#way to tell on yourself karks
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TEREZI: YOU'R3 UGLY >:]
KARKAT: HOW THE HELL DID *YOU* KNOW???
TEREZI: SO YOU 4DM1T 1T >:?
#submission#this came to me in the shower#also i realise terezi probably saw karkat before she went blind but whatevs#terezi pyrope#karkat vantas#Homestuck#incorrect homestuck quotes#//#mod terezi#way to tell on yourself karks
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hi idk if u take requests, but if u do could u write a Din x Reader where the reader gets really sunburnt and she doesn’t want to be a burden to Din so she doesn’t tell him, and then when he finds out he helps her treat it? I’d love if they admitted their feelings for each other in the end..
Din Djarin x Female!Reader
Warning: injury, mentions of blood and pain, self doubt and anxiety
Word Count: 1,890
a/n: i changed 'sunburnt' to a different injury and i hope that's okay. i only did that b/c if i wrote the reader as sunburnt i'd have to describe her skin color, and i like to keep my drabbles as inclusive as possible. hope you don't mind!
.
COMMON MISTAKE
"Pylades: I'll take care of you.
Orestes: It's rotten work.
Pylades: Not to me. Not if it's you."
.
Din told you to be careful. Actually, his exact words were, ‘Stop playing with your karking knife’. You, in all your excellent brilliance, had mouthed off a passive acknowledgement before continuing to play with your vibroblade. Although, ‘play’ was a strong word. You just wanted to get good at spinning it in your hand. Before you left Mandalore, you had seen Paz do it and since then you were determined to master that skill.
So, the summary was, Din told you to be careful, you had not been careful, and now you were bleeding. A lot. Dank farrik. In your defense, he had warned you that you were gonna cut your hand, and that was not what happened. You had tripped going up the ramp and accidentally skewered your thigh. Which, when worded that way, was ten thousand times worse. It was a good thing you hadn’t hit an artery because you would’ve bled to death before calling Din to let him know you were dying from an injury born of your own stupidity.
“This is fine. I’m fine. No problem.” You mumbled to yourself as you wrapped your thigh with some padded gauze. You refused to use bacta on this. The thought of wasting the expensive and important medication on this injury only added guilt to your shame. “Everything is okay.” It looked good now all covered up and out of sight. Your pants were absolutely ruined with a hole in the thigh and blood that stained the entire length of your left leg, but it was fine. “I’m fine.”
If you repeated the word ‘fine’ enough times then it was bound to come true. Science.
You pushed off the cot to stand and nearly crumpled under the weight. Pain, hot and unbearable, rocketed from your hip down to your toes. Your entire left leg was angry and screaming at you. With a sharp breath, you forced yourself to walk and get a new pair of pants. Your communicator chirped a message that Din was on his way back with Grogu and that put a whole new level of panic on the situation. Getting your clothing situated, you chose to stand rather than sit. There was a solid chance if you sat down right now you wouldn’t be able to get back up.
Five minutes passed when Din came around the side of the ship to stand at the end of the ramp. Grogu was playing with an unfamiliar toy in the satchel by his side. The Mandalorian must have caved and bought the kid a new toy again.
“Hey,” Din called out without coming closer, “Are you done with the wiring?”
You had stayed behind to repair some loose wiring. Your sole job on the ship was to keep the damn thing in the air, and Maker did the Razor Crest fight you at every step. You nodded. “Yes. Yupp. All good.”
“Come with me.” Din motioned for you to follow after him. “I want to show you something in the town.”
You let out a quiet whimper as he slid out of view, and with a steadying breath you marched out with the most normal gait you could manage. Honestly, you were impressed with yourself. You’d be more impressed if you hadn’t stabbed yourself in the first place, but considering your situation you’d claim this victory. The town wasn’t far from where Din parked the ship and it was a small, but colorful village nestled in the wilds of Naboo. Somehow the fact that you injured yourself while the three of you were parked on one of the most relaxing and safe worlds out there only made your pride sting that much more.
There was sweat beading on your forehead that you had to wipe away and your leg was burning in white, hot agony. Din continued to glance your way, you could feel his gaze, until he finally spoke. “You’re awfully quiet today, tranyc’ika.”
“Just… thinking.” You replied. It was a Maker damned miracle your words didn’t fall out with a whimper. Only a few paces ahead was a little shop that sold caf. Tables and chairs littered the outside patio and the second you and Din began to pass them, you drifted to take a seat. “Hey, how⏤ how about some caf, yeah?”
Din paused and just stared at you. You licked your lips and focused on taking slow breaths through your nose. Finally, Din shifted so he faced you dead on and his hands went to his hips. As if recognizing Din’s ‘lecture stance’, Grogu stopped playing to pay attention to what was happening.
“Walk to me.” He near demanded it.
“That’s a weird request.” You replied and made no move to stand. Din tilted his head at you. Dank farrik. Hands on hip and the head tilt. You were royally fucked. “Yeah, alright. Here I come.”
Just as you had guessed in the ship, the act of sitting down had ruined you. If your slow and shaky rise from the chair didn’t give you away, you took three steps before your left leg gave out on you completely. Before you could hit the ground, strong arms caught you with ease and you looked up to meet Din’s dark t-shaped visor.
“What did you kriffing do?”
“I, uh,” You offered him a sheepish smile, “I, maybe, stabbed myself. A little.”
You had gotten pretty good at reading Din’s body language which was why it was too easy to notice how his entire body stiffened. Without a word, he scooped you up into his arms, bridal style, and began to carry you back toward the ship. Grogu crawled up his dad’s side and found a home on your abdomen where he babbled at you in worry. The babbles were a fantastic distraction from the rage that seemed to waft off Din. When he got back into the cargo hold he carefully set you down after Grogu hopped off. His hands went back to his hip and you could only imagine he was glaring down at you through his visor.
“Pants off. Now.” He snapped.
You had always dreamed of him saying that to you, but it always had a very different context than your current reality. With a pained sigh, you undid your belt then carefully shimmied out of your pants before leaning back on the metal crate behind you for balance. Din ripped his gloves off, tossing them down in a fit, but when his hands found your thigh his touch was soft and careful.
Din peeled away the gauze you had applied and you realized you had nearly bled through more than half of the padding you had put down. The sound of a hiss escaped Din’s helmet when he saw your wound and you couldn’t help but wince as well.
“Don’t move.” He said. Din’s voice left no room for argument as he drifted away. He returned with the first aid kit and you watched him pull out the bacta. You opened your mouth to argue, but the second a sound squeaked out of you his head snapped up to meet your eyes. You didn’t have to guess if he was glaring this time. You could feel the heat of it cutting through the visor and into your soul.
Moments after he applied the bacta, relief began to seep into your thigh. You couldn’t hold back the soft sigh that tumbled from your lips. Din carefully reapplied a new bandage once he was appeased with the amount of bacta he spread around and into the wound. You had hoped when he was finished he would just walk away and leave you to your misery, but you always had been a dumb, blind optimist and the galaxy loved to disappoint you.
Din set his hands on either side of you, knuckles white with how hard he gripped the edge of the crate, and he shook his head. “What happened?”
“I… I tripped. Fell on my knife.”
He sighed, “Are you out of your kriffing mind?”
“No.” You replied. “It’s not like I did it on purpose! I’m negligent, not insane.”
“You tripped, fell on your knife, stabbed yourself in the thigh, and then hid it from me?” Din’s voice grew louder with each event. His words pushing out in what was basically a growl.
You twisted your lips before nodding once. “That is an accurate description of events, yes.”
“Why⏤”
“Because Din!” You interrupted him. “First off, it’s the dumbest injury a person could possibly sustain so of course I didn’t tell you! Forget the karking wound, I nearly died of embarrassment.” You huffed a sigh and shook your head. “And, secondly, I’m so tired of feeling like a burden. You’re always there, taking care of me, and I just… I don’t want to be so dependent on you all the time.”
Din leaned in and you were surprised when he rested his head against your chest. Instinctively, your hands raised to wrap around his helmet, elbows resting on his shoulders. “Gar draar suvarir, tranyc’ika.” He mumbled and you only recognized your nickname. Din lightly shook his head against you. “I want to take care of you. I need to.”
“Why, Din? Why⏤”
“I don’t⏤” Din cut himself off with a grumble. Slowly, he lifted his head back up and your hands fell to his shoulders. “I’ve never been good at expressing myself with⏤ with words. But, I can take care of you. I can show you.”
“Oh.” You replied. Was he…? Did he…? You wondered if this was an admission or if your own feelings for him were biasing your thoughts.
“So will you please, for the love the Maker, just let me take care of you?” Din breathed out.
You nodded. “Okay.”
Din’s body slumped with relief and he caught you off guard by pushing off the crate and pulling you into his arms for an embrace. His arms around you were tight⏤ as if desperate for the touch. When you leaned your weight into him, letting him hold you up, you heard him let out a soft sigh. One of his bare hands traced up your spine and cupped the back of your neck. Feeling the warmth of his hand press against your bare skin made your eyes flutter close.
“It’s a common mistake.” Din said quietly. It took you a moment to pull yourself out of the haze of bliss you had been lost in to hum out a reply. “I tripped and fell on my blade once.”
Your lips pulled up into a smile. “Wait, really?”
“Yes, tranyc’ika.” Din replied. He chuckled. “Granted, it happened when I was seven.”
“Okay, touching moment of comfort, officially over.”
A laugh bubbled out from Din’s helmet, the sound comparable to a fresh breeze with the exhilaration it brought you. He pulled away from you, but left his hand on the back of your neck. Din quickly leaned forward, pressing his forehead to yours for a few seconds, before his hand fell away an the moment truly ended. You stared at him as he collected the first aid kit to put away. Before he could leave, your hand shot out to grasp his wrist.
"I..." You paused. "I think I'm better with words. And I, I just want you to know that you're so important to me, Din."
"I know." Din nodded. He flipped his hand over so he could squeeze your hand, and it brought a smile back to your face. "Now put your pants back on. Your stab wound interrupted our date."
"Wait, our what??"
mando'a translations:
Gar draar suvarir: You don't (never) understand.
tranyc’ika: sunshine (sunny one)
#the mandalorian#din djarin#din djarin x you#din djarin x reader#mando x reader#mando x you#mandalorian fanfic#mandalorian x you#mandalorian x reader
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Hey, Sunshine 💙
A/N: Wishing the happiest birthday to my beloved @sunshinesdaydream!
Pairing: Hardcase x Reader (GN; Reader has a nickname)
Rating: T but minors DNI as always
Wordcount: 1.1k
Warnings and tags: fluff; kissing; Star Wars swearing
Summary: Hardcase has a birthday surprise for you.
Suggested listening:
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Three hours, twenty-two minutes, and thirty-seven seconds.
That's how long you had left until you'd officially be on shore leave. A whole week off. No handing out uniforms; no listening to sheepish explanations about how exactly a trooper ended up with an undersuit three sizes too small (HOW?!); no defending your distribution numbers in pointless meetings with your supervisor. Just five days, all to yourself. You could do anything you wanted.
Well. Almost anything.
You finished taking stock of the Resolute’s uniform inventory and sent a quick comm to the supply officer to let her know the ship was running low on socks—again—while you tried not to think about a certain heavy gunner with the sweetest eyes and the prettiest ink in the GAR. The truth, which you would never admit even under pain of torture, was that you'd happily skip shore leave if it meant you'd get to spend more time with him.
But you couldn't, so you didn't.
Instead, you'd be spending the week on Coruscant, NOT with Hardc—your friends, which was FINE. It was absolutely FINE, and you were excited to finally have some free time, and maybe it sucked just a tiny bit that you'd be spending your birthday alone in a hotel room in the mid-levels, but it was FINE. There was plenty to do on Coruscant, after all. You were sure you'd be able to find something—
“Hey, Sunshine.”
You shrieked and jumped in surprise as the voice sounded close behind you.
“Hardcase, you scared the kark out of me!” you gasped, smacking him in the chest with a compression suit and doing your best to ignore the way the world suddenly seemed a little bit brighter. “What are you doing here? Don't tell me you lit your dress uniform on fire again.”
“That was two times!” he exclaimed, affronted. “It's not like I did it on purpose.”
“Then why are you here instead of getting ready to paint the Entertainment District red?”
He eyed the compression suit warily. “If I tell you, are you going to hit me with that thing again?”
“Depends on what you say,” you replied with a cheeky smile.
Apparently unwilling to take any chances, he took the suit from you and folded it neatly, then set it aside. When he turned back to you, he looked almost… nervous? That was new; you'd never seen him display anything less than well-deserved confidence. He licked his lips, and with an effort so heroic that you mentally awarded yourself a medal, you kept your gaze steadily on his eyes instead of staring at his mouth.
“I, uh, have something for you,” he said. He fumbled in one of his many pouches—why do they have so many pouches?—and produced a small box wrapped in colorful flimsi. “It's nothing much, just, er—happy birthday, Sunshine.”
He shoved the box toward you and looked away quickly. Surprised, you accepted the gift and examined it curiously as Hardcase watched out of the corner of his eye. On closer inspection, you saw that the flimsi was covered in hand-drawn geometric patterns in your favorite colors, and your heart gave a strange little thump at the thoughtfulness and effort he'd put in.
“How’d you know my birthday was coming up?” you asked.
“I have my ways,” he said in a dignified tone that was utterly subverted by the eager expression on his face.
“So mysterious!” you laughed.
He grinned. “A mystery, wrapped in an enigma—”
“Shrouded in flimsi,” you finished.
“Exactly. Now open it!”
“But the mystery!” you teased.
“Mysteries are meant to be solved. Open it!”
He was practically vibrating, his earlier jitters obliterated by anticipation. Unable to resist tormenting him (just a little, as a treat), you took your time to unwrap the box, painstakingly avoiding tearing the flimsi. Once you had it completely unwrapped, you held up the flimsi and admired the artwork.
“Hardcase, this really is gorgeous. I didn't know you could draw like this.”
“Kriff the flimsi, open the box! I know you're doing this on purpose.”
With one final, mischievous smile, you complied. Your breath caught when you saw what was inside: a simple cord necklace, and on it, a crystal pendant that flashed purple and green in the light, intricately wrapped in silver wire.
“It's beautiful,” you whispered. “Did you make this?”
He nodded. “I found the crystal on Saleucami. Reminded me of you.”
“Saleucami was months ago,” you replied, confused.
“I know.”
Your eyes flitted from his face to the necklace and back again. On impulse, and before you could lose your nerve, you asked, “Can you help me put it on?”
He didn't reply, but he stepped closer to you and picked up the necklace. He fumbled with the clasp a bit and paused to tug off his gloves with his teeth. Once he got the clasp open, he lifted the necklace and fastened it gently around your neck, his calloused fingers ghosting lightly over your skin.
Maker, he smells so good, it's not kriffing fair, you mused, trying to refrain from huffing him like glue.
“Thanks.” Your voice sounded suspiciously hoarse, even to your own ears.
His thumb stroked softly down the side of your neck.
“Hey, Sunshine?” he whispered.
You swallowed, suddenly feeling a little lightheaded. “Yeah?”
“Can I kiss you?”
Your breath stuttered to a halt. “... Yeah.”
His eyes dropped to your lips, and he slowly closed the distance between the two of you. As his hand slid around to cup the back of your head, your heart hammered so hard you were sure he must be able to feel it. He glanced back up at your eyes, as though looking for confirmation that you wanted this, and whatever he saw there seemed to satisfy him. His lips touched yours softly, his kiss achingly tender at first. Then you brushed the tip of your tongue against his lips, and he drew in a sharp breath, pulling you tightly against himself.
How many times had you imagined kissing Hardcase? Dozens? Hundreds? It didn't matter, because none of them even came close to the reality. He kissed you like you were the only being in the galaxy, like you were his entire world. When at last you drew away, breathless and dizzy, he whispered your name—your real name—like a plea, quiet and reverent.
His thumb traced around the shell of your ear. He nuzzled your cheek, then pressed his lips to the corner of your mouth one more time.
“Been wantin’ to do that forever,” he murmured against your skin.
“What took you so long?” you asked in a hushed tone.
“Didn't want to kark it up,” he replied.
“Oh,” you whispered. “Well. You didn't.”
He held you close to him, his breath soft and warm across your face as his fingertips drew tiny circles in the downy hairs just where the back of your neck met your head. After a moment, he spoke quietly.
“Did you have plans for shore leave? Because if not, I have a few ideas.”
---
Looking for more Hardcase fluff? Check out my ficlet, “A Question of Seman-dicks.”
Taglist:
@secondaryrealm @sev-on-kamino spicy-clones @wings-and-beskar @523rdrebel @merkitty49 @anxiouspineapple99 @sinfulsalutations @arcsimper5 @starrylothcat @clio3kantarella @cloneloverrrrr @goblininawig @ladytano420 @arctrooper69 @wolffegirlsunite @sunshinesdaydream @mandos-mind-trick @littlemissmanga @stunkbiggu @starqueensthings @clonemedickix @marierg @idontgetanysleep @moonlightwarriorqueen @dudewhynotthis @sleepycreativewriter @tcwmatchmakingau @littlemissbshine @multi-fan-dom-madness @heavenseed76 @wizardofrozz @bobaprint @sweetcream-coldfoam @banksys-rat @skellymom @pickleprickle @trixie2023 @mythical-illustrator @dickarchivist @cw80831 @kimiheartblade @meredithroseg @flyiingsly @lightwise @swcowgal @reader6898 @cdblake1565 @epicy0n
#clone trooper hardcase#hardcase x reader#tcw hardcase#the clones wars#star wars#tcw fanfic#star wars fanfic#i wrote this instead of sleeping#dystopicjumpsuit writes#Spotify
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Up To Something
Read here on Ao3!
Febuwhump 2024 | Day 4 | Prompt 4: Obedience
Rated: G | Words: 1069
Summary: Wrecker has to sit out a mission. [Character Focus: Wrecker, Tech, Crosshair, Hunter]
“How many fingers am I holding up?”
Wrecker squints at Tech’s hand. “Well, if you’d keep your karking hands still, I could tell ya!”
Tech sighs. “I’ll have you know that my singular hand is perfectly stationary, and the answer was two.”
“Aww,” Wrecker whines, gripping his head between his hands. “What does that mean?”
“It means you have a concussion,” Tech says, pulling out his portable med scanner he keeps with him on the field. He scans Wrecker to confirm his diagnosis. “It also means that you will have to sit out the rest of this mission.”
“What? That’s not fair!”
“Fairness has nothing to do with it,” Tech argues, “The fact of the matter is that you are a danger to yourself and others in this condition.”
“You’re not the boss,” Wrecker responds childishly, “Hunter is.”
“And Hunter will doubtlessly agree with my assessment.”
“Says you!”
“Precisely.” Tech taps his comm link. “Sarge, Wrecker has sustained a head injury. It is inadvisable that he continue with the mission.”
Wrecker leans in before Tech can cut the transmission, “I’m fine!”
Tech pulls away, throwing Wrecker a glare for good measure. “He is not fine,” Tech reiterates.
“Does he need immediate medical attention?” Hunter asks.
“Negative.”
A sigh filters through the comm. “Alright. Get him somewhere secure to lay low. We’ll come for him once we finish the extraction.”
“Roger that.” Tech flashes Wrecker a wry grin that the giant can’t even see under his helmet. “I told you he would agree with me.”
“Shut up,” Wrecker grumbles before letting out another pained moan.
Tech glances the vicinity for threats. “This is as good a place as any to have you wait for us to return for you,” he decides.
”Don’t leave me here, Tech, c’mon,” Wrecker pleads. “I’ll be careful.”
”You heard Hunter’s orders. You are to wait here until we finish the extraction. I will abide by his decision, and so will you.”
“Hunter always sides with you,” Wrecker grumbles.
Tech rolls his eyes, but plays into the argument. “Not true, but he usually sides with reason, which is more commonly provided by myself.” The splicer gets to his feet, returning his med scanner to its pouch and adjusting his pack. “This is for the best. Please try not to do anything foolish until we get back.”
Wrecker growls some sort of incomprehensible reply, but Tech takes it to mean that he will comply with the order to stay put. Wrecker didn’t need immediate medical attention, but he did need to be careful. His injury could easily be worsened by unnecessary movement and stimulation. However, Tech sympathizes with the disappointment his brother must feel, so he adds, “It is a dull mission anyhow, you won’t be missing out.”
“I could’ve found something to blow up,” Wrecker sighs, leaning forward to put his head on his drawn up knees.
“Stealth, Wrecker,” Tech reminds him. “It is a stealth mission.”
Wrecker makes another displeased noise that is muffled into his hands. Tech hesitates a moment before gingerly patting Wrecker on the shoulder in what he hopes is a pacifying and comforting gesture. He isn’t sure if Wrecker takes it as such because the hulking clone doesn’t acknowledge him in any way. “We’ll be back soon, Wrecker. I’ve marked the location, but keep your comm available so that you can communicate should you need assistance.”
<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>
Much to Tech’s surprise, Wrecker does not bombard their comms with any sort of wheedling or whining or distress. In fact, he does not check-in once. It is troublesome, but Tech tries to focus on the data extraction, ignoring the gnawing feeling of wrongness. When he left his largest brother, Wrecker was stable and fine, as Wrecker so eloquently put it. Not fine enough to continue the mission, but fine enough to rest and wait without fear of sudden demise.
Regardless, Tech works with distracted speed, finally slipping the data stick into his utility belt pocket and nodding at Crosshair that they are finished.
The sniper is leaning lazily against the console, watching the door, but pushes himself up as Tech puts away his equipment. “Don’t you think it’s odd that Wrecker hasn’t commed once since you abandoned him?”
“I did not abandon him,” Tech says stiffly. “I know exactly where he is.”
“Wrecker is never this quiet,” Crosshair continues as if Tech had not spoken, “unless he’s unconscious…”
Tech swallows.
“...or up to something.”
Up to something.
This gives Tech pause. He had not considered that possibility, and he isn’t sure if it makes him feel better or worse about the situation. He picks up his comm. “Wrecker, come in. Are you still at your approved location?”
A pause ticks several seconds too long. “Yeah?”
Crosshair and Tech exchange glances, Crosshair’s expression hidden behind his helmet. Tech imagines it looks about as incredulous as he feels.
“And you haven’t left that location?”
“Why would I? I’m a danger to myself and others in this condition,” Wrecker retorts, echoing Tech’s own words. However, his evident annoyance is unable to conceal the lie in his tone.
“What did you do?” Crosshair asks now, lifting his own comm.
“Nothing!”
“Boys, if you’re done interrogating the wounded, let’s head out,” Hunter cuts in.
The feeling of wrongness resumes its gnawing. But, Tech assures himself, at the very least, Wrecker is still alive.
<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>
Wrecker is sitting just as Tech left him.
“‘Bout time!” Wrecker whines, getting to his feet. He staggers a step or two unsteadily, putting a hand to his head and groaning.
“You were only left alone for twenty standard minutes,” Tech tells him.
“Felt like forever!”
Crosshair is scanning their surroundings. “And what did you do in the meantime?”
“I already told you I didn’t do anything!” Wrecker growls, giving Crosshair a shove.
“You’re a terrible liar,” Crosshair says, undeterred.
Hunter steps between them. “Alright, enough. Wrecker, if you say you didn’t do anything…we’re going to take your word for it.”
Tech doesn’t miss the lilt of doubt in Hunter’s appeasement, but it effectively shuts down the argument nonetheless.
It isn’t until the Marauder is taking off that they hear and see the explosion in the distance. Tech doesn’t even have to check the location to know it was the Separatist base.
Three heads swivel to Wrecker who stares back in surprise. “That was not me,” he says, “I promise!”
No one believes him.
END
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#febuwhump 2024#febuwhumpday4#prompt 4: obedience#star wars#the bad batch#fanfiction#ao3 fanfic#ao3 writer#tbb wrecker#tbb tech#tbb hunter#tbb crosshair#concussion#humor#fics by kyber
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Hello! Spreading more asks around for the first kiss prompt!
I'd love to see the prompt - "don't you dare tell anyone about this." "wasn't planning on it." With Crosshair, but the second part being said by the reader possibly with a wink? If that's too specific just the prompt going either way. (The inner Crosshair simp must be fed!)
Love and Wrecker Hugs! ❤️🖤
ahhh!! this was the perfect prompt for Cross and I had a lot of fun writing it! thank you bb!! I fully intended to wait to answer all of these all at once but I'm too excited so, I present:
First Kiss - Crosshair
Summary: Exactly what it says on the tin, folks. Prompt in bold.
Warnings: some angst (because it's Crosshair), a little bit of a toxic relationship but it's fine, mention of my OC Captain Flare, medic!reader, gn!reader, fluff, confessions
Word Count: 1.4k woops
TBB divider by the wonderful @wizardofrozz, other divider by @dystopicjumpsuit
You’ve worked with Clone Force 99 now for nearly a full year, and while you could technically be reassigned at any moment, both Cody and your supervisor, a bitter old bat, assured you that the Republic had bigger fish to fry than the logistics of shuffling one nat-born medic every few campaigns. And so you’ve stayed with the outcasts. They’ve become something akin to family, at least to you. You know most of them feel the same—Wrecker never fails to express his brotherly affection for you, Tech continues to adjust the ship’s thermostat to a temperature that is best suited to you when you’re feeling off, and Hunter’s silent nod and smile tell you all you need to know.
Crosshair, though, is a tough nut to crack.
At first, you swore he hated you. Despite the rest of the squad’s assurances that he’d come around, you’d been skeptical. It wasn’t until several months into your assignment, on a mission you really shouldn’t have been on as the team’s medic, when you saved Crosshair from commando droids that something changed. He still snarked you, still flicked his used toothpicks at your face to bother you. But he slowly began to open up to you. He included you in inside jokes, actually listened to your medical advice, and even let you hold his Firepuncher once.
So despite the hospitality and friendliness of the rest of the squad, it’s Crosshair that your heart has chosen to love. You know he cares about you. You just don’t know to what extent.
Because even though he still maintains an impenetrable wall around himself, he looks after you. On missions and otherwise. When you go out on shore leave as a squad, he glowers at anyone who dares even look in your direction.
And that’s exactly the situation you find yourself in tonight. Planetside, on Triple Zero, you’d convinced the others to have a night out with you before you shipped back to the warzone in a few days. The missions have been nearly incessant, and you’re all starting to feel the strain.
Leaning back against the sticky bartop, you survey the crowded dance floor. Hunter, Tech, and Wrecker lounge in one of the coveted corner booths, looking more relaxed than you’ve seen them in a long time, dressed in civvies and nursing the cheap booze served by the 79s management. A smile lifts your lips. They deserve this, just one night off, to remind them what the war is for.
But you came here wanting more than to drink weak, watery beer. Taking a swill, you glance sidelong at Crosshair perched on a barstool next to you.
He hasn’t left your side since you walked in. Normally, his presence is comforting, especially in unfamiliar settings, on unfamiliar planets, around unfamiliar people. But 79s hosts none of those things. In fact, the way he’s ordained himself your personal shadow is beginning to grate. You know he’s scaring off any of the regs who might otherwise ask you to dance, or offer a drink, or even just a friendly hello. You know he’s hovering to protect you.
You just don’t understand why.
Sighing, you take another swill of your drink. “Kark, what’s a person gotta do to get a dance around here?”
Crosshair doesn’t answer, just shifts his toothpick to the other side of his mouth.
You huff. “Cross, c’mon. I don’t need a babysitter. Go drink with the others. I’ll be fine.”
“S’not you I’m worried about,” he mutters. “S’them.” He jerks his chin toward the dance floor, gesturing broadly to the gathering of regs.
“I can handle them,” you say, an edge of ice to your voice. Frustration at his inability to actually say what he means boils below your skin.
Crosshair, predictably, ignores the bite of your words. “Didn’t say you couldn’t.”
“Great,” you say, pushing away from the bar, “glad we’re in agreement.”
Shoving your half-empty bottle into his hands. He looks down at it with a bewildered expression, then up at you, his eyes narrowed into slits. You give him a sarcastic, two-finger salute before dipping into the crowd.
You find a clone—Flare, you think he says his name is—who is more than willing to dance. His grasp on your body is unfamiliar but respectful. The pair of you sway and grind through several songs (you’re certainly not keeping track, too focused on trying to avoid the impulse to see if Crosshair is watching). When Flare whispers into your ear, his lips brushing your skin, your eyes slide shut, desperately wishing he were someone else.
A moment later, Flare yelps and his arms are ripped from around you. Eyes shooting open, you whip around to find Crosshair, every line of his body radiating anger, his fists clenched at his sides. Kriff.
“Sorry,” you call to Flare as you grab Crosshair’s bicep and haul him through the crowd to the front door. “What the fuck are you doing!?”
Scoffing, Cross yanks his arm free, though follows hot on your heels as you emerge into the cool night air. “Could ask you the same thing.”
“I was dancing,” you say.
This is going to be an argument, you just know it, and you don’t want to subject all these strangers to the impending shitstorm. So you keep walking, leading Crosshair around the corner where it’s quieter.
“Bantha-shit,” he hisses. His firm grip on your shoulder spins you around. “His hands were all over you.”
“He wasn’t doing anything I didn’t want,” you say, glaring at him. “Maker, what is your issue? I can’t even have a fun night out without you stepping all over my plans, can I?”
“No,” he spits. “Not if it means—” He cuts himself off and looks away, jaw clenching and unclenching. His chest heaves with emotion, two high spots of color on his cheeks.
Something in you softens, anger cooling into confusion. “Not if it means what, Cross?”
Nostrils flaring with every inhale, he shakes his head minutely, eyes pressing shut.
You hesitate, but after a moment, you sigh. Reaching up, you gently cup his face to draw him back to you. His eyes flutter open to meet your own. This is the closest you’ve been to him, you realize, in your entire time with the squad. Besides his medical exams, this is the most you’ve touched him, too. The realization sets your heart pounding.
“Don’t shut me out,” you say. “Please.”
He studies you for a moment. Across his face flits several emotions, none of them identifiable, and you begin to grow worried that all the progress you’ve made with him is about to be tossed over the ledge of this Coruscanti sidewalk.
A worry that is dashed as soon as he surges forward and kisses you, one hand cupping the back of your neck to steady you. A sound of surprise squeaks out of you. Then you’re melting against him. Tilting your head, you deepen the kiss, one hand settled over his heart. It beats hard and fast under your palm, nearly in tempo with your own racing pulse. His lips are chapped and rough against yours, but you don’t care, because it’s him, and this is all you’ve needed these past few months.
When he pulls away, he doesn’t go far. His forehead pressed against yours, his eyes remain screwed shut. He releases a shaky exhale.
“Cross, I—”
He kisses you again. “Don’t. Don’t apologize.”
“How did you—”
“Because I know you,” he says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
Warmth blooms deep in your chest, right where you’ve made space for him in your heart. “Y-Yeah. Alright. But—”
“No,” he grumbles. “You need to know that I- I’m sorry. For being a di’kut. I should have made a move sooner.”
A soft chuckle spills from you. “Yeah, you should’ve.”
At last, his warm, amber eyes flutter open to meet yours. Your breaths mingle in the small space between your faces, and the intensity of affection in his gaze nearly makes your knees collapse. Smiling up at him, you catch the barest hint of a smile in return. For a moment, it’s just you and Crosshair in one another’s embrace, the sounds and smells of the side alley of 79s fading away.
The moment is shattered when he speaks again. “Don’t you dare tell anyone about this.”
Laughing in earnest, you can’t help but shake your head. The others are going to find out about this new development sooner or later, but as you meet his gaze again, you realize he doesn’t mean the kiss. Sobering, you nod. “Wasn’t planning on it.”
You can’t resist winking, though. He rolls his eyes and grumbles, but tucks you against his side all the same to lead you back to the barracks.
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#tbb crosshair x reader#crosshair x reader#the bad batch x reader#first kiss prompts#rhiwrites#rhiplies#tbb x reader#tbb x gn!reader
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I love your writing it’s so good! I have a favour to ask - a fic with Hunter, but the rest of the batch are trying to help you see that he reciprocates your feelings but you don’t believe them, since Hunter has always treated you with respect but kept his distance. They’re in your apartment trying to convince you not to go on your date. You ignore them telling them not to break anything in your apartment, as you leave them be. Hunter shows up with flowers at your apartment, but Crosshair tells him that they tried to keep you there but you left. He tries to find you, and sees you on your date, you look bored and completely uninterested. Hunter sends you a digital text, asking how your date is going? Your date doesn’t even realize you are texting back, completely entranced with his own story. Hunter asks for you to meet him outside. You look up and see him leaning against the fence across the street. You excuse yourself, grabbing your shawl and purse, he meets you halfway, and he tells you how he feels. Or something like that. I know it’s quite long, I’m sorry.
DON'T APOLOGIZE I LIVE FOR THESE KIND OF ASKS
Divider by @djarrex
Only You (Sergeant Hunter x GN! Reader)
Notes/Warnings: OG date is a bit of an arse, RIP to anyone named Kyle this is my revenge on my middle school bully, the whole batch ships you with Hunter ^-^, Cross is a good brother, wingman!Batch, that might become a theme with my works
You careened around the corner, and straight into Hunter's chest.
"Woah! Where's the fire?" Hunter grabbed your shoulders, smiling down at you.
You responded with a dopey grin of your own, "No fire, it's just me, silly."
He raised one eyebrow doubtfully, "Just you?"
You flushed too easily, and you hated yourself for it, stepping back from his respectful touch to smooth your hair back, "If you must know, Sergeant, I have a date tonight."
"A date?" Hunter folded his arms, "With who?"
"One of the senate guards, his name is Kyle."
"Oh," Hunter didn't sound impressed, and that piqued your interest.
"What? Think I couldn't get a date?"
Hunter shrugged, "Oh I know you can get a date, but the senate guards are all full of it."
You raised one eyebrow. "Is someone jealous?" You sang.
"No," Hunter said quickly, "I just know you can do better."
You stopped at that. Was he saying what you thought he might be saying? Your lips parted and you searched his eyes for sincerity, but he blinked and it was gone.
"But I know you, and I know you don't take kark from anyone, so if you're going on a date with him he's gotta be a good one."
You laughed nervously. "Well, I cancel my date this late, and I think I can give him the benefit of the doubt."
"If you say so," Hunter stepped to the side to let you continue down the hall, "Have fun tonight."
"Thanks, you too." You took a couple steps before you realized what you'd said.
"I meant-"
"I know what you meant, mesh'la," Hunter smiled, and nodded you down the hall, "See you later."
"Yeah," You giggled nervously, "See ya."
You made your way down the hall, much slower than you had before, wishing the good-bye could have dragged on for a little while longer.
"Why are you in such a rush?"
"I am not rushing, Cross," You rolled your eyes, "I am perfectly on time, which is polite for a first date. What if I got there late, and he left because he thought I wasn't coming?"
"Would that really be so bad?" Crosshair muttered. You had dozens of friends who knew how to apply makeup, but none of them had a hand as steady as Crosshair's to apply your eyeliner with.
You rolled your eyes. The boys had been telling you ever since they met you that no one was good enough for you. Maybe that was true, but you enjoyed dating, and you'd always dreamed of the idea of finding "the one" that you would spend your life with.
For some reason, they all kept pushing you towards Hunter, which didn't make sense, because Hunter had never shown interest in being more than just friends.
"Stay still," Crosshair pinched your chin, "And don't rush me."
"You aren't going, are you?" Echo asked, sprawled across the couch with Tech and Wrecker.
"Hello people who don't live here," You rolled your eyes. The Batch just as good as lived at your apartment after you gave them the access code, though it was supposed to be for emergencies.
"You look great!" Wrecker said.
"Flattery will get you nowhere, but thank you anyway." You slipped on your favorite shoes even though they hurt your feet and grabbed your purse.
"Why don't you stay here, we'll have a movie night?" Tech said, gesturing to your favorite holoseries playing out on the screen. That almost tempted you.
You shook your head and kissed each batcher on the top of the head, though Cross was still standing so you could only reach his cheek.
"We'll have a movie night tomorrow, guys. There's ice cream in the freezer, so help yourselves, but so help me if you so much as look at my meal prep boxes I will kick you all out."
"Fine," Echo sighed, "Don't have too much fun without us."
"No promises," You opened the door, "Tell Hunter I said hi!" The door shut behind you.
Tech switched off the holofilm, and it was silent in your apartment for one moment.
Crosshair sighed. "Did you bring the backup?"
Wrecker held up the duffel.
"How far away is he?"
"ETA five minutes."
"Echo, Wrecker, go grab the flowers. Roses, please, if you have to get any others, get the white stardust. Tech, follow them and make sure we've confirmed what restraunt the supposed "date" will be at."
"What about you?" Wrecker asked even as Echo vaulted over the back of the couch. None of them had agreed that Crosshair was necessarily in charge if Hunter was absent, but they weren't going to argue his plan so far.
"I've got to steam out this outfit so it doesn't smell like rations and mansweat," Crosshair wrinkled his nose, pulling out the shirt and pants Hunter had bought eons ago for casual wear and never gotten the chance to wear. The red button up and gray slacks were pretty classy, and they would go well with your outfit. Tech, Wrecker, and Echo, sprinted out of your apartment to accomplish their own tasks while Crosshair began going through your hair supplies to see if he could find anything to help tame Hunter's wild mane.
"Hello?" Five minutes later, on the dot, Hunter wandered into your mostly-empty apartment, only for Crosshair to toss a shirt and pants at him.
"What the- Cross! Where are they?"
"Just outside the senatorial district, at this fancy new mon calamari place called the Legendary Whaladon," Crosshair squinted at the text message from Tech.
"Wait, what?" Hunter was confused, pulling the shirt off his head. Crosshair took his bandana with it and began to brush out his hair.
"No brother of mine is showing up to his first date looking like a street rat," He muttered under his breath.
Hunter shoved his arm away, fuming, "Date!? Cross, I came because you lot said it was an emergency!"
"It is!" Wrecker insisted as he and Echo burst through the door with a modest bouquet of Roses and stardust blossoms.
"Crashing my best friend's date is not an emergency," Hunter said, though there was little conviction in his tone.
Crosshair snapped an elastic around Hunter's hair to hold it back, "It is if they're about to make the biggest mistake of their life."
Hunter sighed and took a step back, "I can't lose their friendship, lads. It means too much to me.
"Are you kidding me!" Crosshair snapped, "You have the best senses out of all of us and you still can't see how much they like you!"
Hunter gulped nervously, none of them had ever seen Crosshair so angry at them before. Crosshair took Hunter by the shoulders and steered him into the bathroom.
"Now you are going to get dressed and look nice, and then you are going to take these flowers and tell your best friend just how much you love them or so help me I will put garlic in your ration bars for the next-"
"Okay, okay!" Hunter shut the door in Crosshair's face just to get himself some space. Could Crosshair be right? Did you really like him in the way that he liked you?
Even if it was true, would it even be polite to barge into some high-scale restaurant and interrupt your date?
Either way, he couldn't let you fall for some blond-haired, six-packed, arrogant Senate Guard.
Kyle was pretty, yes, but he was awfully dull.
The only time he truly acknowledged you was when you met him outside the Whaladon, and he insisted that only someone as beautiful as you could be his date for the evening. That compliment proved to be much more shallow than you'd originally taken it for, as Kyle proceeded to spend the next ten minutes singing his own praises. The waitress droid could hardly take your drink orders without Kyle describing how he once tracked down the a commando droid before it could assassinate the senator he was guarding.
You huffed under your breath and sipped your water. Not only could Hunter track down droids faster and more efficiently, he could take them out in no time flat either.
You flushed, though Kyle hardly caught it. You were on a date with someone, why were you thinking about Hunter?
You were hopeless.
At least you were seated by the window, giving you the perfect chance to people-watch while you waited for the waitress droid to return and take your orders. Kyle had spent too much time talking about himself to even glance at the menu in front of you, but your stomach was grumbling, crying out for shrimp.
Your forehead eventually rested against the cool glass as rain began to patter softly against the glass. The crowd you'd been watching quickly dispersed, leaving you bored once more, with nothing to pay attention to but the blisters on your heels.
"May I offer you a shrimp platter?" the waitress droid asked.
"No thank you I'm allergic-" Kyle tried to say.
"I'll take some," You said quickly. You eyed Kyle out of the corner of your eye. Why insist on coming to a seafood place if you were allergic to half the food served?
The Waitress gave you a bowl of sauce, lined with shrimp, and you popped two in your mouth.
Kyle quickly got himself back on track, explaining a prank that he and his coworkers had pulled on a few members of the Coruscaunt Guard, and you tuned him out again, only to feel a buzzing coming from your purse.
You pulled out your phone, and Kyle didn't even blink. It was Hunter.
How's the date?
You smiled for the first time all evening.
Terrible. Can this guy shut up about himself for two seconds?
Doesn't look like it.
You jolted upright in your seat and quickly glanced around the room, but you saw no telltale red headband, as if that would even be considered appropriate attire for this place.
You did catch sight of bright red outside, just across the street. Squinting through the raindrops sliding down the transparisteel windows, you could make out scruffy black hair, and a dark shadow of a tattoo.
"I'm sorry," You weren't, not really, as you stood up on Kyle mid-sentence, "I have to go."
Before Kyle could volunteer to drop you off, which you doubted he would, you grabbed your bowl of shrimp, refusing to leave without some good food, and ran out the door as fast as your sore feet would let you.
You spotted Hunter leaning against the fence for a garden courtyard, even in this rain. He was carrying a bouquet of flowers that glistened with raindrops.
"Hunter! What are you doing here?" You exclaimed even as you threw your arms around him. You knew you shouldn't, but you were so relieved to be with a friend again.
Hunter threw his arms around your waist, holding you close even though it made you both more and more wet. Then he caught a glimpse of your footwear.
"Why are you wearing those shoes, you know they hurt your feet!" Hunter tucked the flowers under his arm and knelt down even as you protested that you were just fine, and undid the straps on your shoes, massaging the back of your ankle where a blister was forming.
"Th-thanks," You mumbled, butterflies taking flight in your stomach as he looked up at you, smiling into the rain.
"What- what are the flowers for?" You asked.
"Oh," Hunter didn't even realize he was still holding them, "Uh, Crosshair said I had a date."
"Oh," The green monster of jealousy reared up in your stomach, swallowing all the butterflies you'd just experienced, "Who are they? They're very lucky to be going out with you of all people."
Hunter studied the flowers a moment more. "Dank Ferrik, I can't hold it back anymore. Cyare, I wanted to ask you out. I realize I'm the worst person in the galaxy for interrupting your date but I can't keep quiet about it anymore. You're brilliant and hilarious and kind and any guy who doesn't realize that doesn't deserve you. Will you go out with me?"
Your mind went blank as Hunter held out the flowers to you. You, of all people!
"Hunter, I never thought..." you murmured, running your fingertips over the rose petals.
"Me either, cyare," hunter took a step closer, brushing wet strands of hair back from your face, "The boys told me that you liked me, and for a moment, I dared to hope-" Hunter jerked his hand back, terrified that he'd overstepped in some way.
"If you tell me they're wrong, I'll stop, I'll leave and you'll never have to see me again-"
"No!" You exclaimed, making Hunter stumble back.
"No, no I don't want you to leave," you grasped his hand to keep him from backing away any further, "Because yes, I'm in love with you."
Hunter dropped the flowers and pulled you against his chest, his lips colliding with yours as thunder echoed through the city. He tasted like rainwater, but that was mostly due to the weather, he smelled like whetstones and piney freshness from some uncharted world he'd been sent to. You clung to his shirt as Hunter's hand cradled the back of your head.
"So," Hunter whispered a moment later, when you'd both had the chance to catch your breath, "I think this is the part where we go on a date?"
You held up your bowl of shrimp, "I can think of no one else I'd rather share a platter of shrimp with."
Hunter chuckled. "You're brilliant, cyare," he repeated.
You smiled, tucked under his arm in the rain as you finished your bowl of shrimp, finally placating the growling in your stomach and the ache in your heart.
#sergeant hunter#lizart writes#the bad batch#the bad batch x reader#tbb x reader#tbb hunter#sergeant hunter x reader#tbb hunter x reader
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We know that the Opress brothers are extremely dominant in all they do…but what is the closest that the brothers will get to being “soft” with their partners?
Always. Let's clarify: "dominance" among Dathomiri Zabrak include the care and protection of what they've claimed as theirs: their homes, their clans, their partners, their mates.
What's required of that care depends on the situation:
Will they help you sharpen your weapons and also show you the correct way to hunt a bane back spider to make the kill most efficient, but also wrap your knuckles after you get frustrated and try to beat the creature into submission? Yes.
Will they beat the karking stuffing out of someone who knocks your basket out of your hands when you're at the night market and help you pick up your scattered flowers? Yes.
Will they also wrap themselves around you when you're cold at night in the depths of hyperspace because they run hot and you don't? Yes.
The thing is... they each go about these things in their own special ways, you know?
"Soft" is a measure of each brother's capacities and personalities.
Warnings: Some canon-typical violence (hunting), hunting a predatory species, canon-typical injuries, sexytime mention, canoodling
Feral: Laughs at you the entire time. Makes fun of your technique. Tries to show you how to better hold your electrospear: fails, but keeps grinning when you nearly snap the thing in half in your frustration. Cackles when you lose a boot in the bog. Loves every minute of the experience, even when you get quiet, especially when you get focused and get low to creep up on your quarry. Isn't at all concerned that you're human and that "damned spider" is three times your size, because even when you lose your weapon and toss yourself on top of the creature's back to beat it into submission, he watches you in awe and exasperation. "I'm the worst teacher," he confesses, helping you drag your kill back to camp once it's over and you're exhausted from the lesson. "But you were ferocious." He's just as smeared in mud and gore because he was with you every step of the way, but you're the one who's bleeding, and he's the one with the medpac and the stimstick and the bacta and the bathtub when you can barely hold yourself up for a sonic. So Feral carries you up the stairs, and strips you of your armaments, and tucks you under his chin in the oversized tub to wash you off, and nuzzles your neck when he wraps your knuckles with bacta and bandages, and even kisses your fingertips despite your ragged nails, and he tells you in murmurs that light a little glow in your weary chest: that you did so well; that he's so proud; that he can't wait to see you do it again — even if you don't exactly follow Nightbrother tradition.
Savage: The flowers were a joke, for one, because you meant to make Savage a beautiful flower crown. Granted, two of the species you collected might have been poisonous, and one might've given him a rash, but by the time that became relevant, the basket was on the ground and two Nightspeople were cackling about the little off-worlder who didn't know the difference between nightsbane and brula fruit. No one saw your shadow as you were bent over the ruins of your would-be gift, save for you when Savage eclipsed your hunched figure entirely and the boys' scrambling trampled the blossoms. He had them in two strides: one of his for two of theirs, but you didn't want to watch the lesson being imparted when it involved bruises and threats. He left them with enough wherewithal to run away afterwards. "Didn't break anything," he muttered, though the regret was clear. He knelt with you amidst the ruin of your offering and pulled you to your feet with one enormous hand. "Let's collect another basket together," he promised, "I know just the place." And the hillside overlooking the valley that he brought you to was more than you imagined, because little flowers (completely inoffensive and definitely not poisonous) bloomed there beneath the Twins' rise, and even under the starlight, the dew sitting on the blossoms twinkled like diamonds. He sat beside you patiently as you fashioned him a gentler crown, and when you made love to him in that field later that night, he never once concerned himself with taking it off.
Maul: "Brood a little closer, it's cold in here," you told him, because he had that look in his eyes again that spoke of distant machinations and far-seeing plans: destinies that escaped him and others that might still be in hand if he could only grasp them. The same thing always, adrift between worlds and stars where the nights are endless and the cold creep of hyperspace journeys so often left you bereft. He's a busy man. Grand designs and the grace of the Dark Side. And you, left to your own devices again, huddle up in a bunk that's so often empty because he rarely sleeps. It took him nights to understand why you shivered, and why you drifted after nights when you couldn't sleep. Hard to explain what you needed, and you could never expect him to understand, but you left a space beside you open just in case. Always. Even if his absence left you colder, sometimes. "Why do you shiver, so? Are you ill? Is it fever?" he asked you, because Maul doesn't always understand the desires of other people, and to ask for such things he sometimes regards as weakness. You never wanted to burden him, but still, you couldn't help yourself: you leaned into his hand, his touch, his calloused fingers, and sighed for the warmth of his concern. It slowed him, even as you sank away, not wanting to linger. He waited. He weighed it. And maybe some part of him understood it wasn't simple heat that was needed. "Your blanket is too thin," he groused, tucking in beside you, his knees notched behind yours. "It's no wonder you aren't at your best performance." But he wrapped an arm around your waist, and tucked you beneath his chin, and settled, muttering something about how adept he was at being able to, "brood anywhere, no matter the conditions." You've never slept better.
#Darth Maul#Savage Opress#Feral Opress#Maul#Darth Maul x Reader#Darth Maul x You#Savage Opress x Reader#Savage Opress x You#Feral Opress x Reader#Feral Opress x You#Star Wars Imagines#Darth Maul Imagines#the night market of dathomir
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Werewolves of Coruscant: Part One :Thrill
Pairing: Werewolf!Reader x Werewolf! (to be) Corrie Guard OC Thrill
Rating: Safe for the Breakroom Action(ish, don't get too excited)
Prompt: “It was inevitable, but I regretted it every step of the way!"
Summary: Thrill gets chased and finds out bout werewolves the hard way.
Word Count: 1130
Suggested Listening/Inspiration: Highway to Hell-AC/DC
Series Title/Suggested Listening/Inspiration: Werewolves of London-Warren Zevon
Thrill wasn’t used to being chased across the rooftops, he was used to doing the chasing. Whatever this being was that was after him was catching up. Also it didn’t look anything like any of the beings he had seen in training. Closest he could think of was a really freaky looking wookie.
Thrill put another burst of speed on, wishing he wasn’t in armor. When it first went for him he had tried stunner bolts on it. Evidently stunners just made it angry. He had called for backup, but they were stretched thin tonight because of the karking gala.
It was getting too close, he was going to have to take the lead he had to stand and fight. While running he switched his blaster off the stun mode. He leapt to the higher wall and turned, shooting and hitting the beings abdomen three times. It kept coming. By the time Thrill had registered that three direct shots hadn’t taken the being down it was knocking him down on his back.
It was on top of him, roaring in his face and bit down and through the useless plastoid on his arm. Yelling out in pain he shot three more times, hitting it in the chest at point blank range and finally it collapsed.
By the time you tracked the rogue he was already chasing a Coruscant Guard. Poor troopers had enough shit to deal with, the last thing any of them needed was to have a rogue werewolf after them. Unfortunately they were well ahead of you and the rest of the party. You would be able to catch the rogue, but it wasn’t likely to happen before he caught the trooper.
As you follow you are impressed with this trooper, he was holding out far longer than you had estimated even for a clone with their genetic enhancements.
You were on the same roof as the rogue and the trooper when he made his stand. Even so the seconds that it took it all to happen from the trooper leaping onto the higher roof to the crunch of plastoid wasn’t long enough.
You shift back to human form and call to the other three with you as you tighten the belts on your pants. “Bind him, I’ll call the speeder with our location. Let me get the trooper,”
You rushed to the trooper in the hopes that the rogue’s teeth hadn’t reached his skin.
“What was that?” He groaned, “Who are you?”
“It’s a lot to explain,” you say, inspecting his arm. You sigh, seeing that the teeth had broken through the shattered plastoid. “And it’s looking like you are going to have to hear all about it.
“What? This?” He asks, “our medics can take care of this no problem!”
“There are some things that the medics and droids can’t fix,” you respond. Shaking your head you offer to help him up as you do you introduce yourself and ask his name.
“Thrill,” he answers, “what are they?” He looks at the other three wolves restraining the rogue.
“Werewolves,” you tell him. And when he looks slightly baffled you continue, “told you there was a lot to explain. As soon as the speeders get here they will load him in the truck and we’ll head to base.”
“I shot him point blank,” Thrill comments.
You nod, “knocked him out good, made it easier for us to transport him. Unfortunately he’s likely to have the same end as most of the rogues we have found,”
“They aren’t all like that sometimes?” Thrill asks as you remove the broken plastoid from his arm.
“No, it is a myth. Or maybe it’s just ones infected with the dark side. We aren’t entirely sure,” you explain as you use a med kit to clean his arm. He hisses at the sensation. “We know the dark side has something to do with it. Has something to do with everything right now,”
“I don’t know much about the force,” Thrill comments.
“I didn’t until, well they started being a problem,” you tell him.
Thrill looks over at where they were heaving the rogue into the back of a truck and then back down at his arm that you were bandaging. “Am I going to be like that?” He asks quietly.
You shake your head, “No. He was told he was like that. Influenced by the dark side of the force and well. You are with us and will be able to resume a fairly normal existence. It might end up with an alliance that is mutually beneficial to both the guard and to us.”
He nods and you motion to the other speeder, “let’s get you back and then I can explain more and work a few things out.”
“And I can go back? To my brothers?” He asks, fear plain on his face.
“I promise you can go back to your brothers, and that they will be entirely safe concerning you,” you swear.
He is quiet for the trip, which is quite a while as it was fairly deep into the lower levels. Deep enough that the rogue was healed up enough to be awake and irate.
Once he was shoved into the holding cell he yelled, “It’s in our nature! It was inevitable, but I regretted it every step of the way!”
“It is not,” one of the men says, “You’ve read too many holonovels.”
“You’ll see, trooper, you’ll see. The urge to bite is too great!” the rogue howls.
“Ignore him,” you say, holding on to the shocked trooper’s arm. “I’m fairly sure I outgrew biting people when I was three and haven’t bit anyone since,”
“Were you de…er… born this way?” Thrill asks.
“No, I was bitten by a rogue like him,” you jerk your head towards the cage. “Just before the war started. Most of us were. We are fairly sure it’s connected, but we don’t know how yet. We wouldn’t have sought out this kind of connection to the guard. However we were trying to come up with a way to contact your commanders,”
Thrill lit up, “I work with Commander Fox often! And I know Commander Thorn pretty well. I can get you in to talk to both of them. My brother Sharp knows Commander Thire pretty well too. We might be able to manage all three in the same room,”
You smile at him, he’s much more at ease given a bit of footing. “Well, first let’s get that looked at. We have some nurses and some people from the Jedi temple. Just to make sure you heal correctly. And get you filled in on… all of this,”
He smiles back and nods, “Sounds good, I always like a good adventure,”
To be continued…
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wip game: Sharp Objects
Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, then post a little snippet or tell them something about it.
Thank you for the ask bb! Ok so I've had this idea kicking around my head for a while and I hope to get to write it after I finish with Ex Libris and Twin Suns. I've got about 3k in little scenes written where I've had inspiration.
It's gonna be a multi-part rivals (not really enemies, but def antagonistic) to lovers (but still very antagonistic lmao) fic set during the later part of the Empire. Reader (which may change to an OC) is a bounty hunter that goes by "The Jagiir," or Jag for short, (a jagiir is the Star Wars equivalent to a jaguar I've decided) who competes with Boba as they fight their way up the bounty hunting world. It's going to be deliciously spicy and lil toxic but that's life baybee
Enjoy a lil snippet below the cut 🤭
As always, my work is intended for 18+ audiences even if there are no explicit sexual content.
As always, my work is intended for 18+ audiences even if there are no explicit sexual content.
18+ only — MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
“That was my fucking bounty.”
You grin into your drink. Looks like Fett had finally arrived. “Hmm? What bounty?” you ask with mock innocence, blinking up to stare into the green helmet above you.
“Don't act like you don't know.” Boba grits out, balling his fists until his leather gloves creak in protest.
He's obviously pissed, but you're in a good mood and want to test your luck. “Oh, on Eelayis? That's funny, because as I recall that was a Guild bounty,” you reply cheekily, taking another swing of your spotchka, “not a private one with your name on it.”
“I'm not in the mood for your antics, kitten.” He emphasizes the pet name, knowing you hated that one the most. If you wanted to push buttons, he could too.
“Then what are you in the mood for?” you retort, reaching up to jab your finger on his chest plate playfully.
You were having entirely too much fun, Boba thinks. He grabs your wrist and pulls himself down to your ear. “Is that your problem, little princess? Nobody to fuck you like you need?” Your muscles tense in his grasp, your intent sharpening.
Running languid eyes up and down his broad frame, you smirk. “Why? You looking for someone to fuck, Fett?”
The smoldering look in your eyes almost does him in, makes him slam you down and fuck the disrespect right out of you then and there. Almost. Instead he turns on his heel, purposely letting the butt of his blaster knock your drink into your lap. Brat.
“You son of a-”
The rest of your words are cut off by the shattering of glass on the back of his helmet. Whipping around, he finds you smug-faced with your arm still outstretched from your throw, completely unabashed. You knew you'd crossed the line and weren't sorry in the least. That was fucking it.
Lunging towards you, Boba crashes his armored body into yours, shoving you into the booth wall. Knowing he has a codpiece, you opt to kick his knees out and roll him off you into the floor under the table. Scrambling out of the booth, he catches your ankle, sending you sprawling and your chin crashing into the dirty cantina floor. The sharp taste of blood fills your mouth and your mind stutters at the impact. Kark that hurt.
The room around you has exploded into chaos: Tsar's was one of those seedy joints that was always one punch away from a riot. Boots fill your watery vision as other patrons begin settling their own scores above you. Forcing yourself to focus, you kick at Boba's hands grabbing and pulling on your legs. You definitely pushed it too far with him this time, but you just couldn't help yourself—his domineering attitude just begged to be tested. And who better to do it than you?
Taglist 💖 @agirlnamejacq @burningfieldof-clover @marierg @acatalystrising @dukeoftheblackstar @imarvelatthestars @saradika @nintendobl00d @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @historianwithaheart @andrakass2 @samspenandsword @liadamerondjarin @sleepingsun501 @sgt-morgan @rescuethewretched @rexxdjarin @ladytano420
some others who have interacted or might be interested (lemme know if you don't wanted to be tagged in the future) 💕 @writingwintermoon @ghostvizsla @hes-all-and-hes-more @thirsty-boba-fett-posts @erinthevampire @vorpan-yaimi @becks-things @kakashibabe02 @pickleprickle
@thefact0rygirl @bobathirstaccount @baba-fett @popupguidetothegalaxy @galacticgraffiti @psybrepunk @jangosweat @janghoefett @zinzinina @starlightrows @rain-on-kamino @rosethornxs @reluctant-mandalore @twistedstitcher27 @jocasta-n @literallydontlook @arandomnerdsblog578 @deewithani @kurara123 @bucketfvcker
#yeah they're gonna have some of that nasty good sex for sure for sure#sharp objects fic#zwei writes#boba fett x reader#fanfic#ask#ask game#wip
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Meanwhile, in Pretty Boy's Saloon
Dogma, downing his 11th glass of Spotchka with a grimace: Urgh... How can any of you stand this stuff? It tastes like hand sanitizer!
Lich, smiling as he downs his own glass: Easy! My nerves are pretty much fried from all the electrical shocks, and I can only taste three things because my taste buds don't work right. It's the feeling I'm after, not the flavor.
Dogma: Speaking of which, I don't feel any better than when you brought me here...
Olly, rolling his eyes: You're not supposed to feel better. Alcohol doesn't help you feel any less like life is a karked up mess, it just numbs your senses to the point it doesn't bother you as much...
PB, refilling their cups: And if it's a quick numbing you want, then Spotchka is drink for the job. It's a clone favorite as well, and my best seller.
Dogma, already quite tipsy and still drinking despite not liking the taste: Fantastic... Urgh, what am I even doing? I basically won my position as sheriff, I'm struggling to come to terms with so many things that happened in my life, I couldn't even face Rex when Mae offered me the opportunity to talk to him... I'm barely a person at all! How could Sponge think I'm well adjusted enough to be a dad?!
Lich: Hey now, you're doing great all things considered...
Olly: And you're not the only one faking it until they make it.
PB, grinning as he pours another glass: Also, any and all crisis you have that lead you to drinking yourself silly earn me a pretty credit!
Dogma, not entirely convinced: ...
Lich: The point is, none of us really have it figured out even if we pretend to. Sith-hells, not even Sponge has it figured out! And they have 10 karking cadets to take care of. Most of which are little terrors mind you...
Olly: He's right.
Lich: Of course I am! I'm the ori'vod here after all!
PB: Uh-huh...
Lich: Look Dogma, it's ok to get the jitters sometimes because you're nervous about the future. Especially when you don't got the past figured out quite yet... But to that I say, do it the natborn way.
Dogma, blinking: The what...?
Lich: Oh, you know! Go at your own pace! Natborns don't get flash-training to learn all the basics when they're still in their cots. They have to endure years of being a useless little lump of tubie, fall on their shebs a lot, and then hope the lesson sticks. Take tubie steps my friend! Trip up, get back up, do something stupidly reckless to get over whatever fears you might have. Go out there and seize the day!
Dogma, who's clearly drunk at this point: Uh... Something stupidly reckless... You know, you're right! You're absolutely right! I should do something absolutely catastrophically dumb just to fall and nail the landing!
Olly & PB: What...???
Lich, grinning from ear to ear: Hell yeah brother! You're getting it!
Dogma: I'm gonna... I'm gonna parkour off the roof!
Lich: Yeah!
Olly: Uh...
PB: Dogma I don't think--
Dogma: I'm gonna comm Mae and ask her to patch me through to Rex, so that I can call him a bitch to his face!
Lich: YEAH!
Olly: Oh dear...
PB: Uhhhh....
Dogma: I'M GONNA COMM HONDO OHNAKA AND TELL HIM TO COME BEND ME OVER MY WORK DESK!
Lich, Olly & PB:
Dogma, staggering onto his feet: Thanks Lich! I owe you one brother! -runs out of the Saloon in a wobbly fashion-
Lich, Olly & PB:
Lich: Sponge is going to kill me.
Olly: The entire Guard Remnant is going to kill you.
PB: Olly and I will make sure your funeral is beautiful once you're well and truly killed dead.
#star wars#the clone wars#forceful intervention au#clone trooper dogma#clone ocs#clone trooper lichtenberg#clone trooper pretty boy#riot trooper olly olly oxenfree#Lich accidentally incurs the wrath of Sponge and the Guard Remnant by getting Dogma incredibly drunk#Lich will be dearly missed#the question is whether or not Dogma will remember anything he said in the morning#for his sake lets hope not because he'll die of embarrassment
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What’s Coming to Me Part 18
Master <Part 17 Part 19>
Pairing: Crosshair x Sniper Reader (GN)
Rating and warning: killing and ambivalence to killing, angst
Beta Reader: @unfocusedfish
a/n: Look forward to the next two Fridays, as the last two parts will be posted then :)
Time didn’t exist in your new found prison cell. You counted the rotations based on the date changing on your holopad and the few times Omega came to visit you. She couldn’t leave her post as often, the chaos from before allowed her to move around freely. Omega was definitely giving you her own rations, so you put as much back into her backpack as you could without her noticing. You felt no different than a wild animal stuck in a trap, backed into a corner, depending on the kindness of someone who only had a moderate amount of power.
You tried to stay sane by following the day and night schedule of Kamino as best you could. Slicing into the same system as before, you checked for new updates on The Bad Batch and what was happening with the Republic. The planet was still on a Level 5 Lockdown, so you kept your data trail as minimal as possible. Your waking hours were mostly spent analyzing the data on the chips Omega had given you. It was sparse, the bare minimum of information in the system. This order was a well kept secret, who knows how long this has been in the works.
The rest of Kamino went into a “new normal,” where the clones acted as if they hadn’t murdered their commanding officers a few days prior. The clones who were hunting you specifically were dead and you had erased yourself from existence in their system. Maybe they forgot you existed or added you to the losses. Since they weren’t actively looking for you, you could relax a little. At least until The Batch showed up.
Relaxing never lasted long, however. The stillness around you and the absence of sound allowed your loud thoughts to dominate your mind. You had dealt with a lot of kark your whole life and gotten yourself out of many messes, but this took the uj’alayi. If you only had to worry about you, none of this would be a problem but, no. You had to start caring for the lanky clone and his brothers. Waiting for them to return was your current and only option, lest you deal with more guilt and regret for leaving.
The Bad Batch were genetically mutated clones, so it was possible the order didn’t affect them in the same way. Their interactions with you showed how deviant they could be, but it was only a matter of how long they would last against the programming. Gator appeared to fight it momentarily, but it lasted barely a second. You could remove a few of their chips here on Kamino and escape, but all was too big a risk. It was you against an army of genetically modified soldiers, hard coded to follow any order.
You let out a sigh and hit the back of your head against the cold metal.
So much of your plans depended on the removal of the chips actually deprogramming them. If you spent all that time risking your life to remove the chips only to find out they were beyond saving… What would you do? Would you be able to do anything or was this all what you deserved, what you had coming to you?
A familiar clearance code popped up on your holopad from a ship entering the atmosphere. The Havoc Marauder. You resisted the urge to run out of your hiding spot and face the boys head on, shake them by the shoulders, and ask what the kriff is going on?
But you stayed firmly curled in your spot on the floor. You did not know if these were not the clones you once knew. You would have to watch and see how they were affected.
Risking being caught in the system, you pulled up live security footage from the hanger where they landed. You watched as each member filed out, a little more on edge than normal. Nothing stood out as unusual, but it was too early to tell. Crosshair was the only one who kept his helmet on after exiting the ship, so you couldn’t study his face.
The squad looked around, confused by the changes. Hunter talked to another trooper in red, but more importantly, his gaze lingered on the stretcher that carted a dead Jedi. Their lightsaber fell to the ground. You couldn’t tell if Hunter was suspicious or if you wanted him to be suspicious, so you moved to follow them as best you could to their barracks via the security cameras.
The Bad Batch had not lost their defiant ways, clumping in a group rather than walking single file down the hall. Hunter led the pack, Tech’s nose was still firmly in his holopad, and the rest followed. Each detail gave you toxic hope, as you couldn’t definitively say they were unchanged. It did strike you as odd that Tech attempted to talk to a clone and was brushed off physically. When they entered the barracks, you pulled out of the security cameras. There wasn’t any in there, or rather, Tech had sliced them to show either an empty room or to replay older video.
Seeing them so close yet so far away hurt your chest. Inside your head, you envisioned what it was like to be buried under the sands of Tatooine again, hearing the wind whistle through the ruins you called home. It felt so cold here compared to the binary sun dried planet. So cold and so lonely.
A beep from your holopad made you flinch.
It was a message.
A message from Tech.
With a swift motion, you turned off the holopad and tossed it at the wall. It likely wasn’t broken, but if it stayed within stabbing range, you might just try to destroy it.
Your heart raced and your breathing became erratic as you considered how screwed you could be. It wasn’t that you hadn’t considered sending a message to The Bad Batch or even Nuwa and Siari. You were just… scared. Scared in a way you had never been before. Everything was crumbling right before your eyes.
Never in your life had you allowed yourself to depend on others in this way. It was as if all of your fears gathered in one place to haunt you for tearing down the walls you once carefully built for safety. How could you be so stupid? Was this so-called love worth it for it to turn on you and rob you blind? You started to feel light headed as your breathing became shallow. The tiny room felt even more suffocating.
Before your anxiety got any worse, you swiftly slapped your face, as hard as you could muster in your current state.
Get a grip! Focus on what is right in front of you.
You reached over to grab your thrown holopad. The screen was cracked but it turned back on. You ignored Tech’s message and tapped back into the security cameras. There was barely anyone around, so you switched until you found all the soldiers gathered, staring up at the screen to a guy in a hood. He looked absolutely insidious, the definition of a suspicious villain. His speech went on, talking about how the Republic had won the war and they were now the Galactic Empire, which is… not great. The talking cloak of a man was calling himself the Emperor and all the Jedi were traitors. However, he reassured everyone that they had been eliminated. The amount of bantha fodder flowing out of his mouth was giving you a headache.
When he finally shut his mouth, you turned off the holopad. What an absolute joke. The Republic didn’t win. Only this self proclaimed Emperor won, maybe his followers. If only you had been given a mission to snipe him from existence, but there was poison in the water. He would be replaced by the fastest opportunist.
I need to see Crosshair. I still haven’t seen his face in so long.
The clones had dispersed and you weren’t even sure what they could be doing at this point. As you were about to give up, you cut to the mess hall and saw their classic dark gray armor sticking out in a sea of white. They sat isolated from the rest and it brought you a little bit of comfort. At least that hasn’t changed.
Your focus was completely on Crosshair as he ate silently, adding in a sarcastic comment here and there. You studied every movement, every detail to see what could have changed but the video quality wasn’t high enough to give a definite answer. His expression changed when Omega showed up and sat next to them. They all seemed confused at her presence.
Crosshair went back to his normal demeanor. Everything else seemed to freeze around him as he ignored what was going on. Some of the squad was now standing, a confrontation unfolding. For the first time in what felt like forever, you huffed out something that seemed like a laugh. Crosshair, predictably, did not care. For a moment, it felt like everything was resolved, but then Wrecker threw a tray of food.
On the tiny, cracked screen, you watched as chaos unfolded in the mess hall. Each one of The Batch seemed to react as you would expect, Crosshair attempting to stay out of it until his food was disturbed and could no longer ignore what was happening. In a movement so fast it was barely caught on the camera, he threw his tray and took out two clones.
This continued for a few minutes until Echo was knocked out. He had been fully capable of defending himself, but when you rewound the footage, something had caught his eye. You couldn’t find out what it was, unable to get a camera view of the angle he was looking up at. It seemed significant enough to throw off his concentration. You turned off the holopad while they carted Echo off to medical.
Sitting back, you thought about the food fight in the mess. Based on that alone, The Bad Batch hadn’t been affected by the order, still defiant and rebellious. Of course, you hadn’t seen them act around what this so-called Empire would consider an enemy. But you couldn’t stop the small spark of hope that they could be the same, that they found this all absurd and were waiting for the best chance off of this stupid planet.
So many questions could be answered if you just reached out, but the fear of rejection, the dread of being right about trusting others from the very beginning, kept you from sending a single message.
Your eyes became heavy from all the stress you were carrying and how compact you were keeping yourself, physically and emotionally. Trying to keep yourself awake, you went through different plans of how you would confront The Bad Batch. You eventually lost the battle, exhaustion taking over.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Tiny footsteps approaching woke you. “Shev’la, it’s me, Omega.” You rolled your eyes, as if you didn’t know it was Omega, but you appreciated her consideration. She stepped into the dim light, a few rations in her hands. “Echo was released from the medbay. Oh, did you know he was sent there?” You nodded. Omega smiled sheepishly. “So, you saw the food fight.” You gave her a knowing smile, something between I’m proud of you and that was childish and not your best moment.
“Ha, well… They were called, so they’re probably getting reprimanded right now…” Omega continued to talk listlessly, as if she regrets being unable to join in to the punishment. You pulled up the security footage, bouncing around to find out where they were. They weren’t in the rooms you’d think they would be, so you opened your search until you saw their armor in a training room.
Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion; was training a punishment? Everything seemed normal, having seen a similar training simulation before all… this happened… You turned the holopad over to Omega, asking her if this is what she meant.
“Huh. That doesn’t look like a punishment. Something’s odd about it, too.” She gasped a moment later. “Wrecker!”
You snatched the holopad back to see Wrecker on the ground. He was still moving, but he was clearly hit by something that packed a punch. The rest of the boys started ducking behind cover harder than before, stiffer and more alert. It finally clicked when you saw damage from a blaster shot on the ground.
Oh… They’re using live rounds against them… Just like they did… Against the Jedi…
The screen was hard to focus on again. It took a moment to realize it was because your hands were shaking, powerless behind a screen again. You would not stand by and let this happen again.
You stood quickly and shoved the holopad into Omega’s hands a little too aggressively. Grabbing your sniper, you were determined to get The Bad Batch out of there, whether they were on your side or not. A small hand stopped your crusade, urgent and tight around your wrist. Your neck snapped as you looked back at Omega, staring daggers at her for getting in your way. For a moment, she wasn’t a kid but an obstacle blocking your path.
“No, it’s too dangerous! You can’t go right now. I have to… I’ll talk to them first. Figure out a plan to get us all out of here.” The us gave you pause, shaking you from your vicious instinct from a moment ago. Omega was including herself in this. Could she not stand to be here with the monsters she helped create? Or was she really the innocent bystander she acted like?
“Look, they completed it! They’re fine! Tech looks a bit… But they are going back to the barracks. Let me go instead. I promise I’ll be back.” You studied her worried face, not finding the deceit you so desperately searched for and put your sniper down again. Omega sighed with relief and let go of your arm, doing a few double takes before leaving.
You didn’t trust Omega, not fully. You found it difficult to trust anyone new, even if she had proved that she was on your side. Or rather, had the same goals in mind, and she was right. This wasn’t the right time. You would need a diversion and a big one at that. Maybe it was that you didn’t want to distrust an innocent looking child, either. She knew this place much better than you did. You sat down again and sighed, thinking how Omega reminded you of Siari.
You’ve gone soft, Shev’la.
To pass the time, you took the analyzed chip information and condensed it all into a single datastick. You could plug it into a surgical device and locate the chip for easy removal, if it came that. It was at least part one of a possible escape plan. The second part would be getting off this planet.
You rubbed your eyes, thinking of how you would need to learn how to fly a ship from inside your little tunnel. Best case would be leaving on the Marauder with the boys, but you had to plan for the worst. One problem after another. You accessed all the ships located on Kamino and decided a smaller ship would be better for escaping and hopefully learning how to fly. Using the autopilot feature would only get you so far, it couldn’t land on its own.
If only contacting Nuwa wasn’t so dangerous. For once I miss his inability to shut his mouth.
It wasn’t difficult to find material on how to fly, thankfully. You were in the best place to find it; the training planet of the clone army. The words blurred together as your sanity was hanging by a thread.
Absorption of piloting instructions was interrupted by a notification relating to The Bad Batch. They were given a small throwaway mission. Suppression of insurgents, unsurprising since the war “ended” and there would be those who disagreed. The idea of them leaving Kamino made you uneasy, you had no way of knowing when they would return but it was supposed to be a one-and-done mission. You squinted in suspicion at the encrypted information attached to the mission file.
One of the cracks on your holopad grew larger, alerting you to how strong your grip was on the pad. You let go, taking a moment to stretch out and focus. It was possible the encrypted data would give more information on what the mission was really about.
Opening the encrypted file, you learned that the Empire was sending a recon drone to secretly observe them, to test their loyalty to this newly founded Empire. It was signed off by an officer named Tarkin, he seemed to be questioning their allegiance as much as you were. Also attached was a report from CT-9904. It contained information detailing that the Sergeant of the squad had lied about the death of a padawan on Kaller, that it was likely the padawan was still alive and allowed to get away.
This combined with the other observations you made gave you hope once again. Maybe, just maybe, you could get out of this alive with your new found family. You decided then to face them when they got back and go from there, still working on a backup plan as necessary. You went back to learning how to pilot starships without crashing straight into the ground.
Part 19
Notes:
Opens encrypted file
Mando'a: uj’alayi - something like cake
Star Wars Cursing: Kriff
Tag List: @rintheemolion @salamiwrites @lokigirlszendaya @jinxedleo @dionysuskid21 @awkwardwookie @welcometothepedroverse @gabile18 @xxglossii @imalovernotahater @littlemisscare-all @seeley-marie23 @badbatch-simp24 @goddess-of-congeniality @sunipostsstuff @admiralmaple @dwarfnip @whatshxrname @ttzamara @crosshair-is-the-superior-clone
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If you want to be added to the tag list, just send me an ask or fax me a picture of a crab
#what's coming to me#crosshair x reader#crosshair x you#the bad batch x reader#the bad batch x you#bad batch x reader#bad batch x you#tbb x reader#tbb x you#crab fics
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Impeccable Timing
Read here on Ao3!
Febuwhump 2024 | Day 22 | Prompt 22: “You weren’t meant to be there.”
Rated: T | Words: 560 | Summary: Crosshair deals with the guilt of friendly fire. [Character Focus: Crosshair, Tech]
The target in his sights moved the moment he pulled the trigger. Gone was the neck shot that would decapitate the battle droid and in its place was the familiar pale gray armor of his brother. There was nothing he could do but watch in horror as the bolt made contact.
His in-helmet comm exploded with entangled voices of panic, but two word’s stood out like a flash-bang. Blinding. Deafening. Lethal. “Tech’s down!”
“Crosshair, will you please look at me?” Tech asked, voice firm but patient.
Crosshair dragged his gaze from his boots and looked at Tech’s face. His younger brother’s expression made him want to cry. But he wouldn’t cry. Not here. Instead, he snarled, “What do you want?”
“It wasn’t your fault,” Tech said. He indicated the bandage covering half his chest and shoulder. “I want you to stop blaming yourself for this.”
“I don’t,” Crosshair lied.
There was confusion at first, Hunter and Wrecker speculated wildly as they dragged Tech off the field, getting him to cover. They kept asking if Crosshair had seen anything, could see anything. A threat they hadn’t accounted for. How could he tell them that it was friendly fire, a blaster bolt meant for a vanishing enemy. The awful truth.
“Crosshair, do you see anything?” Hunter asked, command voice razor-edged.
The sniper realized that he had not responded to any of the questions. Static in his head blocked out the noise, opting for the sickened mantra: I shot him. I shot him. I shot him.
“I shot him.” The words crowded from his mind to his lips, unbidden.
“What?”
“I shot him,” Crosshair repeated, not to answer Hunter’s shocked question, but because it was the only words he could say. “I shot him.”
“You do,” Tech said, “And if there is anyone who deserves blame, it is myself. I miscalculated my position. I knew better.”
“It’s my job to know where you are. Where all of you are,” Crosshair argued.
Tech considered the counterpoint. “We may be enhanced, Crosshair, but we are still human. Occasional errors are a given. You could not have known that I would block your shot of the battle droid. Had I taken that position only a moment later, I would not have been shot. Had I taken that position a moment earlier, you would have seen that I blocked your shot and not pulled the trigger. It was impeccable timing, really.” He sounded morbidly impressed.
“Impeccable timing? I almost killed you!”
“But I am not dead.”
“No karking thanks to me,” Crosshair spat.
Tech frowned. “I cannot reason with you when you are being overly emotional.”
“I am not–”
Tech put up a hand. “I do not feel this necessary nor warranted, but I forgive you, Crosshair, for any wrongdoing you feel you have done against me.”
The enhanced marksman deflated.
“I shot you,” Crosshair whispered.
“I know,” Tech said, “but I trust you, Cross. This event does not negate that. We live dangerous lives by literal design. It is the nature of war, and it is our nature as soldiers.”
Crosshair nodded, his throat constricted. “I’d better never see any of you at the other end of my scope again,” he growled. He pretended his voice didn’t crack.
Tech played along. “We shall do our best to keep out of the way,” he said with a smile.
END
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rules: post the first lines of your last 10 fics posted to ao3. if you have less than 10 fics posted, post the first lines of all your fics.
Thank you @calamity-aims and @kkrazy256 for the tags!
| The dream begins like it does every time | - Can You Hear Your People Cry
| Meeting Jesse only duracretes Tup’s decision; he wants a tattoo. | - Chapter 7 of The Shadow Twins
| “Come ooooon, Twitch’ika,” Fives slurs. | - Venom in my Brain
| There’s something not right. | - Confusing a sick mind (isn't that hard to do?)
| In light of their recent disastrous (in so many ways) campaign, any medic in the 501st should have had plenty to do, even in the safety of Coruscant. | - Unchipped
| Fox read the list again. | - The Two Hundred
| In a galaxy so large, there were hundreds upon thousands of forces and spirits attributed to luck and destiny and all that kark. | - Crash
| The moment Fox woke up, he could tell something was wrong. | - There's a Fox in the Barracks!
| “ Shab ,” Remedy muttered. | - Some Entirely Necessary Things
| Remedy had no idea why he was even getting the alert over his comm. | - I Cannot Stop This Sickness
If you write, consider yourself tagged!
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WIP Sunday
I didn't get a lot of writing done today, they're offering a pretty good OT incentive at work so I ended up working half a day and then I decided to braise some pork chops and suddenly it's 11pm and the entire day has done.
Sadge.
So here's a little bit from the Alpha/Shaak Ti + Fordo sequel fic I was talking about. Pretty much just Alpha and Fordo butting heads and then Shaak shows up and Alpha goes full on simp-mode.
The end. LOL That's pretty much all I had planned, now I need to actually....write the rest of this fic and come up with a plot and shit from here. Pffft. As always it's super rough, has not been edited and is liable to be change etc. etc.
“Looking pretty rough there, vod.” He said as he clapped the other ARC on the shoulder before settling beside him on the bridge.
“I’m pretty sure you tried to poison me last night with whatever rot gut you brewed up here,” Fordo grumbled with a wince as the bridge swayed beneath Alpha’s weight.
“Sounds like your stomach is just weak, and someone can’t hold his liquor after all.”
“Nope, you tried to poison me because you’ve always been jealous of me.” Fordo accused without any real venom in his voice.
“You have absolutely nothing I want; that couldn’t be any further from the truth, but whatever you have to tell yourself to sleep at night, vod.” Alpha scoffed.
“You’re jealous of my freedom.” The other clone said with a trace of petulance in his voice.
“No, I’m not.” Alpha said, deadly serious, and that earned him a skeptical look from his batchmate.
“Come off it, you’re wasted here. There’s no way you’re not bored out of your karking skull playing house with a Jedi and a bunch of baby Jedi.” Fordo scoffed now and Alpha felt a flash of genuine irritation towards his vod.
“Respectfully, vod, you have no idea what you’re talking about,” Alpha said coldly. “My place is here. Shaak Ti and the younglings need me, I will give my life to protect them from the Empire.”
“But you could be doing so much more. A clone with your training? You could save hundreds. The Path could use a man with your skills.”
“My place is here, Fordo. I gave the Republic my life because it was expected of me, they used me up until I was a shell of a man. Now I get to decide what I will do with my life and I’ve sworn it to Shaak Ti and the children we are protecting. You’re barking up the wrong tree, I have no interest in your sales pitch.”
“I just don’t get it, vod.”
“Why are you so damned intent on serving the Jedi even now? You could literally be doing anything with your life right now.”
“The Empire destroyed the Republic. They enslaved our brothers. Doesn’t that bother you in the least?” Fordo demanded sharply.
“Of course it does but what hope could I have of changing that? The Jedi are gone, our brothers are gone. Anyone who hasn’t defected or been killed at this point are probably so indoctrinated or corrupted by the Empire they aren’t even worthy of being called brother anymore.”
“I don’t believe that. And that’s what the Path is for. We’re trying to help people escape the Empire. We are helping people. Not….playing house on Felucia and pretending the entire universe hasn’t gone to shit around us.” Frustration filled the other ARC’s voice as he glared at him.
The urge to punch Fordo was pretty strong in that moment and Alpha felt his fingers curl into a fist almost reflexively.
“Good morning, gentlemen.” Shaak Ti’s cheerful greeting cut through the haze of anger which had clouded his judgment as easily as sunshine burned through morning mist.
How in seven sithing hells she managed to sneak up on them riding a full grown rancor was beyond Alpha’s ability to comprehend though. The hideous creature was so tall, it nearly reached the bridge they were seated on and the Jedi sat atop its back with a carefree sort of ease that might have been enviable if it wasn’t terrifying to behold.
For years, Shaak Ti had been talking about how she wanted to try and tame a rancor as a war-mount and Alpha had shot the idea down because they had more pressing matters to focus on like building up their fortifications, making sure they had proper provisions and then building relationships with the native Felucians.
Fate unfortunately had seen fit to thwart him however when a lone rancor calf had been discovered in the jungles, the rest of its herd was murdered by an Imperial patrol and Shaak Ti had taken it in like a hideous, overgrown pet.
The beast had eaten them out of house and home and had grown exponentially until it towered over all of them. But the bond it shared with Shaak Ti was nigh on unbreakable as it fawned over the Jedi in probably much the same embarrassing way Alpha probably did.
She drew the wildest and most vicious of spirits and somehow managed to tame them without even trying overly hard. Her innate goodness and kindness emanated from her like the warmth of a star and it lit up the world around her.
He was so stupidly in love with this woman that a part of him wanted to be disgusted with himself but it was impossible when she looked at him like that.
“Morning,” Alpha managed finally after his brain re-engaged and remembered what words were. It was hard to formulate coherent speech when she looked so utterly glorious and magnificent in the early morning sunlight.
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Priceless Pt 8
Boba x fem!reader, slight action/adventure, no smut, bit of fluff, bit of angst
***
”So, why not just get both colors, if you like both?” Boba sounded genuinely confused.
You laughed as the saleslady quickly agreed with Boba.
“That’d be crazy. Firstly, where am I gonna wear this dress, anyway? Secondly, how in the heck would I ever need two of the same thing?”
”Cause you’re spoilt.” Boba’s helmet tilted. You could tell by his tone he was enjoying himself. The saleslady laughed nervously, unsure how the comment had landed with you. You tried to hide a smile as you responded, “I’m not, I just deserve it, you know?”
“That’s the right attitude, baby,” Boba laughed. The saleslady visibly relaxed before asking, “So, both colors in this size?”
You nodded, “Yep.” More quietly, you said, “Imma break his pockets.” She smiled mischievously. “I have just the things you need, my friend. I’ll be back in a jiffy.”
As you waited for your undoubtably outrageous wardrobe to be presented to you, Boba leaned forward in his cushy seat. “So, you having a good time? I know I am, looking at you in all this stuff… mm.”
You grinned. “You thinking about how you get to take it off of me later?”
”Basically.”
Pleased, you swirled around in the dress. Boba leaned back, watching. Just as you were about to say something flirtatious, the saleslady came back in with a huge smile on her face. She had two armfuls of clothing. Boba’s helmet tilted. “We gotta try it all.”
***
Hours later, you dozed on a blanket in the sand. The sun was just setting and it was cooling off a bit. The temperature was perfect to just lay out in. You heard Boba sip his drink. Despite your promise to order a multitude of cocktails, he was actually outmatching you so far.
You were starting to feel better. The recent dramas you’d been through were starting to feel distant. The sound of the waves softly lapping made you smile. You fell asleep.
***
You woke up feeling sandy. But, you were in bed in the ship. You felt Boba’s arm wrapped around your waist. He must’ve carried you in, you thought. Sitting up, you heard him mumble, “I’m… so hungover. Coffee.”
”Okay, just stay here.” You slipped out of bed and found the new slippers Boba had secretly bought you. “Something practical,” he had offered somewhat sheepishly. You smiled. He’d bought you thousands of credits worth of clothing, but these were your new favorite items.
Sliding out into the hallway, you headed towards the coffee maker. You had a funny feeling, so you stopped and listened. Nothing. You decided you were just sleepy still.
On the way back with two cups of coffee, you again felt strange. This time, you investigated. You checked out the entire cargo bay. Nothing. Annoyed, you set off back to Boba.
“Mm, perfect temperature,” Boba purred to you. He proceeded to gulp his coffee down while you sipped yours like a lady.
“So, what’re we doing today?” He asked, putting the empty cup down.
“Oh, same as last night, but this time with a sun umbrella and some sunblock. More cocktails, obviously, also —“
He cut you off, “Oh, more cock you said?”
You giggled. “Yeah…”
He pulled you down into the bed.
***
Hours later, you both emerged wearing your new resort wear. You drug the umbrella behind yourself while Boba followed with the towels, “How’d I end up with the light thing?”
“Cause I’m a strong, independent lady who can drag this karking thing to the water.” You both laughed as he grabbed the end dragging in the sand and helped you carry it.
Boba set up the umbrella as you laid out the towels and booze. You had elected to have mimosas and had brought a bottle of each of the ingredients with two empty glasses. You poured the juice light and filled the glasses the rest of the way with champagne. Handing a glass to Boba, you set yours aside and reclined.
You woke up a couple hours later and had your mimosa. Boba was in the water, splashing and generally looking like he was having a pleasant time. You admired his body in the sunshine.
You reapplied some sunblock and had another strong mimosa while you waited until you could get in the water. Finally you hopped up and dashed in to join him. The two of you had a splash fight for awhile, then you floated together, holding hands so you wouldn’t drift too far apart.
You felt sleepy and stood up. Boba joined you, “What’s up?”
”Let’s go nap?”
”Okay, yeah. I’m gonna finish that mimosa situation while you sleep.”
You laughed as the both of you exited the water.
***
You again woke up in bed in the ship. But Boba wasn’t with you. You got up, weirded out. In search of him, you found him in another new outfit in the cockpit. He was scanning for restaurants that would deliver by drone to the ship. “Five star only,” he commented when you asked his criteria.
“Oh, we fancy.” You felt special though.
“Of course, now tell me what type of cuisine you’re in the mood for so I can narrow my search,” he turned to you.
You debated out loud with yourself between several different options while Boba searched what was actually available.
“Oh, yeah. Here’s the one, it’s close and has so many great reviews. Okay.” He pulled up the delivery menu. The both of you scrutinized it.
***
After dinner, you’d retired to bed early to relax and read a bit before sleeping. Boba drifted off, having drunk a few too many cocktails for dinner. You smiled to yourself as you read.
Suddenly tired, you put the tablet down. You carefully snuck out of bed and into the hallway. Popping into the fresher, you got ready for sleep. Stepping out, you decided you needed a Little Snack. You headed for the leftovers. Eating over the containers, you thought you had somehow ended up with a good life. For however long it lasted. You felt weird again. You looked around furtively. Was Boba up watching you devour this food? No. All was silent. Hm. You continued eating.
Stuffed, you went and brushed your teeth again. Finally you snuck back into bed and directly fell asleep.
***
”Jeez, babe, you had more than a ‘small snackie’ last night,” Boba laughed. “There’s no leftovers!”
“Well we didn’t have that much to begin with,” you began somewhat defensively. But then you thought about it. Had you eaten everything? You thought you remembered leaving some for later.
“Well that’s just an excuse to try something new for breakfast. Let’s go see what we can find.” He picked you up easily and carried you to the cockpit.
***
Again stuffed, you sat back from your picnic. You’d ended up having brunch out in the sand. The umbrella blocked the wind and sun perfectly; it had been a perfect meal. Boba was again drinking too many cocktails. You smiled to yourself, happy that he was really letting go and relaxing.
You put the leftovers aside in their little delivery packages and laid down next to Boba while he pounded a drink with an edible flower in it. Falling asleep, you left Boba to his own devices while you dreamt of a future with him.
***
You were gently shaken awake. The sun was setting below the waves, all pinks and oranges. “Time to go inside… you can go right back to sleep.” Boba sat you up. You wrapped your arms around him and he picked you up easily. Carrying you inside, he left the left over picnic bites for another time.
You mumbled, trying to go back to sleep. But you were well rested and feeling very Awake. You let Boba put you in bed and tuck you in. You were still hopeful you could get some more sleep. But it was no luck. After you’d laid there unsuccessfully for a few minutes, you got up in search of him. You found him in the cargo hold, cleaning up the picnic. He hadn’t closed the ship up for the night yet, so there was a light breeze and gentle ocean noises.
“Hm? What you doing up? I told you, you’re not a galaxy class spy. C’mere.” He turned towards you. Smiling, you approached. “Couldn’t sleep anymore, huh?” You nodded, “I was lonely.”
He smiled, “Well, watch me clean this up while drunk. I gotta stop drinking those little flower drinks.” You laughed as you watched him put the umbrella and left overs away. “Okay, I’m gonna crash. You gonna be okay?” You nodded again. “‘Kay, well close the ship up and come join me in a bit. I’m exhausted!” He disappeared into his ship. You sat down and sighed. Now what? You decided to sit out on the ship and stare at the stars for a little bit. Grabbing a blanket, you laid it out and settled in for some stargazing.
A few minutes passed very peacefully. Although awake, you were feeling very relaxed and carefree. You laid down, putting your hands under your head. Thinking of Boba, you willed only positive things to happen between the two of you. Somehow, your relationship had survived your betrayal. You gulped, a wave of guilt washing over you for a moment. But, it was in the past. You tried to let it go.
Suddenly you felt weird again. You sat up. What the hell was going on? You thought maybe it was Boba messing with you for a second, but then remembered how tired and drunk he’d been. No way it was him. Then what? You searched the cargo hold thoroughly. Nothing. Feeling unsure, you closed the ship up to feel safer. It sort of worked, but you still felt strange, and couldn’t shake it.
“Is there a ghost in here?” You felt silly but asked anyway. It felt like you were not alone. Silence.
“Okay, maybe a spirit?” You waited. Nothing.
“Or, maybe I’m nuts,” you muttered to yourself, sitting down. Annoyed, you sighed. Something was off. You turned then. A noise? You listened acutely. There it was. No. A slightly different noise, but from the same area of the cargo hold. You tip toed over to the corner. Nothing again! Frustrated, you growled out, “C’mon brain, don’t do this to me!”
Then you heard, very quiet and small, “Hello.”
Jumping, you were too scared to scream. You fell over. Lying on the floor, you looked straight up. A scared face returned your gaze. You realized you recognized this face, barely. “You’re… you’re the person from our last job!” Your mouth fell open as she lithely dropped down in front of you. Helping you to your feet, she took a step back. “I’m.. uh… on the run again. You two seemed so nice; I thought I would tag along for a bit. But now I’m stuck on the ship during your vacation.”
”Did you eat my food?” You thought of the mysteriously disappearing left overs from yesterday.
“Yeah… I was so hungry. Sorry.”
”No no, that’s fine. I just dunno how we’re gonna tell Boba.”
She shrugged, “Do you think he’ll take me right back? I know he’s an Imperial.”
“No, no,” you reassured. “He’s just there for the money. Uh, I mean… he’s not intrinsically on their side.”
She looked dubious, but said, “Do you think he’d fly me to a space port? I can make it on my own from there…”
You thought of something better, “Maybe… maybe we can get you to the Resistance.”
She brightened up. “He has contacts?”
”I have contacts,” you beamed.
She smiled. “I would really appreciate that; maybe they could help me disappear permanently.”
”I just know they can do something,” you said reassuringly. You thought of your dad. Time to comm him for help.
#boba x reader#boba fett x reader#boba fett x fem!reader#boba fett x female reader#boba fett fanfiction#boba fett fic#boba fett fluff#star wars x reader#star wars reader insert#reader insert#long fanfic#long fic
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I just want to fuck him so badly.
Let's put that mature label to good use, shall we, friends?
One for the olds. You know if you know.
Warnings: Vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, edging, teasing, orgasm denial, size kink, biting/claiming marks, teasing, bratting, D/s, pussy worship
Notes: AFAB cis reader.
Feral: Feral licks one (1) finger before ensuring that you come on it, not that you weren't already wet — but he does it as a courtesy: making sure he can slip it in and curl it up while you squirm, legs spread, gripping his shoulders, looking forever downwards between your bodies like you can see what he's doing. You can't. But you can feel it, and it zeroes out everything save for that long, insistent drumming against your g-spot as he brings you up and over, your knees clenching around his hips as he chuckles into your hair, all self-assured and knowing that you never stood a chance against him while you're fucked dumb on one finger. ONE. He pulls that digit out of you, still glistening with your release, and he pops it into his mouth to lick it clean on instinct but it makes his eyes roll back. You know he's not done with you. He's already pulling your legs apart before you whimper his name. "I just want a taste," he tells you, but he doesn't mean your mouth, and there's no arguing when he drapes you open and dips his head down so low that you can feel his breath against your slick — hot against cooling — and everything narrows to the flat, strong band of his tongue against your clit, and lower into your slit as the purr of his moan leaves you karking stupid when he laves at your nectar. Still, somehow, you manage to clamp onto him by the back of his neck while he puts in the work, laughing, as you grind on his grin.
Savage: You have to drip on him to get it wet. It hurts your hips. He's big. All of him. There's no cadence to it, it's just a matter of taking it; bobbed up beneath you while you cling to his shoulders and slide yourself up and down the length of his cock like it makes a stars-damned difference. All six ridges. Stupid ideas. Dumb propositions. You could have asked for a fist, but no -- here you are, grinding on him as he grunts his displeasure at being teased into your neck, those large hands pulling your ass cheeks apart as the occasional sway and rock of your hips almost gives you the tip of his cock. Every time, he pulls you back, makes you wait, leaves you a slavering, disgusting mess as your cunt throbs and clenches on nothing while he watches it with mild curiosity. "Are you going to behave?" he asks you eventually. But you're past the point of obeying anything he tells you, and when trying to slap his face for teasing you ends up with your wrists in one strong grip, your body dangling over his as he rubs and squeezes you like a piece of meat, senseless and tiny and pathetic with all your begging, he has the gall put his teeth into your tit and mark you as his. You don't mind the sting. You don't mind how he kneads the bruise in his strong fingers. But you do mind that he'll let you wet the head of his cock but refuse to give it to you until you're crying for him like he's the only thing.
Maul: Grumpy boy needs someone to tell him when to be soft. He's got his face pressed to the v of your cunt, breathing you in, while you stand over him, fingers threaded through the horns on the back of his head. You've bled; your palms are shredded, but he's having a rotten day and this is what he wanted. No kissing. No touching. Just his nose tucked into your apex and your thighs blotting out his sight. The occasional squeeze of his fingers, claws digging into the flesh of your ass, thighs slicked with your juices... and he does nothing. "Just darkness," he asked of you. "Just the oblivion of your pussy." You hadn't thought he meant literally. But this is intimate in a way that sex with him has never been: this is your body communing with his, the raze of your shaved pubis against lips that don't kiss you, but could. And every small movement, every shift and spill of breath leaves you jumpy and aching, wanting more, wanting him to kiss you, or to tell you to spread for him, or to kneel. But... he demands nothing but your body; your sex; your patience. This is worship. That's why your thighs wet with slick the longer he stays on his knees before you, not doing anything but holding you close against him until either one of you becomes desperate. It's a game for two: eventually, his hands will tighten, and he'll pull your legs apart, and his tongue will snake out to taste you, and one of you will lose. You hope it's you.
#Darth Maul#Savage Opress#Feral Opress#Darth Maul Smut#Feral Opress Smut#Savage Opress Smut#Darth Maul x You#Darth Maul x Reader#Feral Opress x Reader#Feral Opress x You#Savage Opress x Reader#Savage Opress x You#Maul x Reader#Maul x You
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