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zepskies · 3 days

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Every Second Counts - Part 3

Pairing: Russell Shaw x F. Reader

Summary: One date with your best friend’s brother leaves you wanting more, even though his questionable job and vagabond lifestyle make you want to guard your heart. When your brother falls into trouble, however, Russell is the one you trust to help you find him.

AN: *Deep breaths* Are you ready? 😉

Word Count: 4.4K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, protective Russell, perilous situations, violence, character death, and another (literal) cliffhanger…

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Part 3: "Timer Starts Now"

As he drove away from the museum, Colter could see it even more clearly.

“You like her,” he said, giving his older brother a smile.

Russell glanced at him, then rolled his eyes.

“Focus on the road,” he said.

“Just admit it. You like her,” Colter smirked. “And the fact that she called you for help isn’t a coincidence.”

Russell made a sound of annoyance and shook his head. At this point, he knew Colter wasn’t going to drop the subject.

“All right, we went out on one date,” Russell held up a finger. “It was fun, but we agreed that I’m just not relationship material.”

Colter sobered at that, at the wry tone of his voice. It sounded like Russell liked you even more than he was willing to admit.

“Do you have a timeline on that brewery?” Colter asked.

Russell chuckled humorlessly. “Yeah, I’m just a few dollars short on that one.”

He stared out the window for a while, but he eventually turned back to his brother.

“She called me because her brother’s a vet. Because I know what it’s like to deal with the assimilation process, coming back to civilian life. Trying to figure out where you belong, you know?” he said.

“You think you’ve assimilated?” Colter asked.

Russell shrugged. “Best I know how, anyway.”

“You can’t really call yourself a civilian though, can you?” Colter pointed out.

Russell shot him a look. “Yeah well, neither can you, Colt.”

That created a kind of tension in the car. A call from Bobby, Colter’s analyst, mercifully broke the silence. He’d gotten some useful information on Eddie Mendez, the man Charlie was supposedly working with, or for.

“Well, he’s not the most upstanding citizen,” Bobby said. “He’s a cocaine dealer by trade. Other fun items on his rap sheet include illegal gun possession, theft, and domestic violence.”

“All right, thanks, Bobby,” Colter said.

Great, Russell shook his head. Just what had your brother gotten himself into?

They were getting closer to the bar, and it mentally brought him back to his date with you.

Okay, maybe he did like you. But he also respected and understood your reasons for cutting things short that night. Usually, he was okay with being in a new town every other week, the occasional one-night stands, the skeevy motel rooms and the fast food. It was all with a goal in mind, and that made the hustle easier.

He’d started to wonder though, what it would be like to set down roots somewhere. Doug made it work with his wife and still did his contract work, even if there were some major pros and cons to that too…

Russell was only broken out of his thoughts when he got a call himself, from Dory. He answered it and held the phone to his ear.

“Hey, D. What’s up?” he asked.

“Russell, something’s wrong,” she said. Her voice was panicked.

He frowned, his brows furrowing. “What? What happened?”

The more he listened, the more his eyes widened in shock. He looked to his brother.

“Colter, turn around. Now.”

Russell and Colter arrived back at your house, where Dory was parked out front. She came out of the safety of her car when she saw them. Russell got to her first. He laid a hand on her shoulder in the driveway.

“What happened?” he asked.

She tearfully explained that she found your purse in the bushes, but your phone was missing. She had just picked up your call when it suddenly cut off.

“But I heard her scream,” Dory said, with a stifled breath.

Russell’s mood darkened in response, and the longer he took in the scene. He looked over at Colter, who also wore a frown.

The tracker examined your car and driveway first. Already he found signs of struggle. He noticed a couple pieces of dark glass on the pavement, and when he scrutinized his surroundings further, he picked your broken phone out of the grass. The screen was cracked beyond repair.

Next, he climbed the three short steps of the porch, up to the front door of the house. There were marks on the doorknob, likely scratched by a key. He spotted the Ring Camera next.

Good. He took it right off the wall.

“Do you have her keys there?” he asked his sister. Dory handed them to him and he let himself in. “Let’s see what we’re dealing with.”

The three of them entered your house and found it dark and empty. Colter switched the lights on and got to work, after going back to grab his laptop from the car.

Russell stayed with his sister on the couch, a supportive hand on her back. He tried to shove his anger and upset deeper below the surface.

Meanwhile, Colter had Bobby retrieve the data from the camera. Within a few minutes, he sent Colter a video file, which Colter then played on his laptop. The three of them watched you approach the door.

Someone with a man’s build grabbed you from behind, wearing dark clothes and a mask that obscured his face. You screamed and tried to fight, but the man dragged you away as you struggled.

Russell’s frown deepened as his body tensed with anger again, his jaw ticking as it clenched. And then came the self-loathing.

Rookie fucking move. Should’ve made sure she got home safe, he thought. Better yet, should’ve kept her with me.

Dory covered her trembling mouth and dissolved into tears. Russell tucked her against his side, rubbing her arm. Colter laid a hand on her shoulder as well, but he continued to analyze the footage. He couldn’t make out the attacker’s face with the mask he was wearing, but Colter saw a blue sedan in the background. It peeled off after you were hauled off-screen.

“Why would they take her? What the hell is Charlie into?” Dory said. She sniffled and wiped at her face.

“To keep her quiet after she started digging into his disappearance, possibly. Or for leverage against him,” Colter said, leveling her with honesty. “Someone doesn’t want us to find Charlie. I’m betting it’s whoever he’s working for.”

He thought it was safer if he didn’t tell his sister exactly who Charlie’s employer was.

Dory shook her head in worry. “We need to call the police.”

Colter shared a grim look with his brother. He knew Russell understood the score here.

“If we get the police involved, it’s at least a 50% chance that whoever has her and Charlie…will kill both of them,” Colter said. Dory sucked in a trembling breath.

“Our best bet is to keep digging,” Colter said.

“Let’s go,” Russell said, nodding at him. He stood, parting from his sister with a hand squeezing her shoulder.

“Where are you going?” Dory asked. She got up to her feet along with her brothers.

“Howley’s. It’s our only lead on Charlie’s employer,” Colter replied.

“Okay, but wait—” Dory reached out for Russell’s arm. It was a reflex as she tried to wrap her mind around all of this.

Russell grasped her shoulders gently enough, but he made sure she saw the sense of urgency in his eyes.

“We don’t have time,” he said. “From here on out, every second counts.”

After a beat, Dory nodded in acceptance. She let go of his jacket.

“Okay, keep me updated.”

“Will do,” he said, and he swiftly followed Colter out the door.

The brothers drove in silence to the bar. Colter noted his brother’s tension, and the grim set to his jaw.

“Hey,” Colter said, earning Russell’s attention. Colter gave him a reassuring look. “We’re gonna find her. We’ll find both of them.”

Russell exhaled. “Yeah.”

Oh, he knew he’d find you eventually, and your brother. He just didn’t want to think about how he might find you.

Once they got back to Howley’s, they started by questioning the bartender about Eddie Mendez.

“He’s not here. But that’s a couple of his friends over there,” the bartender said. He pointed them in the direction of a couple of guys drinking near the back. Three of them were sitting at a table playing cards.

Russell recognized two of them. One was the same guy who made the mistake of hassling you by the pool table. He’d gotten a bloody nose for his trouble. Russell smirked at the memory.

“Pete, make a fucking move already,” said one of the guy’s buddies.

Russell caught it as he and Colter approached them. This time, Pete seemed at least somewhat sober, even with his second beer in hand. Another bottle sat empty beside his arm.

“Hey, fellas,” Russell greeted the table. “Little Blackjack, little booze. Looks like a good night you’re having.”

“Do I know you?” Pete asked. His face showed a spark of recognition when he took in Russell.

“Well, you’re about to. We’re looking for one of your friends, Eddie,” he replied.

Pete set his beer down on the table. Predictably, he crossed his arms and closed up.

“I don’t know no Eddie.”

Russell resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“I realize it’s hard for you, but don’t be dumb. Eddie Mendez,” he pressed.

Pete glanced at his friends, then he stood from the table, drawing himself to his full height. He was a bit bigger than Russell, but a beer gut wasn’t everything.

Russell seized up the man in front of him with an almost lazy grin. By contrast, his eyes were sharp, betraying his true thoughts.

“Now remember. Whatever you start, I’m gonna damn well finish,” he said.

That sure ignited Pete’s memory. He seemed to be remembering your smaller fist nearly breaking his nose. His face fell with an angry frown. Russell smirked.

Colter laid a warning hand on his brother’s arm.

“We’re not looking for trouble. We’re just trying to find someone Eddie might know. Charlie,” Colter said. “Do you know him?”

“No, I don’t,” Pete claimed.

“Like you didn’t know Eddie?” Colter replied, raising a brow. “Where can we find him?”

“Now you are looking for trouble,” Pete spat. “Fuck off, Timberlake.”

Just then, Colter’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He took it out and saw a text from Dory, asking for an update. He ignored the message for now and put his phone away.

Hearing a commotion, he quickly looked up in time to realize that Russell had wrangled Pete into a stronghold with his arm behind his back and had slammed him onto the table. Drinks and bottles rattled and spilled; playing cards fell to the floor. Pete’s friends got up with angry, threatening gaits.

“I think you can point us in the right direction before I break this meaty arm of yours. How about that?” Russell said.

“Hey! No fighting!” the bartender called from the front. “Take that shit outside.”

Colter internally sighed, but he’d have to roll with this, even though this wasn’t how he’d wanted to play it.

“I wouldn’t test him,” Colter advised. “That’s gonna be a bad break. You got good health insurance, Pete? You’ll probably need surgery, expensive bills, a little physical therapy, a few months of recovery time.”

Pete seemed to weigh Colter’s logic, albeit with an angry huff. He waved off his friends and caught his breath while pinned against the table.

“I can’t talk to you,” he said. “I’ll get myself killed.”

“I’d worry more about your odds right now, Pete,” Russell said. He tightened his twisted hold on the man’s arm, earning a strangled sound of pain.

Colter weighed the options here in record time, and he came to a decision. He grasped Russell’s arm firmly.

“Let him go,” he said.

Russell gave him a look of disbelief. “Colt?”

Colter implored him with his eyes. Trust me.

After a few more seconds, Russell’s lips pursed, but he let the guy go.

“Ah, fuck,” Pete muttered. After he was able to straighten up, he rubbed his aching arm and shot them both a red-faced glare.

Colter steered his brother out of the bar before a real fight could break out. He knew it’d become a bloody mess, and they didn’t have time for a night stay in a county jail cell this time.

“You better have a damn plan,” Russell whispered, as they neared the front doors of the bar.

“You know I do,” Colter replied.

They later sat in his truck while it was still turned off. Just waiting in silence.

A few minutes went by before the back doors of the bar opened to Pete and his gaggle of delinquent friends. As Colter suspected, one of them made a call. It lasted no more than a couple of minutes. Then, they piled into Pete’s car and pulled out of the parking lot.

Colter started up his own car, and he followed them.

You were led into what sounded like a warehouse. You couldn’t know for sure with this musty bag over your head and your wrists bound together with zip ties, but you clenched your teeth and tried to stop sniffling. Your fear made your heart pump fast and loud in your ears.

Voices echoed around you, arguing, yelling about shipments. You were shoved hard to the ground, and you gasped, instinctively throwing your hands out when your knees hit the hard cement.

“No…”

That voice was all too familiar.

The bag was finally ripped off your head, the edge of it catching in your frizzy hair. You blinked wearily at the florescent lights above, and you wiped at your tears and smudged mascara. Your breath left your lungs when you saw your brother, Charlie.

He was tied to a chair, shirtless and shoeless, beaten and bloody. Some parts of his skin even looked burned. His jeans remained, at least. But his face was hard to look at. His left eye was swollen, his lip split, his cheek cut and bloody. Both his eyes were red-rimmed, and he was sweaty and dirty, as if they’d been keeping him down here like an animal. He looked thinner too.

He stared back at you in dismay, your name falling from his lips.

You tried to scramble over to him, but someone grabbed you by the hair and yanked you back. You cried out in pain.

“Eddie stop! Don’t hurt her!” he shouted. He drew enough strength to pull at his restraints. Your hands reached back on reflex to grasp at the hand holding your hair.

“No, you did this,” Eddie said. He clicked the safety off his handgun and pointed the barrel at your head, right between the eyes. You gasped and froze where you sat.

“You couldn’t make it easy, huh? Well now, I’m making it real simple for you,” he continued. “Even more simple, now that we cut out the middleman.”

Eddie gestured to what looked like a woven potato sack laid behind Charlie’s chair, but really, that was just part of it. As your eyes scanned over, you saw the narrow shoulders of a man with a familiar dark blue blazer. It was stained red with a bloody hole carved through the back. Your breath stilled in your lungs.

Eddie glanced over at you, his lips curving. He walked over to the dead body, turned it over with his boot, and dragged off the potato sack to reveal the lifeless blue eyes of Dr. Feinman.

Your eyes widened.

You let out a blood-curdling scream that startled a pigeon out of the warehouse, from where it had been perching on a high support ledge. You leaned back on your bound hands, but you could go no further as one of Eddie’s men grabbed your shoulder, pinning you on the ground. His annoyed face told you to shut the fuck up.

Charlie grimaced and turned his face from the sight of the body. Both shame and hate filled his eyes when Eddie bent down to face him.

“Tell me where you hid the goddamn weapons,” he demanded.

Your lips trembled as new tears brimmed over and streamed down your cheeks. You’d suspected the truth, but it was different from being faced with the reality. Charlie was the one who stole from the museum. He’d likely been doing a lot worse for the past few months. And somehow, Feinman had gotten in between. He’d also paid the price.

Your brother saw your disappointment, and he accepted it. But lacking an answer, Eddie pistol whipped you in the face, earning a pained cry from you as you fell back onto the ground. You had to blink the stars out of your eyes.

After his shock wore off, Charlie’s face hardened with fury.

“Oh, don’t give me that fucking face,” Eddie said. He grabbed you by the back of the neck, startling another sharp breath from you. “If you don’t tell me what I want to know, what I did to you’ll be child’s play, compared to what I’m gonna do to her. And you’re going to watch.”

Against your will, tears filled your eyes while you stared at your brother. You were terrified, and Charlie knew it. He was scared too, but he also knew then what he had to do.

“I buried them,” he admitted.

“You buried them?” Eddie repeated. He brushed back his dark hair with the same hand that held his gun. “Ain’t that ironic. All right, where did you bury them?”

“In the national forest, less than an hour out,” Charlie replied. “But you won’t find it without me.”

Eddie shook his head on a sigh. “Of fucking course.”

He gestured to his men waiting nearby. He wordlessly gave them the order to untie your brother.

“All right, Charlie. Let’s go for a drive,” he said, and gave you a sleazy smile. “You too, sweetheart.”

He hauled you up onto your feet and kept you close to him, with a hand like a vice around your arm. God, you hated a sweethearting man.

You held your breath. You could only pray that Dory had noticed you were missing…and that Russell and Colter could find you before it was too late.

Please…

It was still dark out, but the sky was beginning to lighten when Colter pulled to the side of the road. The car they followed had stopped in front of a warehouse near an industrial downtown area. Colter spotted the blue sedan from the Ring Camera footage. It was parked out front.

With a shared nod of understanding, Colter and Russell climbed out of the truck and took the time to arm themselves properly before scoping out the warehouse.

“What does a drug cartel want with museum artifacts?” Russell remarked as they were gearing up. “That’s still not adding up for me.”

“It is odd, but maybe the idea came from Charlie,” Colter said. “He had access. Maybe he saw it as a way to buy their trust.”

“Okay, then what went wrong? Why’d they take her?” Russell replied. “I don’t know, man. Something feels off here.”

Colter nodded in agreement. “We don’t have all the pieces yet.”

But they were about to get them. They moved closer to the warehouse, with Russell heading towards a side door and Colter going around the back. They saw a few men crowded around a TV in the corner of the warehouse. Behind them were crates upon crates of what surely was product. Probably tens of thousands worth of coke.

Jesus, Russell thought. It was nothing he hadn’t seen before, but still. This was a serious operation.

Colter caught sight of a lone chair under a bright corner of the room. It was stained with sweat and blood, and some cut ropes hung from the seat. He alerted Russell to the scene with a subtle gesture of his raised gun. Russell’s face turned grim. He nodded minimally, then pointed with his eyes at the group of unsuspecting men. The brothers drew in closer.

Russell fired a shot directly into the TV screen, making it crash onto the ground. The men startled like rats, but they soon faced Russell and Colter’s guns. When one of them reached for the gun tucked in their pants, Colter aimed directly at him.

“I wouldn’t do that,” Colter warned.

“Where’s Charlie?” Russell demanded. “And his sister.”

He aimed his .45 caliber M1911 at their friend Pete, who had Cheeto stains on his shirt.

“How about you, Pete. You finally wanna share with the class, before I blow your fucking face off?!” Russell shouted.

The depths of his voice reverberated widely in the warehouse. It set the tone for things to come, if he didn’t get some cooperation.

Pete shifted on his feet, betraying his nerves. His forehead was starting to sweat too.

“They’re not here,” he admitted. “They left a while ago.”

Russell flexed his finger over the trigger of his gun.

“Tell me where,” he said.

Eddie wasn’t exactly an outdoorsy kind of guy. He kicked his boot against a tree while leaning against it.

“Fucking rock in my shoe,” he muttered angrily.

He was getting more and more frustrated with the uneven terrain (and the mosquitos) the longer the five of you trekked onwards: including you, Charlie, Eddie, and two of his men, Rick and Kevin. Both of them had guns trained on your back and Charlie’s.

“I’m sorry,” Charlie said quietly to you.

You shook your head. Disappointment didn’t even begin to cover what you were feeling as you looked at him, but at least they’d given him a shirt to cover his beaten torso. His face wasn't so lucky.

He righted you when you struggled on the gravel and loose dirt in your ankle boots. Your hands were still tied together too.

“What the hell happened to you?” you asked, as you caught your breath.

“I needed the money,” he said, though he knew it wasn’t an excuse. “I was his bodyguard.”

“He’s a drug dealer,” you snapped. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

“He was my dealer,” he admitted, though his gaze was heavy. “I’m sorry. I just couldn’t bring myself to tell you, but…a few weeks after I left rehab, I slipped. I never really did quit. Just got better at hiding it.”

You let out a sharp breath, and tried to blink past your tears. Another disappointment, another heartbreak for the books.

“But when he offered me a job to pay off what I owed, he wanted insurance that I’d stick around. To prove myself,” Charlie explained. “He came up with the idea to rob the museum.”

“Why was Dr. Feinman involved? Did he find out?” you asked.

Charlie nodded with a sigh. “He caught me the first time I tried to steal the artifacts. I…I lied. Told him we planned to sell them. So instead of turning me in, he wanted to be cut into the deal.”

“What? Why?” you said. Your former boss was many things—a stuffy, self-important man chief among them—but you’d never taken him for a thief.

Charlie gave you a wry look. “Owed his second wife up to his eyeballs. Alimony’s a real bitch.”

You shook your head. That explained why Charlie hadn’t yet been a suspect in the theft. Feinman had probably helped cover Charlie’s tracks. But whatever shortcomings Feinman had, he hadn’t deserved to die like that. A shudder went through your body, remembering his lifeless eyes. You breathed out slowly and tried to rid yourself of the nightmarish image. You managed to push past that to ask your next question.

“And who chose the Native American weapons?”

Charlie’s lips pursed. He glanced over his shoulder. “He did. Thought they looked cool.”

Eddie smirked and waved his gun at him, spurring you both onward. Charlie kept walking and turned his attention back to you.

“The way I figured it, the museum shouldn’t have them anyway.”

Your lips pursed at that. You sort of saw his point there, however convoluted his justification, but putting those artifacts in the hands of a drug dealer was even worse.

“And this is so much better for them,” you said pointedly.

“That’s why I couldn’t go through with it. Tried to get out of the whole damn mess,” he said. “I know what you would’ve said to me. And I knew if I ever saw you again, I wouldn’t be able to look you in the eyes.”

Your tears welled up again, when you saw the sincerity of his gaze.

“Okay, this touching little scene is making my balls itch,” Eddie said. He grabbed Charlie’s shoulder and turned him around. “Where the fuck are we going? If you’re trying to pull something smart here, Charlie, I promise you, you’re gonna regret it.”

He cocked the safety back on his gun and pointed it at Charlie’s chest. Charlie raised slow, placating hands.

“It’s just a little further,” he promised.

“If you’re giving me the runaround—” Eddie started.

“Then what? Without me, you’ll never find it,” Charlie barked back.

Eddie’s face tightened, and he pointed the gun at you instead. You sucked in a breath.

Charlie quickly held up his bound hands again in surrender. After a beat of tension, he pointed up when he heard rushing water.

“Hear that?” he said. “I buried it on a cliff near a waterfall. We’re getting close.”

Another stretch of silence filled the clearing.

Eddie weighed Charlie’s words. When he was mollified enough, he lowered his gun away from you. At his command, Rick and Kevin kept you and your brother moving.

Charlie glanced to his right side. He realized that you all were walking near the edge of a steep hill that careened downward. Taking in a breath to center himself, he turned to you.

“I love you, you know that?” he whispered.

Your brows furrowed. You opened your mouth to reply, but you found the look in his eyes suspicious. Like he was saying goodbye.

That was when he swiftly turned. He snapped the heel of his hand into Kevin's throat and grabbed his gun while he was choking. Charlie shot him in the chest, then he clipped Rick in the shoulder.

Just as Eddie began to raise his own weapon, Charlie met your look of shock with his own determination.

He pushed you down the hill.

AN: I know, I know. Two cliffhangers in a row is cruel, but I promise we're getting to even more fun action and cathartic moments in Part 4! 😘

Next Time:

Russell called your name as he searched through the dense trees. Sunlight was beginning to filter through their leaves in dappled color on the trail. It gave him a better view ahead.

He stopped short when he saw a splatter of blood on the ground, painting the dirt and some dead leaves. A well of unease rose in his gut.

He headed toward the sound of running water, and he soon found another cliff. Just beyond it was a waterfall, and river below. Seeing no signs of life, he pulled back and continued to call your name, and all the while, pushing down his worry.

“Russell?!”

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Russell S. Tag List:

@kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007

@wincastifer @ades106 @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @roseblue373

@brianochka @branj19 @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog @globetrotter28 @charmed-asylum

@waywardxwords @deanwinchestersgirl87 @this-is-me19 @rachiem4-blog @sweettimelady

@leigh70 @clinicallydepresso @xiphoidbones @skoveu @nyotamalfoy

@kmc1989 @jackles010378 @emily-winchester @waynes-multiverse @jessjad

@my-stories-vault @deans-spinster-witch @syrma-sensei @stellasfictionalworld @ultimatecin73

@jesllianaquilesrolonsworld @pieandmonsters @lhymer1995 @taehyungxjungkookistaekook @lovelystoriesaj

@nicksalchemy1 @spnwoman @onlyangel-444 @sexyvixen7 @illicithallways

@wolkenprinzessin007 @alwaystiredandconfused @carpenterswife @cheynovak @grilledcheeseandtomato

#Timer Starts Now #Every Second Counts #Part 3 #russell shaw #tracker #russell shaw x reader #russell shaw x female reader #russell shaw x you #russell shaw fanfiction #russell shaw fanfic #dory shaw #colter shaw #jensen ackles #jensen ackles characters #tracker fanfiction #tracker cbs #russell shaw series #tracker series #zepskies writes

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lunerium · 1 day

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Remember, there's nothing wrong with shipping Sebaciel.

I've been seeing a lot of comments from the antis. They either hate on Sebaciel because of the age gap, or because "it's toxic", or because "they're such father and son". I'm here to remind all of you my Sebaciel folks, that there are several reasons why there's nothing wrong with Sebaciel.

It IS fictional. I don't care what the antis say. I don't care about their "but it's a depiction of a kid!!!" claims. Ciel is a cute anime character, that's it. Ciel is a drawing, lines and dots on a screen, a fictional depiction of a main anime character. Nothing else.

2. Sebastian is not even human. How can it be "pedophilia" if it's a demon in question? It can't be. They're even watering down the term, and that just ends up being harmful to actual victims. Because guess what? if they call everyone who ships a FICTIONAL demon and a fictional teen a PEDO, then some people will say "I don't see anything wrong with the fictional ship. Maybe pedos are not that bad". NO. Child abuse is still a very condemnable and abominable act. The fact that people are misusing the term doesn't make it any less bad. So if they really cared about real minors, they wouldn't water down the term for mere shock value.

3. Ciel doesn't need to be protected by the antis. The antis want to protect him from sexualization, or from being shipped with Sebastian. But guess who is the first person to sexualize him? YANA. The author herself, she's been sexualizing Ciel for years, and even if she hasn't made Sebaciel "canon", at the very least she doesn't care about people shipping Sebaciel or sexualizing Ciel.

4. Sebastian is a demon; he doesn't follow human morals. In fact, he even rejoices in breaking them. There's no point in being a moral police for a show where the main character is the very epitome of immorality. Would Sebastian hold back from committing such acts? no. He doesn't care. He's already marked Ciel's body with his contract and claimed his soul. He manipulates him, and he even rejoices in his suffering. How is seducing him any different from any of the above?

5. The only code Sebastian goes by is his contract with Ciel. If Ciel orders Sebastian to do him, he won't say no lmao. In any case the one getting abused would be Sebastian cause he can't consent. Neither Sebastian nor Ciel needs to be morally policed by those antis. They are both too far gone to even care.

6. Just ship whatever you like. I could go even more in-depth as to why people should be shipping Sebastian and Ciel, but it's going to get too long. Don't let the antis' comments bring you down. Their attempt at being fandom moral police in a show that's clearly aimed at Sebaciel shippers... well, that's just loser behavior.

Happy shipping!

#sebaciel #sebastian michaelis #ciel phantomhive #black butler #proship #kuroshitsuji #kuroshitsuji meta #meta #anti anti #pro fiction #proshipping #proshippers please interact #proship safe #profic #anti censorship

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markeronacomputer · 2 days

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Currently lying in bed and coming to the slow, dreadful realisation that Wiggly x Miss Holloway is actually a really fascinating idea for a crackship.

I thought of this, so now you all have to think of it too.

#hatchetfield #starkid #team starkid #lords in black #wiggly #wiggog y’rath #wiggog y’wrath #miss holloway #it’s just #if my characterisation on Wiggly is correct then they’re basically the only ones who understand each other #they both bottle up their true feelings about things based off necessity (or in Wiggly’s case what he perceives to be necessity)#but this time it’s different. it’s not like how it is with Duke or anyone else.#because Wiggly is immune to the terms of the contract.#he knows what her past is. and nothing can stop him from knowing.#Wiggly (along with his brothers) is basically the ONLY person Holloway can confide in- even if she understandably doesn’t want to at first #but then… something changes.#and for one reason or another his TRUE self is revealed to her.#not some all powerful sea beast.#not some maniacal dark god.#just a regular person who so desperately wants to believe that he has overcome a “weakness” that is ultimately just his nature.#just like her.#and something else changes. not in him- but in her.#and suddenly the almighty Wiggog Y’rath isn’t nearly as intimidating as he used to be.#he seems… *different* now that she understands him. and he’s making more of an effort to understand her too.#in fact- although she’d never say it out loud- he’s… actually kind of adorable.

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mystic-writings · 3 days

Text

closing time | robin buckley

PAIRING — robin buckley x fem!reader

SUMMARY — robin has a crush on you. what happens when you're locked in keith's office after the store closes?

WARNINGS — fluff, banter, love confessions, mentions of panic/anxiety & season three

WORD COUNT — 2,353

NOTES — something short and sweet for my beloved robin!! i hope y'all enjoy and don't forget to leave feedback please! also, this was very loosely inspired by sparks fly by taylor swift

masterlist | navigation | requests are open!

Robin Buckley was utterly, helplessly, in love.

There was no denying it anymore; Robin was completely in love with you. She would light up every time you walked into class; her heart stopped every time you smiled at her, and spluttered back to life when you’d say her name. Her mind ran away from her every time you shared a shift at the video store, full of daydreams of what you and her would even do if you dated, only to be shut down by the brutal fear of rejection.

But you didn’t know that.

As far as Robin Buckley was aware, you only thought of her as your anxious, rambling friend who, more often than not, spent her shifts making fun of your co-worker Steve and his almost inexplicable lack of game.

Most of the time that she was around you, Robin was forced to ‘act normal’, as if she’d ever done that before. It usually resulted in useless rambles about something weird she’d read about, like gingivitis or how most of the backdrop scenes from Star Wars were actually just still paintings. But you usually seemed genuinely interested in what she had to say, and that took some of the uncomfortable anxiety away. And sometimes, you’d even laugh. A genuine one, too, and it would make Robin’s day.

Tonight was a lot like that. It was Friday, and the typical customer buzz around the store was enough to keep you, Robin, and Steve occupied for a while. But by 9pm, the clientele died out, and the three of you were behind the counter playing a round of Crazy 8s.

“Hah!” Robin said, slamming her palm to the pile of cards. She pulled it back to reveal an 8 of clubs, a proud smile on her face. “Suck it, Steve! Last card,” she huffed, leaning on the counter as you and Steve stared expectantly at her. “Oh, right. And it’s hearts now.”

Steve huffed, glancing at his cards before taking one from the pick-up pile. “Dick move, Buckley.”

“Dick face, Harrington.”

“What does that even mean?” You asked, looking at yours before placing a 3 on the pile.

Robin just shrugged, her lips forming a smirk as she placed her final card down. “I win!”

“Alright, I’m out,” Steve huffed, tossing his cards on the pile. You couldn’t help the overwhelming amount of clubs he had, causing you to stifle a giggle. “See you losers tomorrow.”

“Good luck with that, Steve, ‘cause I won’t be here.” You mentioned, scooping the cards into your hands. “Mom’s taking me to Indianapolis for some family thing. Had to cancel my morning shift, which means…”

Steve, who had been retrieving his jacket and car keys from under the counter, turned back with what you could only describe as a look of horror painted on his face. “No,”

“Yep,” you said, popping the ‘p’.

“No! You can’t do this to me, Y/n!”

“I already did, Steve.” You began shuffling the cards.

“But Keith always smells like eggs in the mornings! And he hates me,” Steve whined. “I can’t believe you.”

“Sorry,” you shrugged half-heartedly. “Can’t un-cancel my shift now, Keith’ll be pissed if I call him this late.”

Robin scoffed, arms folded across her chest as she watched you shuffle the cards intently. “No, he won’t. He’s practically in love with you.”

You shuddered at the thought. “Ew, gross. Please never say those words to me again, Robin. I beg of you. I think I’ll die, or… contract something if I think about it for more than 30 seconds.”

“Okay, okay, I’ve gotta get outta here,” Steve said, spinning his keys on his finger. “See you weirdos later.”

You and Robin shouted farewells as he exited the store, the bell ringing, signifying his departure. Glancing up at Robin from your focus on the deck of cards, you asked, “Another round?”

The girl nodded, a shaky exhale leaving her lips. You were closing together, and while it wasn’t uncommon, time alone with you was something Robin treasured. And the way you looked up at her through your eyelashes… Robin was going to be combating the butterflies in her stomach all night, it seemed.

The next hour seemed to fly by with no issues.

No customers came by after Steve left, so you and Robin played cards and watched a movie on the big TV hanging from the ceiling until your watch beeped, signalling 10pm — closing time.

The pair of you worked in tandem, one of you counting the cash and working out what the deposit would be while the other made sure that everything looked nice and that the return carts were empty — of course they were, Steve had done them long before he left.

Disaster struck when you went into Keith’s office to finish closing for the night.

The analog clock on Keith’s desk read 10:18pm when you passed it, Robin just behind you. All that was left was to write up the deposit in an email and send it to the regional inbox. It was a delicate procedure, to say the least, but with Robin reading everything out to you as you typed it up made things a lot easier.

“You got that?” Robin asked, hopping off the desk beside you.

You glanced at her, fingers typing away. “Yeah, Robin, I think I can remember how many five dollar bills were put in the deposit envelope.”

Robin snorted beside you, the already-open safe door creaking as she pulled it. Slipping the envelope inside, along with the deposit slip, she shut the door with a loud clang, causing you to flinch slightly.

“And…” you pressed a few final buttons on the keyboard, the computer trilling as the email finished sending. “We’re off! Let’s shut this place down and get the hell out of here.”

“As if I’d actually want to stay,” Robin grimaced as you powered down the computer. “This place smells like…” Robin sniffed the air, her face scrunching further. “Cheetos and B.O.”

You giggled, pushing the chair into the desk. “Gross,”

Robin made her way to the office door, a giddy smile on her face. “What? I’m right! It’s like Keith doesn’t know what air freshener is. Or a shower.”

She pulled on the door, her smile falling as she twisted the knob.

“What? Robin, what is it?”

“I— I don’t know,” Robin twisted the doorknob again, pulling the door toward her, to no avail. She twisted again, frantically, panic setting into her gut. “I think it’s locked!”

“No,” you nearly gasped. “It can’t be locked!”

“Okay, well, I’m turning the doorknob and it’s not moving, so…!” Robin said, voice shaking as she turned to look back at you.

“Let me try, Robin. Maybe it’s just stuck.” You suggested. Robin relented, stepping to the side as you grasped the cool metal. You twisted and pulled, your movements growing frustrated and frantic as you realised that the door wasn’t stuck — you were, in fact, locked in. “Damn it!” You exclaimed, kicking the door. “I can’t believe this,”

Robin’s hands flew to her hair, grasping at her scalp as she tried to calm herself down. She watched you begin to pace, chewing on your thumbnail, thinking of something, anything you could do to get yourselves out of this office.

You were suddenly beginning to feel cramped, like the walls were closing in on you. But you took a breath, eyes scanning the room, landing on the phone conveniently placed on Keith’s desk. “Ha!”

Robin watched you rush to the other side of the desk, picking up the receiver and beginning to dial a number. “Are you calling the police?”

“The police?” You scrunched up your nose, holding the receiver to your ear. “No, that’s stupid. I’m calling Steve.”

“Calling the police when we’re locked in a room with no way out is stupid?” Robin scoffed, taking up your previous state of pacing.

The phone rang in your ear as you sat down on the chair. “Of course it is, Robin. Steve has a set of keys, and there’s pretty much a guarantee that no one’s going to answer a Friday night call. They’re all out busting parties and pulling over drunk drivers. They’re gonna put us on the back burner. But Steve won’t. Besides, he’s not doing anything tonight, his date cancelled on him this morning.”

Robin barely acknowledged your words, mind running wild with the thoughts running through her head. Steve would help, of course he would. Ever since Starcourt, he knew how much Robin hated being stuck somewhere with no way to get out. She just hoped he’d get here quickly. Being stuck in a room with no real way out was one thing, but being stuck in a room with the girl you’re practically in love with was something entirely different.

“Steve!” You practically shouted with joy.

“Jesus,” Steve groaned. “Tone it down, please! What’s up?”

You huffed, leaning back in Keith’s chair. “Look, Robin and I locked ourselves in the office, somehow, and we need you to come by with your keys and let us out.” Steve sighed on the other line. “Pretty please? I’ll buy you Burger King on Sunday.”

“Fine. But I’m taking my sweet time getting there. I’m on the other side of town, if you even care to know.”

“I know where you live, Steve.” You rolled your eyes. “Just hurry up. I think Robin’s losing her mind in here.”

“When is she not losing her mind?”

“Steve,” you warned, sighing a farewell as he hung up on you. “Okay, he’ll be here soon. I think.”

“God,” Robin groaned, palms pressed to her forehead. “My mom’s gonna kill me. My cousins are coming into town for the week and I’m supposed to clean tomorrow and instead I’m stuck here, in a room that smells like death, where I’ll probably actually die! Of, like, dehydration or starvation or something meanwhile my cousin Evan is happily sitting on my mom’s couch eating cookies or something!”

“Starvation?” You asked yourself as you stood from the chair. “Robin, it’ll be fine. Steve’s on his way,”

The girl barely acknowledged you, still pacing, arms flying around as she spoke. “And, by the way, starvation? A really painful way to die! It hurts, Y/n, a lot. Or, at least, that’s what I’ve read, but who am I to judge! I mean, I’ve never starved to death before! Not until now, at least!”

You sighed, stepping in Robin’s path, making sure to grab her shoulders firmly, eyes locked onto hers. “Robin,” you said, eyebrows raised as the girl fell silent. “Steve should be here anytime soon. We won’t starve to death. All we have to do is wait out the half an hour before he gets here, max. We’ll be fine.”

Robin’s eyebrows cinched before she shook her head. “But what if something bad happens, Y/n? Then what are we gonna do? We’ll die! And I can’t die! I haven’t seen Evan since I was 9! He lives in Pennsylvania! Hershey, Pennsylvania! Do you have any idea how far that is?”

“It’s, like, an 8 hour drive, Robin,” you said, voice quiet. Your eyes stayed locked on hers, watching the anxiety swim through her green irises. It was like you could see the gears turning, clicking and grinding to form more anxious thoughts for her to spew out in a breathless panic.

“Not to mention the smell in here! It’s horrible! I mean, seriously, could Keith not afford a fan, or-or some sort of air freshener! And the windows! They’re so small, and they barely open, and—”

Robin’s words ceased when you pulled her forward, crashing your lips onto hers. Her muscles tensed for a moment, eyes wide, until she realised you were kissing her. You were kissing her. Robin barely had the time to kiss you back, to place her hands gingerly on your waist before you were pulling back, sucking in air.

“What was that for?” Robin asked, voice squeaking.

You only smiled. “I really needed you to stop talking.” You joked, a hesitant hand reaching up to brush some of Robin’s hair from her face. “Besides, I’ve been wanting to do that for, like, 6 months.”

“Oh,” Robin said, nodding briefly before she smiled, cheeks burning red. “Can you do it again?”

You smiled wide, nodding ecstatically before placing your hands on Robin’s neck, pulling her closer so that you could kiss her again.

It was slower this time, a test of the waters as you both melted into one another’s touch. A delicate kiss, one that said a lot more than either of you could find the words for. Robin’s fingers dug into the flesh of your waist, her mind barely comprehending what was happening right now.

The rest of the world seemed to fall away at that moment, so much so that neither of you paid attention to the soundscape around you, failing to hear the sound of keys jingling in the lock — the door to the office squealing as it opened, and the subsequent screams of Steve Harrington.

“What the hell, guys!” Steve screamed, covering his eyes as you and Robin jumped away from one another, lips swollen and cheeks burning. “I leave you by yourselves for an hour and a half and you’ve got your tongues down each other’s throats!”

“Thanks, Steve,” you said, sheepish as you took Robin’s hand, leading her past his gobsmacked form.

“You owe me a hell of a lot more than just Burger King for making me see that.”

“Sure thing!” You called out as you and Robin slung your bags over your shoulders.

“Thank you, dingus!” Robin shouted over her shoulder, smiling wide at Steve, following you out of the store.

You huffed a laugh and smiled at Robin, swinging your hands as you grabbed your keys from your pocket. “Want a ride home?”

“Sure,” Robin smiled, relishing the feeling of your hand in hers. She made sure to keep it there during the entire drive to her house, and as often as she could after that, too.

forever taglist: @mazerunnerrose @theboldandthebootyful @miraclesoflove @heliads

robin buckley taglist: @sunshine-daisies-library (open!)

taglist form here!

#robin buckley #robin buckley x reader #robin buckley x you #robin buckley x y/n #robin buckley imagine #robin buckley fluff #robin buckley fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x reader

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skauni · 2 days

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Arranged Marriage: John Price x Fem!Reader

Part #1—The Start

Your family wasn’t exactly… known for their ability to consider how others felt, to say the least. But you thought—or rather hoped, that you were safe from their faults in such topics because you were their only daughter. And god how you wished you hadn’t given yourself this false hope. You recently found out that the ring they gave you for your 18th birthday was an engagement ring from a man you didn’t even know. As soon as you found out, they said that they had a marriage contract with a man named John Price and for you to be his wife.

You hated them for this. Locked yourself in your room for almost a month before someone picked the lock and walked in. When you looked to see who you were shocked to see a military man, seemingly in his middle to late 40’s. He sighed as he sat on the bed next to you. “What’s wrong sweetheart, why’d you lock yourself away?” He asked. His voice gruff, proving he smoked—aside from the very clear scent of cigars, that is. He had a bucket hat on, making him look a bit like a man who fished a lot—which he probably did. You looked up into his piercing blue eyes, then looked at the scruffy brown beard on his face that was peppered with a few grey hairs.

You read his name and title off the Velcro patch on his vest. Captain Price. You looked back down at your hands and messed with the engagement ring, which you haven’t moved to the corrects finger out of a sense of resentment to the contract. He looked as well and sighed. Then you finally spoke up. “You’re the man I’m supposed to marry…?” Your voice trembles as you speak. He shifts. “I am. And I know you feel trapped, your parents told me that you didn’t take kindly to finding out. I thought they had told you ahead of time. Maybe showed you a picture of me at least.” He sighed.

There was an awkward silence for a while. He spoke up again. “I’m John by the way. John Price.” He officially introduced himself. You just nodded and stayed silent. “Yeah… I thought that’s how that would go… I know your name anyways though so…” He trailed off and cleared his throat. You looked at your door. “Guess I can’t lock you out of any rooms then huh?” You huff. He chuckled. “You could try, unless something is jammed against the door your attempts will be futile though.” He remarked.

You offered a small smile at his attempt to be funny. You looked back at the ring on your hand and sighed quietly. He softly patted your shoulder. “I’d like to get to know you before the wedding. I’ll come by everyday to take you for a walk in the park or to the café or something. Just places we can chat and get to know each other.” He said softly before getting up. “Maybe then you’ll feel comfortable wearing the engagement ring on the proper finger.” He added. You nodded. “Alright… I’ll see you at some point tomorrow..” You murmur. He nodded and left your room.

The next day John came back around noon to pick you up. He brought you to the greenest park you think you’ve ever seen. As the two of you walk he asks a few generic questions, like ‘What’s your favorite food,’ ‘favorite color,’ things like that. To which you answered and asked him the same general questions. When he had no questions he could think about, and neither did you, he asked about your day so far and just listened to your rather long story considering it was only a little past noon. He had no clue so much could happen in a short few hours, but he liked listening to you. When the two of you got hungry you ate at the Café nearby and then he dropped you back off at your house, walking you to the door and waiting for you to go in before getting back in his car and driving away.

To be continued…<3

#call of duty #cod #arranged marriage #captain johnathan price #captain john price #john price #john price x reader #cod price

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specsthesecond · 13 hours

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/specshroom/752286251279908864/some-rather-unlucky-investments-have-landed-you-in?source=share

Being fucked at any time without warning, whilst enjoyable, is also very tiring. It also interrupts your sleep. Which you could forgive if every one of those using your pussy portal was polite enough to at least make you cum.

You decide to read through the contract you barely skimmed before.

Something you notice is that as your rank goes up, so too does the amount you make per punter, but also, you can start to add restrictions like times, species, gender, etc., to your pussy's portal. (Provided you still maintain the minimum usage requirements).

Now, hoes does one go from Public Pussy to Pocket Pussy rank?

Brilliant question!

Well never fear for your Number One Pussy Portal Provider is here!

I see you're an entry level Portal Partner but with your activity and customer satisfaction levels it seems you'd be more fitting in a much higher level. Have you ever thought of upgrading your contract with us? There are tons of amazing perks and opportunities just waiting for you!

For example you could sign up for the Pocket Pussy Program in which customers have the option to purchase your portal for their own personal use. Your special customer would be your only one and they would have to pay that exorbitant price to keep you all to themselves. We suggest provoking possessiveness as much as possible to maximise your chances of getting Pocket Pussy status.

Similar to the Pocket Pussy Program there's another option that lets you sign up for the Breeding Program to earn a little extra while you work.

All you need to do is let a monster breed your pussy and you get paid! It's easy!

You will be compensated for each egg stuffed, fertilized and laid. Yes, the gestation period might be long but don't let that stop you from your normal portal activities! In fact many tentacle eggs are known to form quicker with copious and frequent fertilization.

That doesn't interest you but you still want that bonus? Fret not!

Why not use all your holes to your advantage!

Anal and Oral Portals are always another option! These portals offer much more leeway for obvious reasons and only activate when you approve it on the Pussy Portal App. This option is reserved for our premium users and naturally you'll have a higher quota to fill but that shouldn't be a problem for you given your current performance stats.

You'd be able to get all three holes fucked and stuffed while also tripling your income!!

As a loyal portal partner, our company's number one priority is you! So to thank you for all the hard work that you do we've introduced a new feature just for you!

Introducing the Cum Button!

Now your customers have the ability to make you orgasm with just a click of a button, provided they are a premium member and have purchased enough Cum Tokens™. (Feature is still in the testing phase as customers have been far more liberal with the Cum Button™ than we initially predicted)

As you can see we offer many opportunities for you to earn what you deserve. Please take your time browsing our options, we look forward to your continued partnership!

#monster x human #monster x reader #exophelia #monster fucker #monster fucking #monster lover #specsanswers #terat0philliac #terato

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hungermakesmonsters · 12 hours

Text

(Once Bitten) Twice Shy

Chapter Eleven

Plot summary : Desperate to get away from your controlling family, you take a job in New York as a wealthy vampire's blood source. A million dollars awaits if you can make it through a year, but life with Billy Russo is not going to be as simple as you think.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R Chapter Rating : R

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Violence against reader. Also some very smutty smut using toys (not related to the violence). All chapters will contain mentions of blood. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.

Word Count : 5.4k

A/N : Please, please, please read the warning. I'm sorry it's probably a little spoiler-y but I'd rather be safe than sorry even though I don't tend to write these things in the most graphic way. If you don't want to read it, it's the last few hundred words of the chapter (I think it's pretty well telegraphed). Also, I'm sorry for this, please don't hate me 😅

MASTER LIST

Chapter Eleven

Billy didn’t go back to work and, as the days passed it got harder and harder to tell if he was better for it. Every time you’d mention it, he’d mutter something about Frank, about not wanting to have to deal with it and, then, distract you by telling you about how he’d rather spend time with you. And, when that stopped working, when you’d try to talk to him about it, he’d move onto more physical means of distraction.

But every time his phone buzzed or lit up with a notification, you’d see his irritation flare.

You sat with your legs draped over his lap as you tried to concentrate on your book, The Count of Monte Cristo, while Billy read emails on his phone. You had wanted to suggest doing something, going out for a drive or to see a movie, but Billy seemed tired and you didn’t want to bother him.

His phone buzzed and he huffed.

“Was that work?” You dared to ask him and received a grumbled answer in response. “I don’t think you’re going to be able to avoid it forever, Billy...”

“I’m not avoiding it,” he sighed, rubbing his hand over your bare calf, “I just don’t want to deal with it right now.”

“He’s not going to change his mind about us unless you talk to him,” you tried again. “Unless you’re planning on skipping work for the next eight months...”

At this point, you were starting to wonder if that was the plan, if Billy was simply going to stay home every night until your contract was over. He didn’t seem to be in any hurry to go back to work. But, as much as you were enjoying having him in the penthouse every night, you felt responsible, like you were fucking up his life.

“We could go away together? Somewhere with a beach?” He tried to change the subject.

“Billy...”

“I don’t want him to ruin this for us,” he relented, his tone turning tense. “These last few days have been so good and I just want it to last a little longer.”

“He’s not going to ruin anything,” you told him. “We get to decide what this is. No one else. I just don’t want you to burn bridges and wreck your life for me.”

He fell silent and you hoped he was thinking about what you were trying to tell him. As much as the incident at the party had upset you, you couldn’t just think about yourself; in just over eight months time, you’d be gone and Billy would have to carry on without you. You didn’t want him to lose friends or damage his business on your account.

“Fine, I’ll go in tomorrow.”

You kept your relief to yourself, not wanting to say or do anything to anything that might make him change his mind. Your attention returned to your book while Billy got up and headed for the kitchen, answering his phone as he went. Obviously he wanted some privacy, but that didn’t stop you from trying to listen in to Billy’s quietly spoken half of the conversation.

“What do you mean you lost her?” He practically hissed. “How did she even... past security... whose plus one?”

His voice got lower making it impossible for you to hear anything else, but the call lasted at least another minute and the look on Billy’s face when he returned told you far more than words ever could; he was frustrated.

“Is everything okay?”

“It will be,” he answered cryptically. You gave him a questioning look urging him to explain. “I’m just making sure Krista can’t get near you again.”

“Oh.”

It was the first time he’d mentioned her since the party. You hadn’t asked. Honestly, you hadn’t wanted to. The less you thought about other women Billy had let into his life, the better.

“I’m not going to let her hurt you,” Billy promised, sitting back down and pulling your legs back onto his lap. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

You both fell back into silence; your attention returned to your book and Billy continued to look at his phone, reading through messages and declining calls. Eventually, put his phone face down on the coffee table. Over the top of your book, you watched him rub his eyes and slouch back.

For a moment you thought he might close his eyes and try to rest but, instead, he caught you peeking at him.

“You know, I was thinking about the other night,” he said as his hand moved back to your leg and softly caressed your bare skin, from your ankle up to the hem of your cropped leggings and back again.

“Which part of the other night?” You asked, a hint of warmth already starting to bloom across your cheeks.

His fingers wrapped around your ankle, lightly holding you, as if he thought there was any chance that you might try to pull away from him.

“The part when you had my cock in your mouth, giving me the best blowjob of my life, and you came without my permission,” he stated with a smirk, making a point of ignoring the way your breath caught. You bit your lip as he looked at you. “You owe me an orgasm, hummingbird.”

“Is that my punishment? To come for you?” You asked, trying to fight back your embarrassment so you could play his game.

His smirk turned to something darker, something almost sinister, something barely restrained and full of wanting. “That depends on if you want consequences for breaking the rules.”

Your heart skipped a beat; at the unasked question and the hungry way he was looking at you. Already he seemed to be forgetting about work, Krista, and everything else that had upset him, and you wanted to keep him that way.

“They wouldn’t really be rules if they didn’t have consequences,” you said, trying to hide your nerves though you were sure he could see right through you.

“Are you willing to accept any punishment that I choose?” He asked and you nodded. “So, if I told you to go to your room and bring back one of your toys, you’d do it?”

You stopped breathing. You felt completely frozen, like even your heart didn’t know whether to beat or not. Your cheeks felt like they were burning and your wide eyes were fixed on him.

A couple of seconds later, Billy opened his mouth, no doubt about to tell you that you didn’t have to, that he was only playing around. There was a flash of something like embarrassment on his face, regretting taking things too far.

“Yes,” the word leaving your lips in an awkward squeak before he could walk back the question.

Billy seemed just as surprised as you were, so much so that he hesitated before responding, leaving you with time to change your mind if you wanted to. But you didn’t want to change your mind. You had no idea what he was planning or what he wanted to do, but you wanted it, in part because you wanted to try and bring him out of his frustrated mood but, also, because you were feeling brave.

He licked his lips, waiting a second more, not taking his eyes off of you.

“Okay then, go and get the toy you used the morning I heard you moaning my name,” he said, a hint of daring in his tone, as if he was still expecting you to back out.

Moving your legs from his lap, you stood up and slowly started to walk towards your rooms, trying your best to just breathe through the waves of panic and excitement that were crashing over you. Your steps got quicker once you’d slipped through the door to your room, not wanting to overthink what might happen in case it made you want to back out.

You quickly retrieved the blue vibrator and returned to Billy, watching as his grin grew wider. You didn’t realise that you were clutching it tightly in both hands until Billy extended his hand.

Your heart raced as he took the toy from you and inspected it, turning it in his hand before looking back at you. Without saying a word, Billy reached for you, placing his hand on your chest above your racing heart and for a few seconds his eyes shut, just enjoying the moment. Then he kissed you, pulling you close. Your own eyes fluttered shut.

His fingers hooked on the waistband of your leggings and you helped him lower them, stepping out of them without breaking the kiss.

A gasp slipped out against his lips as you felt him press the toy between your thighs, softly rubbing it against you over your panties. You tensed when he turned it on, a bolt of arousal running up your spine, causing you to arch your body against him.

He moved you back, leading you down onto the sofa and following after, keeping his lips against yours and the toy between your legs.

It wasn’t long before your hips started to move, desperately seeking more friction despite how self-conscious you felt. Your heart was still racing and embarrassment was clawing beneath your ribs, but you wanted more. And so did Billy.

The toy was dropped onto the sofa while his hands started to pull at your panties, revealing you to him.

“Fuck, hummingbird, you’re soaked already,” he muttered, roughly tugging your panties the rest of the way down, leaving you in nothing but your baggy shirt that had ridden up to just below your bust.

Your cheeks burned as he lifted the panties to his face and took a long inhale through his nose. His body shuddered and tensed.

“How is it that everything about you makes me want?” He asked, dropping your panties to the floor. He slipped the vibrator between your legs again, pressing the tip against your clit before turning it on again. “I can’t get enough of you. I’ll never have enough of you.”

Before you could even try to wrap your head around what he was saying, his lips were on yours, his tongue pushing its way into your mouth.

It wasn’t long before you were moaning against his lips, almost forgetting that this was supposed to be punishment. Almost forgetting that you didn’t have his permission to come.

He pulled the vibrator back just in time, turning it off. “Not until I say so.”

You nodded, taking deep breaths and trying to calm yourself. When you were ready, you felt the toy between your folds as he coated it in your arousal, before positioning it at your entrance.

Your lips parted and a moan tore from you as he began to fill you. Wet enough to take the toy without any resistance, it wasn’t long before every inch was inside of you, and Billy started to fuck you with it. He started slow, but it didn’t last.

“Moan for me,” he groaned against your neck, still fucking you with the toy, “moan for me like you did that morning...”

“Billy...” you moaned, then; “Mr Russo...”

You heard his breath catch and a growl claw its way from him, and even though you were at his mercy, it made you feel powerful.

“Mr Russo...” you gasped, over and over.

His lips covered yours, swallowing down the moans that he’d asked for, as if he’d realised that it was too much, that he couldn’t take anymore. He pulled back the toy, almost slipping it from you entirely before filling you with it again and starting to set a much faster pace. Your eyes stayed closed tight, imagining that it was Billy inside you, that he was finally giving you what you both craved.

That thought alone had you clenching around the toy, your arousal climbing higher and higher, pushing you closer to breaking point. He took you right to the precipice before pulling the toy out, leaving you empty and unfulfilled.

Your eyes opened, fixing on him, whining when you saw his smirk.

“You wanted a punishment,” he told you darkly, tormenting you by pressing the tip of the vibrator against you, pulling it back again when you shifted your hips, trying to push yourself onto it. “If you misbehave you’ll only make it worse for yourself.”

You stilled immediately, earning a smile from Billy. He kissed you softly, distracting you as he turned the vibrator back on and ghosted it over your swollen clit. Again, you squirmed, wanting more than just a grazing touch.

“Do I have to tie you down?” He asked against your lips, his tone causing your heart to race a little faster, leaving no doubt in your mind that he’d do it.

It should have worried you, maybe even scared you, but all you could think about was the unfulfilled ache between your legs.

Billy continued to tease you, but even those gentle touches were enough to start you climbing towards orgasm, and he knew it. Every fibre of your being seemed to tense, like thousands of springs being coiled too tight, at any moment you knew that you’d snap.

But, again, Billy denied you.

“Billy,” you pleaded as a feeling of discomfort started to fill you.

“I think I preferred Mr Russo,” he teased, an edge to his voice that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Mr Russo,” you tried again, wanting to give him whatever he wanted.

“That’s better.” A moment later, he had the toy against your lips and a dark grin on his lips. “Open up.”

You hesitated for a beat before doing what you were told, parting your lips and letting him slip the vibrator into your mouth. Without being asked, you started to suck the toy as he moved it in and out of your mouth.

“I dream about this mouth,” he groaned against your ear, “and these perfect lips, and how good they feel wrapped around my cock. It’s like you were made just for me.”

Another moan escaped you as his teeth nipped your ear. When he lifted himself over you again, he stared, watching the toy as he fucked your mouth with it, his jaw set. You kept your eyes on his, letting him see exactly what he was doing to you.

You licked your lips when he finally pulled the toy away. You didn’t look down, didn’t beg for what you needed, you just kept looking at him, giving him complete control.

“Mr Russo...” you gasped as he plunged the toy between your walls again, this time moving at a merciless pace that you knew you’d never be able to withstand.

“Come for me,” he demanded, turning the vibrator back on as he fucked you with it.

You did as ordered, crying out as your body was finally granted relief.

You weren’t sure when he’d pulled his cock from his sweatpants, but there it was as he kneeled over you, your thighs shook wildly as he kept the vibrator buried inside you with one hand and started to desperately fist himself with the other.

He grunted and swore, coming quickly, finally pulling the toy away so he could coat your trembling pussy and thighs with his cum. You whined softly, overstimulated and far too sensitive, as his finger ran through your folds pushing some of his cum inside you, like he was claiming you and marking you as his.

Reaching for him, you pulled him down into a kiss, expecting things to de-escalate now that you were both satisfied. Instead he kissed you roughly, pressing his hips down against yours, letting you feel how achingly hard he still was.

Your fingers tangled in his hair until he took hold of your wrists and pinned them beside your head. Your breath caught and you struggled against his lips.

“Billy,” you gasped, tearing your lips from his.

If he heard, he gave no response, moving his lips to your neck, sucking and nipping, until you felt something sharp scrape your skin.

Fangs.

“Billy...”

A deep, guttural growl vibrated through his chest - a sound you’d heard before.

There was another scrape against your neck, this time causing pain. But before you could say anything, he was already pulling away from you. He moved awkwardly and suddenly, ending up on the floor next to the sofa, his head in his hands.

“Fuck - fuck - I’m sorry.”

It took a few seconds before you could think straight, reaching up to touch your neck and the small cut he’d left on your skin. Not a bite, just a scratch really, but enough to draw blood.

Torn between comforting him and running, you found yourself frozen, trying to understand what had just happened. And, as you thought back, you hated yourself for not noticing the warning signs sooner; the look on his face, the things that he’d said and the way he’d said them.

“Hey,” you finally managed, awkwardly sitting up, trying to ignore the mess he’d left between your thighs. Gingerly, you reached for him, running your fingers through his hair. Billy bristled at your touch. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay,” he snapped, head still in his hands, “how can you say it’s okay? How can you keep saying that?”

“Because you stopped yourself. Again,” you answered back. “It’s a scratch, Billy. We both know that you could’ve done so much worse.”

“How can you be so relaxed about this?” Billy demanded, finally lifting his head and letting you see the anguish on his face. “I feel like a fucking timebomb and you’re there acting like you weren’t just five seconds away from death.”

“Would you have killed me?” You dared to ask, cutting through all of the usual bullshit, not sure how else to try and settle the issue once and for all.

“I -” for a moment he just stared at you, torn between what he wanted to tell you and the thing that terrified him more than anything, “- I don’t know. I - I don’t even know if I wanted to kill you or...”

A chill ran through you at what was left unsaid, filling that blank with a dozen terrible thoughts, and when you didn’t immediately respond, Billy took that as a sign, pulling away and getting to his feet.

“Stop,” you quickly got up, legs feeling weak beneath you while your hands pulled your baggy shirt down to try and cover yourself. “Please don’t go.”

“Why are you fighting so hard for me?”

“Because someone has to, Billy,” you told him without hesitation, “because you deserve to have someone on your side, even if you don’t think that you do. You haven’t hurt me and I don’t think that you will, so stop trying to scare me.”

He seemed stunned by the sudden firmness in your tone, so much so that he didn’t try to argue.

“Now, sit down. I need to go clean up,” you told him, taking a step back. “If you try to leave while I’m gone, I will never forgive you.”

Billy hesitated but soon sat, fixing his gaze on the window while you grabbed your leggings and panties from the floor and headed towards your rooms.

You cleaned up as quickly as you could, putting a bandaid over the cut on your neck and changing into your pyjamas when you were done. As quick as you were, it still felt too slow and your heart was pounding uncomfortably with the thought that he’d be gone by the time you made it back out to the penthouse.

But he wasn’t. He was exactly where you’d left him.

You cleared the distance and sat beside him, throwing your arms around him before he could even think about protesting, holding him tight.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to be around you right now,” he told you, his voice betraying his exhaustion.

“I think it is. I think this is the best place for you right now.” You said, watching as the confusion on his face deepened. “Just let me look after you. I don’t want to be alone right now, and I don’t think you do either...”

Moving slowly, you reached for a cushion and placed it on your lap, patting it softly.

“Lay down,” you said softly, leaning a little so you could take hold of his hand and gently urge him towards you.

After a moment of hesitation, Billy moved, laying down and resting his head on the cushion. You started to gently run your fingers through his hair, and heard an awkward breath escape him.

“I used to get sick a lot when I was a kid and my nanna used to sit with me like this for hours,” you told him softly, watching as, little by little, he let himself relax.

You let a few minutes pass in silence, watching as the tension started to leave him, fingers still running through his hair. Eventually, you reached for the TV remote and put on Netflix, starting the next episode of Black Sails.

“Pirates again?” He grumbled, the weight of his exhaustion seeming to catch up with him. You weren’t sure what caused him to lose control, but you were starting to realise just how much effort it took for him to rein it back in.

“Pirates again,” you confirmed. “Just close your eyes and relax.”

The whole while you kept stroking his hair, letting your eyes drop to him every few minutes, watching as he slowly gave up on trying to keep his eyes open. It was hard to tell if he was sleeping, but he was certainly more relaxed than he had been.

Hours passed. After three episodes of Black Sails, you decided to turn off the TV and close your eyes. At some point you drifted off, only to be woken when Billy started to move. His body was tense, eyes still shut tight, letting out the most heart rending little mutters, sounding like a terrified, wounded animal.

For a short while, you waited, hoping it would pass and he’d settle again, but it just seemed to get worse.

“Billy?” You tried, gently at first, running your fingers through his hair, trying to soothe him. “Billy, it’s just a dream. You’re okay.”

He awoke with a gasp.

“Hey, you’re okay, everything’s okay,” you continued, still stroking his hair.

“Huh, what -” it took him a second to realise where he was. You watched him sit up, noticing the way that exhaustion seemed to cling to him. When he reached for his phone to check the time, his hand was shaking so much he almost dropped it. “I’m sorry, I -”

“What are you apologising for?”

“It’s two in the morning, I kept you up all night worrying,” he told you, looking about ready to get up and leave. “I should -”

“You should lay back down and rest. You look exhausted,” you told him softly.

“But you need to sleep too.”

“I was sleeping,” you said, putting a hand on his shoulder and gently tugging him back.

As much as Billy wanted to argue, he was too tired. He laid back down while you grabbed your yellow blanket from the back of the sofa and settled behind him, pressing yourself against his back and covering you both.

He gave an uncertain sort of huff. “I’m not used to being the little spoon.”

And, despite the situation, you found yourself bursting into laughter, pressing your face against the back of his neck and holding him all the tighter. A moment later you felt his body shudder with a tired laugh of his own.

“Go to sleep, little spoon,” you muttered sleepily, snuggling closer.

He was still for a few minutes, leading you to hope he’d fallen asleep until you heard him sigh.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You whispered.

“I just want to keep you safe.”

“I’m safer here with you than I would be if I left,” you confessed softly, pressing your lips to the back of his neck

“So I’m the lesser of two evils?”

“No, Billy, you’re who I want to be with, even though I know it’ll never be easy...”

You heard him take an awkward breath before starting to move, turning himself so he could face you. In the dark you could barely make out his face, but you knew he was looking at you.

“Stay with me,” he said suddenly, desperately, like the thought had been weighing on him for hours.

“I am,” you told him, “I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere.”

“No, I mean after. I mean for more than a year,” then, much quieter, “forever.”

“I...”

You fell silent, barely daring to breathe. More than anything, you wanted to say yes; you wanted to belong there with Billy, you wanted to spend the rest of your life in his arms.

“Whatever you’re running from, I can protect you. I can keep you safe,” he continued. “I want to be yours...”

“Billy...”

“I know it’s fucked up to ask you, but I can work on it, I can learn to stay in control, I can -”

“That’s not the problem, Billy. I know you can stay in control, it’s just...” you sighed. “My life is more complicated than you think and I don’t want to cause you any trouble.”

“Is that a no then?” He asked, sounding broken just at the thought.

“No. I don’t know. I need some time to think,” you tried to explain, earning another sigh from him. “I want you to be mine, Billy. More than anything. But I can’t just say yes now and hurt you in the long run. Just - just give me some time, okay?”

“Okay,” he said before falling silent.

Reaching for his cheek, you pressed your lips to his, and closed your eyes tight. “I want you to be mine. I want to stay. Things are just complicated,” you whispered before letting out a tired sigh, “I’ve been dreaming about falling asleep in your arms...”

“Oh, hummingbird,” he muttered softly, pressing his lips to your forehead and holding you tight.

You didn’t feel him start to move until the break of dawn. In your sleep, you’d shifted, ending up with your head on his chest and your hand beneath his sweater resting on his waist, holding him tight.

He gave you a tired smile as you lifted your head.

“How did you sleep?” He asked.

“Five more minutes,” you muttered sleepily, burying your face against his neck.

Billy laughed, holding you tight and kissing the top of your head. “I’d stay like this with you forever if I could.”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For staying last night. For trusting me,” you told him, keeping your face hidden. “I know it’s not easy for you and you scare yourself sometimes, but it means a lot that you didn’t walk out.”

He didn’t say anything and, even if he had, you weren’t sure what you would have wanted to hear. Instead, you just closed your eyes again and tried to enjoy your five more minutes.

Eventually, you had to let Billy go so he could go to bed. You weren’t sure how much sleep he’d managed to get but you wanted to make sure he was rested before his return to work that night.

That evening, you met him with his blood, nice and warm in his travel mug and ready for him to take to work. He seemed a little unsettled at the prospect, but you didn’t give him time to linger before ushering him out of the penthouse.

You missed having him around, but you hoped he’d be able to fix things with Frank, and that you’d all be able to move on with your lives. It was a quiet night and you spent it relaxing before heading to bed early, falling asleep the moment your head hit the pillow.

A loud crash in the penthouse startled you awake some time before four am. Without even stopping to think you shot out of bed and headed for the door.

You stepped out into the gloom, finding the dining table had been flipped and one of the chairs laid broken and splintered against the wall. And, standing amidst the destruction was Billy.

“Billy, what’s -”

The question was left unfinished. The moment he turned you had your answer. It was like this first night in the kitchen all over again, only somehow worse. His dark eyes fixed on you, his whole body seeming to tremble and twitch like he was trying to crawl out of his own skin.

A low snarl escaped him and, for a split-second, he flashed his fangs.

He didn’t say anything, didn’t offer any of the usual warnings or tell you to stay back, he just watched you edging closer and closer.

“What happened? What’s wrong?” You asked softly, knowing you needed to pull him out of it.

As you got closer, you noticed the state of him; his shirt was torn and drenched in blood, and there were deep scratches on his neck like someone had been clawing at his throat. With the holes in his shirt and the cuts on his neck, you couldn’t tell if all the blood belonged to Billy.

You needed to get a closer look.

He gave another snarl. “Don’t.”

But you didn’t let that stop you. You edged closer, trying to get a look at him in the dim light. The corner of his lip curled again, giving you another glimpse at his fangs. His hand tightened to a fist at his side and he almost seemed to move forward before pulling himself back.

“Billy, what happened?” You tried again.

He took a shuddered breath, almost wincing as you reached for him, tenderly placing a hand on his cheek, hoping you could soothe him.

“Who did this to you?”

He leaned into your touch and his eyes closed, and for the briefest of seconds you allowed yourself to believe you’d fixed whatever this was.

His fingers wrapped around your wrist before you could even think to pull away, yanking your arm awkwardly as he forced you backwards, slamming you back against the wall. You yelped in pain, the impact forcing the air from your lungs. And, when you looked in his eyes, Billy wasn’t there anymore.

“Billy,” you gasped, pushing against him, trying to escape his grasp.

A sob slipped out as he forced you back against the wall again, reminding you that you were nothing more than a weak, pathetic human.

Another snarl tore from his lips and he bared his fangs.

You turned and twisted and pulled, doing everything you could to keep him from biting you, raising your knee and hitting him in the groin as hard as you could. Billy staggered, winded, letting out an angry howl, his grip loosening enough for you to pull away.

Starting to run, you almost made it to your door when he grabbed your wrist again, this time pulling so hard that you screamed.

“Mine,” he growled, pulling you back towards him.

The pain in your arm was overwhelming and only got worse when you tried to move.

“Billy, please,” you sobbed, “this isn’t you. You don’t want to hurt me. Please, don’t ruin this.”

For a moment he almost looked like your words had gotten through to him, but then he continued to pull you towards him, pressing your body to his.

You lashed out again, kicking and swinging your fist, managing to catch his face in a way that had his nose exploding and blood spraying everywhere.

This time you ran faster, making it into your rooms and into your bedroom.

Billy followed after, only a couple of steps behind, blood pouring from his broken nose.

You tried to shut the door, only to find his hand blocking it - a hand that he quickly pulled back when it started to sizzle. He couldn’t come inside. He couldn’t get to you in your room.

All he could do was stand and stare at you, his chest heaving, his face bloody, looking more monster than man. You clutched your injured arm to your chest, tears streaming down your face.

“I trusted you,” you sobbed, watching for a reaction and getting nothing but anger from the vampire.

A couple of seconds passed before you slammed the door shut and dropped to your knees. A loud thud in the corridor had you crawling towards the door, pressing your back against it even though you knew he couldn’t get in. There were more sounds out in the penthouse, more thuds and bangs before, eventually, everything went silent.

End Note : As much as I love writing chapters like this one, I kinda hate posting them because I know that it's not exactly what some people want to read. So, I guess, no hard feeling if you don't want to continue reading after this one? IDK posting anything darker always makes me a little nervous but I don't want cute fluff all the time, especially not when I'm writing a vampire fic. But I do promise reasons and resolutions to this. It's not just there for shock value, is what I'm trying to say. Anyway, I'll stop rambling now 😅 Thanks for reading! I hope you have a great weekend and, as ever, thanks for all the love and support you showed on the last chapter!!

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters! If tagging doesn't work for some reason (aka Tumblr being dumb) I post most Fridays around 7:30 gmt.

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dwtdog · 1 day

Text

fem dnf week day 5 🎶

“No,” George says, crossing her arms. It’s certainly not a first for her to be shooting down her management’s ideas- but she all but spits it this time, a sharp contrast to her usual cool indifference. “No way in hell.”

Her manager gives her a pained smile, the fight already draining from his eyes, and George relaxes incrementally.

Until someone new enters the room. George glares at her, turning fully in her chair to do so. Her manager’s office is small enough as it is, and a third person coming in is far from comfortable. Especially when that third person is the head of her label.

“George, “ she greets pleasantly, holding out her hand for George to shake. George does so, but only begrudgingly. “I take it you’ve heard the plan?” she tilts her head toward George’s manager, effectively kicking the man out of his own damn office. George can’t help but be a little impressed by the ballsiness of it all.

But that doesn’t mean she likes this plan. “I heard. And I’m not doing it,” George says, uncrossing her arms and relaxing back in her chair, even as she has to make a conscious effort to not grit her teeth.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” the lady- Tiffany, damn it- says. “But we’ve already sent the contract to our other artist, and she’s been advised to sign it. As I am advising you to do the same.” “Well I assume she’ll say no, so this doesn’t really matter,” George responds. “Thank you for your time and all that, but I’ve got rehearsals-”

“She signed the contract,” Tiffany cuts her off, her smile entirely plastic. “And I am assured that she will be fine with you doing the same.”

George blinks at her, entirely taken aback. “She- What the hell do you have over her?” She cringes as soon as the words are out of her mouth, but Tiffany only laughs.

“It’s a good deal, for both of you,” she explains, like George isn’t getting it. “I know you two have had some difficulties-”

“That’s putting it lightly,” George grumbles.

“-But this will help her PR. And it’ll get you some added attention, just in time for the tour and the album drop. And the label would appreciate if you two could be more cordial to each other, both in public and private,” Tiffany says the whole thing like it’s a matter of fact, like George’s fate has already been decided. And, she supposes with a sinking feeling in her stomach, that it has.

“Dream.”

“George.”

“Great to… See you. Here. In my studio,” George grits out, gripping the thumb of her left hand in the palm of her right. Dream appears similarly uncomfortable, as she continuously brushes her hair out of her face, shifting on her feet. “Make yourself comfortable,” George adds, throwing her arm out to gesture to the small space. “Probably smaller than you’re used to.”

Dream grimaces, but takes the chair in the corner. George’s favorite. The bastard.

“It’s cozy in here,” Dream says, and George glares. “What? It is.”

“You can just say it sucks,” she says as she flops down in one of the other chairs, mourning the loss of her favorite one. Surely she’ll have to burn it now.

“You think you’re own studio- that you had the final say on designing- sucks?” Dream asks with a raised eyebrow. “That’s- interesting.”

George snorts. “No, I fucking love this place. But I’ve seen the studio they’ve got you in. This shit looks like a damn barn compared to that.”

“Why are you-” Dream starts, cutting herself off with a shake of her head. “Whatever. Moving on. How the hell are we going to make this work?”

“We’re not,” George says, wriggling so she can pull a stick of gum from her pocket and pop it in her mouth. “We’re going to tell them to fuck off. Find a loop hole in the contract. Make them regret it, if we have to.”

Next door, there’s a loud banging of drums, followed by muffled chatter. George doesn’t react, but Dream frowns, looking at the meager sound panels in the studio and the wall the noise is coming from. “Uh, no, sorry. I can’t- I need this. I need to do this.”

“You want to PR date me?” George is standing, before she even realizes she’s moved. “That’s- That’s so- You’re so- What the fuck?”

“Listen,” Dream waves her hands, motioning for George to sit back down. George does, but she hates it. “Let me be clear. It was not my idea.”

“Okay,” George growls. “But you agreed to it. You want to follow through.”

“I do,” Dream says, nodding. “I wish it didn’t have to be like this- I think we could have done something else, but the label is really pressuring me to clean up my look. And this was their solution.”

George flinches. It hurts, to be dismissed like this. To have her feelings dismissed by her employer, her coworker- who she hates, admittedly- all for the sake of a relationship that half the damn world will be able to see through. She says as much, leaving out the bit about her feelings being hurt. She doesn't think Dream would give a single shit about how she feels when her precious career is on the line.

“It’ll work,” Dream says, with an unearned amount of conviction. “People- People want it. They’ll overlook the obvious PR move. Trust me George, when I was unsigned, marketing was my thing.”

“Dream. This isn’t your fucking Tiktoks. This is the damn music industry. The world.”

“It doesn’t matter, George,” Dream shoots back, raising her voice for the first time. “Don’t you get it? This is my career, my dream on the line. For- For no reason.” the anger drains from her, the last sentence said with the deep sort of sadness that makes George squirm, to hear it coming from Dream- eternally optimistic Dream, friendly, open, kind-hearted Dream. To everyone but her, of course, but she’s had years to get used to that.

“What the hell did you even do? I know you suck at PR but- even I know you’re in deep shit this time,” George asks it to distract herself from the flicker of sympathy growing in her chest. “Was it the- the cheating thing again?”

That gets a startled laugh out of Dream, and she seems to relax a bit. “First of all, don’t say it like that. It wasn’t cheating. Me and him had been broken up for ages, but no one ever seems to listen when I say it.”

“Fair enough,” George says with a shrug. “But this time-?”

“It’s because I cam out,” Dream looks away when she says it, like the wall opposite George has suddenly become very interesting. “The label they- They told me not to do it. Said my music was about a certain experience, and if I came out it would ruin that.” “And you want to go along with their cash grab PR shit?” George asks, astounded. “That- What?”

Dream screws her eyes shut, pressing the heels of her hands into them. “I know. I fucking know. It- It feels like shit. I feel like shit for agreeing to it.”

“And for dragging me into it,” George says sardonically, long past accepting that Dream couldn’t give a rats ass about her. “We all make shitty choices, I can understand that. I guess.”

“Fuck,” Dream breathes. “Fuck, I’m such a fucking idiot.”

“Only just now figuring that out?”

“No, shit George, I am so fucking sorry,” when she lifts her head, her eyes are rimmed with red. George’s stomach drops. “I was so caught up in my own shit that I didn’t even think of how this would feel for you and- I’ll get us out of the contract.”

“What?” George yelps, looking at Dream like she’s lost her damn mind. “But you just said-”

“I know,” Dream cuts her off, again. “But I can’t do it if you don’t want to. And I don’t eve know- how I wasn’t thinking about how you would feel. God, I really am sorry.”

“Okay, stop apologizing,” George says. “You can drop the fucking- act. I know you hate me. It’s fine. Look, we can do this damn PR shit.”

“You know I- What?”

“Stop. Whatever. We can fake date or whatever the hell. As much as I hate it, it’ll be good for me. For my fucking album. So fine,” George feels her self-respect diminishing as she says it, but fuck. What the hell else can she do?

“We can?”

“Yes. Stop asking or I’ll take it back,” George fidgets with the hem of her shirt, fingers aching to hold a guitar, to let her building emotions out in a way that makes sense.

“I- Thank you. But we should really talk about-”

“You two done in here?” a voice calls, before the door to the studio opens. And in walks Tiffany, her usually pomp securely about her. “Dream, you’ve got a photoshoot in half an hour. George, you have a meeting with your producer.”

George nods, holding back every bit of vitriol that crawls at the back of her throat. She’s surprised to realize some of it is on Dream’s behalf- not a feeling she wants to get used to.

“Of course,” Dream says, standing. “Uh- see you around George.”

“Bye baby,” George calls as she’s leaving, taking note of the way the muscles of her lower back twitch, visible due to the cropped shirt she wears. There are worse people to fake date- few as they are- she supposes, as the door shuts with a click.

The first week is fine.

It’s meant to be by design, of course. They can’t just jump straight into a public relationship- they have to lay the groundwork, as George’s manager repeatedly says.

Groundwork involves being seen leaving the studio together, making appearances at the same party, and liking each others tweets. It’s almost laughable, really, but people do pick up on it.

There’s a whole thread on George’s subreddit by the end of the week, of people discussing the possibility of them being friends. She feels a bit of vindication at the amount of comments pointing out that there’s far more evidence of the two of them disliking each other- an oft shared YouTube video of George walking straight past Dream at an event, Dream shaking hands with everyone in George’s group but Georgem and other various social faux paus they’d made toward each other over the years is posted more than once.

The second week is much the same. George is busy with album prep, and Dream seems to always have a million and one things going on, so they aren’t even seen together that week- but George is told to follow Dream on Instagram, and like some of her older posts. It’s fucking ridiculous, and George has a good laugh at the ensuing thread with her best friend, Gia.

“Can you believe they buy this shit?” she asks as she sips at a flute of champagne, her loft filled with the quiet sounds of music. The loft is one of the few perks of her label- it had been written into her contract, and is far outside of what she’d be able to afford otherwise. “Like, it just seems forced, right?”

Gia laughs. “Oh George, you just wouldn’t get it.”

Things fall apart three weeks in- they’ve got a date.

It’s at a cafe in New York, and both George and Dream are flown out for it- on the private jet, of course. The label couldn’t stand the idea of people picking up on the date being staged- so they can’t be seen before they arrive in New York.

Dream has legitimate reasons for being there- some sort of meet and greet at a record store, but George doesn’t. She asks her manager if she should come up with one, but he tells her its better if it seems like she went to New York just for Dream. Which, in her opinion, makes the whole private jet thing pointless, but what the hell does she know.

Which means Dream and George are stuck on a jet together from LA to New York.

They have plenty of room to sit far apart, to mind their own damn business, but Dream’s manager has other plans.

“You two have to get to know each other,” she explains. George thinks it’s unfortunate that the woman is stuck with Dream as a client- she’s always liked Sylvee, and her dedication to her work. But she’s quickly becoming an enemy the more she talks. “So. Talk.”

“Isn’t this what first dates are for,” George grumbles, swirling her cup of tea. “The whole- getting to know each other shit.”

“Real first dates,” Dream says cheekily. “Ours is fake.”

“Thanks, captain obvious,” George takes a swig of her tea, hissing when it burns her tongue. “What happened to you being all apologetic?”

“Is that coffee?” Dream asks, distractedly.

“Uh- No?”

“Oh, good. I don’t think I could fake date someone who likes coffee,” Dream takes a sip of her own drink, blanching after. “Ow.”

“Nice going, genius.”

“I just watch you do the same thing,” Dream protests, taking the lid off her cup and blowing on it like that’ll do shit.

“Whatever,” George shrugs. “Should have learned from my mistakes.”

They’re silent for a beat after that, and the plane feels uncomfortably small. George wishes, for a moment, that they could just fall from the sky like a puppet with its strings cut. At least that would save her from this damn conversation.

“So uh,” Dream starts, squirming in her seat. “Do you have any hobbies? Besides music, I guess.”

The rest of the flight is spent making awkward small talk- they go back and forth like a tennis match, asking inane questions until they run out. Then they talk about the weather. George wants to die.

When the plane touches down, George is on the verge of collapse. She misses her studio, her apartment, her friends. She hates New York- just because it’s the city that’s causing the current bullshit. She thinks she’d like it under normal circumstances.

Their ride into the city is a nice car, the windows tinted heavily. George claims the front seat, and Dream seems content enough to take the back and stretch her legs across the entire span of it. The driver plays shitty pop- one of Dream’s songs comes on, which makes George laugh- and they make it to their hotel.

George thanks her lucky stars when she gets confirmation that they have separate rooms. She wouldn’t put it past her management to pull some shit, or for some sort of error to make things somehow worse, but she gets the satisfaction of collapsing into her own bed, even if there is a door connecting her room to Dream’s.

She gets the whole first day to herself- she has instructions to visit popular places, to let herself be seen, but she can handle that.

George’s music is relatively niche, so only a few people approach her. She has security, of course, hovering only a few paces behind at all times, but it’s easier to forget they’re there as she wanders Times Square, entirely enamored with it. There’s something about the way everything moves that draws her in, a city that feels entirely alive by its own power. It reminds her of London, in a way, and homesickness makes her chest ache.

When she returns to the hotel that evening, she can barely make it through her shower before she’s falling asleep, muscles aching from the thousands of steps she’d taken.

She’s awoken by a knock, and a sense of unease falls over her when she realizes that it’s not coming from the door to the hallway. Of course, that unease quickly turns to frustration when she registers who it is that could be knocking at the door connected to Dream’s room.

“What do you want,” she says when she swings it open, finding Dream’s golden eyes waiting for her. Her hair is different than she’s ever seen it, curly instead of straight, and it’s a bit distracting- only because of the unfamiliarity.

“Sorry,” Dream says, shuffling her feet. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“So you woke me up,” George deadpans, yawning. Dream does the same after a moment, face twitching in a small smile when it’s over.

“Yeah, sorry. I uh- I thought we could talk. Like- for real.”

It sounds- fucking awful, honestly. George just wants this to be over with. Her opinion of Dream isn’t going to change because she suddenly wants to have a heart to heart. “Did the label put you up to this?”

“No,” Dream answers quickly, shaking her head and making her curls bounce. “This is all me.”

“Will you go away if I say no?”

“Uh-” Dream bites her lip, and George groans.

“Fine. Let’s get this over with,” she swings the door open, abandoning it to plop down on her bed, grabbing a pillow and hugging it to her chest.

Dream follows after a moment, leaving the door open behind her. She sits next to George on the bed, pulling her legs up and crossing them beneath her.

“So,” George says, drawing the vowel out.

“Right, yeah. Uhm. I’m sorry,” Dream says, eyes downcast.

“For what?” George prompts, the list expanding in her mind. “You can go in alphabetical order, if you want.”

“Uh- For waking you up? For getting you into this mess? For not thinking of your feelings.”

“Good start,” George says with a small nod. “And?”

“And- What?” Dream asks, and the tiny amount of goodwill she’d built up instantly vanishes.

“Do I need to spell it out?” George grits her teeth, digging her nails into the pillowcase. “Because I don’t think I should have to.”

Dream finally meets her eyes, and her expression is- conflicting. It’s all confusion, furrowed eyebrows and a tilted head, lips quirked, eyes wide. “I really have no idea, I’m- sorry, I guess. That I don’t know what I’m sorry for.”

George snorts. “Fine. Say I believe you. Say I said that the reason you should be apologizing is how you’ve treated me since the start. Like I’m nothing. Like because you got signed so quick, blew up so fast, you’re better than me. I’d say hey, that kind of really fucking hurt- hurts.”

The silence that falls over them after that is one George isn’t used to. The sounds of the city are entirely shut out by soundproofed walls, and Dream’s breathing is unsteady, billowing to fill the room in the absence of anything else.

“But you have ‘no idea’ about any of that, so. Not sure how you could apologize,” George adds, because she can. Because it feels fucking good, to get this shit off her chest.

But then something in Dream’s demeanor changes. Her face rapidly shifts from confusion to retaliatory anger, eyes going from wide to narrow.

“That is not fair,” she says, and her voice breaks a bit on the last word. “I- You treated me like shit first!”

And now it’s George’s turn to blink, searching Dream’s face and realizing that she completely believes what she’s saying.

George’s first instinct is to deny, to tell Dream that she’s wrong. But Dream holds up a hand when she opens her mouth.

“Wait. Just- wait. Okay. Can you- tell me. What you think happened between us? From the beginning,” Dream says it with more authority than George has ever heard from her, and it should piss her off- but in the moment, it feels good to have guidance. So she talks.

“The first time we met. You ignored me. It was that fucking- party. The one the label through for you. I came up to say congratulations or whatever, and you- You totally blew me off!”

“Okay,” Dream says, nodding. “Okay, that does seem pretty shitty of me. But that wasn’t the first time we met,” she says it with all the finality of a falling gavel, the lynchpin in her defense. And George- Is lost.

“Uhm- Yes it was? I would have remembered meeting you,” she blushes as soon as the words are out of her mouth, which is fucking stupid. Because, sure, Dream is objectively her type. To the damn tee. And she sings. Well, as much as George is loathe to admit. “I mean- Whatever.”

“Oh,” Dream says, and it’s an oh sort of oh. George is blushing still. “Uh- Okay. But we met way before that.”

“When,” George demands, leaning forward. “Just fucking- tell me.”

“At a party. New Years? I think? You were siting at the bar and I thought, fuck it, we’re both in the same industry now, it’s as good a time as any to shoot my shot,” Dream explains in a rush, like George will stop her. “And you weren’t into me. Totally fine, obviously. But when you were at my signing party- I just felt so damn awkward. I didn’t know how to talk to you so I just- didn’t. And I am sorry for that.”

“You- What? Asked me out?” George asks, the puzzle pieces floating in her head, waiting to fall into place.

“Just for drinks. If you wanted one, I mean.”

“And I- said no? To you?”

Dream taps her fingers against the comforter. “You hardly looked at me. It was like- I didn’t exist,” she huffs out a laugh. “Ironic, I guess.”

“Oh fuck,” George groans, dropping her head into her hands. “I’m an idiot.”

“So am I,” Dream offers. “I probably could have just- been normal, at my party. But I couldn’t be, so you thought I hated you. And then I thought you hated me. Mostly because you were always so- standoffish.”

“It hurt,” George admits, curling in on herself. “To see how fucking nice you were to everyone else, and you could never even look at me. So I built this image up in my head, of you like- hating me. Thinking you were better than me.”

Dream laughs, short and sharp. “I uh- went to your first ever official show. If that means anything.”

“In that shitty venue with half the lights broken?” George asks, entirely taken aback. “That was- I wasn’t even signed yet.”

“I know,” Dream snorts. “It was so- I think that was my sexual awakening, honestly. Your voice and the way you sang-”

“Dream,” George gasps, covering her mouth with her hand. “You’re- You’re Claire.”

“You remember me?”

“Fucking- Yes. Oh my god. Holy shit. You came to like, half of my shows,” George wants to slap herself. It all makes sense now- she can see it now, Dream with her hair in its natural curls, looking so similar to George’s memory of the girl who had been barricade at her first few shows.

The rest of the night slips away- Dream and George talk until the sun comes up, about how Dream had found George’s music, about the label, everything.

George thinks she’s a new person under the morning sun. And she can see Dream for who she really is- and she doesn’t think she’ll forget again anytime soon.

The fourth week is George’s favorite. The rumors are in full force, after their very public New York date. George is kind of floored by just how famous Dream is- she knew objectively, of course, but experiencing it is a whole new beast.

But none of that is what makes her love that week. It’s something that’s entirely private, kept from the newly prying eyes of the public, from the greedy hands of their label.

It’s a night spent in George’s loft, Dream sneaking in through the fire escape. It’s barely restrained giggles and shared drinks, small touches and and closing space.

It’s George’s couch, and Dream’s hand on her waist, and the sound of the city around them. It’s stories of Dream’s family, of George’s love for London.

It’s a moment of quiet, a break in the conversation. It’s George leaning in, and Dream gasping softly into her mouth, lips impossibly plush against hers. It’s hands and lips and noses brushing, kisses that drag on and on until their horizontal on the couch, George’s hands holding her over Dream, Dream’s hands in her hair. It’s the promise of more, as they fall asleep tangled together right on the couch.

And it’s giggling together as they read the tabloids and the Reddit posts, as George’s manager sends her articles about getting along with people you dislike. It’s everything.

George loses count of the weeks. She asks Dream out during one of them, to be her girlfriend. She releases her album in another, with a song featuring Dream charting higher than anything else she’s released.

(People ask, often, if she’s bitter about it. ‘Why would I be?’ She says. ‘My girlfriend is the best- but I wrote the damn thing’)

Her tour is in one of the weeks after. It sells out, and they get frozen fruit to celebrate. And somehow, during her first show, there’s a beautiful girl watching her, cheering her on.

And at her last show, she pulls Dream on stage, grins wolfishly at the cameras. Mine, she thinks, when she kisses her under the lights.

#cq.writing #this was so fun oh my god #fem dnf week 2024

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toa-archive · 3 days

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While Trollhunters is aired on netflix, in some countries children's channels have also picked up a temporary contract to air it. Three such instances were Cartoon Network in Sweden, Norway and Denmark who shared identical websites and had video clips never shown on the English speaking side of things.

One of them did not stop there. Oh no, the Danish Cartoon Network site decided Troldejægerne needed youtuber sponsorship involvement! All three websites are now gone and all traces of Trollhunters on their respective youtube accounts have been delisted likely when the contracts ran out. This means the below is lost media now surviving purely from spamming friends/long suffering victims when they were first found. Due to the original language barrier and the videos being removed it is unknown who this person is. Should his name be found however this post will be updated with it.

First up, a thumbnail! For whatever reason and possibly because search engines have an annoying habit of picking up things they shouldn't, the original still exists in cache form attached to an entirely unrelated video. Hopefully this proves it wasn't all a weird fever dream? Those who saw the video at the time I can feel you cringing at your screens.

The following were taken as the video was being watched as it was about 20 minutes or so long from memory. This abomination of chocolate, of which very little was in liquid form when it was poured in there and there were gummy worms involved too, representing 'mud'. Despite ground up brownies and who knows what else this thing was so thick the straw got stuck and had zero suction. The face is still being used as a discord emote because, well.

Then we had the fusion art because why not I guess?

Afterwards the chocolate abomination clearly was not enough. He melted gummies, mixed in flour and created slime for exact purposes I genuinely do not recall. The cake did not deserve it and this stuff got literally everywhere it was so sticky.

The last thing screenshot was pretty cute though! Grow your own crystal kits have never really gone out of fashion so he made his own DIY version. There was either two or three though only only the cute pink heart was screenshot.

Anyway enjoy this random bit of Trollhunters trivia!

#Trollhunters #Tales of Arcadia #This user is not a big chocolate fan but YERGH

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lyranix1201 · 3 days

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Guy's I'm working hard, working hard to please you.

I am kinda glad that I'm a perfectionist and that I kept reading, what I wrote over and over again. because of it, I can reside this shit like it is some kind of Bible verse (Don't judge it yet, this is just a draft). I wrote this yesterday in my free period (went to school for nothing, we did absolutely nothing yesterday) but I sadly can't write today because I have a filosofie exam( bro I don't understand shit). Also here is a sketch of Lenore that I made in class. I have a love hate relationship with drawing hair, especially Lenores, like why those this woman's hair defy the laws of physics.

What is written below: ( marriage certificate. this is very legal. trust me. Sign here.)

Would you guys sign the contract?

#nevermore #nevermore webtoon #nevermore webcomic #lenore vandernacht #lenore nevermore #fanfic

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artssslut2 · 2 hours

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Champ

Summary: Arts wife goes into labor during one of his most important matches and Patrick is caught in the middle.

Art Donaldson x Reader

Okay it’s a little long but I like the way it turned out! Please send requests in!

It was July, it was hot and you were heavily pregnant. The combo did not go well, you were so uncomfortable and anyone around you longer than ten minutes knew it especially Art. Art felt terrible he didn’t know how to help, you were so irritated most of the times he felt like it was his fault. But if he acted like it was his fault you would cry and think your a bad wife so he just kept to himself and did the best he could, doing whatever he could for you.

You and Art had been back at home for a few months and were able to get the nursery all set up and were ready to welcome your baby girl. However Art had one last match before you planned to give birth. The U.S open. Luckily it was right by your house this year so you didn’t have to travel. You were doing your best to support his prep but you were kind of pre occupied.

It was the day before the match, Art was off because he always took the day off before a match to rest and reset,

“Can I get you anything babe?” Art asked you standing up from the outdoor lounge bed. It was a painfully hot day and your air conditioning had broke in your house so you and Art were outside relaxing

“No Art sit down. I should be getting you stuff you have the most important-“ Art cut you off while you tried sitting up

“Hey hey stop, it’s okay just relax, you have something big coming up too so let me take care of you” he said making you lay back down

“Art I’m such a bad wife” you started to cry, you felt pathetic, Art knew the drill

“Baby stop your the greatest wife you know that” Art knew what would make you feel better even if it would make him feel worse “can you… get me some water?” He offered more for you than him. You stopped crying and started to stand up and grab his some water,

“It is so fucking hot!” You yelled aggressively handing your husband your water, “I just need this baby to get the fuck out! My back hurts my feet hurt I’m huge and it’s so fucking hot!” You continued on your hormonal rampage Art stood up letting you finish which he learned was best. He walked up to you and wrapped His arms around you, you slowly gave in Art waited a minute before saying soemthing

“You know it’s so amazing what your doing for our little girl, I’m sorry it’s so hot out. But it two weeks we will get to see Lily, and hold her and I will never let her forget all that you did to bring her into the world.” He softly told you. You loved him so much he always knew what to do

“ I love you Art. thank you I’m sorry I’m such a wreck.” You said into his chest

“You’re allowed to be my love… want me to give you a back massage?” He offered, you just looked up at him smiling already going inside.

“I’ll text Patrick and tell him to bring over all of his fans.” Art said picking up his phone

The rest of the night you spent relaxing as did Art, doing some minor prep things for his huge match tomorrow. You knew he was nervous this is the first open of his career. Patrick had brought over four fans which helped but not much.

Throughout the night you couldn’t sleep which wasn’t unusual for you lately but this was different you were having some pain in your stomach and back. You have had Braxton hicks before but these felt different, you were pretty sure they were real contractions. This couldn’t be happening not now before your husbands big match. You tried to stay calm mabye it would pass and you were just over reacting. You decided not to say anything to Art, he needed to focus. If he knew that anything was wrong he would not play as well. Besides the contraction we’re very far apart and not frequent enough to worry anyways.

You picked out Arts outfit like you always did. Art was leaving before you to warm up and get ready.

“Patrick is gonna pick up in a half an hour, I don’t want you to have to drive right now” he told you, you rolled your eyes playfully at his over protectiveness. You may have protested but you didn’t think it was a good idea to drive either.

“Go get ‘em champ” you whispered before kissing him with your arms around his shoulders, he gave you a nervous smile then leaned down to your bump

“Hey Lily girl wish your daddy luck today, okay?“ he kissed your belly making you smile, she definitely was wishing him luck. Art kissed you once more before leaving. You finished getting ready, you had only felt one contraction since he left about fifteens ago. They were starting to get more intense, you wished Art was here to support you.

Patrick came though the front door as you were leaned over clutching the counter top in the middle of a contraction.

“Fuck y/n are you okay what’s going on!?” He rushed over to you putting his hand on your back, the contraction ended after about 40 seconds

“Yeah I’m fine. I’m just… I’m fine” you stuttered. Patrick looked at you knowing you were lying. He looked terrified “I think I’m in labor” you continued. Patrick’s mouth opened wider

“Well should I call Art?!” He panicked already grabbing his phone

“No! Don’t call him!” Patrick looked at you very confused “he can’t know this is the most important match of his Career he can’t miss it or be distracted. He can’t” you had tears in your eyes because of how terrible you felt that this was happening today.

“Y/n you gotta call him it will be fine” Patrick tried convincing you

“No Patrick! It’s fine the contractions are far apart and spontaneous, it might not even be real, and if it is we’ve got a lot of time so we are going to the fucking match and we are going to support my husband and not take this away from him! So get in the damn car right now so we aren’t late!” You ordered, Patrick hesitated then decided to listen to you. You took a deep breath and headed out to the car as well.

The drive to the stadium you had one more contraction only lasting 30 seconds this made you feel better because you knew they should be one minute before thinking about going to the hospital.

You and Patrick sat in the stands, Patrick keeping a very close eye on you. He was scared shitless and it was obvious. The coin toss just happened art was serving first he saw you in the stands and gave you a smile and a quick wave. You did your best to not look freaked out.

The match was going well art won the first set and they were on to the second it had taken about an hour and you had three more contractions but they weren’t too intense. The two player just started the second set when you felt another one hit you like a train this time in your back too, you gasped grabbing Patrick’s forearm tightly. You looked at you,

“Y/n, Y/n is that another one? Y/n”

“Just shut up” you said through gritted teeth squeezing his arm so tight.

“Pat you gotta do me a favor and time them okay? How far apart they are and how long they last, please” you asked him letting go of his arm.

“Of course. But we really gotta go I think we should at least tell someone on Arts team or-“

“No! It’s almost done he needs to win this I’m fine, my water didn’t even break yet” you interrupted him trying to believe your own words, but as the day progresses you started to panic more. You knew it was the real thing now.

It had only been about an hour but it felt like a lifetime. Art lost the second set so now they had to play a third. Contractions had really started to pick up and you didn’t know how much longer you could last.

“Y/n that’s eight minutes apart. Stop this you have to go.” Patrick told you trying to be firm

“Don’t you want him to win!?” You said in a whisper yell,

“I don’t want you to have his kid in the stands!” He whisper yelled back. A few people around you probably cougt on but you didn’t care.

“It’s almost over. Your supposed to go to the hospital at five minute and eight minutes is not five minutes Patrick” you said clearly not budging on your plan. Patrick put his head in his hands, he was a mess, sweating pale you’d think he was the one in labor.

It had been another hour and the match wasn’t over. Luckily things hadn’t progressed to much probably because you were just sitting this whole time. Contractions were six minutes apart. You were in so much pain you couldn’t believe it. You were trying to hide it from everyone but it was becoming harder. Patrick was bouncing his leg nervously and it was driving you insane.

“Patrick stop.” You said glaring at him

“I’m nervous okay. This is crazy”

“I know it is. But can you just stop being so annoying because I’m nervous too. I’m about to give birth on live television at my husbands tennis match.” You told him, he looked at you realizing he should stop being a baby

“You’re right y/n I’m sorry. It shouldn’t be too much longer now. Can I get you anything a water?” He offered putting his hand on your knee.

“Yes please thank you” you patted his hand but before he could stand up the crowd went wild. To be honest you or Patrick weren’t paying attention to the match at all. You looked down at the court. Art had won. You totally forgot about how much pain you were in for a second seeing the confetti fall down to the courts

“Oh my god Patrick!” You smiled Pulling Patrick in for a hug

“He won he fucking won! He’s won the US open!” Patrick cheered, everything felt unreal until another contraction came crashing through ruining the moment

“Fuck Patrick get Art we gotta go now” you said clutching him to help keep you standing, he held you up until it was over

“Okay I’m going just hold on” he said helping you sit down, Patrick ran down the stairs leaning over the edge to motion art towards him art had just finished shaking his opponents hand than ran over to him while simultaneously looking for you in the crowd. You couldn’t hear what Patrick said you just saw arts face go into shock as he was frozen then Patrick hit his arm and art leaped over the bar into the stands. People were still cheering like crazy. Art found you in the stands and bolted towards you kneeling in front of where you were sitting

“Hey baby what’s going on?” Art said out of breath and panicked

“I’m definitely having this baby now” you said feeling another contraction come on Patrick was right behind Art. Now the three of you had caught some attention. Art looked shocked and confused

“Oh my good um okay I’ll- i um- I don’t hav e my car here fuck” Art stuttered looking like a mess still sweaty from his match and in shock that he’s about to have a baby

“We can take mine come on!” Patrick said both boys helped you up out of the seat. The crowd was still cheering and arts coach’s and team were looking for him, he would explain later. He didn’t care about giving a speech or doing interviews or any of that all he cared about was you.

You all piled into the car after making your way through all the people, people were shouting at Art cheering for him asking for autographs but be totally blocked it all out. Art sat in the back you were in the front,

“How long have your been in labor?” He asked leaning over the seat from the middle

“Since this morning, we’ll kind of last night” you admitted feeling guilty all of the sudden

“What!? Why didn’t you tell me y/n!?”

“I couldnt! You had to play, you couldn’t miss this match Art!”

“Well I can’t miss the birth of our child either!”

“Well you didn’t! And I knew if you knew I was having contractions you wouldn’t play as well, and I haven’t had her yet and you won so we are all winners!”

“Guys! Mabye you should focus on the big picture?” Patrick shouted interrupting you and arts disagreement

“Your right I’m sorry baby, I’m just surprised. Are you okay how do you feel?” Art asked shifting to a calming compassionate tone that instantly made you feel more comfortable.

“I’ve been better. I’m just happy you’re here now. I was starting to freak out I thought the match would never end” you reached grabbing his hand looking back at him he looked at you and smiled

“We’re having a baby y/n” he laughed kissing you. Just then you felt something pop, your legs became wet. Fuck.

“Shit I think my water just broke” you cursed looking at Art terrified, you saw Patrick grimace probably worried about his car seat

“Uh um. It’s okay baby we’re almost there just take deep breaths” Art said stroking your arm. Art was terrified but he knew you were too. He didn’t have time to freak out and he needed to be there for you in case you freaked out.

“Fuck I’m scared Art.” You whimpered you hadn’t even realized how scared you were because you were so focused on trying to get through the match.

“I know. Me too. But your already doing so great. I can’t believe you were doing this all alone”

“I mean I was there too” Patrick chimed in but you both ignored him

“Your gonna be such a good mom y/n I’m so proud of you my love” you spoke softly cupping your face. Another contraction ripped through you the worst one you’ve had yet you let out a gutteral moan grabbing Arts hand, you could hardly breath. You couldn’t talk through it, it was much more intense now.

“Patrick how far away are we?” Art asked trying to stay calm

“ like ten minutes but we’re stuck in traffic so I don’t know” he said also trying to stay calm

“I don’t want to have a baby in Patrick’s car” you cried as you felt the contraction coming to an end

“You’re not baby it’s okay we will be there soon” Art reassured but was terrified you might actually have a baby in his best friends car.

You had been sitting traffic for ten minutes and your contractions were now four minutes apart. You were arched off the seat grabbing your stomach trying to get through the contraction, Art looked like he was about to cry from seeing you in so much pain. Patrick looked angry that there was so much traffic.

“Your doing so good y/n/n, just keep breathing okay?” He said stroking your hair.

“Art what do we do?” You asked scared that the traffic wouldn’t let up

“We um we-“

“Finally!” Patrick yelled seeing the traffic break. Everyone sighed with relief.

You had finally made it to the hospital and were settled in a room laying down with Art kneeling by your head stroking your hair. Art sent Patrick back to let his team know why he left and make sure everything was okay. Your labor seemed to be at a stand still, no progress had been made since you arrived.

“Hey I never told you how proud I was of you champ.” You said facing your husband smiling putting a hand on his face

“Well you were kind of busy” he laughed kissing your nose

“Sorry we couldn’t celebrate”

“This is a pretty good way to celebrate are you kidding?” He chuckled

“We’re gonna be parents. Like tonight” you whispered sweetly to him he had tears in his eyes

“Thank you for going through this all baby I owe you everything” he kissed you.

It had been another hour. Very little progress had been made you were so frustrated and just wanted to get your baby girl out and hold her. They suggested walking around to help move the process along which was the last thing you wanted to do. But here you were walking around with Art right by your side. Another contraction came on and you helped in pain, your arms were around arts shoulders as you leaned down in pain. He held you up and swayed you back and fourth.

“I can’t do this anymore” you cried grabbing your husband for dear life.

“What can I do for you y/n how can I help you babe” he asked wholeheartedly

“Can you help me walk, I gotta hurry this up” you said breathlessly. Art came behind you and wrapped his arms under your armpits and walked with you, pretty much for you. You couldn’t ask for a better father of your child. He was the most supportive guy you’d ever seen. He would do this for hours for you.

Now you were settled back in bed exhausted. It felt like an eternity had gone by but then the nurse came in to check you.

“Alright your ready to push I’ll call the doctor in” she smiled. You were shocked and scared. You looked at Art

“What? I don’t I can’t I’m not ready I can’t-“yes you can y/n. I know you can. Your the strongest person I know you’ve made it this far I’ll be here the whole time.” He instructed you. You looked up at him with tears nodding.

It had been half an hour and you were still pushing not making much progress. Everyone could tell you were exhausted.

“Y/n cmon you have to push harder we gotta get this baby out” the doctor said

“I can’t … I can’t do it anymore” you cried feeling lifeless. Art didn’t say anything he just climbed in bed behind you and straddled you holding you up with his body.

“Now y/n push” the doctor told you again

“Baby look at me just look at me. You can do it only a few more than you’ll be able to hold Lily. Okay? You got this champ” he told you tears in his eyes too. You let your head fall back on his shoulder as you screamed in pain pushing as hard as you could. Art was holding you legs back with his arms around you.

“Good good, just one more y/n” the doctor told you

“Your doing so good darling just one more” art was in tears you couldn’t see but you knew. You have one more push before hearing a very loud cry

“Oh my god” you cried as they Laid your daughter on your chest

“Congratulations you have a little girl. “ the doctor smiled. Art was speechless and balling, he couldn’t believe his baby was here he was holding the love of his life who was holding the other love of his life that you two created together, it was a perfect moment.

“We gotta have more Art she’s so cute” you said crying harder every second, everyone in the room laughed,

“I can’t believe it y/n. Thank you so much thank you so so much” he said crying into your hair. He reached his arm around to the baby who grabbed his finger with her tiny hand. You both cried with joy

“Oh my god look at her fingernails” Art said still in disbelief “there so tiny”

“Art we have a daughter” you said to him as he kissed your cheek multiple times

“Does she have a name?” The doctor asked

“Lily” you both said at the same time smiling. You and Art decided on her middle name a few weeks ago

“Hi Lily Jane” you whispered kissing her head. You were so content with your family. All the pain and tears were 100% worth it.

Later on that night Lily was cleaned and wrapped up in a cute little blanket with a hat on in her dads arms next to the hospital bed asleep. Art was smiling down at her still teary eyed. After examining all your babies features you decided she was a clone of her father. She had your lips but his everything else. Even a little speck of brown in her blue eyes that made your heart swell. You had never been more tired but you also had never been happier.

“She’s so beautiful” Art whispered trying not to wake her up “I could look at her for hours.” He smiled

“She looks just like you baby” you told him, he looked at you then her and smiled

“ I don’t know I see you a lot in her too” he told you. Just then you heard a knock at the door and saw Patrick’s head poke through, he was carrying the trophy Art had won

“Hey I thought I’d bring this by” he said quietly “is now a good time?” He asked softly, you nodded and he came into the room

“Wow.” He said carefully walking over to Art staring at the baby in his arms “She’s uh wow she’s-“

“I know.” You finished knowing his was mezmorized by his niece.

“I’m so proud of you guys” he said speaking from the heart

“You wanna hold her?” Art looked up at his best friend

“Oh I don’t know she looks pretty comfortable”

“Oh come on she’s gotta meet her uncle.” Art said standing up and handing him the tiny baby. Patrick took a deep breath staring at her

“Jesus Art she’s your twin” he laughed “Let’s hope she doesn’t get your ears” he teased

“Yeah Pat your one to talk” he he teased back.

Patrick didn’t stay long it was getting pretty late. You and Art decided to announce it on his social media to fill everyone in on why he rushed out of there after winning. He posted a picture you took of him holding Lily in one arm and his trophy from that day in the other. He captioned the picture with

@ArtDondson:

I didn’t think my day could get any better… but it did. Welcome to the world sweet Lily Jane, she’s already our little champ🤍

Of course the post blew up and many people commented and reporters contacted him but he ignored it. At least for now. He had never been so happy with his life than in this moment. This day would go down in history for the Donaldson family.

#art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x you #challengers fic #patrick zweig #art donaldson fluff #tashi duncan #art #challangers #make first x reader

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juunobox · 3 days

Text

── it means everything. (pinocchio x gn! reader)

summary: reader is a writer, feeling sad about the state of krat and their hobby. mulling in their own thoughts, P returns and comforts reader. p is sweet and supportive<3 fluffy moments warnings: very subtly implied passive suicide ideation, mc feeling hopeless and crying a little note: first time writing p x reader. sorry if it isnt the best i genuinely just needed to feed myself bcs there is an urgent lack of p x reader out there. i tried to make this cute-

You stretch your upper torso in your seat, staring at the pile of papers in front of you. You've just finished writing the second chapter of your book, as well as rewriting the prologue—an effort that consumed your entire day. You glanced at the nearby clock, checking the time. You thought about your puppet partner Pinocchio, it's about time he'd return from a day of stalking. It's getting late at night, the usual time he would come back.

In the meantime- you reach for your cup of tea, sipping it carefully before setting it down on the desk as your gaze drifts to the pile of freshly written papers. Sometimes you wonder why you continue writing your book. Krat is falling apart, after all. It's not the city it once was, the city you had known. What's the meaning?

You were lucky to be saved by Geppetto's puppet amidst the chaos and fortunate not to have contracted the petrification disease. Your near-total lack of self-defense skills makes your survival among the frenzied puppets seem like a miracle. You were hiding beneath a carriage in Elysion Boulevard when P found you and brought you to the refuge known as Hotel Krat, the only safe place left in the decaying city.

As you read through your own writing, paragraph by paragraph, you realize something isn't quite right— the prologue chapter. You think the writing isn't as good as how it was written the first time. You remember losing it while running for your life through Krat, barely managing to stay alive. Maybe that was the cost of being saved by P.

You set the papers aside, feeling an invisible weight settle in your chest. Why do you still write? Why are you still here? You've lost everything—friends, family— all to the petrification disease or the frenzied puppets. Maybe surviving is a curse, to grapple with the guilt of being the only one left.

If Pinocchio hadn’t found you that day, maybe it'd be better off that way. You don't know how much longer you can live like this...

Knock knock.

The soft noise snaps you out of your musing. You quickly run to the door, only to realize tears have been rolling down your cheeks. You hadn't noticed them amidst your thoughts and what-ifs. Quickly wiping them away, you compose yourself. You wouldn't want your puppet partner to see you like this. Despite being a puppet, you treat him as a real boy, even though he's still learning about human emotions. He ventures out daily on errands— navigating the dangerous streets of Krat. While he may not comprehend exhaustion nor fully grasp human feelings just yet, you empathize with his efforts. Despite these differences, you find comfort, sincerity and a sense of belonging in his presence.

You swing the door open, meeting Pinocchio's blue eyes with a forced smile. You try to remain casual, despite the turmoil inside you. "P! You've returned. How was today for you?" you ask, not expecting any verbal response. Pinocchio is a puppet of few words, usually replying with a nod, a shake of his head, or one and two words. Today is no exception, either. He nods with a slight smile, a way of telling you that it was fine. His head soon slightly tilts while pointing his index finger at you, that you interpret as- "What about you?"

"My day was okay. I spent it writing some of my book again," you say. To your surprise, P remains still instead of giving you another nod or smile- now looking at you with what appears to be a small frown.

You rose a brow, "What is it, P?" you ask, not quite understanding his intent. His eyes widen momentarily before he fidgets, struggling to express himself. He points at your eyes, pleading for you to understand. You glance at him, puzzled.

"…My eyes?" you murmur.

P nods almost hesitantly.

"Tired?" he finally speaks, his voice gentle.

"Your eyes… tired?"

You blink slowly, not expecting such a question. Your mind races, searching for a response. The way P's blue eyes implore you only increases your nervousness. "Oh! Yes, must be because I haven't been able to sleep much lately… but don’t worry. I plan on sleeping earlier tonight, though, so don’t you worry!" You laugh lightly, trying to sound casual and lighthearted.

P doesn't appear convinced. He stays motionless, his eyes silently urging you to say more. For a moment, you wonder if he can see through your lie—he's a puppet capable of lying himself, after all.

Before you could say something more, P steps forward and enfolds you in his arms. He pulls you into his embrace. Despite his wooden and steel body, his embrace brings you immense comfort. The weight that has burdened you for weeks—no, months—seems to melt away, at least a little bit of it.

You linger in his embrace for a moment longer before P gently withdraws, yet his grip remains on your shoulders. His expression is filled with genuine concern as he gazes at you.

"You hugged me..? Why?" you ask, feeling a bit self-conscious under his intense scrutiny.

P fidgets, clearly searching for the right words to convey his thoughts. He gestures towards the pile of papers on your desk and then back at you, his eyes brimming with curiosity and hopefulness. "Your writing... important," he says slowly, as if trying out the words to see how they fit.

You blink in surprise. "You think my writing is important?"

He nods. "Yes. It… gives meaning."

A lump forms in your throat as you realize he's trying to tell you that your work, your words, still hold value, even in a crumbling city like Krat. How can he tell? Is your distress so obvious that those around you can easily notice? You feel a little embarrassed at this realization, but P's simple affirmation fills you with a warmth you haven't felt in a long time. Your cheeks warm slightly at his words, and you nod, offering him a gentle smile.

"Thank you, P. That means a lot to me," you whisper, your voice cracking slightly.

P smiles, a rare and genuine expression that lights up his usually stoic face. You know he still struggles to emote, so his smile looks a little awkward, but the effort warms your heart. He gestures towards the pile of papers again and then back at himself, silently asking if he could hear your story.

"You want me… to read it to you?" you ask, a bit taken aback.

He nods again, his eyes bright with anticipation.

"Alright," you say, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Let's sit over there."

You both move to the small couch in your room. You pick up the papers and sit down, P settling in beside you. The close proximity is comforting, and you feel a sense of calmness wash over you in his presence. As you start reading, P listens intently, his eyes constantly switching from your face to the writing in your hand.

You read aloud, the prologue and chapter one unfolding in the quiet room. P's attention never wavers, and his expressions shift subtly with the spoken narrative. It's endearing to see how engrossed he seems to be at your little story, even though it doesn't feel that much interesting to you. Paragraph by paragraph, the story eventually reaches a tender moment between your characters- a kiss shared under the moonlight. P's eyes lit up with a spark of curiosity flickering in them as you read aloud the scene for him. As you’re about to turn the page, he places a hand on the paper, stopping you.

“Is something the matter, P?” you ask, trying to understand his concern. His index finger points at the word 'kiss' on the paper, looking at you with a curious expression.

"You're asking what a kiss is?" you clarify, trying to make sense of his question. P nods, confirming it.

You pause, taken aback by his curiosity. "A kiss is… well, it's a way to show affection. It's something humans do to express their love and care for each other," you explain, feeling a bit flustered. “And there are various kinds of kisses—romantic and platonic, depending on the context. The kiss shared between my characters here is more like a romantic kiss. It’s shared between lovers, while platonic ones are shared with friends and family…” You speak slowly, hoping he’d understand the explanation.

P nods slowly, processing your words. You can hear his gears ticking a little faster than usual, indicating he's processing all this new information. He seems satisfied with your explanation, treating it with the same seriousness he applies to everything he learns.

Taking his nod as encouragement, you continue reading to him, pausing and slowing down whenever you notice P needing further explanation of certain phrases or sentences. Sometimes, he gently stops you from turning the page if you miss a cue.

As time passes, fatigue catches up with you. Your eyelids grow heavy, and before you know it, you find yourself leaning against P's shoulder, your voice trailing off as sleepiness overtakes you. P notices immediately, glancing down to see you asleep. Gently, he sets the pile of papers aside, ensuring not to disturb you. Leaning back, he gazes down at you sleeping soundly against him while sensing an unfamiliar warmth spreading through his chest. His gears and springs tick a little faster, a new sensation that he finds oddly pleasant.

P watches you sleep, observing how relaxed you look. His human hand gently caresses your cheek, moving a stray strand of hair away from your face. The puppet leans closer, hesitating as his gaze drifts to your forehead. The memory of your explanation about kisses comes to mind. After a brief pause, he cups your cheek in his hand and finally presses a little kiss to your forehead.

As he pulls away, he could feel his mechanical heart's beat slowing down. He hadn't realized they had been ticking a little faster up until then. The now familiar warmth settles in his chest again as he takes in the sight of you sleeping peacefully against him, not fully understanding the gesture yet but liking the feeling of giving you a tender kiss like so.

The chestnut-haired puppet then wraps his arms around you in a protective embrace, holding you close to him as you sleep. In this quiet moment, he feels like he had gained a deeper understanding of human emotions and the connections that bind people together.

Though Krat may be falling apart, in this small, intimate space, there is still peace and comfort.

For now, that's enough—for both you and P.

#lies of p x reader #lies of p #lies of p pinocchio #lies of p x you #pinocchio x reader #lies of p game #p lies of p #x reader #LoP

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legacygirlingreen · 8 hours

Text

Easing Tensions

Pairing: Tech x F!Reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

It is home..?

It is tolerable..?

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

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

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

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

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

That was, until they showed up.

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

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

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

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

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

Why were clones on Ord Mantell?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A successful business woman-” Cid said.

“Covered in grease-” Ketch said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

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

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

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

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

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

After a few hours you received another ping.

Landed and waiting to meet our contact. ~ Tech

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

Another ping came in less than an hour later.

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

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

[Incoming message from Tech]

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

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

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

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

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

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

₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you wish for me to leave?”

You shake your head.

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

You nod.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I care for you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kiss me.

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

“You want me to-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I want you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You did,” you scoff at the memory.

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

“What do you mean?”

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

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

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

“Would you like to get in the refres-”

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

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

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

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

The end.

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