the-dutchmanjr
the-dutchmanjr
100 Souls…3 Days.
50 posts
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the-dutchmanjr ¡ 20 hours ago
Text
Woah. 😳
eighteen hours.
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Pairing: Avenger!Bucky x Avenger!Reader
Summary: Weeks apart on separate missions leave you and Bucky Barnes aching, desperate, and one heartbeat away from unraveling. The reunion? Eighteen hours of pure, breathless release.
Disclaimer: 18+ (mdni!), explicit smut content, p in v, multiple rounds, overstimulation, edging, mutual desperation, shower sex, window sex, kitchen counter sex, use of restraints (soft), masturbation mention, lingerie tease, squirting (f), super soldier stamina, mild teasing from tb* members
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It started like any other assignment.
A sharp morning. Polished boots. Steel chairs arranged around the Watchtower’s mission table. The kind of day where even the light felt clinical—too white, too bright, too final.
Valentina entered with a clipboard in hand and that usual glint in her eye, the one that said she already knew something you didn’t want to hear.
“Barnes, Yelena, Alexei, Bob—Bucharest first. Bogotá by week three. Rotating safehouses. No crossovers.��
You stiffened.
“Walker, Ava, and…”
She looked straight at you.
“You—Algeria. Then east through Istanbul. Targets on the move. You’re expected to stay mobile and out of range.”
The silence afterward said everything.
That pause before your name wasn’t a slip.
It was surgical.
Across the table, Bucky’s jaw tensed. He didn’t look at you, but his shoulders rolled tight. His metal hand flexed once, resting flat on the table like he was physically grounding himself.
This wasn’t routine.
This was designed.
The room shifted. Teams gathered their gear. Orders confirmed.
But neither of you moved.
Bucky brushed your fingers beneath the table—the kind of small, hidden touch that wasn’t meant to say goodbye. It was a promise.
We’ll find each other.
However we can.
—
Packing was mechanical.
Weapons, suits, coordinates, clearances.
Everyone was buzzing around the hangar level, focused on countdowns and jet fuel. But Bucky caught your wrist with a glance that made your breath hitch—then gently steered you down a side corridor.
He didn’t stop until you ducked into a quiet auxiliary room—once used for archive storage, now mostly forgotten. The lights were dim. A narrow bench ran along the wall. A few old mission files sat boxed in the corner.
He shut the door behind you.
“Just for a minute,” he said, voice low. “Just wanna be where you are.”
You barely nodded before he pulled you into his chest. He held you like he needed it—not tight or desperate, but complete. His warmth poured into you as you buried your face into the space between his neck and shoulder.
You ended up straddling his lap on the bench, both of you half-armored, half-undressed—hands roaming like you were trying to memorize every line, every scar, every breath.
“I hate this,” you muttered into his neck.
“I know.” His voice was steady. Anchoring. “But we’ll be okay.”
His mouth found the slope of your shoulder. Then your collarbone. Then lower—teeth grazing before lips closed around your skin and sucked.
You gasped—part surprise, part pure heat.
“Bucky—”
“Gonna leave a few. Let ‘em wonder how many more are where they can’t see.”
He left another. And another. The bruises bloomed warm beneath your skin—high enough that your tactical suit wouldn’t cover all of them.
When he pulled back to look at you, his pupils were blown wide, lips kiss-bitten and breath ragged.
“You’re mine,” he murmured. “Even if they split us across the damn planet.”
You ran your hands up under his shirt, nails scratching lightly across his ribs—grounding yourself in the solidity of him.
“You’ll text me when you can?”
“Every chance I get.”
“Even if it’s just one word?”
“Even if it’s just a photo.”
You smirked. “Of what?”
He grinned, leaning back like he had all the time in the world—even though you both knew better.
“I’m waiting for boob pics, love. Minimum one per timezone.”
You laughed into his neck and kissed his jaw, soft and smiling.
“You’re such a menace.”
“You love it.”
“Unfortunately.”
When the comm finally buzzed for final departure prep, you lingered another moment, forehead pressed to his.
“We’re good?”
“Always.”
And then you slipped out—his warmth still clinging to your skin, and his hickeys hidden beneath your collar like the loudest secret in the world.
—
The first few days weren’t unbearable.
Busy hours blurred the worst of it—briefings, drone recon, field scans. The kind of missions that demanded your hands stay full and your focus sharp. You told yourself it helped. That staying in motion kept the ache at bay.
But the nights were something else entirely.
By the third night, sleep wouldn’t come. The cot beneath you was too narrow, too cold. You rolled over instinctively and reached for the other side—empty. Your palm flattened against the mattress like it could summon him there.
It didn’t.
You’d already stripped out of your tactical suit, skin flushed from a lukewarm shower and a restlessness that refused to settle. The mirror over the sink caught your reflection just as the last of the sun dipped beneath the window—warm dusk light casting gold across your damp collarbone, your bare shoulder.
You grabbed your comm. Lifted your phone.
Pulled down your undershirt just enough to let the neckline dip low—sweat clinging to the curve of your breasts, a faint bruise from his mouth peeking out beneath the edge of the fabric.
The angle was deliberate.
Head tilted back. Lips parted. Not a full reveal. But it said everything.
Still thinking about the way your hands fit around my waist.
Bet you’d wreck me if you were here.
You hit send before you could talk yourself out of it.
—
His reply came six hours later. No text. Just an image.
The lighting was shit—whatever rooftop he was on barely lit by the glow of city spill—but it didn’t matter.
He was shirtless.
Dog tags heavy and low over his chest.
Hair a little messier than usual, as if he’d just run a hand through it before taking the shot.
But the part that made your thighs press together?
His sweatpants.
Slung low. Way too low. Obscene, really—the waistband clinging just above the vee of his hips, and beneath it? A thick, unmistakable bulge pressing upward. Not subtle. Not suggestive.
Hard. Veined. Heavy. Angry.
Like he’d taken the photo mid-thought, right before palming himself. Like maybe he had.
Your name was probably still on his tongue when he snapped it.
You sucked in a breath, cheeks hot, and held the screen to your chest like it could warm the parts of you he was supposed to be touching.
This was manageable, you told yourself.
Just teasing. Just playing.
It would pass.
—
It got worse.
What started as playful—just a little edge, a little fun—turned into something raw. Unbearable. Every picture, every breathy message only twisted the knife deeper.
Bucky cracked first.
The signal finally held long enough for him to send a voice note.
You were mid-gear check when it came through, tucked into a corner of the safehouse with your earbuds in.
“Woke up with my hand around my cock,” he rasped, voice low, wrecked. “Thought it was you at first. Swear to God, I could feel you there. Your breath on my neck, your legs wrapped around me. Then I realized I was alone again.”
A pause. A harsh exhale.
“And fuck, baby… I nearly lost it.”
You played it three times.
Nearly dropped your comm on the third.
—
You didn’t just tease back. You retaliated.
The next photo was a mirror shot—deliberately filthy. You stood in the dim light of your bunk, chest bare, your breasts fully visible this time, no shame. One hand was sunk into your panties, fingers clearly pressing against the soaked fabric. The other held your phone steady, angled to catch the full view: your messy hair, parted lips, heavy-lidded eyes, and the slick glint of sweat on your chest. No caption. Just raw hunger in pixels.
This help you sleep tonight? Or should I take more?
He didn’t respond immediately. But when he did, it was short.
You’re not playing fair.
My cock’s been hard since sunrise. Haven’t touched it. Saving every second of this for you.
You sent a quick clip later—just a few seconds long. You didn’t even speak in it.
Just six seconds. The camera angled low—your hand slipping beneath the blanket between your thighs. No real view, just the movement. The blanket shifted slightly with every circle you traced over your clit. Soft moans escaped—broken, breathy, like you were trying to stay quiet. Then a whimper—his name, trembling from your lips. No skin shown. No climax caught. Just the sound and the hint and the promise of you falling apart.
Bucky watched it on repeat like it was the only thing keeping him alive.
—
Then came Ava.
You’d crashed hard that night—exhausted, sweaty, and stripped down to just your lingerie. The maroon lace set he liked. The same one he’d picked out. It had become a habit—wearing it when you missed him. A reminder. A tether.
Ava had been reviewing footage by the window for perimeter movement when she caught it.
The camera was focused outward. But the mic had picked up your sleep sounds in the background.
She wasn’t trying to be cruel when she played it back.
She just raised an eyebrow and pressed play—a grin tugging at her lips as the soft moans filled the air. You were murmuring his name. Restless. Breathless. Like you were dreaming of him—no, feeling him.
“Mmh… Bucky—please… inside me… deeper—oh god… please—”
Your voice cracked on the last word, a sharp gasp like you were right on the edge.
You could’ve died.
“Jesus,” Ava had laughed, not unkind. “Want me to send it to him? Y’know, for motivation?”
You didn’t answer fast enough. She already hit send.
—
He didn’t laugh.
He didn’t even text back. Just disappeared for a few hours.
Locked himself in the bathroom of the Bogotá safehouse, palms braced on the sink, sweat dripping from his temple to his jaw. The floor was cold. His cock throbbed painfully in the tight grip of his tactical jeans, already slick with precum from the sound of your voice in his ear—played over and over again like a goddamn drug.
He groaned low, forehead resting against the mirror as he finally undid his fly—reached in and freed himself with a hissed curse.
Hard. Angry. Red at the tip and twitching. His hand flexed uselessly beside him, trembling from restraint.
He closed his eyes and whispered, “Fuck, baby… what are you doing to me…”
But he didn’t stroke.
Didn’t move.
Didn’t dare.
Not without your hands.
Not without your thighs tight around his hips.
Not without your voice whispering that he could let go.
So he tucked himself away again—biting down hard on the side of his fist until it bruised, his pulse roaring like a storm.
Later, when the signal held again, he finally texted:
This was supposed to help.
All these videos. These fucking pictures.
It’s making everything worse, doll.
I need you so bad, I swear I’m gonna lose my mind.
—
He stopped sleeping properly.
The circles under his eyes were darker now, sharp enough to draw questions if anyone had the nerve. His mouth was constantly pressed into a tight, agitated line. The usual post-mission calm he carried—that calculated, steady presence of command—was cracking.
Every time he sat down to write up route plans, his hands twitched. His left hand—the metal one—wouldn’t stop flexing. Clenching. Releasing. Like he was trying to ground himself in anything that wasn’t your voice moaning his name.
The last time he tried to issue orders midbriefing, he nearly snapped a comm tablet in half.
“Safehouse Delta’s too close to the highway,” he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We’ll reroute south. Four klicks. We’ll—”
He trailed off.
Everyone stared at the map table, then at Bucky—who was clearly no longer looking at anything but the wall. Or rather, through it.
His jaw clenched again. He tried to redirect.
“We’ll send Bob first to—”
But Bob was already looking sideways at him.
“You gonna pass out?”
“No.”
“You look like your brain’s buffering.”
“I said I’m fine.”
But his voice had cracked. Just slightly.
Yelena leaned back in her seat with a dramatic sigh, chewing on the end of a protein bar like this was better than Netflix.
“Alright,” she announced loudly, “I’m just gonna say what everyone else is thinking.”
Bucky didn’t even turn his head.
She kept going.
“You’re clearly about three days from spontaneously combusting from blue balls. You’ve been staring at walls, misreading maps, and grinding your teeth like it’s a fetish. Which—respectfully—gross.”
Alexei smothered a laugh. Bob coughed loudly into his fist.
“You need to jerk off or jump off a building,” Yelena finished, deadpan. “Pick one.”
Bucky finally looked up.
His eyes were bloodshot. His voice was tight when he replied.
“I’m not jerking off.”
That shut them up.
Yelena blinked. “…Okay. That’s not where I thought that was going.”
“I’m saving it. All of it.” His hand twitched again. “She deserves every goddamn second of it.”
A pause. The silence stretched—not awkward, just charged.
Even Alexei nodded solemnly, as if that was the only acceptable answer.
Yelena rolled her eyes but muttered, “Romantic. Disgusting. Continue suffering, I guess.”
—
Later that night, Bucky paced the rooftop alone. Fingers twitching. Breath uneven.
He pulled up your last photo again.
Your hand between your thighs. Lips parted. That little text below it:
I’d spread for you right here on this cot if you were with me.
He groaned into his palm.
Pressed the heel of his hand against the painful bulge in his pants.
Didn’t move. Didn’t stroke. Just gritted his teeth and endured.
“You better be ready for what I’m gonna do to you,” he muttered into the dark.
—
It was just after 7:00PM when the jet touched down.
The sky above the Watchtower was bruised in golds and fading gray, clouds curling low like dusk had rolled in too early. Your shoulders ached. Muscles stiff from too many hours strapped in gear, too many days sleeping with one eye open.
Your boots hit the floor with more weight than usual—the kind that didn’t come from exhaustion alone. It was something else. Something thick in your chest, pressing behind your ribs.
Inside the compound, it was unusually quiet.
Operatives passed by in pairs. Brief nods. No chatter.
Ava veered off toward medical, threw a wink over her shoulder, and mouthed, “Go get your man.”
You didn’t smile. Not yet.
Not until your fingers brushed the key panel of your shared room, and the door clicked open beneath your touch.
Something shifted the moment you stepped inside.
The air smelled like candle wax, clean linens, and something warmer underneath—musk and sandalwood, with a trace of vanilla. The room glowed gold in low light. Flickering candles burned on the desk, by the bed, and one small one beside the bathroom mirror.
It was quiet. But not empty.
He was there.
And the second he saw you, his face lit up.
“Hey,” Bucky breathed, already halfway to his feet. His voice was low but clear, as if speaking pulled breath right back into his lungs. “You’re home.”
That ache—the one locked in your chest—snapped clean open.
You dropped your duffel just as he reached you, arms wrapping tight around your waist, your cheek pressed against his collarbone. He smelled like soap and steel and something distinctly him—warm skin, freshly showered, a hint of cologne that clung to his shirt.
He didn’t devour you. Didn’t grope, didn’t rush.
He just held you.
One arm around your back, the other cradling the back of your head. His lips brushed the top of your hair.
You clung back like it might hold you together.
His hand ran slowly down your spine. You could feel the control in it—the way his chest rose hard against yours, like he was barely keeping the rest of him contained.
“I changed the sheets,” he murmured softly. “Lit a few candles. Put your shampoo out. Thought maybe you’d want a hot shower first.”
Your heart cracked, melted, rebuilt itself.
You nodded against him, cheek brushing the curve of his neck.
“You remembered.”
“Of course I did.” His smile touched his voice, even as his hand lingered low on your back. “You always say you wanna feel clean before we get dirty.”
That earned a small laugh from you—quiet, but real.
He pulled back just enough to look at you, cupping your cheek in one hand. His thumb brushed gently beneath your eye, like he was checking you for damage.
“I missed you,” he said. “Like breathing stopped.”
You kissed him, soft and slow—lips barely parting, just enough to feel the warmth of him beneath the quiet.
“Missed you more.”
He didn’t rush you when you stepped out of your gear. Just watched with quiet reverence, helping peel the layers off your shoulders and arms. He kissed your shoulder once—right over the old bruise he left weeks ago—and whispered:
“I’ve been thinking about this moment for 36 days. But I’m not rushing it. Not until you’re ready.”
Then he took your hand, kissed the inside of your wrist, and nodded toward the bathroom.
“Go on. I’ll be right here.”
—
You hadn’t even closed the door behind you.
The steam was already thick, curling from the shower where hot water slammed against tile. You peeled your clothes off slowly, shaking the last of the travel dust from your skin, limbs heavy from the mission—but your chest felt lighter. He was here. You were home.
You stepped into the spray and let it hit you.
Heat flooded your shoulders. Rolled down your spine.
The ache you’d ignored for weeks cracked wide open across your bones.
You arched slightly under the pressure of the water, fingers dragging slowly down your stomach. Your thighs pressed together at the memory of his voice—his lips on your neck, his hands gripping your hips like they belonged there.
You knelt briefly to grab a bottle you knocked over. Bent forward. Stretched.
And then—
“Mmh…”
Just a sound. A breath.
But it came from somewhere deep—unconscious, raw, and aching. It slipped from your throat like his name was caught beneath it.
The floor creaked.
You turned, startled—and everything inside you tightened.
He was there.
Bucky Barnes. Standing in the doorway of the bathroom like something ancient and carved from firelight. His chest rose fast, hard, like he’d sprinted across the room. Hair damp with sweat, not water. Shoulders tight. Fists clenched at his sides.
And he was naked.
Completely.
You hadn’t even heard him undress. But there he stood—broad, solid, his cock achingly hard and already slick with precum, flushed dark and twitching with every strained breath he took.
His eyes drank you in.
Steam wrapped around his body, clinging to every line of him. You watched his jaw twitch, chest heave. His cock twitched again—another thick drop of precum beading at the tip.
“Baby…”
His voice cracked. A breath. A prayer. Hoarse and wrecked.
“Please…”
“Please stop torturing me.”
But he didn’t move. Not yet.
Like he was waiting for your permission—even now, even while unraveling at the seams.
You reached for him.
One hand. Simple. Open. You pressed your palm to the center of his chest—felt the hammering heartbeat beneath it, the way his breath hitched.
He whimpered.
The sound broke from his lips like it had been fighting its way out for days. He stepped forward, cupped your waist, then your jaw, thumb trembling against your cheek.
“You’re real,” he whispered. “Fuck—you’re here.”
You smiled softly. Nodded.
He stepped into the shower with you—no hesitation this time.
The water soaked him instantly, but he didn’t care. He was already soaked in you. The scent. The need.
His hands were everywhere. One warm, the other metal, both reverent. They dragged up your spine, gripped your hips, held your face like it was holy.
“Missed you,” he rasped between frantic kisses.
“Missed your mouth. Your voice. Your thighs. The way you sound when I’m inside you—fuck, baby, I’ve been dying.”
Your back hit the tile with a dull thud. His body pressed into yours, all solid heat and desperation.
His cock bumped against your stomach—hot, heavy, leaking.
He gasped. “Touch me… please, just—let me feel you.”
You did more than touch.
Your hand curled around the base of him, felt him throb in your palm. He swore low against your neck, forehead pressing to yours as his hands skimmed lower, between your thighs.
“Jesus, sweetheart—”
His fingers slid through the slick between your legs.
“You’re soaked…”
He groaned. Slid two fingers inside you.
You gasped, walls clenching hard around the intrusion.
“Fuck,” he hissed. “Tight… tighter than I remember. You really waited for me?”
You bit his jaw. “I didn’t even let myself finish, Bucky. You ruined me.”
That was all it took.
He gripped your thighs, lifted you off the ground like you weighed nothing, and pinned you to the shower wall. You wrapped your legs around his waist, arms around his neck.
“Hold on to me,” he breathed. “That’s it… Good girl.”
He lined himself up. Slick head pressed against your entrance. And then—
He sank in.
One thrust. Deep. Full.
You both cried out—voices echoing in the tile and steam.
The stretch. The heat. The sudden, perfect fullness.
He fucked into you with short, desperate thrusts—buried all the way, hips snapping with precision. You met him every time, nails clawing his back, gasping against his mouth.
Your orgasm ripped through you without warning—sharp, wet, loud.
“James, I—I’m coming!”
“I’ve got you. Let go. Soak me, baby.”
You did. You clenched so hard around him he almost collapsed.
He followed seconds after—buried deep, groaning your name as he came hard inside you, hips jerking, forehead pressed to your shoulder. His body trembled with the force of it. He held you there, still wrapped around him, his cock twitching inside your pulsing heat.
“You’re mine,” he whispered. “Not letting you out of this room for days.”
You kissed him through the fog, smiling against his lips.
“Good. I’m not going anywhere.”
—
Your legs were still shaking when he carried you out of the bathroom.
No towel. No words. Just the heat of his arms around you, the steady thump of his heart against your ribs, and the way the air between you still crackled like static. You smelled like him. He smelled like you. It wasn’t over. It had only begun.
He laid you on the bed like something sacred.
Candles glowed around the room, casting golden halos over damp sheets and flushed skin. The maroon lace slip sat untouched where he’d left it—delicate, sheer, wicked.
You reached for it with trembling fingers.
But Bucky caught your wrist gently. “Let me,” he said.
His voice was lower now. Hoarse. Reverent.
He lifted the slip over your head slowly, letting the lace fall like a whisper down your body. It hugged your hips, clung to your breasts just enough to tease—translucent and sinful. His lips brushed your spine as he adjusted the straps, hands shaking.
“I thought about this every night,” he murmured, lips brushing your shoulder.
“Fantasized about it. About you, straddling me in this. Had to lie there with my fists clenched, cock aching, just—breathing through it. Didn’t touch myself. Not once.”
His voice cracked. “Didn’t want to waste a single drop that wasn’t for you.”
You whimpered.
He hovered above you now—fully naked, flushed, his cock already hard again. Veined and glistening, twitching with the pulse of how badly he needed to be inside you.
But he didn’t rush.
Didn’t even move until you cupped his jaw and pulled him down into a kiss.
Mouths met softly, then harder.
Tongues sliding slow.
His body sinking into yours, heat to heat, heartbeat to heartbeat.
You grabbed the back of his neck and whispered against his lips, “Come here. Let me ruin you.”
He groaned, deep in his throat, and you flipped him onto his back, straddling his hips with shaking thighs. The lace slip rode up your thighs, leaving nothing in the way when his cock pressed hot and heavy against your dripping heat.
“Fuck, baby,” he gasped. “You’re soaked through.”
You leaned down, your breasts brushing his chest, and ground your hips against his length. “You did this,” you whispered. “With every text. Every picture. Every breath.”
He was gone. Let you take full control.
You gathered the hem of the lace slip, just enough to bare yourself to him, and guided him in—sinking down slowly, inch by agonizing inch, until he was buried to the hilt.
Both of you moaned, raw and open, mouths slack with need.
“Jesus Christ,” he groaned, head thrown back, fists clenched in the sheets.
“Still so tight, baby. Still fucking perfect.”
You started to move—slow at first, grinding your hips in deep, lazy circles that dragged the tip of his cock right against your most sensitive spot. His hands clamped hard on your thighs, trying to keep his control, but you didn’t make it easy.
“You gonna come again just from riding me?” he asked, breathless.
You nodded. “Already close.”
He groaned, slipping one hand between your bodies to rub firm, precise circles over your clit.
“There you go… let me feel you. Let go for me.”
And you did.
Your second orgasm hit like a goddamn wave—crashing through your spine, stealing your breath, squeezing around his cock so tight he choked on a moan.
He didn’t last much longer.
You kept grinding, whispering filth into his ear—how full he made you feel, how wrecked you were for him, how you still weren’t done.
That tipped him.
He came hard with a strangled moan, cock pulsing deep inside you, hips jerking as he flooded you for the second time. His arms locked around your waist as he gasped into the crook of your neck, trembling from the force of it.
You stayed like that, slumped against his chest, bodies stuck together with sweat and slick and heat.
“You alright?” he asked, voice scratchy.
“I’m feral,” you whispered back. “And I’m not finished.”
He chuckled, still panting. “Good. ‘Cause I’m not tapping out anytime soon.”
—
Later.
The wine sat untouched on the desk.
The lace slip lay discarded in a crumpled pile on the floor.
The candles had burned halfway down, wax pooling thick at the base.
And you?
You were flushed. Sweaty. Trembling.
Knees sinking into the mattress as you straddled his thighs once more, this time with your back to him—hips hovering, your whole body tingling.
He leaned against the headboard, sweat shining on his chest, watching you like a man possessed.
“You sure?” he rasped, voice ragged and frayed.
You didn’t answer.
You just reached back, gripped his cock at the base, and lowered yourself onto him slowly—inch by inch until he was buried to the hilt inside you.
Both of you moaned. Loud.
Deep.
Almost pained.
Your hands braced against his shins behind you for leverage, thighs spread wide as you rode him hard—your ass slapping against his hips, slick and flushed with every bounce.
“Oh, fuck—”
His hands gripped your waist like he was anchoring himself.
“Jesus, sweetheart—you’re still so fuckin’ tight…”
You started to move—slow, heavy grinds, rolling your hips like you needed every inch of him rooted inside you. Bucky gasped behind you, his hands traveling from your hips to your thighs to your breasts, groping, squeezing, completely feral.
“You ride me like it’s the only thing keeping you alive,” he growled.
“Look at that ass—fuck, I can see it bounce every time you fucking slam down.”
You moaned—head tilted back, chest rising and falling—sweat glistening between your breasts.
And then—his fingers slid between your thighs from behind. Two of them, circling your clit with ruthless precision.
“I wanna feel you come again, baby. Let me feel you fucking gush on my cock.”
Your thighs trembled. Muscles locked. Your core started to spasm.
“Bucky, I—I think I—fuck, I’m gonna—”
“Do it. Come on, baby. You’re dripping, you’re so fucking close—let it happen.”
You broke with a cry.
Legs shaking. Hands digging into his thighs.
Your pussy clamped down hard, and then it hit—
You squirted.
Hard.
Hot wetness sprayed between your thighs, down over his cock, soaking the sheets. Bucky let out a strangled moan, clutching your waist like he was going to lose his mind.
“Goddamn—fuck, look at you. You’re gonna make a fucking mess, aren’t you, baby?”
He didn’t stop.
He snapped his hips up into you, relentless now—grinding deep as your soaked cunt fluttered around him, so overstimulated your vision blurred.
“Still want more?” he panted, thrusting up again, angling perfectly.
“I can feel how much you need it. So greedy for me—so fucking full of my cum, and still not satisfied.”
You couldn’t answer. You just moaned, nodding wildly, nails dragging down his thighs, thighs shaking uncontrollably.
“That’s it,” he whispered, his breath hot on your shoulder as he leaned forward, one hand now wrapped tight around your throat.
“You gonna come for me again? Gonna make a mess on my cock one more time?”
“Yes—James, please—”
And you did.
A second wave slammed into you.
You screamed, back arching, body locking as you squirted again—wetter this time, gushing down over his balls, onto the sheets, soaking everything beneath you.
Bucky lost it.
“Shitshitshit— I’m coming—fuck, baby—I’m—”
He grunted, jerking up into you with three final brutal thrusts as his cock pulsed deep inside you, filling you again, so hot you felt it flood your walls.
You collapsed forward onto the mattress, his arms catching you just before you slumped completely. He held you tight from behind, your body still twitching, both of you covered in sweat, slick, and release.
“Holy fuck,” he breathed, voice dazed, completely gone.
“You just… soaked me, baby.”
You half-laughed, half-whimpered. “I couldn’t help it. You broke me.”
“Good,” he growled, kissing your neck. “You can break me next.”
—
You should’ve been done.
You should’ve been shaking, satisfied, breathless from three rounds and nothing left to give.
But you weren’t.
The ache still lived in your bones.
The emptiness still throbbed between your legs.
And when Bucky’s lips brushed your temple—slow, tender, trembling—you felt it in him too.
He needed more.
You both did.
The sheets beneath you were damp. Your thighs were slick. Your chest rose with every sharp breath, nipples flushed and sensitive, body still twitching from your last orgasm. And still… the hunger hadn’t dulled.
“You okay?” he whispered against your throat.
“No,” you rasped, voice cracking.
“I need you again. Right fucking now.”
Bucky exhaled a shaky breath. His cock twitched against your thigh—already stiffening again.
“Jesus, doll… you’re insatiable.”
He kissed your jaw. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”
Then he shifted—slow but deliberate—and suddenly, your wrists were gathered above your head. You gasped at the motion, but his grip was careful, tender. He reached for the discarded shirt at the foot of the bed and looped it around your wrists—soft, warm, not tight.
“Just wanna keep you here,” he murmured, kissing your palms one at a time.
“Let me take care of you.”
Your stomach fluttered. Your thighs clenched.
And when he dropped between your legs, your breath hitched so hard your back arched off the bed.
“James—”
“Shhh,” he purred, brushing his stubble along the inside of your thigh.
“Gonna keep you right here, sweetheart. Gonna make you come until your body forgets what rest feels like.”
His tongue dragged through your folds—slow, warm, filthy.
The first flick over your clit sent your hips off the bed—but he was already holding you down, fingers firm, spreading you open like he was fucking home.
“You’re so fucking wet,” he growled into your cunt, voice rough with disbelief.
“Jesus, baby, you taste like both of us… fuck. You’re perfect.”
He devoured you.
Long, slow licks that lapped up his own cum still leaking from you. Wet, obscene noises filled the room—every slurp, every moan against your pussy like it was the only thing that ever mattered.
You whined. Cried out. Legs trembling.
His mouth worked faster, tongue flicking your clit with maddening precision—soft then hard, gentle then firm, always changing, always knowing exactly how to ruin you.
“Bucky—fuck—baby I—”
Your voice broke.
Your hips bucked.
You were so close again, already, already—
He pulled back.
“Not yet,” he rasped, lips wet and eyes dark.
“Not until you beg for it.”
You sobbed—from the overstimulation, from the ache, from how badly you needed to fall apart.
“Please—please, baby, I can’t—just let me—let me come, please—!”
That broke him.
He groaned, deep and guttural, and latched onto your clit with his mouth wide and relentless—tongue flat, dragging fast and rough, his fingers digging bruises into your thighs.
You exploded.
A scream ripped from your throat as your orgasm hit like a strike of lightning—your whole body shook, fists clenched, toes curled, thighs trembling. You gasped so hard your ribs ached. The headboard thudded behind you.
“Good girl,” he murmured, voice soaked in reverence.
“One more, baby. Just one more for me.”
You didn’t even get to respond.
Didn’t even breathe.
Because his tongue never stopped.
He kept sucking—soft at first, then harder—until another wave curled sharp behind your ribs. You sobbed his name, pulled at the binds, tried to run but couldn’t move.
You came again.
Harder.
Legs seizing, slick gushing between your thighs, soaking his face, your body curling from the sheer force of it.
He kissed your trembling thighs through the aftershocks.
Pressed his forehead to your belly.
“You okay?” he whispered.
“I don’t even know where I am,” you panted.
“And I think I like it.”
—
Later—
Maybe thirty minutes.
Maybe five.
Time had stopped meaning anything.
It warped, curled, bled together beneath the hum of overstimulation and breathless ache.
You lay curled on your side, one leg bent, sheets tangled around your calves. Sweat cooled on your skin in sticky rivulets. Your breathing had started to even out, but your body still pulsed from the inside—too full, too stretched, too tender to be still.
And then—
The mattress dipped behind you.
You felt his warmth before you felt his hands.
He slid in close—chest to your back, thighs pressed to yours, breath curling against your neck.
His lips brushed your shoulder.
“Still want me?” he asked, voice soft as fog.
You answered with a sigh. Reached back without looking, your palm wrapping around the hard length of him, thick and hot and already twitching against your fingers.
“Always.”
You rocked your hips back, slotting yourself perfectly into him.
He kissed your spine.
Tucked his face into the crook of your neck, and whispered like a man undone.
“I’ll never stop wanting you.”
One hand lifted your top leg, just slightly—fingers gliding over your thigh. His other arm wrapped low around your waist. You felt the weight of him, the warm press of his tip teasing at your entrance—slow, so fucking slow—until he finally pushed inside.
“Jesus Christ,” he gasped, as if the heat of you had burned him.
“You’re still tight. Still fluttering around me.”
You whimpered.
He thrust deep.
Steady. Gentle.
Every movement an unspoken prayer.
No rhythm. No pace. Just a rolling, molten motion—his cock dragging deep and slow, slick with everything you’d already shared, stroking right against the spot that still trembled.
“I could live here,” he breathed. “I want to live here.”
Your hand gripped his forearm where it wrapped across your middle. He pulled you back against him with every gentle thrust, grounding you in the heat of his body, his breath stuttering where it ghosted along your neck.
“You’re so good to me,” he murmured. “So fucking good.”
“Still feels like a dream,” you whispered.
“Then don’t wake up. Just… stay right here. Let me have you like this.”
Your eyes fluttered shut. Tears stung, soft and sudden. It wasn’t pain—it was too much pleasure. Too much love. The way he moved inside you like your body was a temple. Like every inch of you was his.
“Tell me you’re mine again,” he whispered, voice breaking.
You choked on a moan.
“I’m yours, James. Always.”
You came first—slow and quiet. A gentle quake that rippled from your core outward, your body trembling against him as your inner walls clamped down tight. You gasped softly, a sob in your throat, your hands fisting in the sheets.
“That’s it,” he murmured, kissing your shoulder.
“Let go, doll. Let me feel you.”
He wasn’t far behind.
He buried himself deep, groaning low into your hair, his whole body taut as his release surged inside you again—slow and warm, his cock pulsing deep as he held still, hips locked to yours.
You lay there, body slack and soft, his cock still inside you.
He didn’t move. Didn’t pull away.
His fingers traced lazy shapes on your belly, his lips pressing soft, almost absent kisses to your damp shoulder, your neck, your cheekbone.
“You okay?” he asked eventually, voice quiet.
You nodded.
“I think I’m in love with you again.”
He smiled against your skin. “Good. I never stopped.”
—
Your body was trembling again.
Not with the sharp, writhing spasms of climax—but the deeper, low-grade tremor of exhaustion.
The kind that came after too many orgasms and too little rest.
Muscles fluttering, breath short, limbs weak. You felt boneless and heavy, like your body had melted halfway into the mattress.
And yet—
Your core still throbbed.
Your nipples still ached.
Your cunt still ached for him.
He noticed. Of course he did.
Bucky sat back on his heels beside you, eyes trailing over your form with something like worship—something like worry.
His hand reached out slowly. Brushed your sweat-slicked hair off your forehead. Pressed a soft kiss there.
“Hey,” he murmured, voice gentling. “You with me, sweetheart?”
You nodded once, eyes glassy. Your throat was too dry to speak right away.
“Breathe for me. C’mon.”
His thumb stroked your cheek.
“You look wrecked.”
“I am…”
Your voice came out hoarse.
“I’m so tired.”
That broke his heart a little—you could see it in the way his brows creased. His jaw clenched like he was trying to talk himself down from his own feral hunger.
“Then let’s stop, okay?” he offered softly. “Let me clean you up, hold you for a bit. You need rest.”
But your hand was already moving.
Shaky, slow—but determined.
You reached between his legs and wrapped your fingers around the base of his cock.
Still hard.
Still thick and flushed and leaking at the tip like he’d never finished.
His breath caught.
“Baby—”
“Don’t stop,” you whispered, tears suddenly springing to your lashes.
“Please, don’t stop. I need you.”
He looked stricken.
“I don’t wanna hurt you,” he murmured. “I don’t wanna take too much.”
“Then be gentle,” you gasped, stroking him slowly.
“But don’t pull away. I need more. I want you again. I want you.”
His restraint cracked like glass.
With a low, ragged sound, Bucky leaned down to kiss you—soft, shaky, like a prayer being answered. He whispered against your lips.
“Tell me when to stop, baby. Or I won’t.”
You nodded.
Wrapped your arms around his neck.
Pulled him into you.
He guided your legs open with reverent hands—watching your face the entire time, watching for any flinch or hesitation. You were sensitive. Sore. Spent.
But not done.
“I love you,” he said quietly, kissing the inside of your thigh.
“So much it hurts.”
You barely had breath left to answer.
“Then have me,” you whispered. “Take what’s already yours.”
His cock slid into you slow—so slow—inch by inch, the stretch deep and aching, but your body welcomed him like he’d never left.
He moaned into your throat.
“Fuck, baby… still so tight. I can feel your pulse around me.”
He moved gently. Just the slow grind of his hips, the full drag of his cock over soaked, sensitive walls. His hand slid under your back, pulling you flush to his chest.
“You tell me when to stop. You hear me?”
“Don’t stop,” you whimpered. “Just keep giving me all of you.”
And so he did.
With every thrust, he kissed you. With every shift of his hips, he whispered your name. His fingers stroked your side, your hip, your waist—every inch of skin he could reach. You shook beneath him, moaning soft and high each time he bottomed out.
“You’re incredible,” he rasped. “You’re still taking me like it’s the first time. My perfect girl.”
Your orgasm crept in like fog, soft and wet and overwhelming.
You came with a shuddered cry, barely able to hold him, but your body squeezed around him tight—fluttering, spasming, claiming him all over again.
“That's my girl,” he whispered, voice shaking. “So fucking good for me.”
And then he followed—hips stuttering, forehead pressed to yours as he groaned your name like a benediction. His cock throbbed deep inside, spilling more warmth into the mess already flooding between your legs.
He collapsed next to you, immediately pulling you into his arms. Your body was trembling. His thumb stroked your cheek.
“No more unless you ask,” he murmured against your hair.
“I’ll only give you what you want.”
—
The sky was beginning to lighten.
A dusky indigo bled into grey, softening the skyline behind the Watchtower’s windows. But inside the room, time was a blur of candlelight, heat, and the thick, dizzying scent of sweat and sex.
You couldn’t remember the last time you’d fully caught your breath.
Your whole body felt glass-thin. Shivering. Sensitive. The sheets clung to your skin with sweat, and your legs barely worked. But the ache was still there. Nestled low. Pulsing. It didn’t fade.
Bucky’s palm slid over your thigh—soft, slow, as if testing your response.
His voice came a moment later, raspy and hesitant. “Sweetheart… we can stop. You need rest. I can wait.”
But you turned to him, eyes half-lidded, lips parted. Your fingers found his, laced through them.
“I want more,” you whispered. “Please… take me there.”
He exhaled like you’d just saved his life.
Guiding you gently toward the windows—your legs shaky, but moving—he kissed your shoulder and whispered, “I’ll be gentle. Just let me see you.”
The whole room swam around you, golden in candlelight and glimmering sweat.
The skyline stretched before you. Towering buildings, distant lights. No eyes. Just your reflection—flushed, ruined, hair damp and tangled across your shoulders.
“Fuck,” Bucky exhaled when he saw you.
“Look at yourself, baby. Look what I’ve done to you.”
You braced your palms against the cool glass, breasts pressing to it as your body arched. The contrast of heat and chill made you gasp. Bucky moved in behind you, spreading your thighs with his knee. One hand on your hip. The other wrapped around his cock, dragging the head through your soaked folds.
“Still dripping,” he muttered. “Even now. Jesus, you never stop, do you?”
“I need it,” you whispered. “Still need you.”
He didn’t make you wait.
Not this time.
He slid into you with one deep, brutal thrust—your bodies colliding with a smack so loud it echoed off the glass. Your moan fogged the window instantly, your hands flattening harder against it.
“Bucky—fuck—”
He set a hard rhythm, pulling your hips back to meet every thrust, the wet sound of your bodies filling the room. You could barely stand, legs shaking, forehead pressed to the glass.
“That’s it. Just like that,” he groaned. “So fucking perfect like this. My girl. My pussy.”
His hand slid around your throat—not squeezing, just holding, grounding. His mouth hovered by your ear.
“You were made for me,” he said. “Fucking built for this.”
“Harder,” you begged. “Please—please don’t stop.”
“Look at your reflection,” he rasped. “Look how good you look. Look how you’re taking me.”
You opened your eyes—and the sight of yourself, cock-stuffed, sweat-slick, wild-eyed, flushed and wrecked against the window, nearly sent you over the edge.
He thrust harder. Faster. Your thighs trembled violently.
“Gonna come,” you sobbed. “Can’t—Bucky—I can’t hold it—”
“Then don’t,” he growled. “Come for me, baby. Come with the whole fucking city watching.”
You shattered.
Legs giving out.
A scream ripped from your throat as your orgasm slammed through you like lightning. Your vision blurred. Your body buckled. Bucky caught you before you hit the ground—arm locking around your waist as he kept moving, groaning into your neck.
“Fuck—fuck—gonna fill you again—”
His hips snapped hard, once, twice—and then he came with a guttural sound, spilling inside you with a heat that pushed out around the edges. His head dropped to your shoulder, body shuddering as he emptied himself again.
You stood there for a long time—pressed to the glass, panting, twitching. Your hands limp against the windowpane. Bucky held you like you were breakable.
“You okay?” he whispered.
You nodded faintly.
“Good. ‘Cause we’re not done.”
—
The sun was climbing now.
Pale gold spilled across the Watchtower skyline, casting long streaks of light onto the floor like it was forgiving the sins you were still committing.
Your whole body ached—but not in the way that begged for rest.
It was a deep, needy pulse. Faint, but still there. A hunger that wouldn’t let go.
You stumbled barefoot into the kitchenette, still bare, still slick between your thighs, wearing nothing but Bucky’s hickeys. Your hair was tangled. Your lips were swollen. Your legs trembled with every step.
Your hand landed on a protein bar. You peeled it open with shaking fingers and leaned on the counter for support.
“You better be looking for food,” you said over your shoulder, breathless and hoarse.
You heard the footsteps.
But they didn’t head for the fridge.
Bucky’s body pressed into you from behind—solid, burning hot, and still hard. He slid one arm around your waist, the other reaching up to gently move your hair aside so he could press a kiss to your neck.
“I am hungry,” he rasped, his voice low and feral.
“Just not for that.”
“Bucky,” you groaned, half-laughing, half-destroyed. “I can’t even feel my legs—”
“Good,” he whispered. “You don’t need ‘em.”
Before you could blink, he bent you over the kitchen island.
Your palms slapped down on the cold countertop, and you gasped as your bare nipples brushed the smooth marble.
You didn’t even get the chance to speak.
He lined himself up and pushed in fast—no prep, no warning, just the slick glide of his cock stretching you open again, sliding back into your wrecked body like it was home.
“Fuck, Bucky—!”
“Still so wet,” he growled behind you.
“Still squeezing me like you want more.”
His hands slid to your hips, gripping tight, pulling you back against him with every hard thrust.
This wasn’t slow.
This wasn’t tender.
It was filthy, frantic, barely-in-control fucking. Not because he didn’t care—but because he still needed you that badly.
The sound of skin slapping echoed in the tiny space. The sticky squelch of your soaked cunt taking him again and again filled the air. Your moans bounced off stainless steel and tiled walls.
You dropped your head onto your forearm.
“We… already did this—eight times,” you whimpered.
“I know,” he growled, fucking into you deeper.
“And you’re still fuckin’ perfect. Still taking it all.”
“You’re gonna kill me—”
“Then what a fucking way to go, sweetheart.”
He slid a hand around your front, fingers seeking out your clit, stroking with maddening precision. The way he touched you was still worshipful—even in this chaos.
Your whole body clenched.
“You want one more?” he asked, voice thick, rough, hungry.
“You got one more in you for me, doll?”
“Yes—yes—please—just one more—!”
You came hard. Your scream was ragged, echoing through the kitchen, and your knees nearly gave out from the force of it. The overstimulation blurred your vision with white-hot static, but your body still took every inch of him.
Bucky groaned deep and low, hips jerking as he spilled inside you one last time—his cock pulsing, his chest pressed to your back as he moaned your name like a blessing.
He didn’t sag against you. Didn’t drop.
He stayed upright, body still buzzing, cock still twitching inside you. You could feel him—full, ready again. You were the one shaking. Not him.
“Jesus Christ,” you whispered. “You’re still hard.”
“Told you,” he murmured, breath warm against your ear.
“I could do this for days.”
“James…”
He slid his arms around your waist from behind and pulled you upright, holding you there with his cock still buried deep.
“I’ll stop if you need me to,” he whispered.
“Just say the word.”
You leaned your head back against his shoulder, heart thudding weakly.
“…I think my soul already came twice.”
Bucky laughed softly. Kissed the crown of your head.
“Rest, baby. I’ll still be here when you wake up. Hard as a fucking rock.”
—
You didn’t know what time it was when you finally woke.
Only that the light outside was warmer. Honey-gold, slipping through the windows in slow streaks. The world felt distant. Blurry. But the weight behind you wasn’t.
Bucky’s arm was still around your waist, his chest pressed along your back. Warm. Steady. His breath ghosted over the back of your neck in a soft, familiar rhythm.
Your body ached in the best ways—sore thighs, puffy lips, bruised hips—but it was the ache in your chest that hummed the loudest.
You blinked. Shifted slowly.
He stirred.
“Hey,” he murmured, voice still sleep-rough.
“You okay?”
You turned to face him—carefully, slowly—and found his eyes already open, watching you.
“Mhm. Everything hurts,” you whispered. “In a good way.”
Bucky smiled. Just a little. One of those soft, private smiles he saved for no one but you.
“Told you I’d wreck you.”
“You did. Multiple times.”
He chuckled, then leaned forward to kiss you.
No tongue. No hunger. Just warmth. Lips brushing yours with slow reverence, like he was re-learning your taste now that the storm had passed.
You melted into it.
Pressed your forehead to his.
His fingers traced lazy lines across your spine, slow and aimless.
“Missed this,” he whispered. “Missed you.”
You whispered it back. Quiet. Honest.
Then let the silence settle over you both for a while—safe, sacred, slow.
Eventually, after a second nap and a shower where no one tried to fuck anyone against the tiles (God bless you), you both managed to drag yourselves into clothes and make your way toward the common area.
Bucky wore a black tee and gray sweatpants that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. You were in a loose hoodie and biker shorts—though judging by the soreness between your thighs, sitting might be a challenge.
His arm was around your waist the whole walk.
Your legs still wobbled slightly, and he adjusted his pace to match yours. Not a word about it. Just his warm palm pressing steady against your hipbone like a grounding wire.
—
The squad was already gathered around the Watchtower’s long dining table.
It was pasta night.
Yelena sat at the end, spooning pesto onto her plate with war-like intensity. Ava nursed a glass of wine. Bob looked half-asleep. Alexei was double-fisting garlic bread.
John Walker looked up the moment you stepped into view.
“Oh look,” he said dryly. “It lives.”
You flipped him off without stopping.
“Someone got their back blown out,” Ava added sweetly, raising her glass.
“We heard everything,” Alexei boomed. “Whole floor shook.”
“I had to wear my noise-canceling headphones,” Bob mumbled, half amused, half scarred.
Yelena didn’t even look up from her plate.
“I placed eight rounds in the pool. I win. Pay up, losers.”
You covered your face with your hands.
Bucky didn’t blink.
Just leaned in close, mouth brushing your ear, voice low and smug.
“We could’ve made it nine.”
You choked on your wine, burst out laughing, and slapped his chest as he grinned like the devil himself.
And when his hand slipped onto your thigh under the table—warm, firm, possessive—you didn’t move it.
You just smiled.
And yeah…
You weren’t done.
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💜 @iamthatonefangirl @sonja-blayde
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the-dutchmanjr ¡ 2 days ago
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I absolutely will not deal with centipedes. I can handle spiders if I gotta, dont really care for them but if must I’ll deal with them. Centipedes??? 😮‍💨 absolutely not. them house centipedes get me everytime. I 100% would love a brave strong cowboy to…uh, help relocate (cough kill) those little suckers. And yes, I can see Rhett absolutely saving the day with this one.
Save your girl, ride a cowboy. Right? 😂
i know rhett abbott would be so good at rescuing you from scary bugs. i just got terrorized by a centipede and i would have really benefited from a big brave cowboy to swoop in and catch the creature to save me from the trauma
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the-dutchmanjr ¡ 3 months ago
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Hello! Sorry for some reason I wasn’t notified that you’d actually responded to me 😂
As to answer your question, I think the idea I really loved about that fic was the thought of everyone pulling together and not holding back when it came to homegirl (which btw I absolutely loved how you wrote her, didn’t really specify much in terms of looks and it gave a lot of freedom for us the readers to envision what we want. I’m not a person who has a lot of curves, but I am what a lot of people would consider to be pretty underweight and sometimes that just drains a lot of my good vibes for the day (hard to explain) it was nice reading this, it gave a more open perspective for us and that made this all the more enjoyable to read ❤��)
Anyways, I think the best way I can describe this is if I take a quote from your fic. “every glance, every time you want to brush her hair out of her face, or pull her into a hug just to feel her close to you. Don’t hold back. She needs to see it.” I can see the boys showing their forms of love/affection in different ways, and I just love that idea so much. We got an in-depth pov of tech, so I guess I’m thinking about how the other guys stories would go. How they would turn out (idc ima weirdo XD I need to see this)
I am now invested and would love to see what all WIPs you have, interest is peaked! 😂❤️
…I don’t suppose it would be wrong of me to say that amongst the boys I have a very high fondness for Hunter and cross, tech and echo and wrecker coming in close. Do with that information what you will 🤣 Ty!
Triggered
TBB x female!reader (pronouns only) 
Word Count: ~3.5k 
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Summary: Tech accidentally triggers your body dysmorphia. The Bad Batch team up to prove to you that they all love you dearly. Angsty comfort fic. 
TW: This actively talks about body dysmorphia. Tried not to be too specific so it would be more generic and just comforting, but it does start with a kinda mean comment from Tech, he means well tho. No smut or nothing, but since it is potentially triggering for those with body dysmorphia, I am gonna label this as 18+. 
A/N: Just felt like this needed to be written. Based on my own personal struggles, but also inspired by a conversation with someone on here who might also struggle with this. Hope this helps at least one person out there. 
hyperspace dividers my own, tbb dividers by @/djarrex
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Sitting in the cockpit, working on a project, Tech continues what is, to him, a normal conversation with the woman sitting next to him. 
“I have noticed you are shaped differently than most women.” 
He turns towards the copilot seat where she was sitting to find the seat spinning and vacant. He turns towards the door, only to see her exiting the ship. 
Echo appears in the doorway, a flash of anger on his face. “What did you do? Why was she so unhappy?” 
“I did not do anything,” Tech blinks at him in confusion. 
Hunter appears next to Echo. “He told her she’s ‘shaped differently than other women’.” Of course he heard the whole thing from the other end of the ship, but Tech notices his tone implies that he, Tech, should not have said that. 
“To us, ‘different’ is a positive character trait. Why did she leave the ship?” Tech asks, perplexed. 
Echo sighs searching for words, but it’s Crosshair who answers, “to nat borns, being too different is bad,” is all he says. 
Echo scratches the back of his neck and explains, “Most of them don’t like that ‘different’ is negative, but it takes a lot more work than you think to get rid of an idea that is so deeply ingrained in a culture.” He looks at Hunter and glances towards the open ship door. 
Hunter returns the look and nods towards the door, “Go talk to her, we got him,” He gestures at Tech. 
Tech blinks at them confused as Echo jogs out of the ship after her. Tech looks at Hunter then Wrecker, awaiting the usual explanation that followed his lack of emotional intellect. But they both seemed hesitant to start. 
Over the comms they could hear Crosshair’s voice telling Echo where to find her. Cross was in his favorite quiet place, sitting atop the ship watching their comings and goings like a vulture. 
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Echo finds her hugging one knee and staring off into the distance atop a rock, overlooking the ocean. 
“He didn’t mean—“ 
“—I know” she cuts him off. “But that doesn't mean I can always control how I react to it. I don’t want to feel this way, but my experience has taught my subconscious to react like this. I wish I could make it stop too, but that takes a lot of practice and a ridiculous amount of time. I’ll get there eventually,” she sighs. 
He scoots next to her on the rock and just watches her. She glances at him, wishing he wouldn’t, starting to feel nervous about the way he’s looking at her, turning away to hide her face. That is, until he starts to talk again. 
“Has anyone ever told you how beautiful your eyes look when you’re lost in thought?” 
She huffs out a small laugh. “Even when they’re starting to get puffy and red?” 
“Yes,” the confidence in his voice is unmistakable. “Has anyone ever told you that?” 
“Not that meant it,” she mumbles into her knee. 
He pulls her into a tight hug, and they sit there in silence for a while. 
Echo’s not sure what to say exactly, all he knows is that there’s a lot more that has to be said before either of them are willing to return to the ship. 
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Echo pauses briefly as he passes her sleeping form curled in a chair. 
Tech watches as Echo’s expression softens, and he just looks at her for a moment. Tech tilts his head to one side, like a tooka trying to see if the world makes more sense from a different angle (Tech finds it amusing to take these things literally and figuratively). As he watches, Echo leans down and presses a gentle kiss to the top of her head, and whispers something in her ear. She stirs slightly but doesn't wake. Echo stays put, brushing a hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear and petting her head until he’s sure she’s back out. 
Tech feels a pang as he watches. Then his vitals monitor beeps at him. He looks down at his datapad, eyes scanning quickly, looking for the results from the algorithm he wrote to help him connect the way his body reacts to the emotions he struggles with. Sure enough, at the bottom of the screen, his “most likely emotion” algorithm flashes a single word at him: Jealousy. 
When she’s settled back down, Echo continues walking to the cockpit doorway where Tech stands. 
Echo, “I think we got lucky she was willing to come back onto the ship.” 
“She’s not really back,” Crosshair’s voice snakes it ways into their minds, voicing the one thing they’re all worried about and prompting them all to look at her, curled into a tight ball, her head slipping onto her knees. 
“She is sad,” Tech analyses. “I did not realize what I said would affect her this much, nor this negatively.” 
“I think it brought up old stuff for her. She’s kinda like you, Tech. She needs evidence in order to believe something is true,” Echo notes. 
“You are suggesting that I have to prove to her that being different is a good thing?” Tech asks. “I have ample evidence that she already knows that, but I do not understand why she did not take my statement in that way.”  
Again, Echo sighs, “When I went after her, she told me… she’s spent most of her life just wanting to be as normal, as pretty, as the other girls, and all she ever got was a lifetime of evidence proving that she wasn’t.” Echo’s voice was quiet. He didn’t like saying it any more than they liked hearing it. 
There’s silence as they all take this in. Crosshair had joined them, leaning in the doorway, still watching her sleeping form as they talked. 
“But,” Tech is confused, he has a datapad full of evidence to the contrary, “we all react to her in ways that show how we feel about her. Do you mean to say she is incapable of seeing that?” 
Echo chuckles darkly, gaze drifting to the floor as he scratches the back of his neck. He wouldn’t have put it quite so bluntly. He searches for a nicer way to explain it to Tech’s analytical mind. 
“Yes,” Crosshair got tired of waiting for someone else to answer, “Nat born women are conditioned to doubt.” 
Tech opens his mouth to protest, he wants to know what she is doubting, specifically. 
But Echo starts talking first, “Nat borns don’t get a choice in the cultural conditioning that plagues them any more than we get a say in how the Kaminoans’ conditioned us. It’s up to us to prove to her that she just isn’t seeing the full picture.” 
Tech blinks at the two of them, hoping someone will explain exactly how to do so and what exactly she is conditioned to think, but they don’t. To their surprise, Wrecker, who had been napping in the cockpit, is the one who answers. 
“Don’t hide anythin’.” His voice is surprisingly quiet, his expression soft. They don’t often get a chance to see Wrecker this gentle. 
They all look to Echo, he has more experience with women than any of them (except maybe Cross, but it’s not like he’s going to explain it to them unless he is forced to), not to mention more experience with the emotions of their brothers and the trauma of his own. Echo nods in agreement, “every glance, every time you want to brush her hair out of her face, or pull her into a hug just to feel her close to you. Don’t hold back. She needs to see it. But for now let’s let her sleep. Hopefully that will help a little.” 
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Tech finally gets a chance to talk to her the next morning. He had been hoping a fresh day would wash it all away, but it looks like today might be harder than he anticipated. She’s just laying in her bunk, curled into a tight ball on her side, hugging a pillow to her chest, staring off into the distance, a lost expression on her face. As he sits down on the bed by her feet she hides her face behind the pillow. 
“I only meant……….” He sighs “To us, being different is good. I didn’t know nat borns don’t see it that way. I apologize.”
It’s quiet for a few minutes. 
“I have never experienced sexual attraction to a being until I met you.” 
She is still quiet. 
He’s racking his brain for some way to comfort her. He’s no good at this part, usually emotional reactions were Wrecker’s department. So what would Wrecker do? His mind travels back to when they were cadets and he had yet to get his emotions under control. There were more than a few nights when he cried himself to sleep on Wrecker’s shoulder. Wrecker used to rub his back and tell him he’d never let the Kaminoan’s hurt Tech. Unfortunately, the damage had already been done, so telling her he wouldn’t let anyone hurt her wasn’t an option. He felt like he already had. 
Touch! That was it! She usually responded well to the everyday touches from Wrecker, Hunter, and Echo. So he reaches out and gently places a hand on her knee. She’s wearing sleep shorts, and had tossed the covers off, so Tech’s hand sits directly on her skin. He didn’t usually go for touches like this, because he didn’t understand them, but this one felt like the right thing to do, so he went with it, starting to rub, slowly, up and down on her calf. She didn’t react, but she also didn’t push his hand away. 
“Is this okay?” He asks, tentatively. 
“Yeah,” she mumbles into the pillow. 
He sighs and slumps a bit as he relaxes a little. 
They sit there in silence for a few moments, just his hand running up and down her leg. 
Tech sits up a little straighter, a look of eureka on his face. 
“I can prove it,” he offers. 
Finally, she begins to peek out from behind the pillow, and he knows this crease on her brow is curiosity. 
“I can prove that I find you sexually attractive.” He clarifies. She just looks at him, curiosity piqued, though not like he’s used to seeing when she’s found something she’s excited to learn more about. Those are his favorite moments with her. When she’s excited to learn something new, and they can talk about the possibilities and implications that has on their day to day life, rapid fire. Learning more about the universe together. He vows to find a way to bring those moments back as soon as possible. They both need it. 
He pulls his datapad out and brings up some data. “This data shows my vitals from the moment we met, overlaid on the footage I was recording so you can see the implications of visual stimulation on my vitals.” He sends it to her. 
Her datapad lights up, it sits next to her head beneath the pillow that still hides him from view. Tech can see the light from under the pillow and watches as the pillow shifts a bit as she picks it up and looks at it. 
After a while the pillow shifts again and the light goes away as she puts the datapad back down. She peers at him over the top of the pillow. She doesn’t have words to say anything. He takes that as a sign that he’s the only one who needs to keep talking right now. 
“It took me a while to figure out what I was feeling. You know that I do feel emotions, but I struggle to understand them. But I compared it to the data I have of how my brother’s reacted to you and asked them about what they were feeling and how they could tell. I discovered that we have all become rather smitten with you, myself included.” 
“That’s bound to happen considering I’m the only woman you’ve been around for months, and probably the only one you’ve been around for an extended period as grown men,” she mumbles. 
“But that would take several months to begin to show an effect, yes?” 
“Yeah…?” 
“I can prove that our feelings began during our first mission with you. I can pinpoint the exact moment for most of us. I am always monitoring our vitals, so any spike in heart rate, or hormone levels I have recorded.” 
He sends her his documentation, where he was attempting to understand what they were feeling. Complete with notes about ‘Echo explained that this is common during human attraction’ and ‘Hunter tells me this is a normal reaction to seeing a beautiful woman’ and even ‘Crosshair has indicated that I should talk to her about this’. 
“You now have access to the file so whenever it is updated, you will be notified. I tend to update that one quite often. I hope this is a sufficient way to apologize. I am not sure how else to do so.” 
“I’m sorry, Tech,” her voice is timid and quiet. 
“Why are you apologizing?” Tech asks, nose scrunched, he does not understand. 
“I’m sorry I walked out on you without saying anything.” 
“I have come to the realization that when topics may be triggering, it is often easier to simply leave the room. I surmise that is why you left?” 
“Yes.” 
He didn’t want to force her to tell him more, so he just stayed quiet, hoping she might volunteer more information if she felt comfortable doing so. 
“I never wanted to be this different,” is all she says. 
“I like your ‘different’,” Tech volunteers. 
“Is that you talking, or your brothers? What did they tell you to say to me? How much pity did they recommend you bring to the table?” Her tone of voice suggests she is getting mad again. 
Tech’s eyes widen and he shakes his head rapidly. “No! Echo said to never pity someone. He said pity only hurts people. He made us all swear never to pity you for anything. I did not mean to imply that. I like your different, I mean that.” 
“Sorry,” she whispers, sinking into the pillows again. 
Again his mind reaches for something to help comfort her. He doesn’t like how she seems to be conditioned to apologize so often for things that are his mistake and not hers. Again, touch finds its way to the forefront of his mind. So he reaches out physically this time, for the hand resting on top of the pillow she still clutches. 
His hand gently slides underneath her own, threading his fingers through hers. He’s struck with the urge to kiss her hand. He’s not sure why. He’s never felt this before. He tries to hold back. 
Until Echo and Wrecker’s words surface amidst the confusion in his mind again, ‘don’t hold back’… ‘don’t hold back’… ‘don’t hold back’… 
So he stops trying to hold back and lets go, and leaning forward, lifting her hand slightly, to press a soft kiss to the back of her hand. He doesn’t mean to let it linger, but he’s never felt this way before and he wants to remember it forever. 
She looks at him with surprise. And then smiles a little. His heart skips a beat. Again, his vitals chart blinks at him, drawing his attention from her eyes. He laughs softly when he sees the new “most likely emotion” blinking at the bottom of the screen, so he shows it to her. 
‘Adoration’, the blinking word reads. This time the smile doesn’t leave her face. It still hasn’t quite reached her eyes, but it’s starting to get there. As she stares in disbelief at the word on his screen, a new message from Echo pops up at the top of the screen. 
Tech feels it buzz, but doesn’t take the datapad back, knowing now how important that one word is to her. 
Her brow scrunches when her gaze drifts to the message from Echo. 
She raises a finger to tap on it, but stops, realizing it’s not her datapad. 
“You may open it, if you wish,” Tech offers. “I wish to show you I trust you.” 
She smiles, the turbulence inside her beginning to settle again as she taps on the message from Echo. 
As the message opens, she begins to shift. Moving the pillow around so she can sit up. As she settles, her hip presses into his own. He does not protest. He likes this touch. He moves to hold the datapad between them so they can both see it. It’s a photo of a beautiful waterfall sent to the group chat with the caption, “you guys would love this place”. He and Hunter were out scouting the camp site while they await their next set of orders. 
From the increase in noise just outside the ship it seems that Wrecker is excited to go exploring. 
“Would you like to go on a walk?” Tech asks. 
She nods, squeezing his arm to her side briefly, whispering a quick “thank you” into his ear. He looks up at her happily as she stands up, letting his gaze linger on her as she bounces to find some civilian clothes to change into. She spots his look and pauses for a moment, confusion on her face. 
“I like your happy, too,” he tells her. “You know we pride ourselves on being different. It was meant to be a compliment. I did not understand how sentient beings could be considered attractive until you joined us.” 
She smiles at the floor, tucking her hair behind her ear. 
“I like your shy, as well,” he adds. 
She giggles. 
…‘Don’t hold back’… he’s learning what that means. And this time he wants to hug her. So he stands up and opens his arms to her, a question on his brow. 
She beams and throws herself into his arms. He wasn’t quite prepared for her enthusiasm. It sends them both back a few steps, until his legs hit the bunk and his hand reaches for the one above to stabilize them. 
Today might be okay after all. 
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When the two of them arrive outside they find the commotion was Wrecker putting together a picnic. Crosshair pretends he didn’t help. They all know he did, but they let him think they believe him. Donning the packs Wrecker holds out, the four of them hike their way out to the coordinates Hunter sent them. 
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After they’ve eaten, as they are enjoying the sunlight and time off, Crosshair stops her for a moment, tilting her chin up to look deep into her eyes. Where confusion paints hers, his show only confidence and lustful smirk. In a split second the moment is over, he places a kiss on her forehead and walks away like nothing happened. His brothers pretend they didn’t see. Moments later, her datapad lights up with an update from a document of Tech’s. It’s the document he sent her earlier, the one filled with all his evidence that they all adore her. The newest entry is a snippet of a video of her and Crosshair from just a moment ago. She glances at Tech and nods a shy ‘thank you’. 
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That evening, Tech exits the cockpit to find her laying with her head in Echo’s lap as he pets her hair and they both study their datapads. Again, Tech feels a pang of jealousy, and it is once again confirmed by the flashing word at the bottom of his screen. 
He sits down by her feet, pretending to be enraptured by something on his datapad too. She looks over at him and smiles, he returns his signature half smile, with half lidded eyes. 
Hesitantly, she stretches out a foot and places it in his lap, biting her lip as she looks at him to ask if this is okay. 
Tech holds her gaze and places his hand on her leg, stroking it just like he did before in answer to her question, and letting the hand holding his datapad rest on her ankle. Tech has never been so intimately close to a woman’s ankle before. He’s seen her’s plenty of times, she likes wearing shorter things that let her ankles breathe from time to time, but he’s never had a chance to really memorize every curve of them before, no matter how archaic a fascination with ankles may seem, it’s new to him, and he enjoys it. 
Echo glances over, to exchange ‘told you so’ looks with Tech, but Tech is still looking at her, fascinated by the studious look on her face as she goes back to reading something on her datapad, still biting her lip as her mind returns to her work. 
Instead Echo exchanges one with Hunter, who has just entered the ship, brushing rain from his ruggishly handsome locks. 
Hunter stands in the doorway for a moment, before stepping forward and placing a kiss to her shoulder, then heading to the fresher to find a towel for his hair. 
In Echo’s lap, he can feel her cheeks warming as she tries to suppress a small smile. This is new to her too, but who would say no to 5 sweet, handsome men doting on them? 
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Please don’t steal my work! I pour my heart into these so if you like it please reblog to share instead of reposting it!
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the-dutchmanjr ¡ 3 months ago
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THIS HAS GOT TO BE THE CUTEST THING I SWEAR!!! AFWKSIANAH 😭❤️
hello 🐙
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the-dutchmanjr ¡ 3 months ago
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@stardusthuntress Good ma’am is there a continuation to this!??? 😭❤️ I’m all for it if there is 😂🥰
Triggered
TBB x female!reader (pronouns only) 
Word Count: ~3.5k 
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Summary: Tech accidentally triggers your body dysmorphia. The Bad Batch team up to prove to you that they all love you dearly. Angsty comfort fic. 
TW: This actively talks about body dysmorphia. Tried not to be too specific so it would be more generic and just comforting, but it does start with a kinda mean comment from Tech, he means well tho. No smut or nothing, but since it is potentially triggering for those with body dysmorphia, I am gonna label this as 18+. 
A/N: Just felt like this needed to be written. Based on my own personal struggles, but also inspired by a conversation with someone on here who might also struggle with this. Hope this helps at least one person out there. 
hyperspace dividers my own, tbb dividers by @/djarrex
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Sitting in the cockpit, working on a project, Tech continues what is, to him, a normal conversation with the woman sitting next to him. 
“I have noticed you are shaped differently than most women.” 
He turns towards the copilot seat where she was sitting to find the seat spinning and vacant. He turns towards the door, only to see her exiting the ship. 
Echo appears in the doorway, a flash of anger on his face. “What did you do? Why was she so unhappy?” 
“I did not do anything,” Tech blinks at him in confusion. 
Hunter appears next to Echo. “He told her she’s ‘shaped differently than other women’.” Of course he heard the whole thing from the other end of the ship, but Tech notices his tone implies that he, Tech, should not have said that. 
“To us, ‘different’ is a positive character trait. Why did she leave the ship?” Tech asks, perplexed. 
Echo sighs searching for words, but it’s Crosshair who answers, “to nat borns, being too different is bad,” is all he says. 
Echo scratches the back of his neck and explains, “Most of them don’t like that ‘different’ is negative, but it takes a lot more work than you think to get rid of an idea that is so deeply ingrained in a culture.” He looks at Hunter and glances towards the open ship door. 
Hunter returns the look and nods towards the door, “Go talk to her, we got him,” He gestures at Tech. 
Tech blinks at them confused as Echo jogs out of the ship after her. Tech looks at Hunter then Wrecker, awaiting the usual explanation that followed his lack of emotional intellect. But they both seemed hesitant to start. 
Over the comms they could hear Crosshair’s voice telling Echo where to find her. Cross was in his favorite quiet place, sitting atop the ship watching their comings and goings like a vulture. 
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Echo finds her hugging one knee and staring off into the distance atop a rock, overlooking the ocean. 
“He didn’t mean—“ 
“—I know” she cuts him off. “But that doesn't mean I can always control how I react to it. I don’t want to feel this way, but my experience has taught my subconscious to react like this. I wish I could make it stop too, but that takes a lot of practice and a ridiculous amount of time. I’ll get there eventually,” she sighs. 
He scoots next to her on the rock and just watches her. She glances at him, wishing he wouldn’t, starting to feel nervous about the way he’s looking at her, turning away to hide her face. That is, until he starts to talk again. 
“Has anyone ever told you how beautiful your eyes look when you’re lost in thought?” 
She huffs out a small laugh. “Even when they’re starting to get puffy and red?” 
“Yes,” the confidence in his voice is unmistakable. “Has anyone ever told you that?” 
“Not that meant it,” she mumbles into her knee. 
He pulls her into a tight hug, and they sit there in silence for a while. 
Echo’s not sure what to say exactly, all he knows is that there’s a lot more that has to be said before either of them are willing to return to the ship. 
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Echo pauses briefly as he passes her sleeping form curled in a chair. 
Tech watches as Echo’s expression softens, and he just looks at her for a moment. Tech tilts his head to one side, like a tooka trying to see if the world makes more sense from a different angle (Tech finds it amusing to take these things literally and figuratively). As he watches, Echo leans down and presses a gentle kiss to the top of her head, and whispers something in her ear. She stirs slightly but doesn't wake. Echo stays put, brushing a hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear and petting her head until he’s sure she’s back out. 
Tech feels a pang as he watches. Then his vitals monitor beeps at him. He looks down at his datapad, eyes scanning quickly, looking for the results from the algorithm he wrote to help him connect the way his body reacts to the emotions he struggles with. Sure enough, at the bottom of the screen, his “most likely emotion” algorithm flashes a single word at him: Jealousy. 
When she’s settled back down, Echo continues walking to the cockpit doorway where Tech stands. 
Echo, “I think we got lucky she was willing to come back onto the ship.” 
“She’s not really back,” Crosshair’s voice snakes it ways into their minds, voicing the one thing they’re all worried about and prompting them all to look at her, curled into a tight ball, her head slipping onto her knees. 
“She is sad,” Tech analyses. “I did not realize what I said would affect her this much, nor this negatively.” 
“I think it brought up old stuff for her. She’s kinda like you, Tech. She needs evidence in order to believe something is true,” Echo notes. 
“You are suggesting that I have to prove to her that being different is a good thing?” Tech asks. “I have ample evidence that she already knows that, but I do not understand why she did not take my statement in that way.”  
Again, Echo sighs, “When I went after her, she told me… she’s spent most of her life just wanting to be as normal, as pretty, as the other girls, and all she ever got was a lifetime of evidence proving that she wasn’t.” Echo’s voice was quiet. He didn’t like saying it any more than they liked hearing it. 
There’s silence as they all take this in. Crosshair had joined them, leaning in the doorway, still watching her sleeping form as they talked. 
“But,” Tech is confused, he has a datapad full of evidence to the contrary, “we all react to her in ways that show how we feel about her. Do you mean to say she is incapable of seeing that?” 
Echo chuckles darkly, gaze drifting to the floor as he scratches the back of his neck. He wouldn’t have put it quite so bluntly. He searches for a nicer way to explain it to Tech’s analytical mind. 
“Yes,” Crosshair got tired of waiting for someone else to answer, “Nat born women are conditioned to doubt.” 
Tech opens his mouth to protest, he wants to know what she is doubting, specifically. 
But Echo starts talking first, “Nat borns don’t get a choice in the cultural conditioning that plagues them any more than we get a say in how the Kaminoans’ conditioned us. It’s up to us to prove to her that she just isn’t seeing the full picture.” 
Tech blinks at the two of them, hoping someone will explain exactly how to do so and what exactly she is conditioned to think, but they don’t. To their surprise, Wrecker, who had been napping in the cockpit, is the one who answers. 
“Don’t hide anythin’.” His voice is surprisingly quiet, his expression soft. They don’t often get a chance to see Wrecker this gentle. 
They all look to Echo, he has more experience with women than any of them (except maybe Cross, but it’s not like he’s going to explain it to them unless he is forced to), not to mention more experience with the emotions of their brothers and the trauma of his own. Echo nods in agreement, “every glance, every time you want to brush her hair out of her face, or pull her into a hug just to feel her close to you. Don’t hold back. She needs to see it. But for now let’s let her sleep. Hopefully that will help a little.” 
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Tech finally gets a chance to talk to her the next morning. He had been hoping a fresh day would wash it all away, but it looks like today might be harder than he anticipated. She’s just laying in her bunk, curled into a tight ball on her side, hugging a pillow to her chest, staring off into the distance, a lost expression on her face. As he sits down on the bed by her feet she hides her face behind the pillow. 
“I only meant……….” He sighs “To us, being different is good. I didn’t know nat borns don’t see it that way. I apologize.”
It’s quiet for a few minutes. 
“I have never experienced sexual attraction to a being until I met you.” 
She is still quiet. 
He’s racking his brain for some way to comfort her. He’s no good at this part, usually emotional reactions were Wrecker’s department. So what would Wrecker do? His mind travels back to when they were cadets and he had yet to get his emotions under control. There were more than a few nights when he cried himself to sleep on Wrecker’s shoulder. Wrecker used to rub his back and tell him he’d never let the Kaminoan’s hurt Tech. Unfortunately, the damage had already been done, so telling her he wouldn’t let anyone hurt her wasn’t an option. He felt like he already had. 
Touch! That was it! She usually responded well to the everyday touches from Wrecker, Hunter, and Echo. So he reaches out and gently places a hand on her knee. She’s wearing sleep shorts, and had tossed the covers off, so Tech’s hand sits directly on her skin. He didn’t usually go for touches like this, because he didn’t understand them, but this one felt like the right thing to do, so he went with it, starting to rub, slowly, up and down on her calf. She didn’t react, but she also didn’t push his hand away. 
“Is this okay?” He asks, tentatively. 
“Yeah,” she mumbles into the pillow. 
He sighs and slumps a bit as he relaxes a little. 
They sit there in silence for a few moments, just his hand running up and down her leg. 
Tech sits up a little straighter, a look of eureka on his face. 
“I can prove it,” he offers. 
Finally, she begins to peek out from behind the pillow, and he knows this crease on her brow is curiosity. 
“I can prove that I find you sexually attractive.” He clarifies. She just looks at him, curiosity piqued, though not like he’s used to seeing when she’s found something she’s excited to learn more about. Those are his favorite moments with her. When she’s excited to learn something new, and they can talk about the possibilities and implications that has on their day to day life, rapid fire. Learning more about the universe together. He vows to find a way to bring those moments back as soon as possible. They both need it. 
He pulls his datapad out and brings up some data. “This data shows my vitals from the moment we met, overlaid on the footage I was recording so you can see the implications of visual stimulation on my vitals.” He sends it to her. 
Her datapad lights up, it sits next to her head beneath the pillow that still hides him from view. Tech can see the light from under the pillow and watches as the pillow shifts a bit as she picks it up and looks at it. 
After a while the pillow shifts again and the light goes away as she puts the datapad back down. She peers at him over the top of the pillow. She doesn’t have words to say anything. He takes that as a sign that he’s the only one who needs to keep talking right now. 
“It took me a while to figure out what I was feeling. You know that I do feel emotions, but I struggle to understand them. But I compared it to the data I have of how my brother’s reacted to you and asked them about what they were feeling and how they could tell. I discovered that we have all become rather smitten with you, myself included.” 
“That’s bound to happen considering I’m the only woman you’ve been around for months, and probably the only one you’ve been around for an extended period as grown men,” she mumbles. 
“But that would take several months to begin to show an effect, yes?” 
“Yeah…?” 
“I can prove that our feelings began during our first mission with you. I can pinpoint the exact moment for most of us. I am always monitoring our vitals, so any spike in heart rate, or hormone levels I have recorded.” 
He sends her his documentation, where he was attempting to understand what they were feeling. Complete with notes about ‘Echo explained that this is common during human attraction’ and ‘Hunter tells me this is a normal reaction to seeing a beautiful woman’ and even ‘Crosshair has indicated that I should talk to her about this’. 
“You now have access to the file so whenever it is updated, you will be notified. I tend to update that one quite often. I hope this is a sufficient way to apologize. I am not sure how else to do so.” 
“I’m sorry, Tech,” her voice is timid and quiet. 
“Why are you apologizing?” Tech asks, nose scrunched, he does not understand. 
“I’m sorry I walked out on you without saying anything.” 
“I have come to the realization that when topics may be triggering, it is often easier to simply leave the room. I surmise that is why you left?” 
“Yes.” 
He didn’t want to force her to tell him more, so he just stayed quiet, hoping she might volunteer more information if she felt comfortable doing so. 
“I never wanted to be this different,” is all she says. 
“I like your ‘different’,” Tech volunteers. 
“Is that you talking, or your brothers? What did they tell you to say to me? How much pity did they recommend you bring to the table?” Her tone of voice suggests she is getting mad again. 
Tech’s eyes widen and he shakes his head rapidly. “No! Echo said to never pity someone. He said pity only hurts people. He made us all swear never to pity you for anything. I did not mean to imply that. I like your different, I mean that.” 
“Sorry,” she whispers, sinking into the pillows again. 
Again his mind reaches for something to help comfort her. He doesn’t like how she seems to be conditioned to apologize so often for things that are his mistake and not hers. Again, touch finds its way to the forefront of his mind. So he reaches out physically this time, for the hand resting on top of the pillow she still clutches. 
His hand gently slides underneath her own, threading his fingers through hers. He’s struck with the urge to kiss her hand. He’s not sure why. He’s never felt this before. He tries to hold back. 
Until Echo and Wrecker’s words surface amidst the confusion in his mind again, ‘don’t hold back’… ‘don’t hold back’… ‘don’t hold back’… 
So he stops trying to hold back and lets go, and leaning forward, lifting her hand slightly, to press a soft kiss to the back of her hand. He doesn’t mean to let it linger, but he’s never felt this way before and he wants to remember it forever. 
She looks at him with surprise. And then smiles a little. His heart skips a beat. Again, his vitals chart blinks at him, drawing his attention from her eyes. He laughs softly when he sees the new “most likely emotion” blinking at the bottom of the screen, so he shows it to her. 
‘Adoration’, the blinking word reads. This time the smile doesn’t leave her face. It still hasn’t quite reached her eyes, but it’s starting to get there. As she stares in disbelief at the word on his screen, a new message from Echo pops up at the top of the screen. 
Tech feels it buzz, but doesn’t take the datapad back, knowing now how important that one word is to her. 
Her brow scrunches when her gaze drifts to the message from Echo. 
She raises a finger to tap on it, but stops, realizing it’s not her datapad. 
“You may open it, if you wish,” Tech offers. “I wish to show you I trust you.” 
She smiles, the turbulence inside her beginning to settle again as she taps on the message from Echo. 
As the message opens, she begins to shift. Moving the pillow around so she can sit up. As she settles, her hip presses into his own. He does not protest. He likes this touch. He moves to hold the datapad between them so they can both see it. It’s a photo of a beautiful waterfall sent to the group chat with the caption, “you guys would love this place”. He and Hunter were out scouting the camp site while they await their next set of orders. 
From the increase in noise just outside the ship it seems that Wrecker is excited to go exploring. 
“Would you like to go on a walk?” Tech asks. 
She nods, squeezing his arm to her side briefly, whispering a quick “thank you” into his ear. He looks up at her happily as she stands up, letting his gaze linger on her as she bounces to find some civilian clothes to change into. She spots his look and pauses for a moment, confusion on her face. 
“I like your happy, too,” he tells her. “You know we pride ourselves on being different. It was meant to be a compliment. I did not understand how sentient beings could be considered attractive until you joined us.” 
She smiles at the floor, tucking her hair behind her ear. 
“I like your shy, as well,” he adds. 
She giggles. 
…‘Don’t hold back’… he’s learning what that means. And this time he wants to hug her. So he stands up and opens his arms to her, a question on his brow. 
She beams and throws herself into his arms. He wasn’t quite prepared for her enthusiasm. It sends them both back a few steps, until his legs hit the bunk and his hand reaches for the one above to stabilize them. 
Today might be okay after all. 
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When the two of them arrive outside they find the commotion was Wrecker putting together a picnic. Crosshair pretends he didn’t help. They all know he did, but they let him think they believe him. Donning the packs Wrecker holds out, the four of them hike their way out to the coordinates Hunter sent them. 
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After they’ve eaten, as they are enjoying the sunlight and time off, Crosshair stops her for a moment, tilting her chin up to look deep into her eyes. Where confusion paints hers, his show only confidence and lustful smirk. In a split second the moment is over, he places a kiss on her forehead and walks away like nothing happened. His brothers pretend they didn’t see. Moments later, her datapad lights up with an update from a document of Tech’s. It’s the document he sent her earlier, the one filled with all his evidence that they all adore her. The newest entry is a snippet of a video of her and Crosshair from just a moment ago. She glances at Tech and nods a shy ‘thank you’. 
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That evening, Tech exits the cockpit to find her laying with her head in Echo’s lap as he pets her hair and they both study their datapads. Again, Tech feels a pang of jealousy, and it is once again confirmed by the flashing word at the bottom of his screen. 
He sits down by her feet, pretending to be enraptured by something on his datapad too. She looks over at him and smiles, he returns his signature half smile, with half lidded eyes. 
Hesitantly, she stretches out a foot and places it in his lap, biting her lip as she looks at him to ask if this is okay. 
Tech holds her gaze and places his hand on her leg, stroking it just like he did before in answer to her question, and letting the hand holding his datapad rest on her ankle. Tech has never been so intimately close to a woman’s ankle before. He’s seen her’s plenty of times, she likes wearing shorter things that let her ankles breathe from time to time, but he’s never had a chance to really memorize every curve of them before, no matter how archaic a fascination with ankles may seem, it’s new to him, and he enjoys it. 
Echo glances over, to exchange ‘told you so’ looks with Tech, but Tech is still looking at her, fascinated by the studious look on her face as she goes back to reading something on her datapad, still biting her lip as her mind returns to her work. 
Instead Echo exchanges one with Hunter, who has just entered the ship, brushing rain from his ruggishly handsome locks. 
Hunter stands in the doorway for a moment, before stepping forward and placing a kiss to her shoulder, then heading to the fresher to find a towel for his hair. 
In Echo’s lap, he can feel her cheeks warming as she tries to suppress a small smile. This is new to her too, but who would say no to 5 sweet, handsome men doting on them? 
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Please don’t steal my work! I pour my heart into these so if you like it please reblog to share instead of reposting it!
221 notes ¡ View notes
the-dutchmanjr ¡ 3 months ago
Note
he said “cute.” 🤣 I’m done
Hello Zoey! No pressure if you can't but I was wondering if maybe you can write some headcanons on how the Bad Batch would react if their female s/o had accidently punched them because they were startled by them. I know I worded this weird. If you can't then that's ok, I still love your work!🥰
Aloha!
😁
That sounds like a fun idea!
The Bad Batch x Fem!Reader HCs - The Sneaky And The Startled
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Hunter
You don't hear him enter the room. You are lost in thought, looking in your closet for a special dress to wear tonight.
Then suddenly you feel someone standing behind you, the same second Hunter opens his mouth.
"Would-"
Your elbow interrupts him. Hunter isn't prepared for it, but is able to move aside a little, so your elbow doesn't catch his face full force.
"Ouch," he says dryly, rubbing his cheek.
Your heart races in shock, and you hastily stammer an apology.
"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry!"
Hunter smirks wryly.
"You're pretty jumpy," he says with a soft laugh, kissing your heated cheek.
Embarrassed, you smile apologetically at him.
"You mustn't sneak up on me like that."
Hunter laughs again and says, "I wasn't sneaking, you were just lost in thought. I just wanted to ask you if you would like to go to that little restaurant tonight, the one on the roof terrace"
It's your favorite restaurant, with a gorgeous view, beautiful ambiance and fantastic food. Occasionally you treat yourselves to an evening there.
You put your arms around his shoulders and say dreamily, "I'd love to".
Echo
He doesn't scare you on purpose, but every now and then, when you're lost in thought, like now, it happens.
You hear a noise behind you, startled, you move around with your arm outstretched to immediately ward off possible attackers, an automatic reflex you have acquired.
Echo automatically jerks his Scomp Link upward as protection, defense, also an automatic reaction, and your forearm hits the prosthetic relatively hard. Pain immediately travels from your forearm up into your shoulder. You both stare at each other, startled, and start stammering apologies at the same time, talking in confusion.
Finally, you both laugh at your hilarious mishap and behavior.
"Are you hurt, dear?", Echo finally asks gently.
"No, not really, just a little bruise," you assure him.
Echo grabs your arm and looks at it more closely. He sighs softly, kisses your cheek, and gets the baccta. It doesn't matter how much you insist you're not really hurt. Echo will take care of even a simple bruise.
Wrecker
Wrecker accidentally scaring you doesn't happen often. The giant is not exactly inconspicuous and not necessarily very quiet. But still, it happens, especially when you're lost in thought or fully focused on something else.
Wrecker has been showering, has put on his Blacks, but since he doesn't have to leave today, has left out the rest of his gear, including his shoes, so his footsteps are unusually quiet today.
When he clears his throat behind you, you jump up, startled, and punch him in the chest.
Wrecker looks down at you with raised eyebrows and asks, "Are you all right?"
"You scared me," you say a little breathlessly, "How can someone that big move so quietly?"
Wrecker chuckles in amusement.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you, and I wasn't sneaking either, at least not on purpose".
You sigh and gently stroke his chest with your palm where your fist hit him earlier.
"I'm sorry, too," you say softly.
Wrecker smirks.
"It's okay, sweetie, don't worry, that didn't hurt," he says, leaning down to you and kissing your forehead.
Tech
He's not a sneak, but he's often lost in thought himself and not really aware of how quietly he moves sometimes.
Tech has his datapad in his hand again, is on his way to you. Engrossed in his calculations, he approaches you and doesn't see that you are also busy and don't immediately notice his approach.
When you feel his hand on your shoulder, you hastily turn around and knock the datapad out of his hand. The device flies through the air, finally landing on the floor with a clatter, and part of it breaks off.
Your heart races, but at first neither of you says a word, instead looking at the broken datapad on the ground.
Finally, you look at him. His brows are raised in surprise. After a blink, he says matter-of-factly, "Well, that's unfortunate."
You find your voice again and say apologetically, "I didn't mean to. You gave me a scare. I'm sorry, Tech."
He picks up the pieces of the device again and says, "I should be able to fix that, dear, no need to worry"
"Are you sure?" you ask meekly.
Tech smiles gently, kisses your cheek and assures you, "Absolutely sure."
Crosshair
It is in his nature to move and behave quietly and unseen, that is in his profession. It actually happens quite often that he startles you. Crosshair has been standing in the same room with you for a while, but you haven't noticed him. Amused, he watches you talk quietly to yourself as you work, going over some things in your head. He finally approaches you, already prepared for the fact that you will most likely get scared again. And he is right. As you turn hastily, terrified, your arm already raised to lash out in panic, his hand grabs your wrist, quickly and deftly, preventing you from hitting him. You look up at him, startled, heart racing. The toothpick between his lips moves from one corner of his mouth to the other before he says, "Cute." You sigh and say, "You really need to get out of the habit of sneaking up on me." Crosshair smirks. "That's probably not going to happen. It would be better you get out of the habit of being scared" You frown, "How am I supposed to get out of that habit?" " In that I scare you more often" he says, still smirking. You roll your eyes. "Hey that's my move" he says dryly "You're cute when you talk to yourself by the way".
You blink and look at him in surprise. Finally, he lets go of your wrist, leans toward you and kisses your heated cheek.
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Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)
@rintheemolion
@andyoufollowyourheart @clone-whore-99
@brynhildrmimi @kaliel2310
@misogirl828 @tech-deck
@meshla-madalene
@chxpsi
@thebahdbitch
@nahoney22 @ladykatakuri
@darkangel4121
@ttzamara
@arctrooper69
@padawancat97
@agenteliix
@allsystemsblue
@palliateclaw
@either-madness-or-brilliance
@ortizshinkaroff
@andy-solo1
@hunterssecretrecipe
@heyitsaloy
@greaser-wolf
@extrahotpixels
@hated-by-me
@hunterxcrosshair
@malicemercy
@bebopsworld
@echos-girlfriend
@cpnt616
@dangraccoon
@jediknightjana
@pb-jellybeans
@antishadow2021
@sleepycreativewriter
@starwarsnerd11
378 notes ¡ View notes
the-dutchmanjr ¡ 3 months ago
Text
😳
This has got to be the best spicy trooper thing I’ve ever read 😭
This was on fire ❤️🔥
Yielding
Pairing: Crosshair x F!Reader
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Explicit content, jealous Crosshair
Summary: Tired of seeing you miserable with one failed date after another, Crosshair takes matters into his own hands.
Word Count: 6k
AO3
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You stepped onto the gangplank of the Marauder, and for the first time in what seemed like a long time, you could breathe.
It wouldn’t have been a particularly nice breath to most people. The ship held the air of being lived-in by five grown men in a cramped space, but it felt like coming home in a way your own apartment never did.
Unfortunately, the ship also appeared to be abandoned, the boys nowhere in sight. You turned to leave, stomach falling with disappointment, when a soft noise came from the direction of the bunks. Upon investigation you found Hunter there, splayed out on his bunk with an arm over his eyes.
“Headache?” you asked softly. He gave a grunt of affirmation, not at all surprised to see you there. He’d probably heard you coming from halfway down the block.
“79’s didn’t do me any favors.”
“Ah. Is that where the rest of the boys are?”
“Mhmm. Want me to tell ‘em you’re here?”
Your stomach churned again, but not with disappointment.
“No, that’s okay.”
“Well, you’re welcome to stick around until they get back.” He peered at you from under his arm, a small smile tugging at his mouth. “Special occasion?”
“Ugh.” You glanced down at your attire. Black leggings, a tight skirt, and a halter top with a light jacket wasn’t your usual affair, but this wasn’t supposed to be a usual night. “Not anymore.”
“Something happen?”
You shrugged, wincing as you shifted from one foot to another.
“I was stood up. Again. No big deal.”
He spoke your name, the word edged with concern.
Keep reading
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the-dutchmanjr ¡ 3 months ago
Note
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Noice 😌
Eeeeeee Honeyyyy!!!❤️
Please don’t stress yourself out with these okay? Your needs come first always❤️
How about something fluffy with Crosshair? I know you wrote about a lot of firsts with Tech, but what would giving Crosshair his very first kiss be like?🥰 I am so curious what you think! Female reader if possible please❤️
Sending so much love and positive energy❤️
His Secret
Crosshair X F!Reader
word count: 3.2k
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When Crosshair accidentally confesses he’s never kissed anyone before, you’re stunned and can’t help but wonder what it is he’s waiting for.
warnings: none other than that is a sexual innuendo. fluff. Crosshair being a grumpy grump sometimes. First kiss trope, idiots in love . 😊
Masterlist 🤍
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“Wait, what?”
When you learnt that Crosshair had never kissed anyone it was a huge shock. Not only to you but to Hunter, Tech, Echo and Wrecker as well.
You’re all at 79’s and you weren’t too sure how the conversation came up in the first place. Crosshair had said something along the lines of ‘I know who my first kiss will be’ and it stilled you all completely. Wrecker spat the rest of his drink across the table, Hunter and Echo’s eyes went wide in surprise whilst Tech seemed uninterested but still queried a brow.
Crosshair turns to you, eyes a little red and he had a coy smile on his face. “What?”
“You’ve not kissed anyone?” You ask in shock and watch as his smile fades.
“Is that a problem?” He hissed, taking another swig of his stiff drink.
You grew hot under his powerful gaze and looked away. “No, just interesting.”
Crosshair grumbles something under his breath before he swipes up his belongings and stands. “I’m goin’ back to the ship.”
And just like that, he had disappeared.
You had hoped you didn’t upset him by asking about his first - or lack of first kiss - but it just seemed so unusual. Out of all the boys you had truthfully (and painfully) thought he would have been the most active so to speak.
When you all piled back into the ship, you glanced around for Crosshair but he was nowhere to be seen. A small sigh escapes your lips and you tense as you feel a hand on your shoulder and turn to see Hunter. “He would’ve gone for a walk.”
You relax upon seeing your Sergeant but then frown a little. How would he know you were looking for Crosshair in the first place? Then, a sickening thought came to your mind as you worried if Hunter had sensed how you felt around Crosshair. You knew his senses involved being able to detect electromagnetic frequencies but is it the same for humans? Or any species? “Who?” You asked dumbly.
“Crosshair, of course.” He almost smirks, folding his arms over his chest as he watches you shift and kick at the floor with your feet.
“I don’t care where he is.” You try to say it casually but judging by the lack of eye contact, he didn’t need his senses to read you like a book.
“Sure.” He says, tone sarcastic. He steps back as Wrecker comes stumbling by, having a little more to drink than the others as the pair of you watch him sway until he tumbles into his bunk. “You should take a note out of his book and get some sleep too. Crosshair will come back soon.”
You hoped it wasn’t noticeable your slight attraction to the Marksman but clearly Hunter knew. Tech despite being the smartest could be the most oblivious. Echo wouldn’t say anything about it anyway for your sanity and Wrecker wouldn’t have taken any notice anyway. As for Crosshair however, you knew how observant he was.
There had been many a time you would sit near him and he could scope out anything suspicious a million klicks away it seemed. He observed, stayed quiet and listened intently to others without anyone even realising. He seemed uninterested half the time but when something comes up later in conversation, he makes it known he paid attention. Maybe that’s why you liked him. Quite significantly.
So when you learned that he had not kissed anyone before, it piqued your curiosity. Sure enough he was reserved but he was incredibly handsome and too mysterious looking to have not had any suitors. In a sense, it kind of gave you some hope; wishful hope.
He had been going on walks quite recently on this planet and you couldn’t blame him. There was a beautiful trail that led down to a calming stream which you believed he found serenity in whenever he was tense. You hoped he was okay, he wasn’t one to ever express his feelings unless deeply intoxicated and even then it was always vague and you never knew how he truly felt about things. Maybe one day you can join him on one of his walks.
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Being roused from your deep sleep was not a welcoming comfort. Wind howled through the ship and chills ran under your thin bed sheet making you shudder and open your eyes.
You hear a hiss and sure enough you heard the retreating footsteps of someone walking down the steps of the ship. Sitting up, you check all bunks and sure enough it was Crosshair who had swiftly departed.
It had been days since his confession and days since you last spoke so in a rush, you pull on something more appropriate than your nightshirt and shorts and make a quick dash after him.
You pause at the door to the Havoc, contemplating if you should go after him and you silently curse how long his legs were because he was further than you had imagined. Yet, he was still in sight.
“Screw it.” You grunt as you bound down the ramp and do a light jog after him. You think about maybe sneaking up but as he came to the tree line he stopped and so did you, rather abruptly.
He glances over his shoulder, watching you practically skid to a halt. Your breath hitches as he gaze penetrates you, tingles roaming down your spine as they usually do. Awkwardly, you give a timid wave at him. “Mind if I join you?”
Given the fact he rolled his eyes and carried on walking, you saw it as a ‘suit yourself’ kind of response.
When you finally caught up to him, you followed behind him down a narrow path and took in the area around you. The moon was bright tonight, as it has been every other night since you arrived. The wind was a little strong, creating an almost musical sound as it bristled through the foliage.
You’re so caught up in everything around that you didn’t see a mean looking bush with sharp bristles ahead of you, clumsily bumping into it.
With a sharp hiss you stop and this caught the attention of Crosshair who turns to you and sees your predicament.
“You alright?” He asks carefully, stepping towards you and even crouching as you try to free your leg from the entanglement of teeth like thorns.
Truthfully, it was hurting but you quickly nod your head but in your flushed and embarrassed try of getting your leg free, you prick your finger.
With a wince, you bring your finger to your face and inspect the small droplet of blood. “Kriff, that hurt.”
Crosshair is silent in your fight against the bush but alas pulls out a blade and quickly slices the foliage away from your leg and sets you free. He takes a hold of your leg, quite firmly yet also with a hint of tenderness and brings your leg over until it’s clear.
He stands and looks down at you, brooding but you were unsure if it was his natural face or if the shadows of the night gave him that cold look.
“Watch where you’re stepping.” He rumbles, about to turn around and carry on walking until he halts says, “Suck on it.”
“W-what?” Your eyes widen, clearly not paying attention to the fact he was gesturing to-
“Your finger.”
You're mortified that you would think he could have meant anything else and you bashfully look away but little did you know that his neck up to his ears began to burn.
When you began walking again, you ended up walking beside him. You’re panting, hating how big his strides were but you’re a little surprised to see him slow down, even if it’s only slight.
“It’s nice to get away from the others. You finally break the tense atmosphere between the two of you but Crosshair didn’t reply like you had hoped. His head was straight forward at the path ahead and as you look at him, you can tell his thoughts were elsewhere.
“Crosshair?” You nudge him only softly with your arm when he replies in an instant.
“It’s nice to walk… not talk.”
Well, that did wonders to your confidence. You’re used to Crosshair being occasionally short with people, although not as much as with you. Perhaps this was a bad idea. Perhaps he wanted to be on his own after all and you’re just burdening him by being clumsy and annoying. “I’ll uh, I will just go back to the ship.”
You’re turning around to walk back to where you came from when a hand clasps around your upper arm to stop you from moving a single inch. Looking at the hand and then up the arm, Crosshair's gaze is strong as ever. Drawing you in, intoxicating you.
“Stay.”
“But you just said-.”
“I know. Doesn’t mean I don’t like walking beside you or listening to you.”
Oh. Oh.
You smile at his words and turn your body full back to him and for a moment you swore you saw him smile. A beautiful rarity. Or, it was the leaves of the canopy’s above you tricking you with the wind to cast shadows of things that may not be there. You’d like to think it was there; just for you.
When the stream came in view after ten more minutes of walking, you were blown away. No wonder he came here at night. The moonlight rippled against the calm and shallow waters. It was in an opening, wide and had a few trees dotted around.
But, there were no sounds. No critters chirping, no winds howling and no water trickling. It was pure silence.
“Crosshair… this place….”
“I know.”
He couldn’t find the words to describe this place either when he first scouted it out. But, it made him calm. All the troubles of war and what’s to come seemed to have vanished and he kind of felt warm that he now had someone to share it with. If you’d walk with him again that is.
He sits down along the grassy embankment, blessed that the skies have been sunny rather than drizzling with rain like on Kamino so he didn’t get wet. You stood back for a moment, unsure whether or not to sit by his side but then he looked at you, raising a brow. “You gonna sit or gawp at me?”
“You gonna sit or gawp at me?” You mimic in a comedic tone, smirking at him before you take a spot to his right and bring your knees up to his chest. “It is lovely here.”
His legs were laid out flat, leaning back a little on his arms to keep himself raised as he gazed out to the stream in front of you both. “Sure.” He confirms with a nod.
You find yourself laying back on the grass, gazing up at the stars and every now and again you will glance over to Crosshair who stayed where he was and every now and again, frowned. But then, he would smile as if reliving an old memory. It was somewhat surreal to see him at one with nature. No snippy remarks, not even chewing on a toothpick.
Feeling like you wouldn’t have the opportunity again, you had to ask, “Crosshair, can I ask you something?”
“You just did.” He quipped smoothly, not taking a moment to look at you.
Laughing, you nudge his side with your knee. “Okay a different one then?”
“You just did.” He repeats and when he hears you let out an aggravated sigh, he smirks to himself. “Go on then.”
Your hand rests on the ground, fingers grazing through the blades of grass until you pick at it almost anxiously. “Why haven’t you had your first kiss?”
You regretted asking literally a second after. His shoulders tensed and he was white knuckling the ground but then, he sighs.
You want to tell him that he didn’t have to answer you because after all, it was none of your business. In fact, you wouldn’t blame him if he were to get up and walk away but he didn’t. Instead, he glances down at you. “Not had the chance.”
Surprise was evident on your face, your mouth making a small ‘o’ shape. You wouldn’t tell him but there was a small pang in your chest as if each of your heart strings were slowly snapping one by one. “But, you said you knew who you were gonna kiss so I imagine it’s someone you’ve met.”
Crosshair watches you, eyes narrowing. “I suppose I did meet her a while back.”
Boom. There it was. The realisation that Crosshair had met someone and longed for them. Maybe he still kept in touch with her?
In for a credit in for a million of them. “What’s her name?”
He had looked away at this point, eyes trained on the stream ahead. Crosshair can feel your eyes burning into his back, a strange knotting feeling rapturing his stomach.
As he decides whether or not to tell you, you think of all the times you had to tell him how you felt. How you find him funny and gentle when he wants to be, how you found him as a protector and shield. You sincerely wanted to tell him how beautiful you thought he was whether to see him agree with you or tell you to shut up.
Then he said your name.
You look back up to meet his gaze, confused for a mere second. “Sorry, what?”
He sucks on his inner cheek, realising he had roused you from a set of deep thoughts. “Her name.”
“… But you said my name?”
His heart is hammering against his chest, hoping you would shut up and get the hint. The longer he stares at you, the quicker the credit has dropped.
Your face is burning and you’re sure if it’s because an intense blush was crawling up your neck or because his gaze is more penetrating than ever before. Your stomachs doing flips and you found your hands on the grass began to shake. “Y-your first kiss is going to be… me?”
“Probably.” He keeps his voice quiet and of course a little too casual. “I’ve always thought about kissing you.”
You can’t believe what you’re hearing and find yourself idly pinching yourself to see if it was a dream. Nope, not a dream. “I’m confused.”
He blinks, probably for the first time in a while. “Clearly.”
You’re trying to think of a response but your thoughts are all tangled in a cobweb and nothing is coming out. As you’re thinking, you’re chewing on your lower lip and as he scans your face until his hues land on your lips, he suppressed a noise that he didn’t think was possible for him to make. Eventually, you say something.
“Why me? W-why have you never told me before?” Your voice is quiet, scared to break Crosshair out of his surprising secrets and true feelings. You wish it were true and that he wasn’t just teasing you.
“I… I think you’re a good match for me. Stubborn.”
“I’m not stubborn.” You mumbled.
“Sorry, obstinate is what I meant.” He rolled his eyes and you grew a little warm in embarrassment and decided it best to just let him talk. “I didn’t tell you because I can’t imagine hurting you.”
A confused expression crosses your features and ever so gently, you sit up slowly and wrap your arms around your knees. “How could you hurt me for wanting to kiss me?”
He looks away once you get too near, finding something to take his mind off the sensation that always ran over his body whenever you came too close. The urge to just wrap his arms around you had become unbearable for months and now that he was revealing his secret longing for you, he didn’t want to scare you away. He’s half tempted to get up and walk away from the conversation but when he finally looked back to you, you looked at him with those eyes.
Eyes he had fallen for. Eyes he had wished to see whenever he woke. Eyes he had the pleasure of seeing laugh, cry, show surprise and mischief.
His lungs are heavy with shallow breaths. He’s trying to hold himself together. “Because there’s more I want to do to you. For you. With you. But I can’t.”
“Why can’t you?”
“Our lives, this war.”
You let out a heavy, constrained breath you didn’t know you were holding. Fingers trembling. It was everything you want to hear yet he thought it was a bad idea. You sensed he felt pained to even admit it.
Shyly, you move your hand down until it hovers barely over his until your fingertips slowly traces over the back of his hand.
He had flinched at the touch but as he looked down to see what you were doing, he slowly relaxed and then looked back at you with curious eyes.
“What if I told you that I wanted this? That I want to kiss you just as much.”
He bites down on his tongue for a moment, feeling his world collide but thought it was too good to be true. “Sweetheart, I…” he doesn’t know what to say but he could notice the way your voice was almost hushed and you were sitting closer to him than before.
You could feel his warm breath against your skin, eyelids drooping as he looked to your inviting lips. It was just you two, nothing could disturb you both now in the dead of night and under the moonlight.
And he leans in, breathing but also not breathing. And his lips finally, after so long, touch yours. They’re careful against yours and you’re certain that you could not feel any limb on your body. His lips are soft, surprisingly. Smooth like the edge of his blade but knowing they could draw blood if given the chance.
He’s the first to pull back, gauging your reaction. Crosshair is panicking a little as your eyes remain closed, dreading the awkward realisation that maybe his first kiss was dreadful. But, it wasn’t.
“Kiss me again.” Your voice is a hoarse whisper and he obeys your shy command with every fibre in his being. He turns his body better to face you and kisses you as a hand comes up to the back of your head, enthralling his long fingers in your hair.
You don’t know how long you kissed for but you were now laying back down on the embankment, Crosshair half-way leaning over your body as his lips moved expertly against your own.
It was perfect. He never imagined his first kiss with you to be this sweet, so tender, but it was. He feared that he would get ahead of himself, overstepping his boundaries once his tongue wanted to find refuge in your mouth and his hands biting gently into your hips. However as you groaned against him and let your lips part, he dominated your mouth in a needy, desperate state of affairs.
“Mesh’la, I…” he wanted to say it, those three words that had been harbouring inside him but he cursed himself as they couldn’t quite fall from his lips. Not just yet.
“It’s okay Crosshair,” you whispered against his lips, a smile forming so elegantly, “me too.”
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Masterlist 🤍
More Crosshair Works
tags (tagged some Crosshair whores too so hope u don’t mind) @thesunwof @moonstrider9904 @twistedstitcher27 @teletraan-meets-jarvis @jennamelinda12 @nunanuggets @andyoufollowyourheart @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @captxin-rex @jesseeka @ashotofspotchka @oohyesplease @megafrost4 @adriiibell @theroguesully @equalityforcats @rexandechosandwich @mustluvecho o @inagalaxywickedfahaway @misogirl828 @ladykatakuri @sadspring @chxpsi @alexandrisonfire @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @salaminus @by-the-primes @torchbearerkyle @tech-aficionado @in-the-crosshairs @therealnekomari @a-c-lee @autumnleaves1991-blog @tech-depression-inventory @mylifeinthetardisforever @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @lucyysthings @agenteliix @fiveshelmet @the-good-shittt @photogirl894 @buddee @s1st3r @cosmic-persephone e @imalovernotahater @rain-on-kamino
641 notes ¡ View notes
the-dutchmanjr ¡ 3 months ago
Text
Ok last one- this is just adorable ❤️
A lot of sweet with a little bit of spice 😂🥰
A HAPPY LAUGH
A/N: I was feeling happy and soft so I wrote this on my phone notes, and then I had to make a draw to go with it
Summary: Fives tries not to make things awkward between you after your first time having sex
Warnings: mention of sex, but it’s all fluff and there’s no smut, some swearing
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“Do you wanna hear a joke?” Fives’ voice breaks the silence in the room, both of your exhausted breaths being the only thing you could hear before his words. You’re lying on top of him, starting to nod off with your eyes closed.
You look up at his face, sliding your cheek through his shirtless chest to rest your head on his shoulder so you could see him. “Yeah, sure” you nod slightly and smile softly to encourage him.
“Okay, so there’s a man…” he moves the arm that’s not holding you close to him, gesticulating towards the ceiling. “And he’s visiting the doctor” he looks at you mid sentence to make sure you’re paying attention, making your smile bigger, the happiness evident in your eyes.
Fives stutters the next words, feeling his chest heavy at the way you’re looking at him, but continues telling the joke. “So, yeah, so he, the man, enters the doc’s office” he’s getting nervous knowing all your attention is directed to him, and feels his cheeks warming up when you start scratching his goatee with your fingers. “And-and the doc says —I didn’t get to tell you last time that you only have 24 hours left to live, because you left too quickly” he swears his heart is beating faster with every word, your hand tracing Fives’ face. His eyes flutter closed as he swallows hard. Damn, why is it hard to breathe? He can feel your naked body pressed into his, and he can’t believe he isn’t able to form a coherent thought now, when that hadn’t been a problem when he was balls deep in you, talking nonstop about how warm and good you felt.
He opens his eyes looking sideways at you, his face and neck feeling hot. “the man then says —so what now? What can we do… — wait no, that’s not how, kriff!” He groans and drops his free hand to cover his face. You interwine his fingers with yours, pulling his hand away from his face to look at him before speaking “and then the man dies”.
Fives starts laughing at that, his chest vibrating under you “I told the joke instead, eh?” You talk without taking your eyes from him, and he loses it at your words, laughing more and pressing you harder to him. He feels so happy with you, he can’t believe he thought that finally letting his craving for you out and having sex with you would ruin your friendship.
This felt so natural. And he craved for more, his stomach tingling with longing. Your hand is still playing with his beard so he grabs you by the wrist to bring your palm to his lips, pressing an open mouthed kiss there, with a smile against your skin, letting you feel his hot breath and wet tongue, making you gasp loudly, drawing a deep growl from Fives’ throat, hunger coming back to his eyes. He hopes this wasn’t a one time thing because he doesn’t think he could be able to keep away from you now that he knows how good you taste and feel.
“Okay, let me try again, mesh’la” he chuckles releasing your wrist. “A man hears his comm beeping-“ “Wait, he’s not at the doc office anymore?” You interrupt him with a smile. “No, he’s not. He answers it and a voice tells him —Hi Rex, I have goo-“ “Rex? As in your captain?” You can’t help but interrupt him again, glee shining in your eyes “Yes, he’s Captain Rex, now let me continue” You don’t stop smiling, stroking his face sweetly, tracing every scar and freckle you see on his skin, and decide to have fun and talk again “But you know that Rex wouldn’t answer a comm from a stranger” Fives then looks at you with a stern look, but his eyes are shining with happiness, “It says it’s the doc, happy?” He raises an eyebrow at you and you nod, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “Go on”
Fives rolls his eyes and pokes at your side pulling a cute shriek out of you. “The doc says —I have good news and bad news, the good news is you only have 24 hours to live, the bad is I have been trying to contact you since yesterday” you laugh softly and try to get up, supporting yourself with your hand on his chest, unable to stop yourself from biting your lower lip, distracted by his rough skin under your palm. “But that’s just bad news and worse news, Fives!” He groans and looks at you defeated “I’m not telling you a joke never again”.
You let a laugh out and lean down to press your lips against his, making his heart beat hard against his ribs and muffle a sinful moan, not being able to believe how good your lips felt, and the fact that he now knew that feeling. “You’re so soft, cyar’ika, I can’t get enough of you” He mumbles against your mouth, your breaths mixing together, and his eyes closed.
“The don’t”
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the-dutchmanjr ¡ 3 months ago
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😭❤️
KELDABE KISS
FIVES X READER
Fives draws attention to the nameless thing that is growing between you
genre: fluff
word count: 660
a/n: I’m struggling to get back into writing (and doing creative things in general), so I’m starting with baby steps
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“What are you doing?” you ask Fives, voice low. Not that there’s much need to speak so quietly, there is no one else around to hear. The hallway you’re in is empty, save for the two of you. It stretches out, a pristine void on either side of you, but the world seems to curl in much closer in your current position. 
“Sorry, I couldn’t help myself.” Fives’ reply is sheepish and just as quiet. Despite the apology, he doesn’t let you go. Rather, he pulls you further into his chest, ever closer. One hand slides up to cradle the back of your neck, keeping you in place, and you can’t help but sigh at the touch. He’s warm. Heat radiates at every contact point, making you go soft. You could break away from his grasp if you really wanted to, he wouldn’t go against your wishes, but you’re inclined to stay right where you are. 
Keep reading
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the-dutchmanjr ¡ 3 months ago
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Ok, won’t lie- ima sucker for fives 😭 he will always have a special place within my heart 😂
This was very sweet ❤️
The Scent You Wear Moves In Lines;
Summary: Fives may be heavy, but his weight has always be comforting and welcome.
Warnings: mentions of menstrual cycle
•--•
"Will you lay on me?"
Your face was smooshed into your couch pillow, leg hitched on the couch, trying to comfortably lay to ignore the increasing pressure in your pelvic area.
Fives was sitting with your legs over his thighs was, rubbing up and down your calf, trying to soothe your returning cramps.
He laughed at your request, "You want me to lay on you? I'm not a light man, sweetheart."
You groaned quietly, half-watching the show that was on the holonet. Your apartment was Fives' second home, and he seemed to refuse leaving till he had to, and he took care of you wholly. And this included taking care of you when you were hurting to the point where you didn't want to function.
"Please? It would make me feel better," you whined, with a shift of your shoulders.
Fives didn't question you further, moving your legs before his tangled with your own. He placed hands on either side of your body, lowering himself against you. His chest pressed lightly to your back, a comfort already to feel the heat that he radiated.
He shifted from his hands to his elbows holding him up, still cautious about his full weight being pressed to your body. But you weren't having it.
"All the way, you're not gonna crush me," you mumbled.
Fives had always been a bad listener, but he would listen for you. Fives let his muscles loose, allowing his shoulders to relax as he held you down like a weighted blanked.
His chin hooked to the top of your head, hand pressing against your stomach in a loving fashion, "You comfortable, baby?"
You nodded, trying not to bump his chin with your head and he just relaxed into you more, the pressure distracting you from the uncomfort you felt elsewhere.
"Thank you, Fives."
He didn't respond, just pressed his lips to the top of your head.
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the-dutchmanjr ¡ 3 months ago
Note
Awww 😭😭❤️
Hey!! I really love your writing and I hope you're taking care of yourself! 💕
I'm kinda in the mood for some angsty fluff, how about some headcanons for when the reader and their batcher get into a fight in front of the others. Maybe Omega gets upset because she thinks they're going to breakup? I totally understand if you don't want to write this, though, so no pressure! 💕
Arguments and Reconciliation
All Bad Batch Boys X GN!Reader
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After Omega hears you and her brother arguing, she worries that this could be the end for you both. You’re both there to reassure her that in relationships, conflict occurs but to reconcile is a process that can be hard.
warnings: angsty as you and the Batcher are having a small argument, upset Omega, talks of fights and forgiveness. Comfort at the end.
Authors note: thank you for the care and support. Sorry for the wait ❤️
Masterlist
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Hunter
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“He’s right you know, we should be doing more Hunter.”
Tensions had been rising a lot between you and Hunter unfortunately and a lot of it was just what to do next. More missions that seem to lead nowhere? Make a move on the Empire for once and for all? It was a lot for you both to handle and unfortunately, a little someone had been overhearing these arguments.
There was a lot of to and fro, some words heated than others but when the pair of you heard sniffling from the door way, panic strikes your faces to see Omega standing there with Lula hugged to her chest. “Why do you both keep arguing?”
You fall silent, head looking down in somewhat shame as Hunter tries to take through his mind for something to say. “You shouldn’t be awake.” He finally says, making you roll your eyes and push past him gently to crouch in front of Omega.
“How much have you heard?”
She finds it hard to look either of you in the eye and instead focuses on the floor. “A lot.”
As more tears stream down her cheeks, obvious worry that the two of you were going to go your separate ways, you look back on Hunter and beckon him over. To which, he places a hand to her shoulder and gives her a comforting smile - even after she asked if you two were going to break up.
“Omega, every relationship has arguments. Just because we have done quite a bit recently does not mean we’re going to split.” Hunter tells her. He looks at you, smiling a little. “I still love them.”
You chime in, wrapping your arms around her before saying, “Hunter’s right. It’s important to remember that everyone makes mistakes and that it's okay to apologise and forgive each other.” Her sniffles subsides, a little more relaxed. She wipes away her tears, grateful for both of your reassurance.
Echo
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When the others hear you both arguing, they tend to stay out of the way but for Omega, she couldn’t even comprehend what it was the two of you were arguing about. But as she moves towards the cockpit, he sees him bandaging up your leg and tutting relentlessly at you.
“What’s going on?”
The two of you looked to the doorway, eyes wide.
“You goin’ to tell her or am I?” Echo mumbles, sitting back from finishing up his work on your leg. You merely roll your eyes at him which does not go unnoticed by Omega, her anxiety rising with every passing second.
“Echo is telling me off because I got injured in our last mission and I didn’t tell him.” You tell the young girl who looks more panic stricken, bounding over to assess your leg.
“Did you get shot?”
“No.” You shake your head. “Just a bit of a graze and Grumps over here is overreacting.”
Echo snaps to look at you, already seeing you give him a pointed look and he feels a bit bad that okay, yeah, he may have overreacted.
“Are you two going to break up?” Omega asks softly, confusing growing on both of your faces.
“Omega,” You shake your head at her with a soft laugh, “why would you think we’d break up?”
“Doesn’t arguing often leave to break ups and whatnot.” She mutters, looking up at the both of you as you stand in front of her.
“Not always, no.” Echo concludes, wrapping his arm protectively around your waist. “I just worry about them.”
Again, you roll your eyes but this time playfully as you plant a kiss to his cheek. “Too much.”
Wrecker
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Arguments with Wrecker were incredibly rare which is probably why Omega sat up, chewing her nails when she heard the hushed argument between the two of you.
The others had been informed briefly about why the two of you had been more tense lately than not and even with their given support, they know it’s nothing they can help with. As for Omega, she wasn’t sure what it was. But it was enough to strike panic in her at the thought of you two breaking up. So, she gets up and rushes to the source of the commotion.
When she gets there, Wrecker has his head in his hands meanwhile you sit on the floor in front of him, soft signs of comfort being shown.
“W-what’s going on?” The two of you look up when Omega speaks, both of you beginning to wipe tears away.
“Nothing kid,” Wrecker sniffs, putting on a smile for his sister, “what’re you doing up?”
“I heard you both arguing.” She mutters causing you to both look at another, your hand coming up to rest over his cheek.
“Not arguing Omega,” you begin with a seemingly sad smile, “just having a small discussion.”
Omega blinks, tilting her head. “What about?”
You sigh softly. “It’s personal, Omega.”
You didn’t want to go into great detail as to what you and Wrecker were talking about, one of you getting a little bit more emotional than the other but it certainly wasn’t what Omega was thinking.
“Are you guys breaking up?”
“No.” He says almost immediately, standing up and bringing you close to his chest. “We’re just havin’ a rough patch, nothing to worry about. I love Cyare too much.”
You nod in agreement, resting your head agaisnt his chest. The two of you were going to be okay and Omega was glad to hear.
Tech
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“I do not understand why it is her that is upset when this discussion was mutually about us.”
The pair of you just watched Omega run off crying after being sat in the cockpit and listening to you two bicker about pretty much nothing - both just nitpicking at each other.
You huff, arms folding over your chest as you watch her run to the gunners seat. “She doesn’t like us arguing, that’s why.”
“I do not count this as arguing - merely a disagreement.” Sighing, you had to agree with him on that but still, it didn’t sit right with you.
“She doesn’t see it that way, Tech.”
He looks over at you, seeing you hang your head with conflicted features. For a second his heart races and he’s panicking internally. “Do you count this as an argument?”
“A little. I’m going to see if she’s alright.” You mumble, standing up to walk off but Tech was quick to catch you by the arm. You turn to face him.
“I’m sorry if I have in-fact upset you, it was never my intention.” You hear the guilt in his tone and you feel equally guilty for getting worked up over what you were both arguing about.
“It’s fine my love,” you sigh, leaning forward and resting your head against his, “these things happen. I’m sorry too.”
Crosshair
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When you and Crosshair argued, everyone knew. Often the others would give Crosshair the dirty look as he seemed to be the main cause nowadays after returning from the Empire but that doesn’t stop Omega from getting upset.
He had brushed past her, storming off into the distance when she turns to you with a look of defeat. “It’s okay, Omega, it’s best to let him cool off.” You whisper, placing a hand to her shoulder before the first tear fell.
“Why are you two arguing? Are you going to break up?”
You laugh softly and shake your head. “No, and it’s because things are still tough with him and his brothers still and of course then that leans on my shoulders. It’s just a spiral of complications. He just needs time.”
“Do you have time?”
You blink at her words, watching Crosshair lean against a tree and aggressive gnaw on a toothpick - still within hearing distance.
“I’ve got all the time for him.” You say softly, not knowing that your words did manage a small smile on his face. “Relationships are foundations you build upon, and sometimes, arguments are one of the bases. But as long as you reconcile and adore each other, those foundations become a home.”
Crosshair looks over his shoulder, catching your eye as he gives you a small nod of understanding. Love is hard, but it’s worthwhile if it’s with the right person.
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Masterlist
Prompt List 3000 Follower Celebration- available only to the 10th of February
Tags: @nunanuggets @andyoufollowyourheart @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @captxin-rex @cwarssimp @jesseeka @ashotofspotchka @oohyesplease @megafrost4 @theroguesully @equalityforcats @mustluvecho @misogirl828 @ladykatakuri @jambolska-grozdova a @chxpsi @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @rain-on-kamino @either-madness-or-brilliance @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @autumnleaves1991-blog @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @lucyysthings @tinyreadersmur @agenteliix @myinnerwonderlandmind @rintheemolion @kaminocasey @hotpinkplastoid @cosmic-persephone @imalovernotahater @swiftiexstarwarssimp @crystal076 @the-good-shittt @s1st3r @taskfork-archive @by-the-primes
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the-dutchmanjr ¡ 4 months ago
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Sneaky sneaky 😂
Eyes Off
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character: Hunter (The Bad Batch)
prompts: “Are you jealous?” “No, I’m not!” “Oh, you really are jealous! Wait, why would you be jealous?” / “Look at me.” / A kiss of jealousy
main masterlist • hunter masterlist
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"Of course that's what you're wearing."
Crosshair's unimpressed drawl drew your attention from where you were fastening and concealing your weapons. Considering everyone else had already changed into their civvies, it had to be Hunter that Crosshair was addressing, and one look at the sergeant proved why.
Whereas the rest of the team opted to keep themselves covered in a way that wasn't too unlike their Republic-issued blacks, Hunter didn't shy away from letting his skin breathe. His hands and arms were wrapped up to his elbows, but there was a sizable stretch of skin and muscle leading up to the light-colored sleeveless tunic he wore.
Tech had always ensured that the temperature of the Marauder's interior was regulated, but something had to have been off, because you could've sworn it had just gotten at least ten times hotter.
You were still staring, and Force willing not ogling, as Hunter raised his hands defensively at Crosshair. "What?"
Crosshair scoffed as he shouldered on his pack. He lifted a single eyebrow and flicked his toothpick at his brother. It bounced unceremoniously off one of Hunter's tensed biceps.
The sergeant just smirked in response and shrugged. "I earned 'em." His tone was playful as he lifted his own pack and secured it over his shoulders. "I think I'm entitled to showing 'em off for once."
And thank the Force you did, you would have said if you didn't already have a durasteel lock on your own jaw.
"Ha-ha, yeah!" Wrecker clapped his brother on the shoulder. Hunter rolled it back in response, but nevertheless widened his sly smile as he looked up at Wrecker. "I think ya' look great, Sarge." Wrecker then turned his attention on you, giving your shoulder a nudge with his own. "Right, Sunny?"
You narrowed your eyes at him, but only for a quick moment. Subtlety had never been Wrecker's specialty, and you should have remembered that when you had stayed at 79's until last call with him and spilled out all your secrets. That's what you got for indulging in truth serum for once.
You schooled your expression into nonchalance the best you could and nodded. "Yeah." You lifted your blaster and gave it one last unnecessary check. "It definitely suits you."
Hunter huffed. "I don't even want to know what you mean by that." You snorted in amusement before Hunter refocused and addressed the gathered squad. "We shouldn't be here long, especially since we're dividing and conquering. Tech, Wrecker, you're clear on your objective?"
Tech looked up from his datapad and nodded as he adjusted his goggles. "That is correct."
Wrecker gestured over to Tech with his thumb. "What he said."
Hunter nodded at them both. "Great." He turned to his youngest brother. "Crosshair?"
Crosshair's brow rose once again. "Do you really have to ask?"
Hunter participated in their typical impromptu staring contest for a few heartbeats before he let out a sigh. "I'm taking that as a yes." His attention then shifted to you, and you fought a hard-won battle to not take a visible breath as his dark eyes found yours. "Sunny, you're with me." Hunter motioned for the squad to follow as he stepped towards the open hatch. "Let's move out."
You kept your attention on the way ahead as the squad walked out of the hangar together and through the throngs of sentients that crowded the planet's streets. Eventually, as you and Hunter got closer to your own destination, Tech, Wrecker, and Crosshair peeled off to attend to their own objectives. You tried not to tense as you kept yourself close to Hunter's side.
"Hmm." Hunter's hum got your attention, and you looked over to see his brow creased the way it often did when he was reaching out with his senses. "It's gonna be crowded in there." He gave you a glance and nodded. "Stay close. We might have to push our way through."
You nodded and obeyed, getting close enough for one of his arms to brush against yours. It was hard to focus with the warmth of his skin meeting yours in endless succession, but you threw your mindset into the mission as the two of you stepped inside the cantina.
As soon as you crossed the threshold, you could feel the eyes on you—only they weren't on you specifically. They were on him.
You could have accredited the lingering stares to the fact that Hunter presented much more like a regular clone than the others, and he may have been getting some undue attention for that, but you could identify the kind of looks he was getting all too well. Gazes flickered up and down, heads did double takes, and some people even giggled with their peers.
You should have found it amusing. The others certainly would have if they were there. Instead, it filled you with a pool of a sickly feeling almost like dread, coiling in your stomach and twisting into an uncomfortable knot.
It was an unmistakable wave of intense jealousy, and you weren't strong enough to fight it.
You were drawing yourself even closer to Hunter's side before you could stop it, your eyes cautiously scanning your surroundings as you did so. Another strong flare of jealousy's angry green haze saw you taking his arm and wrapping your hands around it, securing you to his side as you smiled in satisfaction at the way many of the hungry scares awkwardly flickered away from the two of you.
But your actions didn't go unnoticed by him. Hunter stopped pushing through the crowd long enough to turn his head and look at you with his full attention. "You okay?"
You looked up at him with innocent eyes, and his gaze gestured to the grasp you still had on his arm. You offered him a quick nod. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Just..." You glanced around the room again. "A little overwhelmed."
Hunter's warm eyes studied yours as he softened. "I get it. We won't be here long, though, like I said before." He nodded towards the bar. "C'mon. We're almost there."
You went forward with him, selfishly indulging in the feeling of his warmth—and the arm you still had a tight grasp on. You were pleased to note it was just as strong and solid as it had looked.
Once Hunter had successfully maneuvered your way to the bar and had made enough room for the two of you there, you reluctantly let go of his arm and simply stood at his side. Your arms were still brushing at the close proximity, your focus was still going to any wandering eyes that caught sight of him.
You should have been focused on the objective and helping Hunter get information out of the bartender, but you had other priorities. Like Hunter had insinuated before, he had worn what he was wearing for a reason. Did that mean he wanted one of these people to approach him?
The thought alone made you sick. It shouldn't have, because you weren't his and he wasn't yours, but that didn't matter.
"You sure you're okay?"
Hunter's low voice of concern brought your attention back to him. You glanced over to see him furrowing his brow at you.
"You seem on edge."
You shrugged and looked past the sergeant, seeing someone just behind him staring holes through his back. You fought back a growl and forced yourself to answer normally. "I'm just seeing a lot of eyes on you." You blinked and quickly rushed to correct yourself. "Us."
But the damage had already been done. One of Hunter's eyebrows shot up in suspicion as he continued to look at you. "That's nothing new, especially not for me."
You circled your jaw. "Yeah, but..." Your gaze flickered over him before you could stop it. "It's different this time."
Hunter looked ahead, his expression taut as he pondered something, and then you saw his dark eyes light up with realization. You winced quietly before he even had the chance to speak.
"Wait." He looked over at you again, the small pieces of hair that escaped his bandana bouncing on his forehead as the corners of his lips rose in a small smile. "Are you jealous?"
You forced out a scoff and began to flounder. "No, I’m not!" You looked down, your gaze searching. "I-I'm just..."
It was too late. You were too flustered to think of a viable excuse, and your ears and face were burning so hot that you were half-convinced Hunter's senses had already picked up on the temperature change.
"Oh, you really are jealous." Hunter said the words with a chuckle, and his bare shoulder playfully nudged yours.
You fought off the sudden waves of embarrassment valiantly and looked anywhere but at him. He was clearly still joking, and you were stuck between playing it off again or at least wanting him to put the pieces together. This one-sided thing you had going on was getting too exhausting.
That made his next words even less of a surprise than they probably should have been. "Wait... why would you be jealous?"
Your gaze flickered over to meet Hunter's, but you looked away from him just as quickly. Your stare focused on your fingers as they picked at the skin around your nails. This was not a conversation you wanted to have here, especially not when he was looking like that.
"Hey." Hunter's voice was achingly soft now as he set a gentle hand on your shoulder. "Look at me."
You relented, your guilty gaze finding his—which was full of comfort and, surprisingly, understanding. Your brow knit together, though the knot in your stomach began to loosen when Hunter's hand suddenly moved from your shoulder to the one you had closest to him on the bar. His stare lowered and watched as his wrapped hand wove his fingers through yours and gave your own hand a soft squeeze.
Hunter looked at you again, and he gave you a reassuring nod. "You have nothing to worry about."
All you could do was blink at him, any words you could have possibly wanted to say dying on your tongue. You were trying to read him and make sure you weren't misinterpreting the signals he was sending you. Was he saying that because he had requited feelings, or just to assure you that he wasn't looking for anything from anyone?
Hunter huffed and gave his head a fond shake. "You've been noticing the eyes on me, and I..." He paused, his jaw tightened as he narrowed his eyes at something behind you. "Have been tracking the eyes on you."
Your eyes widened in surprise. You must have been so wrapped up in your jealousy towards Hunter that you failed to notice how people had been looking at you, too. Your civvies did hug your body in a way your typical tactical gear didn't...
"Are you saying what I think you're saying?" You had no choice but to ask. You couldn't live with the anticipation anymore.
Hunter nodded and looked at your entwined hands again. He gave yours another squeeze. "The feeling's mutual."
You couldn't keep the smile from growing on your lips. Honestly, you should have known better, but reason and feelings never paired well together, anyway. All you could do was let out a soft laugh as you also looked down at your hands.
"What do you think?"
When Hunter spoke again, you looked up, suddenly realizing how much closer the two of you had gotten. Hunter clocked the minimized distance, too, his warm gaze flickering to your lips before he went on.
"Should we give them something else to stare at?"
You hummed, pretending to have to consider the offer even as your traitorous body already started to lean closer. "I think that's a good plan, Sarge."
Hunter chuckled, though the warmth that sound brought you was nothing compared to the feeling of his lips on yours.
You inhaled one another like it was your first full breath of oxygen, with Hunter's free hand catching the side of your face and jaw to keep you locked in place. Meanwhile, your free hand rose to his bicep, anchoring yourself to him as each breath passed between you and each tease of his tongue threatened to make your knees buckle underneath you. It was utterly dizzying, and it made you completely forget about everything and everyone else around you, for better or for worse.
When you parted, Hunter was quick to clock the sight of your hand on his arm. His lips gave way to a sly smile, and your brow shot up as you mused upon his words from earlier.
"This is what you wanted all along, isn't it?" You shook your head at him in fondness. "I was the person you were 'showing 'em off' for."
Hunter shrugged, playing innocent for now. "Maybe, maybe not."
You scoffed. "Do we even have a real objective here?"
"Well, we did." He gave your hand another squeeze. "But we just completed it."
You gave your eyes a roll. "Force, Hunter..."
"The others' objectives are real, though."
You couldn't help laughing at that. Leave it to the sergeant of the Bad Batch to use an actual mission as a way to somehow get you both to finally break the ice. "And the bartender?" You nodded towards the nearest one. "You just made that up?"
"Not really." Hunter's smirk remained as he caught the bartender's eye. "I do need to talk to them... to get us some drinks."
You blinked at him before you laughed even harder. You shifted your hand onto the arm closest to you and rested your head against his bare shoulder the best you could manage, relishing in the wave of content that rolled over you.
It was an unconventional way for your mutual feelings to surface, but that was just who Hunter was, and you couldn't hide the way you loved it.
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the-dutchmanjr ¡ 5 months ago
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Wow this is so pretty, every frame is just so aesthetically beautiful.
I can’t explain the feelings this gives me ❤️
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my vibe if u even care
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the-dutchmanjr ¡ 5 months ago
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😭🤣
This concept is hilarious to me, now I’m never gonna unsee this 😂😂
As a paramedic, Ratchet's alt mode in tfp driving around Jasper is hilarious to me.
We usually know who is on what ambulance unit and where the other ambulances are. They have GPS trackers on them/on the ambulance's phone, so dispatch can see where they are. Jasper is a small town, so their EMS/Fire dept is likely small as fuck. So the first responders all likely know each other and what's going on.
NO ONE can track this weird ass ambulance. Dispatch has no idea where it came from.
The other medics in Jasper being like "what fucking unit is that" or "what THE FUCK." There's no department marking or star of life on Ratchet's alt's exterior, but it has lights and sirens. Which is fucking illegal.
The other first responders talk about the Mysterious Unknown ambulance that is OCCASIONALLY spotted like a fucking cryptid. It becomes an inside joke/urban legend.
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the-dutchmanjr ¡ 5 months ago
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Ooooh I’ve never considered the fact that if jones got jealous he’d be more of a possessive yandere,
More so that he would be quietly (albeit very conspicuously) protective with some possession in mind. This opened a whole new realm of ideas 😂🤣
Plz Keep them coming! I’ve run out of literally everything to read for our slimy cyare 😭
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Jealous Jones
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Davy Jones x reader
Requested
@sengria
Note: Thank you for requesting! I’m so sorry this is very late, I hope you like it!
Date published: 02/2/2025
~~~
“The hell was that for?” you say, a bit annoyed.
To say that you were growing agitated by Davy’s sudden appearances would be an understatement, every time you talk to another crew member of the Dutchman.
You were the only undead member, after somehow crossing paths with you, as you were drifting, lost at sea all on your own, Davy decided to take you in and give you a place as part of the crew when he could have very easily just allow you to continue drifting. Many of the crew wasn’t pleased by that, but as they had come to get to know you and you getting to know them more, you managed to make some into your friends.
Overtime, you begin to notice that although you were free to roam the ship, Davy begins tracking your movements as if you were planning to escape. You tried to understand why he would think that, until you realize that he’s becoming rather more possessive of you. During your time on the Dutchman, you pretend not to notice that but it was challenging. What had you finally breaking through of things was on one day, a few turn of events had come about and you witnessed his darker side. On one instance, you had made a mistake while doing your assigned job, and as you were about to get punished for it by the crew themselves, Davy stepped in, putting things to a brief stop. Because the idea of allowing you to take the punishment was something he was not willing to stand for, he put one of the others in your place to take it before sending you away, not wanting you to see what was about to happen.
You remember trying to protest and reason with Davy to either not do it or to let you take it, but he wouldn’t.
“I’ll take them all.” you say.
Davy argued a bit back in disagreement, but didn’t say anything.
So, you take that opportunity to try again before anything happened.
“Please don’t do this, Davy.” you beg, only loud enough for him to hear.
Davy looked at you, as if almost considering your plea. But instead, he orders Bootstrap to take you away from this.
Weirdly enough, that was exactly when you formed a friendship with Bootstrap and when Davy wasn’t anywhere to be seen, you would hang out together, but that was only if you weren’t on duty. As of this moment, you were both free of any tasks and you were both looking up at the clear night sky above you, stargazing and having meaningful conversations.
As the two of you continue to talk, you were unaware of another presence until something or someone grabbed you by the arm without warning, pulling you away from Bootstrap. It didn’t take you long to realize it was Davy pulling you back, not that you weren’t happy to see him, you can’t help but let out an agitated sigh, as his sudden appearances were beginning to annoy you. This is where you begin to question him, when he doesn’t respond to you the first time, you repeat the same question.
“The hell was that for?”
This time, Davy stops to face you, with an unreadable expression.
“I don’t want you talking to Bootstrap anymore. Or to anyone onboard for that matter, not without my permission.”
You were taken aback by this response, but than suspicion coursed through you, as you begin to realize what this was more about.
“Why?”
“I don’t like seeing you talking to him. You can’t always know and trust whatever intentions he has for you, (Y/n).” he says.
That’s when it occurred to you, when it all made sense now.
When it clicked within you, you almost couldn’t believe it yourself.
“Is someone jealous?” you tease.
It took a few moments to get response, but when you did, you found it adorable as he tried to deny it.
“Of course not! What is it I should be jealous of? I don’t feel nothing of the sort.”
“Jealousy is a powerful emotion, Jones. It’s okay to allow yourself to feel-“
“Aren’t you forgetting something? I’m a heartless man and you know that.”
“You say that you are, but I don’t think you are. With or without your heart, I believe you can still feel such an emotion if it’s strong enough.”
“I don’t feel anything. I feel nothing.” he tries again.
But you knew better as you decide to push him a tad bit further, but careful enough as to not test him.
“Don’t feel rejected by me, Davy. Just because you see me talking to someone else doesn’t mean I’m rejecting you, I would never. You have nothing to be afraid of because so you know, I have eyes only for you.”
Davy felt shocked by hearing you say that.
So much that Davy remained exactly where you left him for a while longer, lost in his own thoughts.
“Perhaps she’s right…” he admits.
But only to himself.
~~~
A/N: Please request!!!
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the-dutchmanjr ¡ 5 months ago
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Psspspspsppss ❤️
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i still can't get over how kitty shaped tfone soundwave looks 🥺🥺💙💙
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