch shook him by the grip he had on his armor saying, “Do it and I'll punch you myself,” then carrying on pulling him towards the med bay.

You roll your eyes, grab Crosshair by the top of his chest plate,  “Come on, dumbass, time to get you cleaned up before you bleed everywhere,” you say as you pull him towards your ship.

He followed, allowing you to keep hold of him, as you ascended the ramp and went through the ship to the tiny medbay in it.

“Sit,” you say, with an exasperated edge, pointing to the bed.

“I can do this myself,” he responded.

“You can allow me to or I will get one of the medics, we haven't the resources or the energy for badly treated injuries gotten infected,” you answer.

You stare each other down for a full minute, then you turn on your heal to head out to find a medic and possibly his large brother to make him be treated.  Then you hear movement behind you.

You turn to see him sitting on the bed, watching you carefully from his battered face.

With a sigh you open the drawers to retrieve the items needed. Returning, you stand in front of him and begin to clean the blood from his face.

“You're angry,” he drawled, studying you while you worked.

“Not as angry as Axe,” you sigh. “You really need to learn when to stop talking.  They don't know you are joking and it just gets you a black eye at best,”

“Regs have no sense of humor,” he answered. “not like you,”

“I don't know what you mean,” You respond, now cleaning his split lip.

He hissed slightly at the sting, but went ahead and kept talking, “You look away and laugh when you don't think anyone notices,”

“Stay still,” you scold, focusing on his injury while you could feel his gaze on you like a physical touch.

He huffs a small laugh, “When you know someone is watching your nose twitches when you try not to laugh,”

Your cheeks warm at the thought of him watching you as closely as you had been watching him, as you begin spreading bacta gel on his injuries.

“You still don't know when to stop talking,” you answer, quieter this time.

“You also give as good as you get,” he continued, “Unlike those Regs, they think with their fists,”

“I think they may be confused,” you tell him.

“May be?”he drawled.

You restrain a giggle, but his eyes catch yours and you could see that he had noticed by the humor in his eyes.

You ignore it and go back to what you were saying, “Yes, with your perpetual scowl they don't know what to make of you.  But then they wouldn't really be focused on your real tell,”

“And what would that be?” He prompted.

“Your eyes,” you unwittingly respond.

“What about them?”

You try not to answer, trying to keep your attention on the  various bruises and abrasions. Failing, your gaze goes to his again. You can see the teasing mischief there, along with something else.  You hope you aren't imagining it, that it isn't just him and his snarky sense of humor.

You become very aware of your situation, standing between his knees to better reach his face, which your hands are on, and you come to a decision.  Your heart and stomach feel like you are in a free fall.

Getting more bacta you swipe it over where his lip is split as you say, “Your eyes are very expressive,”

Before he has a chance to respond, you gently kiss the corner of his mouth that is uninjured. As you pulled back from the quick kiss his hands were on your hips, pulling you close before you realized he had a hold of you. His eyes were bright and he was trying for a kiss.

You giggle, pressing your hand against his chest. “If you ruin my work I'll dunk your whole head in a bucket of bacta,” You tell him. “If you are good and let it heal for a couple hours I'll let you have as many kisses as you want,”

He ran a finger along your bottom lip, then cradled your cheek in his hand.  While searching your eyes he asked, almost too quiet for you to hear, “Promise?”

You give a gentle kiss to the palm of his hand before taking it in yours, “Yes, promise. Let me take care of your hands,”

Later that evening he kissed you until all you were aware of was the taste of his lips on yours and the circle of his arms around you.

[starryevermore]

ghost of you ✧ crosshair

angst city™ library | send in a request (consult request faqs first)

request: Literally…anything angsty. Like gut wrenching, crush my soul, tug and twist at the heart…with anyone. Just need to feel something. AND THAT THING IS ANGST - anon

pairing: crosshair x fem!jedi!force ghost!reader

summary: when the order is given, your lover kills you. but even as he loses his way, you can’t seem to let him go. 

word count: 3,965

warnings?: hurt/no comfort, angst city™ bitch, main character death, not proofread

You knew this was to be your end. You had known for a long time. A Jedi’s vision is often misleading, doesn’t offer the full picture. But, when you saw the man you love aim a blaster at your heart, mutter that “good soldiers follow orders”, before the world faded around you…Well, there was little denying what you saw. Perhaps you wouldn’t die, you supposed. Perhaps you would live and have to grapple with your lover betraying you. But, in your heart, you knew that you would meet your end at the hands of a man you trusted with your life. A bitter end, to be sure, but all’s fair in love and war, as they say. 

So when the day came that the clones on Kaller turned their weapons on you, Master Depa Billaba, and Padawan Caleb Dume, you knew that you would not leave the planet alive. What surprised you, though, was how Clone Force 99, the squad that you led, did not react as the other clones. No, they were okay?…They were helping Caleb escape, they were helping you stop the other clones from killing the young Padawan. All except for your beloved Crosshair, a sniper with a heart of ice that only thawed for you. His weapon turned on you. He only saw you as a target to hit. Any love he had for you, it was set aside in favor of completing his mission. 

But you had your own. If you had to die that day, you could not let the Padawan to die, too. No, he was too important. If order was to be restored to the galaxy, he had to survive. Now was not his time to go. You and Hunter led the Padawan through the forest, trying to find him safe passage away from the fight. A blaster struck you in the side. You fell. 

“GO!” you shouted as Caleb turned, hand outstretched to help you. “Leave me!”

Hunter hesitated. He took a step towards you. “We don’t leave our own behind—”

A gentle lie was better than the harsh truth, so you said, “I’ll be fine. Just get him out of here. That’s an order!”

Finally, they ran. You hissed as you reached down, your hand becoming sticky with blood as it touched your wound. That wasn’t the blast that could kill you, but kriff, it hurt. 

A shadow loomed over you. You didn’t want to look, didn’t want to meet the eyes of your killer, but you knew it wouldn’t change the reality of the situation. You wanted to see him, at least one more time before you were gone. You lifted your gaze, seeing a near-pained expression on Crosshair’s face. 

“Cross,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, “you don’t have to do this.”

“You are a traitor,” he spat. He aimed his blaster. His finger fell to the trigger, yet he did not pull it. 

“You know that’s not true. This, this isn’t you.” You felt sick to your stomach. You knew this was always going to happen. But…You had to let him know. This wasn’t his fault. “Please, Cross—”

He raised his blaster higher. His usually steady hands trembled, ever so slightly. “Good soldiers follow orders. My order is to kill traitors.”

Any attempt to convince him not to shoot was futile. This was your fate. It had been, for a long time. “I forgive you, Cross. I love you, okay? Even after this, I will still love you.”

“Not just a traitor to the Republic,” Crosshair hissed. “A traitor to your own code. Why should someone whose treachery runs to her core be spared?”

“Then don’t spare me,” you said. Your voice shook despite your best efforts. “I understand.”

Crosshair’s nimble fingers—the same ones he’d use to massage your scalp, to caress you when he thought you were sleeping, to hold yours when no one else was looking—pulled the trigger. Your breath caught in your throat, then released in a bloody scream. Just before your eyes squeezed shut, you watched Crosshair flinch. 

He ran away, and three others ran toward you. You heard your name—Wrecker was shouting. There was a thud as he fell to his knees beside you. He touched the blaster wound. “Tech!” he wailed. “She needs help!”

“Don’t,” you managed to say. “Too late.”

“Don’t say that!”

You opened your eyes to see Echo place a hand on Wrecker’s shoulder. “You don’t recover from a wound like that,” Echo said. 

“She’s a Jedi! She has magic healing powers! And, and with the bacta—”

“Forgive him,” you whispered. Wrecker’s mouth fell shut. “Forgive him. Don’t…Don’t let him lose himself. He needs you.”

“He needs you!”

Tech knelt on the other side of you. “According to my calculations, you don’t have much long left.” He reached out, stroked the space between your brows. “We should be the ones offering you comfort.”

Your breathing became labored. Kriff, it hurt to breathe. “I’ll be fine,” you lied. You knew Tech knew it was a lie. “Find Hunter and Crosshair. Stay safe, okay? I…I’ll see you soon.”

It was obvious how much Tech wanted to refute you. But, he allowed your lie to remain unchallenged. “Rest. You deserve it.”

And you did. Your eyes fell shut. You heard footsteps walk away. One set paused—you were sure it was Wrecker. Then— everything faded away. 

“She’s gone,” Wrecker said. When Tech and Echo looked back, there was nothing left of you. 

Becoming one with the Force was not what you expected, if you were being honest. Even when your former Master, Qui-Gon Jinn, had taught you the secret of retaining your individuality when you became one with the Force, you never expected it to be true. It seemed too…surreal. 

“No, she’s there!” Echo said, pointing. 

You knew they saw you. You knew your former Master was right. You swallowed, even though you didn’t really need to, and repeated, “Forgive him.”

You turned, and disappeared. They didn’t need you now.

“Why do you torment me?”

You reached out, caressed Crosshair’s face. Despite his words, he leaned into your touch. You missed this. You missed him, how he used to be, before the Empire took him, before Clone Force 99 left him. Now, only in his dreams, could you touch him, try to break through to him. You feared that, if you showed yourself in the land of the living, he would break further. You limited your interactions to his dreamland. 

“I need you to know that I forgive you.” You leaned in, pressed your forehead to his. “That your brothers forgive you. Even if it doesn’t feel like it.”

He yanked away. He turned his back toward you. You stepped toward him, reached out, but paused. No. You didn’t want to overwhelm. You dropped your hand. His shoulders trembled as he near-snarled, “Why must you keep bringing them up?”

“They were at a crossroads, Cross. It wasn’t a decision they took lightly. They just—”

“Thought I would betray them like I did you?”

Every conversation came back to this point. And every time, Crosshair closed himself off. He would push harder and harder and harder until he awoke. You would leave him for a day or two, let him calm, and try again. The cycle would repeat. It felt never-ending. But you couldn’t give up on him. 

“They still love you. They miss you. If they could safely come back for you, they would.”

Crosshair’s back straightened. “Because I’m such a danger to them.”

And it always came back to this. Crosshair thinking himself a danger to his brothers. Crosshair shutting down any refutation you offered. He was stuck in his head. You understood. Of course you understood why he was like this. 

“You’re not the danger, my love.” You placed a hand on his shoulder. He flinched. You weren’t sure if it was at the contact, or if it was at your words. “The Empire, though…They’re not good. The second you are no longer useful to them, they will have no qualm discarding you.”

“Then the Empire is more similar to my brothers than you think.”

“Cross…”

He turned his head toward you, his dark eyes flashing. With anger, perhaps? Contempt? You couldn’t quite tell. Crosshair was always a difficult person to read. He kept his feelings so close to his chest, never let anyone see the turmoil that simmered below the surface. No one was allowed to see it. Not even you.

“Everyone leaves. Why does it matter if I go with my brothers or stay with the Empire? It will turn out the same in the end.”

“I never left you.”

For a flash of a second, so quick you should have missed it, Crosshair’s eyes softened. But then he squared his shoulders, his lip curled. “You’re not really here. This is only a manifestation of perceived guilt.”

“Perceived guilt?” you echoed. You tried to ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach. You knew he was only being cruel because he was hurt. He didn’t mean his words. And yet, the sting left you reeling. You pulled your hand away. Crosshair’s head bows. 

“I did what had to be done.”

Part of you wanted to argue back, to say he did what he was made to do. That this fate had long been since written. That it was the result of a chip in his brain. But, he knew about the chip. He knew that he didn’t have control over his actions at the time. He knew, and he said it anyways. You took a step back.

“It’s almost time for you to wake up,” you said instead. 

He looked at you. If you were looking at him, you would have seem the glassiness to his eyes, how his hand twitched, ready to be outstretched toward you. You turned.

“If you want me to leave you be, I will. I never wanted to torment you,” you said. Was it possible for a Force ghost to cry? It felt like you were close. Like if you stayed here for a moment longer, you would break. 

“It would be for the best.”

You looked at him this time. If this was his wish, you would respect it. You would never bother him again. But if you were to leave him be, you wanted to see him one last time. You looked him over. Took in his gray hair, cropped close to his scalp. His tanned skin, the crosshair tattoo over his eye. His dark eyes, how they wouldn’t meet your gaze. 

“If you change your mind…”

“I won’t.” He didn’t sound convinced. But you didn’t push. You’ve reached his limit. If you went any further, he would fall. You didn’t want to hurt him. 

The dream world faded around you. You watched as Crosshair laid in his bunk, his eyes opening. He let out a deep sigh, a hand coming up to rub his face. You balled your hands into a fist in an effort to resist the urge to reach out to him. It wouldn’t do you any good. Unlike the dream world, you couldn’t touch him here. 

Crosshair sat up. As he moved, you saw the holopic resting beside him. It was of him and you and the rest of Clone Force 99 sans Echo, back when things were simpler. It had been your first mission with the squad. It had gone horrible, in the way that all of their missions went horrible. Which, of course, was to say that everything went to shit, but still managed to be successful. You had insisted on the picture being taken, said something about it being a good memory to have. Crosshair made fun of you at the time, but when the picture was taken, he still stood beside you, a hand resting on your back. He didn’t smile—he never really smiled—but it was the happiest you had seen him. 

Seeing it, it made you want to shatter your resolve. Crosshair didn’t really want you to go. But, he needed the space. You weren’t helping him by constantly hovering. So, as his head turned to where you stood, you disappeared. 

You didn’t seem him again for a long while. 

“Do you think Crosshair will come back?” Omega asked. 

You watched as her legs swung on the Marauder’s platform, how she leaned back, resting on her palms, looking out at the sky as if she expected him to drop out of the air at any moment. Since you left Crosshair be, you returned to Clone Force 99. After scaring Wrecker so bad that he screamed loud enough to wake everyone, you explained how you were there. You tried to offer why you were there, but no explanation felt right. They didn’t ask for one, though. They let you stay, no questions asked. 

For the most part, you stayed with Omega. She was still learning to defend herself, so you took the opportunity to step in whenever she needed help. Those moments were becoming fewer and farther between as she grew into herself. You found yourself teaching her other things, things about the galaxy and the Force and how just to ask questions so that she could get her way when Hunter was being particularly stubborn. It had been many years since you had had a Padawan, but it almost felt like had taken on Omega as one. It felt like she was your child. 

“He…has a lot of inner turmoil,” you said finally. The topic of Crosshair was one rarely breached. It made her brothers uncomfortable, so she learned to not ask often. But when you were with her, watching over her while her brothers were on a mission deemed too dangerous for her, she sometimes ventured into the territory. “Your guess is as good as mine. When I saw him last, he still had so much of that anger and that guilt, that feeling of abandonment.”

“Do you think he’s scared? Out there, working for the Empire, without his vode?”

“If you asked him, he would say he wasn’t scared of anything.”

“But I’m asking you.”

“…I think he doesn’t know what to do. I think he feels like he doesn’t have a place with his brothers anymore. And, while he has a place with the Empire, he knows it’s fleeting. He sees the two options before him and thinks they’re both awful, so he stays on the path he’s currently on.”

“It sounds lonely, living like that.”

“I’m sure it is.” You let out a sigh. You leaned back, lying down on the platform. Omega mimicked your movements. “He doesn’t think he has a place here anymore, though. And I think that keeps him from leaving the Empire, too. He might be lonely there, too, but he doesn’t feel like he has to wait for the other shoe to drop, you know?”

She looked to you. Her eyes had welled up with tears. “Is that my fault? Does he think he can’t come back because of me? I-I’m the reason they left him behind. If I hadn’t—”

“Shh, shh,” you hushed. You sat up and wrapped your arms around Omega. They passed through her, so you hovered around her, not quite touching her. “Listen, Crosshair would have been left behind whether you were there or not, okay? You changed things, sure. But at the end of the day, the chip in Crosshair’s brain…It, changed the way he thought, you know? That’s not something you could have changed by being there or not being there.”

“I just…I don’t want them to regret bringing me with them.” Omega sniffled, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. “I know that they’re on the run because of me. They, they could have settled down somewhere if they didn’t have me. They wouldn’t have to keep fighting. They could have normal lives.”

“Listen to me: They love you, Omega. They would do anything for you. Sometimes, they might get frustrated and it might feel like they regret taking you with them. But they only want the best for you. And things are so crazy right now, it’s hard to tell what’s good for you. And that scares them.”

Omega sniffled again. Your heart ached. You wished you could bundle her up in your arms and squeeze her tight. She didn’t deserve this kind of weight on her heart. She deserved to be a kid. She deserved to run around and play games and not worry about having to survive. She deserved to just live. “You think so?”

“I know so. I've known your brothers a long time. They love with their whole hearts. Once you have their love, you never lose it. And, trust me, they loved you the moment they saw you.”

Omega was silent. Then, she lifted her gaze to meet yours. “So, if Crosshair knew his brothers loved him…He might come back?”

You swallowed. You weren’t sure. Truthfully, you really weren’t. But…Well, gentle lies. “He might.”

Omega seemed satisfied with that answer. She laid back down on the platform, looking toward the sky. Fluffy, white clouds passed overhead. She pointed to one. “That cloud looks like Mantell Mix.”

You let out a laugh. It felt nice to laugh again. It felt so long since you’ve felt so…light. “Sounds like someone’s hungry.”

“Hush and play the game!”

“Alright, alright! Hmm, that one looks like a lothcat.”

“Do you think I could convince Hunter to let us get a lothcat as a pet?”

“You know, I think that’s one of those things where you ask for forgiveness instead of permission.”

“I like the way you think!”  

You watched as Omega ran towards Crosshair. You reached out toward her in vain. They all needed to leave. They couldn’t stay on this platform forever. It was too risky to stay. The longer they remained, the worse things may end up. But, she still ran to him, thanked him for saving AZI, a droid that she had been fond of when living on Kamino. Crosshair told her to consider each other even. You expected her to leave then, but she surprised you. 

“They still love you,” she said. “Y/N said they would always love you.”

Crosshair’s gaze hardened. He turned away, not giving her a reply. Omega hesitated, unsure of whether she should say more or if she should go. Finally, she turned and ran back to Hunter, who led her onto the ship. Moments later, Marauder rose to the sky, leaving Crosshair behind again. You stayed, moving a few paces behind your former lover. 

“You shouldn’t tell her things like that,” Crosshair muttered. It was the first time he had acknowledged you being there. You had made yourself known when Hunter was captured, but Crosshair never looked at you. Never said a word about you. It made you doubt if you were ever really there at all.

“And you should have gone with them.”

He turned toward you, his eyes narrowed. “Why should I care about what you think? You left me, just like them.”

“You told me to go. I was respecting your wishes. I…Cross, you kept pushing. I knew that my being with you was only causing you pain. I worried that if you kept pushing, you would be the one to break.”

“Always so selfless, you Jedi,” he spat. But there was almost no malice behind his words. He looked away, stared out at the water. “I kept waiting. You were never one to just leave, to give up. So many times, you went running back into active combat to save civilians. You’ve made Tech turn the ship around to rescue prisoners. You made sure every woman and child was always spared.”

You knew what he was getting at. He couldn’t say the words, though they were right on the tip of his tongue. So, you said them for him. 

“I should have stayed.”

He gave a curt nod. “You proved yourself to be like everyone else.”

“I'm sorry. Cross, I…I should have been there for you, I know that.” You reached out. He took a step away. You froze, your hand still in the air, before you let it fall to your side. “You deserve better than what the Empire will give you. I understand if going back to your brothers isn’t what you want. But you can’t stay with the Empire. Look how quickly they got rid of the Kaminoans. Look at how they’re already trying to get rid of the clones. How long will it be until you’re considered expendable?”

“Unlike someone people, I understand the value of loyalty.”

You held your tongue. You were half-sure he wanted to get a rise out of you. He loved doing that, when you were alive. He would poke and prod, proud that he knew just what buttons to push. You knew his game, but you refused to play it now. 

“You once said that you would always be there for me. But that wasn’t true, was it? You left. You acted just like all the others. Tell me, why should I care about a single thing you say to me now?”

You remembered telling him that. It was in the early days, when the two of you were just beginning your relationship. You had nearly died on the battlefield. A droid got too close, moved too quick. Crosshair took the droid about before any significant damage happened, but by the time you got back to the ship, you could your spirit leaving you. Crosshair held you as Tech treated your wounds, muttering that you weren’t allowed to go. Not yet, not when he wanted you by his side. You told him you would stay with him for all of eternity, if he would let you. 

“I love you, Cross. You know I do. You can be mad at me, be disappointed in me, hate me for all I care. But that doesn’t change how I feel about you.” You took a step closer, then another. He didn’t move away. “I knew you were going to kill me, long before we ever arrived on Kaller. I knew that I would meet my end at the hands of the man I love. I could have left. I could have asked to be assigned a different squad. But I loved you too much to go. And I love you now, all the same.”

“No one asked you to stay.”

“So don’t you dare put this on me.”

“I’m not. I’m only telling you, because I would do it all over again. I would live through my death every time without change if it meant that I got to love you.”

“Then you are a fool.”

You shrugged. “Perhaps. But I would rather be a fool, a slave to my attachment to you, than survive without ever knowing your love.”

Crosshair grit his teeth, snarling as he said, “Go. I don’t want you here.”

“I’m not leaving you again, Cross.”

“GO!” he shouted. 

You let out a breath and allowed yourself to disappear from his sight. But you remained there. You stayed with him. You stayed all thirty-two rotations on that platform, watching over him. Making sure he was safe. He could tell you to leave, he could act like he never cared. But you knew that he needed you as much you needed him. So you stayed on that platform with him, and for every day that followed. 

Most days, he didn’t see you, didn’t know you were there. But he always knew. He always knew he was being haunted by the ghost of you. 

[ferrarhirhi]

Crosshair X Fem Reader

Chapter One - Intrigue

Waking up to a headache isn't the worst you've experienced but it’s still not the best.

Aching pain sears from your temples to the crown of your head, you assumed it was just that your bun was up too tight, until you remembered.

“fuck” you mutter as you realise you smoked way too much spice last night and have this so called group inspection in an hour and a half.

You wouldn't say you had formed a proper squad after training with the empire for a year and a half, people came and went very often.

It made sense, for some reason the empire wasn't in dire need for specialists like snipers, especially not trainee ones such as yourself.

Pushing yourself up twisting your hips and placing yourself at the edge of your bed you felt your head go woozy. Luckily it passed almost instantly and you relaxed knowing that a few painkillers would help ease the pain emanating from your temples.

Releasing the straps of your nightgown from your shoulders and letting it drop to the floor you stepped into the already steaming shower, hot water making your stiff muscles and bruised body melt.

That's what you get for overtime combat training with those droids, you thought to yourself.

Ever since the death of your parents, two years ago, spice and combat training were the only two things to numb the pain.

Stepping out of the shower and reaching for the towel you spot yourself in the mirror, “hm not bad’ feeling pride for the effects of keeping to a soldiers exercise routine. There were some lazy troopers out there and you were happy to show off that you weren't.

After tying your hair up into your usual ponytail and slipping into your empire blacks, you placed your armour over the top.

you were proud of they way it looked, empire black with a few gunmetal grey scratches and red details, you had taste.

After triple checking your sniper rifle knowing that it would probably be inspected by one of Rampart’s usual men you lugged it in its case onto your back and made your way to base.

It really wasn't far from your barracks and luckily you had your own transport only for troopers, you could imagine the strange looks from Coruscanti residents on public transport, soldiers were intimidating for a reason

Making your way into the large testing centre you spotted Rampart standing on the balcony, thirty meters above the grey tiled floor. The air just as cold as his patronising glare, it didn't hurt to be welcoming, you thought to yourself.

Before you could continue your thoughts Rampart spoke. “elite troopers” his voice echoed around the large room occupying only yourself, two other troopers who you hadn't met before, Rampart and his death trooper bodyguard.

“You have been called here today for your bi annual inspection and rating of your current skill level, if you do well, you may have the chance of promotion”

Promotion, your skin tingled, the thought of being out in the field and no longer a trainee had been on your mind for at least the last three months

“We will be joined later by some of your seniors who specialise in your areas and have far more experience than you” there goes that condescending tone again “They will be your mentors for the next three weeks”

Time had passed and the two other troopers had completed their tests and met their mentors

“Eyesight and reaction test will commence in 3, 2, 1” said the monotone voice coming from the droid below. Lazer focused, you were full of adrenaline and ready for this test.

Lying from a high vantage point, you aimed your Firepuncher down to the area, shooting at targets popping up occasionally, when out of the corner of your eye you spotted the automatic doors behind Rampart open and a figure appear, you assumed it was your mentor.

Ignoring distraction was normally very easy for you, except for now. This mentor looked very different from the others. He looked important. Rather than wearing the white model, his sleek grey amour was enticing and the green visor in his helmet magnetic to the eye. Who was he behind that helmet, you felt yourself being drawn to him.

Too distracted to realise you'd missed the signal for the reaction part of your test, you felt a zap in your shoulder, one of the droids below had shot a blank at you, right in front of your new, very distracting mentor, the test reset.

Rampart hadn't noticed luckily, he was looking at your mentor as they took off their helmet.

It was a clone, but he looked different than the usual, confusion was probably visible across your face as he looked your way and gave you a blank nod, nodding back you could see he had grey short hair, a defined jawline and high cheekbones.

Just before you could start the test again, and prove yourself to your new mentor, Rampart interrupted “We've seen enough thank you” Why did he always have to speak in that tone, had you just bottled your chance, the clone hadn't even watched you.

“Please come to the balcony”

Walking through the imposing grey sliding doorway you were once again met with Rampart and who you guessed was your new mentor.

A tingle shot up your spine, like a sign from the force, which had sadly now been banned from being spoken about all across the empire. This man was tall, very tall. You felt your neck crane slightly upwards to meet his face, which you now realised was very intriguing. He was attractive in the sense that is aura was dark and you felt even more drawn to him. His eyes a brown like the caf you drank this morning and the left one surrounded by the design of a crosshair, the same one you saw through your viewfinder every day

“Trooper this is CT-9904, he is a sniper, like yourself. He will be advising you on what you can improve on over the next three weeks, if all goes well, you may have the chance of promotion” Rampart said in an unbothered tone, he had clearly been repeating the same statement throughout the day, boredom emanating from him.

Whilst taking in what Rampart was saying, you could feel the gaze of CT-9904 on you, looking at him directly now, you could see he had a slight smirk, and his eyes trailed up and down your body. He’s checking me out you thought. “I am looking forward to working with you”

You had to stay calm, or he would notice your breath hitch up, this man’s voice was as sensual as the look he was giving you. It was adenoidal yet smooth, the first thing you could envision it to be like, was a snake, tentatively stalking it’s way towards its prey. You the prey, he the snake.

Snap out of it, realising you had taken a suspiciously long time to mutter out the words “Yes sir, me too”

Had that just come across like you were flirting with him, panic flushed your face, you were always so composed, what was happening.

He could tell you were flustered, slightly chuckling to himself then saying “773 Firepuncher?” Whilst looking at the rifle in your hand.

“772, Sir”

“Ah, let me see”

You handed him the rifle, this man clearly didn’t know the word please, but maybe that wasn’t a surprise, or to be expected from your senior. He couldn’t be to much older than yourself, even if his hair was grey, his face was supple, smooth excluding the slight stubble, he had minimal wrinkles. Such an attractive face you thought to yourself, you could feel your knees slightly weakening, so shifted your stance.

His slender fingers gently glided across your rifle, he was respecting your weapon. An eyebrow raised “not bad, but could be better” he leaned over you pointing to a few scuff marks on the underside of your rifle “These shouldn’t be there”

“If I may sir, these were from using it just now”

“Yet you were expecting me today, you could have cleaned her up whilst making your way up here”

He had a point.

“She deserves special attention, at all times” he said whilst towering over you looking deep into your eyes, it felt like he was talking about you and not your rifle.

“I understand sir” Saying whilst looking down.

Rampart had walked away by now, talking to his bodyguard, that gave the clone a chance to tap you on the bottom of your chin and say “Look at me and say that”

“I understand sir” It was highly inappropriate but your heart was racing and you were finding it exceptionally invigorating.

No man had ever spoken to you like this, they were always so intimidated by your stature and confidence yet this clone had reduced you to a thoughtless mess.

“Look at mine” he handed you back your rifle and as you swung yours onto your back, he reached for his and you got a good look at his build. He was was slim yet muscular, his shoulders wide and waist slender

Reaching out for his rifle you took a look, it was immaculate but unlike your red detailing, he had none, time to have a little fun you thought.

“Very good sir, pristine. But if I may”

“Go on”

“Well I just feel it’s quite boring”

His brows furrowed slightly and his eyes darkened, had you just crossed a line.

“I feel mine has more character”

“Character” he said through a chuckle “You want to see character sweetheart, I’ll show you character“

Sweetheart, you mused to yourself this man really was flirting with you, this could be a fun few weeks.

He reached for a pocket on his waistband and pulled out a collection of disks which he flung to different places across the hall below.

After taking the rifle from your hands he leaned his slender frame up against the balcony, as he was looking away you let your eyes trail his body focusing on his waist thinking what your hands would feel like gliding across his lower frame, pressing him down in combat training, that would be fun.

Quickly snapping out of your thoughts you watched as he shot at a disk which reflected the plasma bolt onto the next disk and so on until it smashed right into the head of one of the droids. Electricity coursed through your veins as he turned to look over to you.

“Impressive” you said

“Indeed, you will come back here tomorrow afternoon and I will inspect your visual accuracy”

“Okay Sir, thank you for the show” you smirked at him and made your way outside the doors.

Read the rest Here

[skellymom]

WRITER'S WALL OF FAME #1

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[lornaka]

Danger noodle 🐍🧡

[frostycatblr-fandom-files]

Sorry, Wrong Comms! Masterlist

Season one Bad Batch AU fic; our favorite squadron of rouge Clones escapes the Empire (some more reluctantly than others) post Order 66 and do their best to make their way in a turbulent galaxy. When a medical emergency puts one of their own at risk, they're forced to seek out medical help, and end up forging a friendship in the woman who kindly helps them.

She may be a simple medic, but she's no stranger to the sick and injured of the galaxy, even when things get grisly once more for the Bad Batch...

Please mind the warnings for each chapter as there are things like vague medical terminology, near death(s), mild injury description + care, blood, drugs (both medical and **recreational references), use of restraints, needles (autoinjectors), nausea and non-descriptive mentions of vomit, language and minor adult themes throughout the series.

*RATING: 16+ | STATUS: Complete | POV: 3rd Person | Fem Reader

🩺Chapter 1

🩺Chapter 2

🩺Chapter 3

🩺Chapter 4

🩺Chapter 5

🩺Chapter 6

🩺Chapter 7

🩺Chapter 7.5

🩺Chapter 8

🩺Chapter 9

🩺Chapter 10

🩺Chapter 11

🩺Chapter 12

Started: 5/1/2023 | Finished: 7/24/2023 | Total word count: 82,209

*I am aware chapters will say "Intended audience is 13+"; these were written some time ago and new edits will not always "take" when I have tried to save them.

**This is a one-time occurrence.

[gospelofme]

Okay bitches, who wants to be tagged in

The Darkness Within

show of hands

Rough premise: Jedi needs to be relocated due to purge troopers being on her tail, Clone Force 99 is asked to come out of semi-retirement to complete the task

[techhasmjolnir]

Writings Master List

This will be the place where you can easily find all of my writings. Stories will be listed in the chronological order they were written.

If you like my content, please feel free to drop me some love, and reblog!

**If you would like to be tagged for future writings, please don't hesitate to ask!

The Bad Batch - Trivial Pursuit (Tech x F Reader)

The Bad Batch - Rites of the Covenant (Hunter x F Reader)

The Bad Batch - Dealer's Choice (The Boys x F Reader)

The Bad Batch - Give Me Three, the Gift of One (Crosshair & Tech x F Reader) (WIP)

[523rdrebel]

Welcome to CF99

The Bad Batch Coffee/Caf Shop AU

Hunter x Reader

Hunter and his siblings own a Caf Shop called, CF99. Reader and Hunter are tasked with creating something new and use that time to grow closer together.

Overall Vibes: Cute, Fluff, Falling in Love at a Coffee Shop

Warnings: One Instance of Customer being a "Karen," Fluff, Cuteness, and Lots of Caf/Coffee References

Rating: SFW

Written as a Lifeday gift for @multi-fan-dom-madness <3 <3 <3

Hunter Divider: @snotbuggle

Coffee Divider: @firefly-graphics

“Small Oatmilk Latte on Bar!” You shout over the loud ambient sounds of coffee being made, milk being steamed and frothed, and voices speaking in a dull hum.

“I asked  for whole milk!” The customer scowled at you across the bar, nearly spitting at you in their ire.

“No. You didn’t.” A voice growled intensely from behind you.

“It’s okay Crosshair–”

“No. I took their order, they asked for Oatmilk.” He pushed you aside and leaned over the bar, smiling that toothy smile at the problem customer. His voice rumbled, “You can take the latte or you can leave.” The large form of Wrecker appears behind you, casting a shadow over the customer, “Your choice.”

“Th–the latte’s fine!” The customer all but screams, takes the latte and runs away, doorbell ringing as they exit.

Crosshair laughs, deeply amused.

“Cross– we can’t just keep intimidating the customers!” you chide, despite feeling a deep sense of relief that you avoided being shouted at by another unruly customer.

“That wasn’t a customer, that was a wailing banshee…”

Wrecker nudged your shoulder, though gently, it still nearly knocked you off your feet, “They’ll figure it out eventually.”

“Figure what out? That if they come to CF99 they get yelled at and threatened?”

“That they can’t bully us. Or you.”

Crosshair’s face was smug, something unidentifiable sparkling in his eyes, “Pretty sure Hunter would rip a face off if he caught someone bullying you.”

“I do not believe, even with Hunter’s capabilities, that he could ‘Rip a face off’.” Tech’s voice broke in now, his face popping up from around the corner at the drive thru.

“It’s an expression, Tech.” Crosshair rolled his eyes.

“Is it an expression for ‘I need therapy?’” He quipped back instantly.

At the morning staff meeting, Echo presented a new challenge to the CF99 team, “Overall customer feedback shows that they want something new.”

“New…The pastries from Daisy’s Bakery wasn’t enough?” You asked. Pastries had just been added a few months ago, thanks to Wrecker’s love of the bakery (and the Baker) down the street.

He sighed, “That definitely boosted our sales, but no. They want a new drink.”

“It’s coffee, not an experiment. It doesn’t need all the frills.”

“Not everyone likes plain espresso, Crosshair.”

“Pansies.” He mumbled under his breath, crossed his arms over his chest and glowered.

“Anyway, I need a couple of you to take point on that new drink. Any volunteers?” Tech instantly raised his hand, always excited for a new challenge. “Not you Tech…”

“Yeah, the drink has to actually be palatable…” Wrecker elbowed Tech and laughed heartily.

He adjusted his glasses then held up one finger, “According to my research, the flavor notes hit all the flavor receptors at once. It should have been entirely palatable.”

Echo just rolled his eyes and continued, “I need you on Drive Thru, anyway. No Cross– you just want to avoid the customers.” Crosshair’s sighed deeply, but didn’t deny. “Wrecker’s the best with the Customers so we need him on register…” Echo looked pointedly at you then Hunter, “You and Hunter willing to give it a shot? It doesn’t have to be too fancy, just good coffee and something that we haven’t served before.”

“Okay.” You shrugged, feigning nonchalance, despite the excitement bubbling inside your chest.

“Uh–” Hunter glanced sidelong at you, mouth open to speak.

Echo cut in, standing up to signal the end of the meeting, “Great! Now let’s try not to scare away any more customers…”

You and Hunter are left alone to plan in the break room, where Echo and Tech had set up a temporary Barista station with selections of Caf beans from Endor to Mutunda with a variety of roasting styles and flavor notes. There were caf creamers and alternatives and a multitude of flavorings and additions to make nearly any combination of a special brew.

Hunter was nothing if not efficient, so he set himself to grinding and brewing samples of each caf for the both of you to taste as you made your selections.

“So… What’s the plan here?”

“Taste the caf. Choose additional flavor items. Make the drink. Save the world. Mission accomplished.”

“Oh, sounds very important. How can I help, Commander?” You snap off a sloppy salute.

“At ease, soldier.” He chuckles, eyes sparkling with humor, “Why don’t you try to narrow down the additions… make some flavor groups?”

“On it–sir.” You wink at him, then quickly turn away, your ears burning.

You both work quietly for a while, selecting different combinations of flavor additions while he narrows down caf beans by preference. He is a nice, calming presence, and you, not for the first time, glance appreciatively at his handsome, prominent profile. He’s focused, his brow furrowed in that soft intensity you’d noticed while he works. He exhales at the strand of hair that came loose of his red bandana, now partially obstructing his view. You can’t help but smile at him, but you shake your head and return your focus back to the flavor profiles you were creating. Now isn’t the time to swoon, you decide.

Hunter shifts periodically, each time getting closer and closer to you, causing you to hold your breath involuntarily and sigh heavily when you release the breath. You swore you heard Hunter chuckle quietly upon the third instance, but decidedly ignored that as wishful thinking.

By the time you both had finished with your tasks, Hunter’s arm was softly brushing against your own as he moved the caf closer together, “These ones are the best…”

You know your cheeks are likely flushed with how hot your face feels right then and you nod, gathering your preferred flavor palettes and placing them next to the remaining cafs.

Hunter’s pics for the caf blends are one dark roast with notes of cherry, dark chocolate, and amaretto, one medium roast with notes of cinnamon, star anise, and meloorun, and one light roast with candied jogan fruit, salted caramel, and brown sugar.

“Oh! These are my favorites!”

“Are they?” Hunter’s eyes flashed with amusement and something else you couldn’t identify, “Uh- what do you have?”

“Spiced plum, Blood Orange, and Cinnamon for syrups. Sweet Cream Cheese or Whip for an optional topping, and we could try this mulled wine flavored drizzle for some extra interest.”

You both spend time mixing flavor combinations until you find one that is just right.

“It works well hot or iced, too!”

“Hmm, maybe we do make a good team–soldier.”

“Well, you make it easy, Commander.”

Crosshair leaned against the door to the breakroom, arms crossed and light smirk on his face, “You two done flirting? Or should I come back with a holo recorder?”

“A holorecorder!?” Your eyes widen in panicked shock. 

“For blackmail. That was embarrassing.”

Hunter sighs, “Just– go get Echo. We finished the drink.”

Crosshair instead took three long steps forward, eyes squinting at the drink you’d both created, “Ugh– looks like a dessert. You sure that’s coffee?”

“CROSS–”

He rolls his eyes so far back into his head they could’ve gotten lost back there, turns on his heel and leaves.

“So… were you flirting or…?”

He chuckles and whispers your name softly, reverently, “I’ve been flirting with you for a long while now, actually.”

“Really? I thought—”

“You think we have time for me to kiss you before they get back here?”

“God–I hope so!”

He needs no further encouragement, one hand pulls you flush against him, the other cradles your head and his fingers tangle in your hair. His mouth captures yours, pressing softly at first, the more insistently in response to your willingness. Your hands clutch at his shirt and you wish with all your might that you weren’t at work right now…

You hear a deep, from the depths of his being, sigh and Echo groans, “Can’t you two do that off the clock?”

“How about tonight, then?” Hunter asks, pulling away reluctantly, trailing his fingers slowly across your back as he releases you.

“Tonight. Yes.” Your response is stilted, biting your lip in expectation.

Taglist:

@anxiouspineapple99 @wings-and-beskar @starrylothcat @secondaryrealm @arctrooper69 @sev-on-kamino @littlemissmanga @wolffegirlsunite @dystopicjumpsuit @idontgetanysleep @clonemedickix @sunshinesdaydream @followthepurrgil @yubnubhub @nahoney22 @jediknightjana @dangraccoon @wizardofrozz @freesia-writes @mythical-illustrator @echoxbuggs @trixie2023 @ezras-left-thumb

[spacemagicandlaserswords]

Open and Waiting (Chapter 2)

Gif from this post by @ashr-jedi

Summary: Hunter makes an appearance. You continue to warm Tech’s cock with your mouth and ruminate on previous experiences with Crosshair, Wrecker and Echo.  

Relationships: Tech x f!reader, a little bit of Hunter x f!reader, mentions of Crosshair x f!reader, Echo x f!reader and Wrecker x f!reader

Warnings: NSFW, cock warming, voyeurism, domination, submission, Dominant Tech, submissive reader, poor self worth, feelings, smut with feelings, sexual inexperience, inexperienced reader, polyamory, gag reflex, pretend sci-fi technology/science, pretend Star Wars planets and locations, not beta read. Mentions of: Deep throating, face fucking, fingering, thigh fucking, tit fucking, bukkake, cum as lube, finger fucking, grinding, toys, butt plug.

Word Count: 2085 (Chapter 2)

Authors Notes: Please read the warnings! And please let me know if you enjoyed it. The filth continues. Interspersed with … feelings? In my smut? It’s more likely than you think. 

I realised I forgot to give any context for where this story sits timeline wise and who the character of the reader is! Timeline wise, this happens at some nebulous point after Echo joins The Bad Batch and before Order 66. The reader is part of the Batch but beyond that you can interpret them however you wish. The most common example I've seen is a medic but a jedi, mechanic, intelligence officer or some other random reason for the reader being in the squad could all work as well. Whatever works for you. The main thing is that the reader is a submissive that the Batch share between themselves and are the reader's dominants. The Batch are all Dom’s in the AU of this fic, but they all have different ways of approaching it, which you’ll hopefully get a little inkling of in this chapter.

Chapters: One, Three, Four, Five, Six | Ao3

Open and Waiting (Chapter 2) 

I don’t know how much time passes but eventually I hear the faint hiss of the cockpit door opening and a soft, smooth stride moves out into the main area of the ship.

Hunter.

Our sergeant can be completely silent when he wants to be, so he’s deliberately making sure his approach can be heard. An existence created purely for tracking means that he’s basically permanently stealthy. It can be decidedly startling when he just appears next to you out of nowhere. We really need to put a bell on him or something. Though he’d probably figure out how to move so that it didn’t make a sound. Sneaky bastard.

A gruff voice at the end of the workbench announces his arrival.

“That’s in more bits than when I saw it last.”

“Yes.” Tech replies. “I hypothesised that the size of the casing could be reduced by 2.56% if I reconfigured the internal power connectors into a series of bi-linear couplings. I am currently applying this theory to the prototype you see before you, hence the 'bits' on the workbench.”

“That’s a lot of parts to shove into a small box.” responds Hunter.

“They will fit.” Tech testily replies.

“I don’t doubt that.” Hunter answers.   

There’s a brief pause while Tech zaps something and Hunter shifts slightly to the side.

I think I’m being inspected.

Hunter definitely can’t have missed that I’m currently naked, kneeling between Tech’s thighs with my eyes closed, hands restrained behind my back and Tech’s cock stuffed in my mouth.

“You went with the leather cuffs then.” Hunter states.

I am definitely being inspected.

“They are more suited to the purposes of this exercise.” Tech explains. “The focus is on sensation and submission and as an introduction to this practice, I thought it pertinent to ease into the experience gently. The leather cuffs provide an acceptable level of restraint and serve as a reminder of their position, both physically and mentally.”

“Plus you made them.” Hunter adds.

“Correct. Both the wrist cuffs and collar are of my own design and creation.” Tech replies.

They’re talking about me like I’m not even here. Like I’m not currently desperately drooling around Tech’s cock, unable to move or escape their gaze. The thought makes my pussy throb.

“Oh, she’s enjoying this.” Hunter laughs.

“I trust you can smell her arousal.” Tech asks, though it’s not framed as a question.

“Yup.” Hunter answers. “I could smell her in the cockpit like she was in there. It’s stronger than usual.”

“I have observed a number of indicators of her heightened state of arousal myself.” Tech adds.

“Is this what she’s been worrying about?” asks Hunter.

“If by ‘this’, you mean the practice of cock warming that the two of us are currently engaging in, then yes.” Tech replies.

“You’ve just got your dick in her mouth.” Hunter observes bluntly.

“Yes.” replies Tech. “That is the point.”

There’s a rather telling pause and I can just picture the looks that are being exchanged. An arched, tattooed eyebrow is probably being met with a decidedly unimpressed flat stare emanating from behind yellow lenses. Another slip of drool spills from the corner of my stretched mouth and runs down my chin to join the rest of the mess that is covering my face.

Tech shifts and launches into a lecture. There’s probably a finger being raised.

“Cock warming is the practice of placing one's cock in an orifice of one's partner. This can be done via the mouth, rear or vagina, if the penetratee possesses that particular genitalia. The cock is then left inside the partner's orifice where they are to keep it warm. The name speaks for itself. Outside of the basic principle of the act, the parties involved can agree on various additional stipulations, such as how long the penetratee must keep their partner's cock inside them or if they are allowed to move or make noise. I have read numerous accounts where both partners extol the virtues of this practice, describing it as surprisingly peaceful and an excellent way of entering subspace.”

“I’m sure it’s enjoyable, I’ve just never heard of it, that’s all.” Hunter supplies.

“I must admit that I was not overly familiar with the practice myself but it has proved to be a most enjoyable addition to our play thus far.” Tech provides.

I could already tell he was enjoying it, given the harness of his erection currently occupying my mouth. Hearing the verbal confirmation just adds to the feeling of deep satisfaction and submission warming in my chest. Another shiver runs through my body and I can feel more of my saliva pool in my mouth.

“Was there a reason for your interruption of my work?” Tech directs at Hunter in a slightly curt manner.

“That’s not the only thing I’m interrupting” Hunter snarks back.

“Quite.” Tech leaves the implication implicit.

Hunter sighs briefly before adding “Yeah we got a comm from the 369th.”

“Ah. Are they still experiencing difficulty with the Separatist base built into the side of the Markontia Gorge on Bezril IX?” Tech asks, fully aware of the answer already.

“Yeah, they might need our help with their current campaign but nothing’s confirmed yet so we’re on standby for now. If they need us to blast a hole into the Seppie base then we should hear back by the next rotation.” Hunter adds.

“Wrecker will be pleased.” Tech comments.

“I can think of something else that would please Wrecker.” Hunter slyly hints at.

“Wrecker may make use of our shared submissive when it is his turn.” Tech replies swiftly, irascible intent laced through the words, making it crystal clear that I am his right now.

“Additionally, he has made it quite clear that he does not wish to test the limits of her capacity for oral penetration until her gag reflex has improved.” Tech adds.

A slice of shame and disappointment cuts through me. I’ve always had problems with my gag reflex. Lack of experience will do that to you, I guess. I’ve been slowly working on improving it and they’ve all been so gentle and careful and patient with me. I desperately want to be able to deep throat each of them or be face fucked into a wall one day. At the moment though, the best I can manage is the tip of one of their cocks at the back of my mouth and even that still sets the damn thing off sometimes.

Wrecker has been so sweet about it. There is no denying that he is exceptionally well endowed and that his cock is, well, enormous, to put it bluntly. The poor man is well aware of it too. There is nothing I’d love more than to be absolutely impaled on his thick cock, but the first time I saw it I did worry that I’d never be able to fit it in me. I still do but we’re slowly getting there. He’s been so wonderful and understanding of my current abilities and their limits. Wrecker is such a beautiful human to experience pleasure with. He’s so full of joy about the entire thing. I didn’t have a great deal of experience before somehow ending up with all of them and I’d never had a joyful sexual encounter before Wrecker. I didn’t even know it was possible and had burst into tears afterwards. He’d been so alarmed and concerned that he’d inadvertently hurt me but that couldn’t have been further from the truth. Thankfully, he’s the most emotionally intelligent out of all of them and we’d had a wide-ranging, open and reassuring conversation about sexual experience and intimacy as I lay curled against his chest. I still struggle with tensing up sometimes and Wrecker has been a great boon in getting me more accustomed to preparation. He’s a big proponent of lube and has a whole assortment of different types that we’re slowly working our way through. One or two of his fingers are more than enough to open me up and I could have those big, thick, slicked up digits sliding in and out of me for hours.

And there is nothing quite so wondrous as lying there laughing and kissing and giggling as he fucks my thighs. Wrecker has been very keen to emphasise that there’s more to sex than just penetration and we’ve been exploring some intriguingly varied ways to experience pleasure together. The first time he’d fucked my tits was something else. His oleaginous, lubed cock sliding between my breasts, cupped in his massive hands as his fingers and thumb played with my nipples. When he’d finally exploded all over my chest, neck and face, I don’t think I’d ever been covered in quite so much cum.

Well, at least not until we had that bukkake session. Trying to get cum out of your hair in a sonic is difficult to say the least and Hunter ended up hand washing it out for me. It had been worth it though for the way they had all looked down at me while they pumped their cocks and came all over my obedient, kneeled form, mouth hanging open and tongue out to catch as much as I could.

I’d knelt there afterwards like a statue. Covered in their cum, stained and claimed in their release. Rivets of translucent white slowly running down my skin. I could feel it pool in the hollow of my neck and drip off my nipples. It sounds ridiculous but in that moment I just wished I could exist like that forever, eternally marked as theirs. Just like I wish I could openly and proudly display the marks they leave on my skin, claims bruised into my neck for all to see. They are all such wonderful dominants, each unique in their own approach. I’m eternally thankful that they all chose me to be their submissive. I would happily serve at their feet and allow them to use me as they pleased for the rest of my existence if this damn war wasn’t going on.

I do need to work on having a bit more self preservation though. One of them is bad enough but whenever they end up scheming together, they start coming up with Plans and Ideas. That’s how I then found myself wiping their cum off me with my hands before eating it in front of them like some lewd and licentious spectacle. Being made to finger yourself using the cum of your dominants as lube while they watch is also a whole new level of depravity. I’d had to beg each of them for permission to cum before I’d finally been allowed to finger fuck myself into oblivion.  

Wrecker isn’t the only one that is explicitly clear that their boundaries for playing with me are guided by my current abilities. Crosshair steadfastly refuses to even entertain my suggestion of face fucking until I can, in his words, “keep my balls against your chin, doll”. Echo had gone all serious when I had timidly requested to go down on him for the first time. There had been some stern yet heart-felt words about the importance of pacing and not rushing into things or pressuring yourself to try something you’re not ready for. We’d ended up grinding against each other instead, which was just as enjoyable. It meant I got to watch him come undone as I thrust my hips into his groin and then he’d made me straddle his leg and grind myself to completion on his thigh. There is something about the sensation of smooth durasteel gliding under your wet, sensitive pussy and pressing against your clit that is otherworldly. I’ll have to ask Tech if he’s able to shape some kind of toy out of the metal. A durasteel butt plug sounds like an excellent idea.

I still wish I could do more for them and wasn’t trapped in my own body and mind. The discontent and shame at my perceived failures is still there, despite how well I might be managing to warm Tech’s cock with my mouth at the moment. My lips are wrapped around a decent amount of his length and the tip of his cock is fairly close to the back of my mouth but I could always do more and try to get him a little deeper. I take a steadying breath through my nose, will my throat to relax and move to take more of him in.

------

Author’s Note: Tiny bit of a cliffhanger! This is mainly because I wrote this all in a giant keyboard mashing haze with absolutely no thoughts of structure. Going back while editing and trying to figure out where to shove in chapters to break it up has been a bit tricky, so if they’re a tad clunky that’s why.

You’ll see how Tech reacts in Chapter 3, along with some musings on previous sessions with Hunter and Crosshair. 

Taglist: @queenariesofnarnia @skywlker-sluvtt @techs-assistant

[badbatchposts]

Quiet Corners of the Galaxy, Chapter 2

In Chapter Two, the rest of the Batch is surprised when Crosshair returns with a rescued stranger. She doesn't seem particularly grateful.

Chapters posted 1-2x weekly.

Read Chapter 1 here.

Crosshair felt the woman stir in his lap before he heard the groan. They were just cresting the hilltop on the speeder bike when she began to wake.

“Crosshair,” he heard from his comm. “We’re loading up the Marauder. Let’s get outta here.”

“On our way,” he replied to Hunter.

“Our?”

He didn’t bother to reply; the squad would see them soon enough.

“Ship,” she moaned. “Back to my ship.” The pained, needy sound of her voice stirred something in him briefly before he could push it aside.

“That shuttle’s not going anywhere anymore,” he drawled as they came to a stop nearby the Marauder. He swung himself off the speeder bike and helped the woman to her feet, wrapping one of her arms over his shoulders and supporting her at the waist. The blaster bolt had skimmed her at the hip, and his fingertips just barely brushed the flesh at the edge of her wound, laid bare by the scorched tear in her clothing. He twitched for a moment at the unexpected feel of her, soft and round.

She cried out in pain, pushing back at him. “Hands off,” she managed to pant out.

“Fine.” He dropped her unceremoniously, stalking off toward the ramp of the Marauder. “Stay here, for all I care.”

“Crosshair, who is that?” Hunter demanded from the top of the ramp as he pushed past him.

“I don’t know.” He crossed his arms, scowling petulantly back at the woman as she made a painful effort to rise to her knees in the dirt. “Imperials were after her.”

“Well, we can’t just leave her here,” the Sergeant growled with frustration. “Wrecker, get her on board.”

“Not to worry, lil’ lady,” Wrecker declared exuberantly as he scooped the woman up into his arms. She was too out-of-it to do anything more than slap, halfheartedly, at his chest plate as he brought her onboard. “We’ll take good care of ya.”

Crosshair kept the scowl plastered to his face, inserting a toothpick between his lips as the ship took off, only minutes passing by before they left the atmosphere. Wrecker had laid the woman down on the bench opposite, where she continued stirring faintly. Once they had entered hyperspace, Tech exited the cockpit, approaching the woman so he could examine her.

“What happened?” he demanded matter-of-factly, scanning her vitals and pulling equipment from their medical kit.

“She was in an Imperial shuttle. She crashed. Troopers came. She got shot,” Crosshair narrated in his unaffected manner.

“How many times?”

Tech looked more concerned than Crosshair had expected. His response was tinged vaguely with surprise. “Only once.”

His brother shook his head. He gestured to the nasty wound at her hip that he was in the process of disinfecting and treating. “This is only the most recent of her injuries.” Tech’s hands moved deftly, efficiently, while he continued. “It appears that she sustained a mild concussion in the crash, as well as… one additional blaster bolt to the leg, and bruising to her ribs. Perhaps in the process of hijacking the shuttle.”

Crosshair could only shrug as he watched Tech continue to work. With her prior injuries, he was surprised she had lasted against the troopers as long as she had.

“You shouldn’t have dropped her,” Hunter chastised him, arms crossed over his chest.

“She told me to,” he sneered in response. “She’s lucky I didn’t just let them kill her.”

“Yeah…so why didn’t you?” The question came from Wrecker, but the rest of the squad turned their eyes to him to await his answer, even Echo swiveling around in the cockpit to stare at him. Of all of them, Crosshair was the least likely to pick up a stray.

He shrugged, saved from having to explain further by the woman’s groans as she fully came to, her eyes fluttering open. She shifted her gaze to each of them in turn, taking in their gear, their unruly appearances, their serious expressions. For a moment, as she came more fully out of consciousness and looked into his eyes, he actually thought how sweet she looked. Gentle, even.

“Who the kriff are you?” she snarled.

[sunshinesdaydream]

Okay so here I am, congrats Crosswhores I’m converted… for now. So converted that before I left for work I started my first /reader fic.

And, yeah I might finish that on my lunch or after work. So either around midnight or sometime tomorrow.

So I guess message me, ask, or comment to get on that tag list.

[greenlyren12]

Repairs - Crosshair x GN!Reader

word count: 2.2k

Summary: Set after Crosshair's rescue from the platform, reader is on a mission to help him heal.

A/N:

Hello, my plan for this is to be a 2 parter, so expect an update soon. My whole idea for this fic was to give crossy a friend and some comfort, we all need it after that episode. As always, feedback is greatly appreciated, have a nice day/night :)

The Empire had clasped its ugly claws around your planet years ago. Your parents had witnessed it all, in the start – the Separatists and now Palpatine’s dictatorship. Being born into it, you knew nothing of the outside worlds. Dreaming seemed unallowed for you. All labor done on the planet was for feeding the fat bellies of imperials and fueling their death ships.

Choice was never an option, nor was peace, but it went down to two paths for everyone – arduous physical work or the medical field. Everyone from janitors to high ranking pilots was worked to death and by decision, it was your job to fix them up.

Working in rehabilitation was dispiriting, some of the sights you were a witness to, you’d never stop having nightmares about. It was plain and simple, everyone was a cog in their machine, therefore expandable. Taking care of all kinds of people helped you make peace with yourself a little. You had seen it all, from twi’leks with missing parts of their lekkus to humans who could not do anything by themselves anymore.

That was your everyday, drowning in patients in the hopes of achieving something good.

***

Today was nothing unusual, though you had a new patient coming. Sitting in a chair in front of the door, you waited for his arrival. With crossed legs and a perplexed look on your face, you read his records on your datapad. One finger tapping the metal handle of the chair, to say you were interested would be an understatement.

It was heartbreaking,

All empire documentation was devoid of any kind of emotion, so you had a knack for sensing the real situation. Usually, all clone cases made your heart twist in pain, but this in particular was tragic. The creation of the bred for war only soldiers was deplorable.

As you were reading about his brothers’ desertion, a dark figure entered. Looking up with heavy eyelids from the lack of sleep, your gaze met his. Your first thought was that he was beautiful, all clones were, but he was different. The man in front of you was lithe and tall, but there was something twisted inside of him. As if the air around him sizzled with tension. His shoulders fell heavy, though his copper eyes contrasted his gloomy nature. A dark gash painted the right side of his head and bellow, on his eye laid a crosshair tattoo.

He looked different from the kept records photos, his silver locks were missing and he looked sadder, if it were more possible.

Not wanting to keep him at the entrance, you stood up, carefully approaching him. The clone seemed perpetually on edge, so taking very careful steps, as if to not disturb him, you stood in front of him.

“Good morning, sir.” You happily chimed.

The man eyed you, head to toe, with a very angry look. The scowl he apparently always wore deepened and he said nothing. Awkward silence was let to drown the room. You gave him an unamused look, that was rude for no reason.

“Follow me.” Annoyance laced in your tone, you avoided his eye.

You led him to the countertop where you kept your track records, physical evaluations were always first. The work assigned to you would not be a lot, reading of what he went through on that platform, the mental rehabilitation would be a lot more taxing.

He moved like a feline, but also very rigid. Every move the clone made was deliberate and thought through, a soldier's preciseness always put you on edge.

“Put your arms up please.” You requested, as if you were the one being evaluated, his stare burned holes in your body.

The man in front of you put his arms up and looked dead in front, unmoving like a statue, like he was scared to show he was breathing.

Always keeping a check on his face, scared of seeing it contort with anger again, you carefully started examining his left hand.

“Do you sleep well, CT-9904?”

You hated referring to them by their numbers, but this was protocol and the clone had already stated his dislike of being here.

“Do you?” He said with all of the offense he could muster, eyebrows knitting, mouth turning downside.

Getting caught off guard by his insolence you stopped checking his arm and looked at him questioningly. The nerve of this guy. The answer to your question laid under his eyes, it was clear.

Who would be able to sleep after being left for dead?

You had seen enough faces to know, he was tormented. After all, this was standard procedure and making conversation made the patients feel better, apparently not this one.

Switching to his right arm and keeping your composure you asked him nicely.

“What is your name?” Offering him a sweet smile.

For the first time you saw a different emotion from anger on his face. Surprisement was clear on his features for a good second, then he put the mask back on. If he had to be frank with himself, no one had acknowledged his existence in so long, let alone ask him for his name.

“Crosshair.” The sniper, apparently, said with mouth forming a tight line, gazing curiously at you now.

Looking at his right eye you snorted.

“Bright one, aren’t you.” You said while shaking your head and then you felt a fracture on his palm.

The pressure should’ve made him flinch or at least wince but he was cold as a stone.

“You’re not on the battlefield anymore, I’m here to help you.” You said sadly while holding his index finger, searching for something in his eyes.

“I don’t need your help.” Crosshair venomously bit, never breaking eye contact.

You started to understand the game he was playing, and two could play that game.

“Your officer seems to think differently.”

“Look, there is clearly something wrong with your palm,” You said while writing down his injuries on your datapad.

“I know it hurts, I’m not going to twist it if you show any kind of emotion, if you don’t keep testing me that’s it.” You looked at him with a smile.

“Noted.” Crosshair said with the slightest tint of amusement.

Feeling proud of getting the littlest smile off him, you placed your datapad on the counter next to you.

“I have a proposition.” You requested after eyeing him carefully.

Crosshair grunted a hm and let you finish, while crossing his arms in front of him, cocking his hip. He was very alluring, if you forgot his off-putting demeanor.

“My schedule for today is to get you moving your body, but you seem very off on me helping you and If I don’t do my job, I will get in trouble. So why don’t you follow my lead and I’ll just watch from here, marksman? 

Crosshair weighed his options, thinking, he decided this was the best course.

“Okay.” The sniper grumbled.

You sat on a chair next to the counter, putting your head on your palm and intently observing him, even if he was a pain in the ass, his presence was a breath of fresh air.

You spent the next 30 minutes explaining exercises to him and, surprisingly, he followed every instruction.

Crosshair was stretching his shoulders now.

“Can I ask anything about your life?” You playfully asked him, already knowing the answer, cocking your head to the side waiting for an answer.

“No.” The clone almost cut you mid sentences as he bent down to his toes.

“When did you get the injury on your head?”

Crosshair shot you such a ferocious look you almost fell down your chair. Putting your hands in one another for some type of comfort you shot him a sorry look.

“I’m sorry for what happened.” You truthfully said to the dejected clone.

“I don’t need your pity.” He didn’t look you in the eye now.

“But I do pity you, and you do need someone’s pity, what happened to you was awful. I’m sure you did not deserve it, I’m sorry.” It was your job to comfort people but this was genuine.

For all of Crosshair’s silence, he was very easy to read. You think he understood you, and he graced you with a hm.

“Are you eating well?” You tried to lighten the mood.

“Have you seen the food in the mess?” Crosshair rhetorically asked you.

“Fair point, I can bring you something from home next time.”

***

Crosshair remained in your care for the next 3 months. You reread his file multiple times. Truthfully, you teared up while reading it the last time, you were sure he had no friends now. You didn’t want to admit it to yourself but you anticipated his visits and he was showing progress. He somehow became nice company, letting his guard down, he always knew what to say.

It was just a speculation on your part but he really did have no one. Crosshair was out of commission and he was useless to the Empire, he missed his brothers now more than ever. Everyday was the same lonely pit and he could not bear it anymore. After the second week he couldn’t sleep anymore, night terrors. Everyone avoided him, except for you. You seemed to have an interest in him for a reason he could not fathom, and you genuinely enjoyed spending time with him. So he frequented your office as much as he could, it wasn’t like he had anything else to do.

Over time he let you touch him, he felt like a boy again but it was beyond him, he was so alone.

“Can you show me how to do this?” Crosshair almost seductively requested.

He took you by surprise, he knew the exercise by heart, he wanted you to touch him. Over time you practiced manners together, if he wanted to be a functioning member of society he had to let the attitude go. That, of course, never happened, but he became softer and nicer. He started saying please and thank you, little did you know he only did it for you. He loved your gratification and you loved praising him, only you deserved that side of him in his eyes.

“Manners, sniper.” You joyfully said while approaching him.

“Please.” He genuinely asked.

“Are you finally going to let me do my job?”

“Happy, doc?” He smiled at you, a rare sight.

A totally professional setting could not be more intimate, Crosshair was extremely closed off and he let you inside his space, to guide him. You closed the space between each other and gingerly guided his arm up while pressing a palm on the small of his back. You felt every breath he took, slow and careful but his heart was pounding. His clear anxiousness got you nervous as well and you stumbled on his foot. Completely towering over you, he helped you regain your footing.

“You getting nervous?” He said with a devilish smile.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Cross.” You replied while putting a distance between the two of you.

“I know a liar when I see one, cyare.”

He started calling you that about two weeks ago. You had no idea what the nickname meant and he refused to grace you with an explanation, so you figured the worst.

“Don’t get on my bad side, lanky.” You teased him while going for your papers.

***

You dreaded today, it was Crosshair’s last appointed visit. Which meant he would not need you anymore, he wouldn’t be obliged to visit. It made something inside you twist in agony, you’d miss him. He would be assigned missions again and he would be busy.

He could die.

You swatted that thought out of your mind and entered the rehabilitation room. A little bit after that he entered as well. Both of you were clearly feeling down. You sat expectantly on your chair and waited for him to start his warm up but he stilled.

Offering you a palm Crosshair spoke to you.

“Want to do this together?” For the first time he was unsure of himself in front of you, but he craved you and your touch.

Your gaze widened and you smiled.

“I would love to.”

You spent the entire session glued to each other, helping him and guiding him. Being a part of his healing process, you joked around together and he graced you with a quiet laugh for the first time. You were truly happy for a while.

He was still the same bruised clone that entered your room 3 months ago but something had shifted in him. A different kind of glint sparkled in his brown eyes now. It made your heart ache, you didn’t want to lose him.

Being done with everything you let go of him but remained close, looking in his eyes you just stayed. Crosshair closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to your own, your breath hitched and you melted by his innocent touch. You caressed his bad arm and just stayed like this for a while. Pulling back, you gave him the sweetest smile you could, no words were exchanged and none were needed to.

You said your goodbyes.

“If anything hurts again, you come to me, you hear me, do not suffer in silence.”

He gave you a melancholic look and turned around to leave. Stalling on the entrance he looked back at you.

“I got burned after my brothers deserted.” Crosshair finally answered your question and left out the door.

[mystarwarsthoughts]

Bad Batch Fan Art...and some fan fiction!

So….remember about a month ago I said I was working on a site where I could put some of my fan fiction and original fiction? Well, I’ve had some technical difficulties with the site (ugh, I hate starting a new blog; it’s like I totally forgot how I managed to create this one, lol). But fear not, I posted the fan fiction stories on Archive of Our Own, so you can still read them if you want to.…

[skellymom]

"Cup Of Caf"

The Bad Batch CROSSHAIR One Shot

Crosshair x NON GENDERED Reader (PLEASE put YOURSELF into this story! <3)

Background: Crosshair makes it to Pabu with all of his brothers and sister. Will he open himself up to another? What's his future there?

Word Count: 2.1K

Warning: Really none. This is sweetness, some angsty fluff, and character growth. Purposely wrote this piece for ANY reader! You can take this tale as friendship or the start of a blossoming love relationship. And, I purposely wrote NO GENDER/NO SPECIFIC SEXUALITY/POSSIBLY EVEN AGENDER into this story. It's about healing, sharing, growing, and decisions at one of many crossroads in life. Sometimes it's painful, but growth can be.

This One Shot is dedicated to Crosshair Fans, those of you struggling with hard decisions in life, loneliness, and to the amazing @lightspringrain whose art was one of my inspirations for this story.

(Her Etsy shop: https://www.etsy.com/shop/LightSpringRain Just placed my order for the holidays!

(Credit: Dividers by the talented @saradika)

The leaves of the Cascade Tree rippled lazily in the ocean breeze.  Its boughs lifted just enough to reveal a man with a scarred head sitting under its canopy at the picnic table. 

You were surprised to see someone sitting there at... “your” table.  Not really yours, but no one else ever came down this far from the cliffs to watch the surf foam and roil against the shores of Pabu.  Every morning walking down to enjoy your cup of caf before starting the day.  Today, you were testing out a new mug, fresh off the pottery wheel: Jet black clay with metallic silver phases of the moon depicted in striking detail across its surface.  Debated selling this piece, hardly ever keeping anything for yourself. 

The man’s back was facing you at quiet approach.  He side-eyed you suspiciously, scowling.  Immediately recognized him as the newcomer to the island that arrived with his brothers and one sister.  Phee Genoa gushed about the one named, “Tech”.  She called him “Brown Eyes”.  This was the “Grumpy Brother” and was already gaining a reputation as anti-social. 

“Uh...hi.” 

Silence and unchanging side-eye.  He didn’t move from the spot and clearly wanted to be left alone. 

“Ok, leaving.” 

No reply.  He turned back around to stare at the crashing surf. 

The next morning you arrived with your fully vetted new mug of caf to find...The Grumpy Man back in “your” spot. 

Kriff...what to do?  This was awkward.  While feeling rather put out and wanting to sit alone, you kind of felt for the guy.  The gossip around town was he had been through a lot before arriving in Pabu. 

Looking down at the untouched cup of caf:  How many people, yourself included, came to this planet looking for solace and safety?  How many of the residents of Pabu arrived with baggage before they healed and found community here?  How long did it take to be comfortable with others again? 

Your heart went out to the man all by himself sitting there.  It was an amazing view and perfect place to be alone. 

He turned, almost like he had heard your brain humming.  Again, scowling over his shoulder.  You stepped closer, but he didn’t budge and kept the suspicious side-eye.  You approached the table and set the steaming mug next to him. 

He seemed briefly surprised, with his features softening slightly. 

“Good morning, have a fresh cup on me.” 

You awkwardly walked away, leaving him alone with the caf.  Heart hammering in your chest.  

After closing the pottery studio, you decided to stop by “your” spot on the way home.  The Grumpy Man was gone, but the mug was in the same position you left it.  You assumed he thought it a weird gesture and refused to touch the mug.  But you realized the coffee was gone and there was something in the bottom of the mug.  Turning it upside down, a seashell fell out.  A very pretty one too. It brought a smile to your face. 

Next morning, you looked forward to engaging with Grumpy Man again.  The black and silver mug was washed and filled with hot caf for him.  Stopping at the local bakery you purchased a large cinnamon pastry on the way. 

Grumpy was there.  He didn’t turn when approached.  You set the mug with the pastry perched on top of it next to him. 

“Enjoy.” Walking away. 

“Did you like it?”  His voice was low, raspy, snakelike. 

“What?”  Stopping in your tracks and turning slightly to answer.  “Oh...yes.  Thank you.” 

“Hmmm...” 

That was all.  He said no more and kept his eyes on the crashing surf. 

You left and walked onward to the studio. 

After close, you walked back to retrieve the mug.  It was empty of coffee and now and contained freshly picked flowers. 

This carried on for several weeks.  Every morning you brought him fresh caf and something to eat.  After all, he was skin and bones.  Every day something different: a fat muffin, breakfast sandwich, fruit, grain-meal with honey, meats, cheeses, brunch cookies.  It was a culinary journey of Pabu, as you picked up things from local shops, or even threw together items from memory of family recipes.   

It was almost an obsession to keep this man guessing the food he would be eating.  Local shopkeepers noticed you out and about more, enquiring about your sudden social spree.  Tongues were starting to wag on the island.  You didn’t pay attention to gossip and could care less.   

Grumpy seemed to have a decent appetite.  You were quite sure he was indeed consuming the food. Of course, he could have thrown it down the ravine to the fish and sea birds, and you would be none the wiser.  It was obviously evident his man was thriving as he filled out, less bony, skin no longer a sickly pallor, and his hair was growing back.  Hair as silver as the moon. 

Every evening he would leave something in the mug as a gift.  An unspoken thanks for your kindness: 

The split egg of a sea bird, a marine fossil stone, polished sea glass, a cascade tree seed, feathers, bleached bones, a preserved Pabu Butterfly with striking iridescent wings.  He even left odd items that suggested a sense of humor.  The persnickety land crab attempting to fight you for the mug as its new home. The small octopus bobbing in the salt water filled cup...who inked you in the face. 

Every day was a welcome surprise.  

You sat the mug and Meiloorun next to Grumpy. There were two covered plates on the table. 

He turned around to look you square in the eye.  “Sit with me.”  It wasn’t a question, but not an order either.  “Please.” 

This was surprising and you settled in next to Grumpy on the bench. 

He slid over a plate and uncovered it: Two stacked grain cakes with a whipped dairy smile and two berry eyes.  They were doused in rainbow candy sprinkles, sitting in a huge amount of sugary syrup. 

“Wow...uh.  I didn’t take you for a happy face kinda guy.”  Suddenly regretting the remark and holding your breath. 

He rolled his eyes and exhaled. “My sister made them.  SOMEONE in town tipped her off that I’m not alone during my ‘Alone Time’.” 

You burst out laughing.  How could you not? 

“Gets better.”  He uncovered the second plate: Two cooked sea bird eggs sunny side up with strips of cooked meat centered below them.  The “food face” was doused in ketchup to resemble a bullet hole to the head hemorrhaging blood.  “I’m more on board with this design.” 

You howled with laughter.  Grumpy cracked a small smile. 

“YOUR sister did THIS???  THAT innocent child?” 

“Mhm...” He snickered.  “Never.  She breathes and farts rainbows.  This is my brother's masterpiece.” 

The rainbow remark had you roaring again.  Wiping away tears.  His delivery was so unexpected.   

He handed you a fork.  Now that ALL his face was visible, you noticed the tattoo. 

He produced his own fork.  “Let's stab out the eyes and feast upon their faces.” 

“Wait!”  You lifted the mug of caf.  “First, we must drink the blood of our enemies and share the names of the victors.”  You were feeling giddy now...never considered maybe taking this Imagined Breakfast Massacre too seriously. 

It didn’t seem to matter to Grumpy.  In fact, he was smiling.  

“Y/N” You took a healthy sip of the caf and passed the mug to him. 

“Crosshair” He gulped the caf, giving you a mischievous look. 

From that morning on you brought the cup of caf to share and HE brought the food.  His sister and brother would cook or bake for Crosshair and “his friend”.  According to him, they were overjoyed that he had not been spending his quiet days alone.  Then started incorporating his own ideas into the recipes.  Crosshair would regale you with “Tales of the Kitchen” interactions with him and his siblings as they cooked.  He shared secret ingredients, always asked your opinion on the recipes, and how they could be improved. 

However, after the food was eaten and the chatter died he would stare wistfully at the ocean.  Deep in thought, mulling over something.  You would ask and he would deflect with another topic.  Not wanting to push things, you let it go. 

This sharing of food and caf carried on for several months.  Sometimes you were able to get bits of information out of him:  He was a military man before coming to Pabu and was in a special highly trained squad.  You asked about his mother and father.  He shrugged and said his parentage didn’t matter and that only his sister and brothers were important.  You carefully asked about the scar on the right side of his head, now fully covered with thick, unruly silver hair.  He glossed over it as an injury and no big deal.  He deflected by asking you about yourself.  This man was perfectly happy to talk less and hear you speak more.  He listened intently and threw brief tidbits in and sometimes his signature “Mmhmm.” 

Still, he seemed haunted by something and absolutely refused to talk about it.  You sensed it never really left his mind and constantly grappled with something deep.  Something he regretted with all his being. 

You both sat at the table watching the surf, taking turns sipping from the mug of caf.  The breakfast platter was eaten and empty.  He was unusually quiet.   

Then he finally spoke. “I’m leaving Pabu.” 

“What?”  You, shocked. It seemed so sudden.  “Why???” 

“I...”  He sighed and looked down at the table.  “Need to make amends for certain...things.”  His expression was one of thinly veiled shame. 

“Don’t know what to say...” Struggling for words.  “How long will you be gone?” 

“I’m not coming back.”  His brows furrowed sadly.  There was a lot of emotion, and you could see the difficulty he had expressing it. 

Speechless, you stared ahead and watched the surf pull away from the shoreline.  There would be no more shared caf and breakfasts with this man.  The days of looking forward with anticipation to the mornings would end. 

You both sat for some time in silence, listening to the waves.  In...out...in...out...as if the island was breathing. 

Finally, you felt his gaze.  Turning to meet the saddest, deepest brown eyes.  Such a pitiful yet touching display that hit you even harder in the gut. 

“I’m...grateful to have shared the time we had together.  I don’t say that lightly.”  His hand slowly advanced palm up on the table begging to be joined with another. 

You slid your hand in his and squeezed.  “I’ll miss you.”  Tears forming in your eyes. 

He squeezed back, nodded, then let go.  Getting up from the table he whispered “Goodbye.”  

“Take this!  I made it for you...even if I hadn’t known it yet.”  You handed him the empty mug. 

He took it with a look of surprise.  Then he turned away before you could see the tears in his eyes. 

But you saw them.  You will never forget that.   

Then he was gone.   

You sat the rest of the day listening to the ocean breathe.  Watching the sun make its progression across the sky, finally dipping below the horizon.  You walked home under the stars of Pabu...one of them a low fast-moving light: A ship departing the planet. 

Sleep was fretful.  Finally frustrated with tossing and turning, you got up, dressed and walked to the studio.  Firing up the lights, set the holo on your favorite “create playlist”, and sitting down at the potter’s wheel.  Tonight, there would be a new design even if it meant staying up all night to mold, dry, glaze, and fire this creation.  You threw yourself into the task, singing, and occasionally wiping away a stray tear. 

The sun rose over Pabu.  You washed out the new creation: A mug of blazing crimson red, raised relief of the sun, with a magnificent metallic gold corona.  Fresh caf brewed in the studio.  You poured it steaming hot into the mug.  Then closed the studio for the day, leaving a message in the window when it would reopen, and proceeded down to “your” table. 

You expected to be alone once again...however...there was someone sitting under the Cascade Tree. 

She was blond, dark skinned and looked to be a young teenager.  You could tell she had been crying. 

“Hello?” 

“Sorry...Just wanted some privacy.  My brother would come here to sit and be alone.”  She moved to get up. 

“You don’t have to leave.  Please stay.” 

She spied the mug in your hand, and the pieces fell into place. 

“You’re Y/N!” Her eyes widened.  “He talked about you a LOT.  He’s never done that with anyone before.” 

Warm intense feelings welled up inside you.  They spilled out across your face in a smile. 

“What’s your name?” 

“Omega.” 

You set the mug of caf down in front of her. 

“Well Omega, looks like I made this for you...even though I hadn’t known it yet.” 

PLEASE like, comment, and/or REBLOG!

[techs-goggles9902]

TBB Modern AU

Part I

Learning about the batch. Gonky is discovered 🙏🏻 Fives is visited.

Part II

Part III

(Ongoing so idk how many parts there will be)

@ithillia

My AU backstory I made in August of 2023