CONTENT: How each Bad Batch member kiss you, and what kind of a kisser they are <3
RATING: SUGGESTIVE
VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED!
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HUNTER
Hunter's kisses are grounding, and he'd be the type of kisser who fully immerses himself into it. Gets easily lost in the heat of your body, with your scent and your softness.
It's steady, careful, and lingers even after you parted for air. He'll definitely use a thumb to brush your bottom lip, and he tracks the motion with that heavy look in his eyes.
Forehead and corner-of-the-mouth kisses.
His kisses are the kind that leaves you wanting for more. It's addictive, the weight and scent of him always lures you in.
You CANNOT convince me otherwise that he'll pull away just to whisper something under his breath. "You taste so sweet, mesh'la" before capturing your lips again. It's always something different every time, he just wants you to know the effect you have on him.
It's sweet, yet meaningful. It's protective the way he does it, and he takes this chance to breathe you in. Just to memorize your scent, and to let it stay longer on his senses. He won't just carry your scent, he'll remember you on him wherever he goes.
The way his mouth moves against yours is honestly hypnotic. He memorizes the hitch of your breath, the little sounds you make, the way you lean in when he pulls back, and the sound of your heartbeat beating softly beneath your chest.
Sometimes, he releases his own sounds to get you all hot and bothered. He knows exactly what it does to you. Then, he licks your lower lip, pushes himself hard into you, tightens his grip on your waist and neck. Just to hear your heartbeat jump and stutter.
Most of the time, his kisses are light. Calm and unhurried. But then, it gradually deepens. Like he's trying to mold himself into you, and he wants to make a home on your lips—something he could always come back to.
He wouldn't admit it to you, but kissing you turns him on immediately. Because he's so focused on everything on you, and it's driving him crazy honestly. But he has self-control, and he will try to stop himself from being too much. Unless, you gave him permission otherwise.
After returning from a mission, or right after a successful battle, he kisses you out of relief. Then, passion. Until it turns hungry, and you're left gasping his name while he claims everything from you.
ECHO
Oh, THIS man. This man right here kisses you like the way he YEARNS. And when I tell you this, he is a YEARNER.
Always so tender, soft, and deliberate. He has faced death before, but with you? Oh, he's filled with so much life, he's scared it'll be taken away from him again.
Cheek kisses are his ultimate favorite, also scar kisses (my baby).
Before kissing you, he'll look at you with that soft warmth in his eyes, full of awe and disbelief, like he doesn't believe you're real—like you're his. And you are, but he's still afraid he's gonna wake up and think this is all just a dream.
But when he kisses you? It's full of aching adoration that makes you melt. It's the kind of kiss that reminds you of stars—breathtaking, beautiful, and memorable.
So, so unbelievably gentle. Like he's afraid you'll break if he presses harder, and if he breathes too much you'll vanish like smoke. Because he doesn't believe he deserves this, after everything he's been through, he knows all good things are fleeting.
But with you? Oh, he always kisses you like it's the last time he'll ever do so. Full of quiet desperation—the devotion of a soldier and the passion of a lover.
He'll gently cup your face—staring into your eyes—before leaning down to place a gentle kiss on your cheek. It always makes you feel warm, giddy, and above all, loved.
He loves playing with your hair while kissing you, just letting his fingers glide through your strands/curls to feel its softness.
His kisses can feel shy at first, maybe even hesitant and afraid, but they grow stronger with time. As though he's taking his time to memorize you in case you'll be gone the next day.
The way he kisses can feel sacred. Like he's worshipping you in every shared breath, praising you in every languid stroke of his tongue, and an oath that weaves itself on your lips—a declaration and a promise of his undying love.
TECH
My stars, this man kisses you like you're his next puzzle. It's analytical, it's curious. And it's somehow endearing the way he is precise about it.
Thoughtful, timid, yet intentional. He doesn't do half-hearted performances, and he always makes sure to erase every thought in your head save for him.
Knuckle and temple kisses are his go to <333
Tech's kisses are based on his observations. He catalogs every reaction he evokes from you. What would you do when he glides his hand up your sides? What would you sound like when he shifts his mouth to your jaw? Would you squirm when he tries to place his knee between your—
It's experimental in an obsessive way. He wants to learn everything about you. Your body, your smell, your sounds, your touches. He wants to document it all while he's lost in the taste of your lips.
It NEVER fails to make you smile when he takes one of your hands to place a chaste kiss on your knuckles, followed by that soft adoring look behind his goggles.
Though, I also have a feeling he doesn't have much experience with this. But that won't be a problem, he can learn from you. He will learn from you.
And oh, his goggles bump every time he chases after your lips or if he gets so into it. You end up laughing, pushing the cursed thing up his head, before pulling him back to another messy kiss.
Following the last one. Imagine the kiss quickly turns heated, and he's pushing himself deeper into you with a kind of eagerness that leaves your mind reeling. But then– he removes his goggles mid-kiss, throwing it over his shoulder, before diving right back in with a newfound vigor.
DEFINITELY very vocal. Oh, you will HEAR him every time you kiss. If you like your men loud and vocal, he's all yours.
He also loves it when he hears you too.
CROSSHAIR
Oh, this man. This man is a sniper for a reason, and once he has you on his sights—you are not getting away easily.
Sharp, intense, and accurate. The same way he handles his rifle. The same way he lines up his next shot and fires. It always leaves you breathless, dizzy, and caught in the crossfire of his heat.
Neck kisses are his absolute favorite, also behind the ear!
He likes to kiss you slowly, almost on purpose, then pulls away when he notices you wanting more. And the bastard has the audacity to smirk down at you. Before you could even walk off with an annoyed scowl, he's grabbing your arm and tugging you back with another kiss that burns you whole.
He has this habit of tilting his head every time the kiss deepens, like he's peering through the scope of his rifle. Targeting every weak point you have, until you're subjected to surrender to his mercy.
And gods, he bites. Your bottom lip, your jaw, your neck, your collarbone. Everywhere his lips descend to, everywhere his tongue marks. He bites it afterwards like he's staking a claim.
To be more specific, he finds the line of your throat so irresistibly tempting, and I'm dying on this hill. Also, collarbones. He likes to kiss and nip on the skin there whenever he has the chance to—a very possessive way of telling others you're taken.
He also has this habit of using the tip of his toothpick to poke you, before laying a kiss on the area. You should be used to it by now, but the sudden sharp prick out of nowhere always surprises you. At least the kiss that follows afterwards makes you less annoyed.
The way Crosshair kisses is very unpredictable. He could be impassive and fleeting one moment, and the next he's stealing all the air from your lungs by pressing you up against the wall and—
Also, he has this staring habit, more like glaring habit, when his gaze pierces right through you. But in reality, he's fixated on your lips. Your neck. Your nape. Your shoulders. And imagines his mouth right there.
Did I forget to mention, this man is a HUGE tease? He smirks in between kisses, pulls away just to see you glare at him, and comes right back to silence the curse perched on your tongue.
WRECKER
Oh, this man is the ULTIMATE kisser. Absolute BIG fan of kissing. HUGE fan actually, can never get enough of it. Addicted is an understatement, he's OBSESSED with kissing you. Gosh, it makes him all fluttery, giddy, and lovesick.
Full, deep, and overwhelming. But all in a good way! He's just so happy and excited whenever he kisses you. His kisses are the kind that leaves you smiling from ear to ear, they make your heart pump louder and cheeks warm from the energy of it all.
LIP KISSES! But also, nose kisses <3
LOVES to pepper your face with smooches until you're laughing and your sides hurt from it. Again, with the cuteness aggression. He just can't help himself, okay? You're just too irresistible to him!
He WILL pout when you move your head away or push his off. Watch a 6'6" man, a literal war SOLDIER, march right off wearing the saddest expression you'd ever see. The only remedy? Kiss him, of course! And he'll immediately revert to his lovesick self, chasing after your lips for more.
He kisses you like a victory, like he's coming home from battle and you're his treasured prize. Swoops you off of the ground, attacks you with a bear hug, nuzzles his face against yours. Before kissing right then and there. Please, that's all he takes to make him happy.
100% obsessed with your lips. Their shape. Their color. The feeling of them on his. Every time you talk about something, he's stuck with that dreamy look and a stupid grin on his face.
And his hands, stars, his hands are always on your hips. He just likes the way he could grab something soft and plush and squeezes.
Also LOVES surprise kisses. The kind that makes you stop and stare at him, wide-eyed, and he's just giggling to himself at the dumbfounded look on your face.
He grins into the kiss, because it fills him with a kind of adrenaline that makes his heart beat faster. He is so down for the cuddling + kissing combo.
Sometimes it's messy. Especially when he's too enthusiastic or when you haven't seen each other for a while. And he's pulling you onto his lap, large arms around your frame, as the kiss starts from innocent and fun—to something else filled with ragged growls, wandering hands, and one aggressive make out session.
CONTENT: The Bad Batch and how they express their affections to you
RATING: SFW/NSFW
VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED!
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HUNTER - Words of Affirmation
— SFW
Hunter expresses most of his affections through his words.
Every waking moment he has, he wants to let you hear how much he appreciates you. How you've done so much for them, and how he will go at great lengths to protect you.
And when you return the same treatment to him? Oh, he would MELT on the inside. Because sometimes, he needs to hear the same reassurances he gives to others.
So when you look at him with that soft smile on your lips and a tender glimmer in your eyes, saying those kind words no one has ever told him before, Hunter would physically stop himself from either hiding his obvious flustered expression or pull you in for a hug (or a kiss).
From him, constant praises and compliments would flow so smoothly.
Things like:
"You were so brave out there, mesh'la."
"Knew we could count on you."
"Couldn't have done it without you."
"You look so beautiful."
"The stars don't compare to your beauty."
He does it so easily that it never fails to make you swoon or drop down on your knees. Most of the time, he'll find an excuse to flirt with you. Subtle, yet suggestive. Just to watch the redness highlight your cheeks, just to hear the slight jump in your heart, or to feel how your breath hitches at his words.
And it's so much worse when he casually leans down from behind, whispering those words over your shoulder—rough, low, intentional—before leaving you breathless on the spot.
— NSFW
Like mentioned above, Hunter is BIG on words. And most of the time, he's aware of how his voice affects others.
Especially women, and he's fully aware of how their body reacts to his voice when it drops a register or slows into a deliberate drawl.
Before meeting you, whenever the team finds themselves in another cantina or bar, he uses his voice to charm whoever he wanted for the night
That smoky gravel that slips past his mouth like sin and silk, it always produced desirable results.
He can see and hear everything, given his heightened enhanced senses, so nothing escapes from him. And after meeting you, Hunter easily picked up on the quickening rhythm of your heart as soon as he asked for your name.
It was a guilty pleasure of his, to use his voice and words, just to see you squirm by its effect
And when he finally got you in his bed, he would NOT hesitate to use his voice to see how well you'd take orders from him. You'd see the lust swimming in his eyes—the teasing hunger, the dark amusement—as he edged you closer and closer to the height of your climax by the rough thrusts of his hips and rougher cadence of his voice.
"Taking me so well, mesh'la."
"Squeezing me so good."
"Look at you, pretty girl."
"You look so perfect on your knees."
"Wanna see you come for me, mesh'la."
"Kriff, you feel so perfect."
Pair it with his knowledge on exactly how and when to use it by picking up on the reactions of your body. A dangerous combination from an even more dangerous man.
So yes, Hunter knows how to weaponize his voice. And he's not ashamed of using it to his advantage when it comes to you. But you'd always come back for more, and he grins every time you beg for him each time again.
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ECHO - Acts of Service
— SFW
Ever since he joined the Bad Batch, he's been (forcefully) given the role of being their caretaker.
So, Echo's affections come forth in the form of his actions.
He sees to it that everyone is well taken care of. Making sure they've always eaten or taken a rest, always there to hand out canteens of water, always the first one to check on someone else whenever he sensed them limping or injured.
He doesn't know why he does it, but it just comes out so naturally around his brothers.
And when you came into the picture, Echo does not hesitate to offer ANY help he could.
You need help to carry things around? He's already snatching them out of your arms to carry them himself. You haven't eaten yet? He's already whipping out an extra ration he reserves just for you. You haven't slept properly? He'll offer his shoulder for you to lean on and let you rest for a while.
And when he sees you crying alone? Oh, he'd be there in an instant to cradle you close to his chest and comfort you.
When it comes to you, Echo wants to make sure you're well taken care of. And you melt every time he does it.
— NSFW
You should've seen this coming, because you know deep down Echo would be a major pleaser.
Not just in casual and sweet ways, but you see the way his eyes linger on your figure whenever you turn towards him for help.
You feel it in the way his fingers twitch around your waist or hips when he guides you along a dense crowd. When he brushes a strand of hair behind your ear, you feel that undeniable tension simmering beneath his intentions.
And when you finally invite him to bed, he hesitates at first. Because he hasn't been intimate with anyone for a long time, not since his incident.
But when you assured him softly, lips on his ear, pulling him towards your room, Echo loses all sense of doubt and followed like a soldier marching to war
And Maker– How he worships you once the door is closed.
He makes sure your pleasure comes first, always makes you come before him through his meticulous and careful actions.
He pleases you in a way like he starves for it. Between your legs, lapping your release like it's the most precious thing he's ever tasted.
He'll let you use him however you want, be it underneath or above him. He'll let you chase your pleasure, perfectly content in watching you move against him from above or below him. He's perfectly fine with being used for your pleasure, he'll see it as a great honor even.
Of course, he'd praise you as well. While he's buried deep inside you or when he has his tongue on you, coaxing another climax out of your body.
He won't stop until you're thoroughly satisfied and pleased. Only then, he would chase his own pleasure.
But most of the time, he's perfectly content with making only you finish—be it from his hands, mouth, or cock—even when he hasn't even relieved himself.
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TECH - Giving and Receiving Gifts
— SFW
Now, Tech is a little more difficult to impress. He needs substance, a bond or a connection, before he even entertains the idea of romance.
But when he first meets you, it was as if all protocol and logic fades away in the back of his mind. He doesn't show any visible signs of interest initially, thus he simply acts aloof or distant, treating you like any other person he meets.
But then, he can't help but wonder about you. He researches, about your interests and hobbies, while claiming he's simply curious on your past time activities.
The way he shows his affections is not obvious, he makes it incredibly difficult for you to decipher his intentions. But that is because he simply has never felt anything like this before, and it was ruining his routine.
When he slowly opens himself up around you, showing those glimpses of attraction through his cracks, you could see it in the way he gives you something that reminded him of you.
When something catches his eye while he's out in the market, something that immediately evokes the thought of you, and he will not hesitate to negotiate his way to decrease the prices just so he can have it.
Or better yet, he CREATES it himself. A handcrafted gift he made out of scraps, or even taking your own tools and supplies to modify them with his touches.
And you're always seen carrying something new. Be it a new utility belt around your hips, an upgraded blaster in hand, your very own goggles that made it obvious to his brothers how he just replicated his own, and so much more.
He doesn't mind the effort or the time it takes to craft those gifts, the sight of your beaming smile and grateful gaze always makes it all worth it. Not to mention, the curious flutter in his chest every time he accomplishes those rewards always leaves him staggering in confusion.
So, he uses this as a chance to study the foreign symptoms he suddenly develops around your presence. Let's just say he almost short-circuited once he found it was a crush from Wrecker's words, and he doesn't know what to think about it.
— NSFW
Again, feeling all of these unknown emotions are entirely foreign to him. He is completely oblivious when it comes to all the romantic or sexual aspects in a relationship, not understanding the cues when someone expresses their interests to him.
He'll be hesitant at first, completely ignorant on how to navigate on these new emotions. But as soon as you begin returning the effort, as a way to express gratitude to the multitude gifts, he quickly becomes more enchanted with you.
He doesn't even expect anything in return, perfectly content with being the giver, but as soon as he becomes the receiver? He WILL stop and stare at you, an indecipherable look behind his tinted lenses.
And it always produces a pleasant heat underneath your skin, so you start gifting him more things that remind you of him. Even making your way to create handmade things as well.
But that was not the final straw of his restraint snapping. No, it was during moments when you wear or use his gifts out in the open. ESPECIALLY around his brothers.
It conjures another unknown emotion curling deep within his chest. Something darker, hungrier, much more possessive when he sees you use the things he created.
The moment he invites you to the cockpit of the Marauder, his private sanctuary, it was practically an unspoken confession from him. He wants to show you his sacred territory, and he can't help himself anymore when you decide to sit yourself on his pilot seat and glide your fingers on his wheel.
Then, he would snap right then and there. He'd pull you out of his seat, reclaiming his throne, and pull you down until you were perched on his lap.
He'd take you there in his cockpit, studying your body thoroughly like it was the most fascinating subject he has ever encountered. He'll memorize everything that makes you shake and tremble, and he takes note of everything.
He can't help it. It makes him territorial—it makes him irrational—how you can unravel something so dark within him.
And during the entire time, he'll have you wear one of his gifts just because he loves the way they look on your body while he takes you.
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CROSSHAIR - Quality Time
— SFW
Crosshair is the most difficult member to be familiar with. He practically built an ice wall around him to prevent others from getting too close. He keeps others at a distance with his sharp glare, cuts off any approaches with lethal bluntness, and he's unafraid to hurt others just so they can never hurt him first.
But with you? Somehow, those walls begin to melt away as soon as you grace him with your warm presence and genuine care.
He doesn't even say anything when you're around, yet you're fine with that. Like Tech, you do most of the talking the entire time.
It should've annoyed him, how much you rambled, and it did at first. But as time went on, he found himself looking for your presence and lengthy talks.
He begins to linger longer, always close but never letting you touch him. Not yet, he's not prepared to cross that boundary. However, it didn't deter you or your efforts in befriending him.
And it absolutely unnerves him. How much you respect his boundaries. How you would simply bound up to his side, greeting him with that radiant smile, as you proceed to talk again.
As soon as he begins to look forward to those times, he's hit with the realization that he wants you close, to feel your warmth beside his, and to hear everything you have to offer.
Slowly, he becomes fond of the way you always seek his company. And he, in turn, seeks yours as well. The first time he opened up by talking about himself, you smiled so bright it would've actually blinded him on the spot.
But you remained quiet, eager to be the listener now, and his heart aches even more at the attention you give him.
He doesn't even realize how much your presence has greatly affected his life, and whenever you're gone, he's terrified at how much he begins to crave your warmth.
— NSFW
The moment he finally acknowledges his attraction, and the undeniable pull he feels that lets him gravitate towards you every time you're near, he doesn't know how to act.
It makes him want to push you away, to keep you at arm's length, to surround himself with that ice wall again. Because he's simply afraid of getting attached, of hurting you in the process.
Because he doesn't deserve you or your presence. He doesn't deserve your warmth, your radiance, and your smile.
So he begins to pull away, distancing himself, even when his heart aches to be near you. It stretched for days, which turned into weeks, then a month.
And when you seek him to confront him, it takes all of his strength not to shatter at the sight of your brokenhearted expression and the disappointment in your gaze.
The moment those tears finally streamed down your cheeks, Crosshair breaks and closes the distance.
Finally—after a long time of denial—he surrenders to his heart and takes you into his arms. The both of you don't even make it to your room, because he decides he can't waste another second without your warmth.
And Maker, does he make up for lost time.
He takes you slowly, reverently, carefully. As if he was afraid you'd disappear, but you welcome everything with an aching acceptance. He'll stretch the minutes into hours, leaving you gasping and begging for more, turning you insatiable for him.
Whenever you're close to your peak, he'll pull away to watch you cry with a small teasing smile. And when he returns, you latch your arms around his neck and don't let go of him.
After the first time, he finds himself coming back for more. And more. And more.
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WRECKER - Physical Touch
— SFW
Wrecker is the most expressive out of all of them, and he is not shy on his advances. The moment he first sees you, from across the room of a cantina, his jaw comically drops open as he stares wide-eyed at your figure.
The others immediately pick up on his obvious crush, and they collectively tease him to make a move on you before someone else snatches you out of his grasp.
The first time Wrecker actually talks to you, he physically has to restrain himself from reaching out just to see how soft your skin feels like.
You looked so pretty, and angelic, and so soft that his hands visibly twitched at his sides every time you stand too close.
But the moment you initiated the first contact, a gentle graze on his arm as you thanked him after he walks you home, it was as if a barrier has been lifted. The next following days, Wrecker finds every excuse to touch you.
A large hand on your back, a teasing poke of a finger on your cheek, brushing a stubborn strand of hair behind your ear, holding out an arm to assist you, tugging you close to his side every time the crowd begins to grow denser.
ANY and EVERY excuse just to feel your softness against his rough exterior.
And you always welcomed them with a bashful grin or an amused laugh—to which he always beamed at.
— NSFW
Oh, stars.
As soon as another barrier was lifted, when the both of you finally acknowledged the ongoing tension between the two of you, Wrecker will seize every opportunity to kiss you.
And not just kiss you.
He'll be insatiable for more.
The first time he finds out how you secretly enjoyed being manhandled by him was a great shock to him. When he gently pulls you aside to scare off an unwanted advance from a stranger, whilst he roughly pushes the guy away.
He sees the way you stared at him—dazed, lips parted, and visibly shaken. Then, he also sees the way your pupils shadowed the color of your eyes. The way you bit your lip at the display of his strength. And how your thighs pressed together when he turned around after he shoved the guy off.
Stars, he almost drops the gentleman act to take you right there on the spot.
And as he walks you home again, standing in front of your door, he expects a sweet and chaste kiss before you enter inside. But no—as soon as you unlock your door, you grab his arm and pull him inside with a strength that surprises him.
After you've given him permission to finally take you, oh, Wrecker grins so wide he swoops you into his arms and marches straight to your room.
There, on your bed, he ravages you with every strength his rough touch can give you. His hands are always on your body, exploring your skin, teeth marking your neck with bruises of his claim. He'll have you close, flushed against him, never parting fully. To make sure you feel every inch of him while he takes you.
He physically CANNOT keep his hands to himself during these moments. Always finding purchase on your hips, around your thighs, on your chest, your neck, your spine, everywhere.
And he just can't help himself. Not when you're so soft, so willing, and all his.
— A miniseries where you play 7 minutes in Heaven with the Bad Batch! Each round can be read individually, and is not connected to the previous/next one.
RATING: MATURE
VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED!
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It was Wrecker's idea really to play this game, a post mission activity to "get rid of the tension from battle" but Hunter knew he was taking this chance to have a moment with you, their assigned medic. And to be honest, any one of them wanted to as well, they just didn't want to compromise anything with you. Especially since you were the first natborn assigned to them, and they cherished their friendship with you.
So, safe to say, Hunter was a little concerned when his brother suggested this. It could potentially ruin the dynamics of the squad, and their relationship with you. But as he looked at you from across the circle, he felt his worries slowly slipping at the sight of your smile and the sound of your laughter.
He didn't even notice the bottle was already spinning, didn't focus on Wrecker's excited giggles or Echo's disgruntled murmurs, until the bottle slows.
Hunter only realized it stopped spinning when the sound of your breath hitched, heartbeat skidding to a jump, only then he tore his gaze away from you and glanced down.
Oh.
"Aw, no fair! Hunter always gets to be the first." Wrecker pouted, crossing his arms as he sulked in the corner. Meanwhile, the rest of his brothers tensed—eyeing each other—before you quickly stood up with a small laugh.
"Rules are rules," You shrugged, too casual for the situation. "Up and at it, Sarge. Let's get this over with."
Before Hunter knew it, he was following you inside the Marauder's small storage closet.
"Remember, kids. Seven minutes only!" Wrecker yelled from behind, and then the door hissed shut.
You have to blink to adjust to the darkness, faintly aware of Hunter's presence beside you. He didn't step closer, not yet, settling for the other side of the wall. But with little space in the storage closet, your chest could almost brush against the front of his armor.
You leaned back, directly in front of him, trying to calm your nerves and think of other things than the heat radiating from his body. But you knew he could pick up everything from you, nothing escaped him. In here, surrounded by darkness and warm air, you could almost feel the palpable tension between the two of you.
Meanwhile, Hunter could barely concentrate himself.
Not when you were so near, pressed up so well against his front. Not when the distinct scent of your perfume reached his senses, clouding every thought in his head with nothing but how good you smelled. Not when he could hear the uneven rhythm of your heart, the pulse beneath your neck, tempting him to close the distance and sink his teeth into your skin—
Hunter cleared his throat, shifting in his spot, but it was futile given the lack of area to move around.
One minute.
"Doing okay there, Sarge?"
He gulped, shutting his eyes to avoid your questioning gaze. If he looked at you, really looked at you, he'd lose all sense of control and patience he vowed not to break.
But kriff you just smelled so good, you look so soft, and your body was right there in front of him.
If he reached out, if he crossed the line, what would you do? He was aware of your feelings for him, kinda hard not to notice when you're all confined in the same ship for months, and he has his enhanced senses to pick up on all the signs from your body. So, this was a test for you as it was for him—to see who'd break first.
"Fine," He heard himself saying, rasped and strained. "And you, mesh'la?"
He heard a shuffle, felt your chest brushing even more against his front, and he prayed to the Maker to give him more strength. He's faced countless battles, won many infiltration missions, and spent grueling hours on many planets fighting against armies of clankers.
But nothing could prepare him for this.
It's only seven minutes.
He thought to himself, collecting his own breath and regaining his composure.
I can survive.
But then, your voice. That sickeningly sweet sound called out to him again.
"Hunter?"
"Yes, mesh'la?"
"You look. . . uncomfortable. Should we stop the game?"
"No, it's– I'm fine. Just need to. . . Focus."
You raised an eyebrow, though he couldn't see it, but he heard the slight movement of your lip twitching.
"Focus?" Your voice dripped with playful cadence, teasing him even now. "On me? Or from me?"
This time, he allowed himself to crack his eyes open, peering down at you through the dimness.
Thankfully, his enhanced vision granted him the ability to see clearer in settings like these. However, he almost wished he was as blind as you were in the darkness. Then, he wouldn't be able to see your flushed cheeks. He wouldn't be staring at your parted lips. He wouldn't be looking at your neck and feel an indescribable urge to mark it. He wouldn't be thinking about kissing you senselessly until you were—
Two minutes.
"You're making it hard," Hunter found himself admitting, slowly losing the war with his self-control. "Just don't move. Don't talk. Don't even breathe too loud, or else–"
"Or else what?" You pressed closer, leaning up on your toes to level your face with his. "What are you gonna do, Hunter? What are you afraid of?"
Stop.
Hunter turned his head away, but regretted it immediately when your warm breath ghosted over his neck. He shivered, hands clenched at his sides, physically fighting himself not to grab you—whether to pull you or push you away, he didn't know which he wanted more.
But then your lips glided over his pulse, just beneath his jaw, and his restraint cracked even more.
"We still have five minutes left," The moment you whispered on his skin, his pupils blew out and his breathing stopped. "Five minutes with me, Hunter. Play the game. Play with me."
When you finally planted your lips on his neck, Hunter growled low under his breath.
"Kriff it."
One moment you were trapping him against the wall, and the next he was pushing you back with a kiss that devoured your being.
Wild, hungry, and all-consuming.
The dull thud echoed around the storage closet, the others surely heard the sound, but all Hunter could focus on was the tiny gasp you let out and the small whimper you made. He swallowed it all, groaning at the taste of your lips as you kissed him back, and the scent of your arousal hit him like a brutal punch in the gut.
Three minutes.
Hunter kissed you hard, like a man who's tired of being patient. Large hands gripped your hips, possessive and greedy, squeezing the plump flesh through your scrubs. You responded by raking your nails against his scalp, tugging on his strands, and Hunter almost lost it.
He produced a low growl, a warning, but you only repeated the action from it.
Kriff, he's been dreaming about this for so long.
He's been wanting to kiss you ever since you greeted him during your first introductions.
He's been so curious about what you'd sound like when he's taking you apart, and now he'll make sure to use every second of his chance to find out everything he could.
He groaned into the kiss, trailing his hands down underneath your thighs.
"Lift your legs for me."
You barely processed the command, too lost in a lustful trance, until he was hitching up your legs himself and pinning you against the durasteel wall. You wrapped your arms around his neck, clinging to him like a lifeline, moaning his name quietly like a forbidden secret.
The kiss only grew hungrier from there, and Hunter forgot all his restraint and protocols within that second. He invaded your mouth with a frenzied desperation, a ruined need to dominate, and he growled—pleased—when you surrendered to him. His mind was focused on the way you moved, sighed, and whimpered. His hands never stopped exploring every inch of your body.
His senses were scattered, but everything was tuned on you. On your scent. On your taste. Your touch. Your sounds. And if he opened his eyes, he was sure the last thread of his control would snap if he saw the pleading look in your face.
Four minutes.
He smelled your arousal wafting over him like a tidal wave, causing him to buck his hips up into your clothed center.
You whimpered, shamelessly grinding over his codpiece with the same desperation and need that fueled his body. He would've torn the damn armor piece in an instant if it weren't for the fact he only had a few minutes remaining. He would've taken you right here if you asked. But he was quickly starving for more.
"So sweet, mesh'la." Hunter began kissing your jaw, mouthing hungrily at your skin. "Been wanting to have you like this. Always knew you'd be so good."
You released a soft whimper, giving him more access to your neck. "Hunter, kriff– They could hear us."
"Let them," The Sergeant continued rolling his hips into yours, as though there weren't any layers of armor and fabric separating you. "I know they're jealous. I can smell it from here. They want you like this too."
When he returned to kissing you, taking all the air from your lungs, you let him—completely at his mercy—and his hunger only grew more possessive.
"Too bad I had you first."
He felt your body shivering, but not because of the cold. No, because of the heat his words carried. Hunter hummed in satisfaction, knowing how much effect he has on you. He hasn't even done anything yet besides kissing you, and already he knew you wanted more. The way you gasped and whined into his mouth made it more difficult to focus on the game—that there were only seven minutes of this.
But Maker, he wanted more.
Five minutes.
Hunter could get addicted to this.
He could spend all day and night trapped in this closet, getting lost in the feeling and taste of you. He memorized every miniscule reaction from your body, just to know what would make you tremble and beg for more. One of his hands travelled up to your breast, massaging the flesh, before it went back down to your hip—using your lower body to move you along his thrusts.
He could feel himself twitching beneath his codpiece, continuously rubbing against your center to relieve the aching want to be buried in you. It only worsened as the smell of your arousal heightened each minute that passed. It drove him crazy, he could almost taste it in the air. He was almost tempted to lock the door completely, seal you away until he could have all of you to himself.
But the seconds were ticking, and he knew they would stretch into hours if he gave in.
"Another time, I'll have you like this again."
The Sergeant grunted in your neck, panting harshly as his hips thrusted up. You moaned, high and needy, nodding along to his words, grinding back on him with your hands on his pauldrons.
"But next time, there won't be a time limit."
He sucked your skin, claiming his mark on you—a reminder to his brothers that he had you first—and you belonged to him now.
"And I'm gonna make sure you won't get to sleep either."
Six minutes.
"Oi, one minute left! Start dressing, lovebirds!"
Wrecker's booming voice erupted through the other side of the door. He could hear the others outside, Tech's faint tapping on his datapad, Echo's hushed whispers, and Crosshair's annoyed grumbling.
Hunter sighed, laying his forehead beside the wall as his fingers flexed on your thighs.
You were panting, eyes still shut, halting your movements on him. The ache still throbbed between your legs, mind swimming in hazy lust and pleasure as you both attempted to recompose yourselves.
But Hunter wasn't finished yet, and he went back to kissing you. Only this time, slower, softer, more grounding than consuming.
As if he wanted to drag the time longer.
You moaned quietly, cradling his jaw, before parting away.
"Promise?" You whispered, lashes fluttering open.
"Promise." Hunter uttered back, low and heavy with a carnal vow, laying his forehead against yours.
You smiled, before you pressed another kiss on his lips and patted his shoulder.
"Alright, Sarge. Let's fix ourselves before we ruin our dignity even more."
Hunter chuckled, settling you back down and smirking to himself when you stumbled in your footing.
"That's not the only thing I'm ruining next time."
In the darkness, you tossed him a pointed look, but he didn't miss the adorable flush coloring your cheeks.
"Very funny."
"Glad you think so."
"You're lucky I like you."
"I wouldn't have noticed. Thanks for telling me."
Rolling your eyes, you playfully pecked his cheek. "Come now, soldier. I'll move out first, so they won't see your little problem there."
Hunter blinked, glancing down to see the problem blocked by his codpiece. Good thing he didn't remove it prior to the game, or else he would've gave in the urge to fuck you right there or hide the fact that he almost tried to after time's up.
When the door slid open, you exited first with a small wave to his brothers.
Wrecker bellowed a loud laugh, pointing at the state of your hair while Echo blushed at the sight of your colorful neck. Tech's gaze quickly dropped to his datapad, ears reddening.
And Crosshair merely clicked his tongue, but his eyes lingered for a second too long on you.
"You survived, congratulations."
"Of course I did," You rolled your eyes, taking a seat on your previous spot. "I'm a medic. I've had worse."
Hunter raised an eyebrow at that, mildly amused as he returned to his seat.
Oh, if only you knew.
The worst has yet to come.
────────────── ★ ───────────────
Next Round: Echo | Continuation here
Taglist: @skellymom
Comment if you want to be tagged in the next round ;))
CONTENT: Modern! AU Batchers picking you up for a date. Oh wait, you forgot to bring your mirror. How would you put your lipstick on? Their helmet should do.
RATING: SUGGESTIVE
────────────── ★ ───────────────
HUNTER
Okay, first date. You got this, Hunter.
Releasing a small sigh, Hunter adjusted his mirror of his Indian Scout Bobber for the tenth time since he arrived in front of your place. Which was fifteen minutes ago. Actually, he was actually fifteen minutes early than your agreed meeting time. Just in case you'd be early too, and he doesn't want to mess this up.
Should I remove my helmet?
Through the dark visor, Hunter peered through his reflection and contemplated whether to keep it on or not. After a silent debate, he decided to keep it. Knowing for a fact you'll come out of that door completely out of this world, he didn't want to risk looking like a complete fool in front of you. Plus, the helmet would hide his reaction well. Be it his eyes widening, his blush deepening, or the way he'll give you a once over to appreciate your appearance.
He remembered the day he met you, just after Omega's dismissal in school. He remembered her taking him by his hand, tugging him towards somewhere. Much to his surprise, someone.
Omega introduced him to her newly made friend, your nephew. Then she directed his attention to you, and he swore all his senses failed to register everything and everyone around him. Just entirely focused on the way you greeted him warmly, the way your lips curled into that breathtaking smile, and how soft your hand felt when you shook his hand.
After that, he might’ve asked Omega more about you, and his sister didn’t waste the chance to tease him about his new crush. Everyday after school, he’d always see you there as well. It took him two weeks for him to make a move, and he will never forget the way your eyes brightened when you said yes.
“Oh, you're here!”
Hunter quickly straightened, his head snapping forward.
Maker.
All the preparation he had prior vanished the moment he saw you. All the practiced greetings and readied compliments died at the back of his throat when you walked closer.
Your first meeting was special, he wouldn't forget the moment when he saw you for the first time weeks ago. But right now, Hunter believed this could rival that moment. His gaze never left you, his body cannot physically move, and his breathing turned a little faster each step you took. His senses sharpened the moment you stood right in front of him, wearing that radiant smile and the perfume that drove him crazy.
Hunter cleared his throat, attempting to recollect himself after being disarmed.
“I don't even have the words right now,” He admitted, voice heavy and rough as he assessed you behind his dark visor. “You're just. . . You look so beautiful. More than beautiful. You always are.”
A rosy hue coated your cheeks, lashes fluttering at the unexpected praise. Your smile widened, eyes gleaming brighter, and he caught himself getting a bit more lost in them.
“Thank you, Hunter. That's really sweet of you.”
“Just the truth, sweetheart.”
“And smooth.”
“I'm a man of many things,” His helmet lowered, so did his voice. “But tonight, I'm a gentleman. You ready for a ride, sweetheart?”
You grinned up at him, catching onto his insinuation. “As long as if it's with you, I always am.”
Something else sharpened within him, something that was definitely not gentlemanly. He reminded himself this was the first date, and he's not supposed to make you uncomfortable by being too forward. Be a gentleman. He repeated those three words to himself, not noticing the way you suddenly grew quiet.
Your quiet gasp brought him back to the present, seeing the alarmed look on your face.
“Shoot, I forgot to put on my lipstick.” Then, you were rummaging for something in your purse. “Do you mind if I put it on for a sec?”
Nodding, Hunter lets you retrieve the tube and uncap the item.
You looked up at him, smiling softly.
“Hold still.”
He blinked, taken back by the command. Until he understood why, freezing in place as your mouth parted and you swept the lipstick across your bottom lip.
Oh, fuck.
That shade. That fucking shade should be illegal.
His eyes sharpened, trained on the way it glided smoothly across your lip. You were using his visor as your mirror, and you were none of the wiser of the growing darkness inside his helmet. He tried not to think about other things, tried not to imagine that color smudged against a glass rim, a straw, his lips, or his—
“Done,” You quipped, pressing your lips together and wiping a finger at the corner. “Thanks for that. Your helmet looks so clean, I couldn't help myself.”
Hunter nodded again, gulping down the growl that threatened to escape his throat. The urge to say, me either, before dragging you back inside your place and completely forgetting why he needed to be a gentleman in the first place.
Instead, he handed you his spare helmet. “Ready, sweetheart?”
You grabbed it from him, frowning slightly in realization. “Fuck, I shouldn't have put it on yet. Now it's gonna get smudged.”
Hunter drew in a sharp breath, mounting his bike and turning on the engine before his restraint could snap.
Don't worry, sweetheart. It's gonna get smudged either way by the end of the night.
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ECHO
It's a first date, Echo. Not marriage.
It might as well have felt like that. Standing in front of the aisle, donned in his most expensive suit, and trying to contain himself from breaking down. Except this time, it was just a date. The first date he has with you. Instead of a suit, he wore his usual black muscle shirt and dark pants. Simple, yet efficient. His stomach churned in nervous flutters, constantly shifting on his feet as he waited.
After a week of prepping, Echo was certain nothing would go wrong.
It'll be fine. Just be yourself.
Except that his heart thrummed louder than the soft hum of his engines. His Triumph Street provided comfort for him, like an anchor that steadied his nerves every low rumble it produced.
He absentmindedly adjusted his helmet, then paused at his indecision whether to remove it or keep it on while you're not here. He weighed the pros and cons. Pro being it could conceal his stunned reaction, which was a highly plausible scenario for tonight, and he felt more secure wearing it. The con was the possible disappointment you'd feel that you can't see his face.
Sighing, Echo crossed his arms and glanced down at the pavement.
He supposed he should thank Omega for making this happen, his little wing woman who pulled all the strings and acted as his cupid. You were one of her teachers, the one she’s been excitedly telling him about since the start of her classes. From her stories, it seemed like you were a class favorite. Omega kept telling him how kind, smart, and beautiful you were. She also told him how patient you could be when it came to troublemakers, and how much he’ll like you if he ever gets to meet you in person.
That day came during a parent conference meeting, and he was the only available one out of all his brothers. It could be fate, or it could just be a coincidence, but the moment he saw you for the first time, Echo knew he was gone.
Omega was right.
He liked you immediately after you greeted him, shaking his prosthetic hand without any problem or judgement. Throughout the meeting, Echo would be lying if he said he wasn’t distracted the whole time. Your kindness shone through the way you showed compassion for your students, and he remembered staying longer after the meeting to ask more questions the other parents already asked—just so he could hear your voice and spend more time with you.
“Echo!”
He sat up straight, trying not to look like he wasn't forgetting his own name even after being exclaimed.
You stepped out of your door, armed with that dazzling smile that blew all his plans away into the wind. And that's when he knew, this was going to be much harder than he thought. Especially when you looked so good. You always did, but tonight, you could rival entire constellations and he understood why people in the ancient times worshipped them.
“You look,” Echo gulped, trailing off in a weak voice. “Wow. Sorry, I'm supposed to be saying something nice. I have something prepared, but this is. . . You're breathtaking.”
It could be a trick by his visor, but he swore your cheeks colored from his words. The warm smile he broke out of your lips calmed him, he must be doing fine so far.
“Know how to charm a girl, huh?” You raised an eyebrow, amused and playful. “You say that to all the girls you pick up on your bike?”
Oh, you're going that way?
Echo smirked underneath his helmet, leaning back against his Triumph Street with an incline of his head.
“I do,” He really hoped it came out as smooth as he thought. “And you're the first. So, is it working?”
“It is. I'm sure the other girls after me will like it too.”
“Yeah, I hope so too.”
“When's your next one?”
“After our first date,” He replied casually, shrugging his shoulders. “If I'm lucky tonight, I'll get a second date with her. Maybe a third too. Who knows? Maybe she'll say yes after the fourth or fifth one.”
You rolled your eyes, laughing lightly. “Okay, Casanova. You better stop before I actually think there are others than me.”
Echo softened at that, gazing at you through the darkness. “There's no one else, ma’am. Only you.”
The blush deepened, and he fought the urge not to run a thumb across your cheek. For a moment, you silently gazed at each other. You peered through his visor as if you could see his eyes, and he took the chance to admire your beauty and traced every feature you have to memory—just in case it would be the last time he'll ever do so.
Then, he noticed your eyes squinting and your breath gasping in realization.
“Wait, I think I forgot my lipstick. Do you mind if I put it on before we go?”
Echo nodded, he'll wait for hours if you asked him to.
You retrieved the lipstick from your purse, smiling up at him as you uncapped it.
“Hold still.”
You didn’t need to tell him twice.
His whole body tensed the moment you leaned forward, briefly confused. When your lips parted lightly, Echo could feel his own doing the same, a stuttered gasp struggling into his lungs as you started to apply the cosmetic over your bottom lip. And fuck, he’s going to be dreaming of that shade. He’s going to be haunted by the images of smudged stains all over him.
Echo tried to force his eyes away, but his own gaze betrayed him. He prayed you wouldn’t hear how his breathing grew heavier beneath his helmet. You stood so close to him, so close he could feel the heat radiating from your body. His prosthetic hand flexed, gripping his bicep harder to stop himself from running a thumb across your lip.
Or slip it past your mouth and—
He found the strength to close his eyes, erasing the intrusive thoughts.
“There,” You rubbed your lips, wiping the excess color from the corners. “Thanks for that. Your helmet has a nice reflection.”
When you stepped back, the trapped air inside him finally escaped.
“Don’t mention it,” Echo forced out, handing you his spare helmet. “You ready to go?”
You smiled, and he tracked the color on your lips as you did. “Yup! Where to first?”
Echo mounted his bike, revving up his engines. “You’ll see.”
And it’s to cover up the fact he forgot all of the places he searched for a week in just the span of ten seconds.
────────────── ★ ───────────────
TECH
The estimated outcome of this night is still uncertain, though I have calculated the probability of our date to have highly favorable results.
Tech laid against his Zero SR/S Electric Sportbike, scrolling through his watch to check on the weather conditions, traffic routes, and his list of planned places he had reserved for this night. He has rehearsed at least fifty-three greeting variations, memorized each line he'd say once you step out that door. He even made an effort to search online shops he figured you'd like, all listed in his notes app just to have more options.
He smoothed his gloves, checked the angles of his mirrors. He tried to regulate his breathing as if he could trick his heart into beating less. . . enthusiastically.
I should not feel nervous. I am more than prepared.
Nonetheless, he checked his watch again for the ninth time. His mind raced, faster than his bike could ever perform, from all the accumulated thoughts.
He recalled the time Omega introduced you, the school librarian who always recommended her books she liked. He noticed the borrowed books she often came home with, surprised by her sudden interest, but not entirely unwelcome. When he inquired her where she got them, she only shrugged and told him about the nice librarian in her new school. That must be the reason why his sister always went home later than usual, she stayed in the school library until he had to fetch her himself.
Until one night, he was so busy with his work that he forgot to fetch her. The panic he felt instantly disappeared when an unfamiliar car pulled over his driveway, and out of the passenger door came Omega. He remembered exiting the house, asking her if she was alright and apologizing for not noticing the time, but she waved him off.
She told him she was fine, and that the librarian was kind enough to drive her home. Tech grew confused, about to ask again, when Omega pointed up and he saw you.
And oh, he didn’t expect someone so. . . captivating.
That night, Tech was forced to host dinner while trying to maintain an air of professionalism. Which quickly fell apart given how Omega kept giggling behind her hand, and how flustered he became every time you smiled at his formality. The routine continued, you’d drive Omega back from school and he’ll prepare dinner for the three of you. But it wasn’t enough, he needed to formally ask you on a date once he made clear of his attraction, and so he did.
The porch lights flickered on, and the door opened just in time for his brain to cease function.
His visor hid the way his eyes widened, but he felt the change stirring within him. A small shock of awareness, all his thoroughly shaped plans dissipating into oblivion the moment you stepped out and waved at him. The curl of your smile weaved around his ribcage, rendering him breathless, and wrung out every confident script he practiced.
Fifty-three lines, and not one was able to formulate into words.
“You made it right on time,” You approached closer, briefly assessing his bike with a low whistle. “And no wonder. She’s all electric, I take it?”
Tech found himself nodding, taken back by your input. “Yes, she is– I mean it is electrically powered. More efficient than fuel or gasoline. Exponentially silent too, the way I prefer it.”
You raised an eyebrow, a glint flickering through your eyes. “So you like them quiet, huh?”
“Yes,” He nodded, about to explain further when he heard you snicker. His cheeks warmed, fortunate to have his helmet on to conceal his flustered reaction. “Oh, you meant– No, that is not what I was–”
“Relax,” You hid another laugh behind a hand, winking at him. “If you impress me tonight, I might change your mind in the future.”
Oh.
Tech could very well short-circuit if he was able to, but he cleared this throat and shifted his gaze away. The night hasn’t started yet, but this was already a turn of events. He had meant to be thorough in his approach. He was certain there will be no outliers that can sabotage his plans. And yet, he had failed to consider one variable that would destroy his defenses with relative ease.
You.
He was about to respond to your last words, when he heard you gasp.
“Oh, before we go.” You retrieved a small cylindrical tube from your purse, gleaming against the streetlight. “Do you mind if I put it on? It’ll only take a sec.”
Glancing at his watch, Tech noted the remaining time and nodded. “Very well, then.”
Smiling at him, you uncapped the tube and leaned forward.
“Hold still.”
He blinked, confused. “What for–”
Oh.
You were using his visor as a mirror, and you were awfully so close to him he could see miniscule details on your features. He catalogued each one, memorizing each detail in rapt attention. But that wasn’t the moment that caught his attention, it was when you placed the lipstick on your bottom lip and swept the color across in a way that tightened his chest.
Suddenly, all logical processes in his brain failed to register.
Because right now, all Tech could think about was his curiosity.
Did your lips feel as soft as they appeared? Will your cosmetic smudge easily if he were ever to find out? Was it your favorite shade to use on a daily basis? But then, his thoughts shifted into a more dangerous territory. One where it involved privacy, the dark, and only minimal lighting so he could see that shade spread from your lips, to his, and back to your skin as he—
“All done,” You tilted your head, studying your reflection through his visor. “Didn’t take too long, did I?”
“Twelve seconds,” Tech snapped back to the present, but his thoughts still lingered to those darkened corners. “Not long. It was. . . adequate.”
You hid the tube away, raising an eyebrow at him. “Adequate for what?”
To calculate how much restraint I possess.
His cheeks burned, thankfully hidden from view by his helmet. “Nevermind that. Shall we?”
Taking his hand, you let him help you mount his bike and wear his spare helmet. “We shall.”
But it seemed like twelve seconds were not enough, because now he has to extend his observation as he felt your arms slide around his waist. And the real test was just about to begin.
────────────── ★ ───────────────
CROSSHAIR
I guess I’m early.
Crosshair swung a leg over his Ducati Diavel V4, propping up his stand and turning off his engine. It hissed one last time, before producing a shuddering hum. He slipped his helmet from his head, ruffling his short silver strands as he placed the helmet on his seat. He didn’t mind waiting, more time for him to think about the activities he planned for the both of you.
There weren’t many, he figured he’d ask you where you wanted to go, or maybe surprise you somewhere you wouldn’t expect.
His idea of a date consisted of following his instincts, letting things fall naturally. Movies were a classic, but too common. Eating out would be best if you haven’t had dinner yet. Or the element of surprise, see where the road takes the both of you and maybe spend the night underneath the stars. He brought a picnic blanket just in case, the idea of stargazing with you sounded perfect for someone like you.
Somewhere quiet, where the both of you could escape from the bustling city roads and smoke-filled streets. Maybe he could take you to that secret spot Omega suggested to him earlier, their little hideaway area up in the mountains. It was the perfect place to stargaze, talk about anything happening in your lives, while the stars could listen from above.
Who would’ve thought I’d be a romantic?
It was Omega who urged him to go on this date, after seeing you in the park when the two of them hang around to eat ice cream after her school. And the moment his sister noticed him staring after you, she excitedly nudged his arm and asked him to go and talk to you. It really took a while for him to stand, he had to win a debate against her but ultimately lost. So, he tried to look unaffected even when his heart pounded wildly beneath his chest as he approached you.
He never expected for you to say yes, let alone be interested in someone like him. A stranger, no less. He remembered your words from that day, as warm and light as the golden hour sun.
“I always see you and your sister here at this time. You take care of her well. Oh, and tell her I said yes.”
Crosshair remembered walking back to Omega, dazed and a little in disbelief, while his sister squealed as she repeatedly shook his arm.
He donned his helmet again, darkness surrounding his vision.
Now, here he was.
“Hey, hot shot.”
And there you were.
Act natural.
He crossed his arms, looking up to see you exit your house. Good thing he wore his helmet just in time, because you didn’t have to see the shock invading his features. Like the first time he saw you, the afternoon sun bathed your figure in an illuminating glow, so bright he was almost convinced you were the sun itself. That’s when he asked himself how he got so lucky?
You stopped right in front of him, not even hiding the way your gaze fell over him.
“You look good in leather,” He blinked in surprise, rarely receiving compliments from anyone other than Omega. “It really suits your vibe. You have this whole bad boy next door energy going.”
“Thanks,” He settled on the nonchalant act, sweeping his own gaze down your body. “You clean up nicely yourself.”
Rolling your eyes, you gave him a small grin. “Just nice? Do I have to melt that ice cold heart of yours first before I earn the rest?”
Crosshair grinned, tilting his head down at you. “You think you can?”
He saw the mischief flashing in your eyes. “I know how I can. You mind me putting on some lipstick first before we go?”
His helmet dipped, voice dipping lower into a drawl. “Go ahead, doll.”
The grin you wore never left, and it looked like trouble. His assumption proved correct when he watched you pull out the lipstick, twisting the cosmetic before your lashes fluttered up.
“Hold still.”
He crossed his arms, waiting for your next move.
You might’ve as well shot him through his heart, because the second your lips parted and you dragged the color across, it stopped beating. His lungs froze as well, unable to breathe properly in every deliberate swipe of that lipstick. Oh, you were dangerous. You knew what you were doing to him. He just wasn’t prepared for you to act so boldly, but he held no complaints.
His gaze remained on the motion, darkening at the sight.
He never knew trouble could have a color, but if it had one, it’d be the shade you wore.
If he removed his helmet right and kissed you, would you taste like trouble as well? Will he taste it on his tongue if he pushed himself deeper? If he asked you to leave more on his skin, would it be the same color as the one on your lips?
“How does it look?” You glanced up, searching for his eyes. “Does it look nicer now?”
Crosshair chuckled, low and dark. “I think it would look nicer on other things.”
The mischief flashed again, brighter. More dangerous. “You’ll have to buy me dinner first, hot shot.”
He tipped his head towards his bike, patting the seat behind him. “Then, I hope you’re hungry.”
────────────── ★ ───────────────
WRECKER
You got this! Just have fun and make her happy.
Wrecker rolled his shoulders around, feeling his blood roar louder than the engines of his Harley Davidson. His hands never left the handlebars, afraid he might topple over if he wasn’t holding onto something. He considered hopping off, doing some light stretches before you appear, but decided against it in case you actually do come out and see him do push-ups on the pavement like an idiot.
He can’t help it. He’s nervous!
Any guy would be on their first date, but it never felt like this before. Wrecker has had those in the past, and he always kept himself collected. So, he didn’t know why he’s so jittery now when it came to you. Maybe because of his massive crush on you, how many weeks he tried and failed to ask you out. The only reason why he gathered up the courage to do so was because of Omega’s help.
The kid didn’t mention her tutor would be someone so pretty! And sweet, funny, and gorgeous. Did he mention you were also beautiful? Like so unbelievably beautiful, he almost didn’t believe you were real.
Before meeting you, Omega already mentioned your name a few times. Though, he always thought you were just another student who volunteered to help her in math. But when you visited their house, Wrecker’s jaw dropped to the floor once he found out you were older. Omega finally introduced you to him, the infamous tutor he believed to be imaginary at first, but you were very much real.
He found out you were the school’s tutor, offering additional help to students who struggled in particular subjects. And knowing Omega’s dislike for math, you signed her up to the roster without any additional charges.
Also, you weren't supposed to do in-house tutorings, but since Omega cannot stop asking you to come over, you figured once wouldn’t hurt.
Once became twice, and twice became often. Until you were in their house every weekend to teach her, but Omega had been planning on getting you closer to him behind the scenes.
And it worked!
Wrecker made sure you always felt welcome whenever you were over, constantly looking forward to your weekly visits like a puppy waiting for their owner to return home. Omega gave him a chance to finally ask you, making the excuse to buy something from the store—leaving the both of you alone in the house.
With nothing to lose, Wrecker blurted out the question in the clumsiest way he could. Lots of stammering, nervous giggling, and coughing every time his voice cracked or raised a pitch higher. His nerves only calmed when he heard the sound of your laughter, and he swore he heard wedding bells at the same time.
When you said yes, Wrecker fought the urge to pick you up and swing you around in his arms.
He could still do that. Oh, he really wanted to do that.
“Hey, Wrecker!”
Wrecker jolted in shock, almost throttling his Harley forward. “Woah, hey! Sorry, lost in thought. Hey, you. . .”
His sentence never got to finish, drifting off into stunned silence when he saw you walk towards him looking all pretty and dolled up. Thank the Maker for his helmet, you would’ve seen red cheeks and heart eyes behind his visor.
You stopped just a foot away from him, beaming at his loss for words. “You were saying?”
He sat straighter, clearing his throat. “You look– Woah, just yeah. You look pretty today. I mean not just today, you look pretty all the time. Every time. But you look prettier today.”
And I’m gonna drive myself off a cliff.
It looked like he said that aloud as well, because you blinked incredulously before you laughed behind your hand.
Oddly enough, it calmed the fireworks in his stomach. “Sorry, just nervous. You always do that to me, and yeah. . . I sound like an idiot right now.’
“You don’t,” Your laughter died down into stifled giggles. “You’re doing great, Wrecker. I’m happy you asked me out.”
“You are?” He perked up. If he had a tail, it’d be wagging violently now. “Oh, just you wait! I’m about to show you all the cool places I know.”
Grinning up at him, you nodded. “Can’t wait! Oh, before we leave. Can I put on some lipstick first?”
“Sure thing, pretty!”
“Thanks! It’ll take just a sec.”
Wrecker waited quietly in his seat, perfectly content in sitting back to watch you.
“Got it,” You opened the tube, leaning closer to him. “Hold still.”
He tilted his head, but obeyed nonetheless. “Huh? Why? Oh.”
Yup, I'm gonna drive off into a cliff.
The fireworks in his stomach returned, shooting up to his lungs and exploding his heart in its wake.
He tensed impossibly still, letting you use the curve of his visor as a mirror. He knew he made the right decision to polish it today, but he’s also panicking what if he polished it too much and you could see the terrified awe in his face through the dark glass. But you looked so focused on your own reflection, and he became so lost in the motion of your lip being pressed and tugged by the lipstick.
Wrecker gulped, trying to save his throat from drying.
Oh, no.
He can’t be thinking of those. He shouldn’t be thinking of those. Not right now. Not like this. You were just applying the finishing touches to your makeup, no problem with that. He definitely shouldn’t be thinking how adorable you looked with your mouth parted like that. He shouldn’t be imagining scenarios where something else was brushing against your lips.
His lips. His thumb. His—
Get it together!
The urge to shake his head to erase the thoughts came up, but he forced himself still until you were done.
“There!” You smiled in satisfaction, and he released a shuddering breath that fogged the insides of his helmet. “Thanks, Wrecker. I might need to do that again later. You okay?”
He nodded frantically, finally broken out of his spell. “Pretty girl– Good! Pretty good. All good! Ready to go?”
Chuckling at his antics, you climbed up behind him as you slipped his spare helmet.
“Careful not to crash, big guy.”
When your arms slid over his waist, chest pressed close to his back, he almost lost balance immediately.
CONTENT: The Bad Batch and tiny little things that turn them on
RATING: SUGGESTIVE
VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED!
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HUNTER
Seeing you refuse and reject others when they flirt with you. And not the polite way, that's only the start of it. No, he's guilty of finding you harshly putting others in place with that stern voice and piercing glare incredibly attractive. Just seeing you so unafraid and furious just riles him up in more ways than one.
If you're good with kids, that's a HUGE turn on for him. Something about your natural instincts to help a lost child, or how you play with them, ignites a dark urge within him. Just be prepared for him to get a little touchy later, plus the lingering glances he sends your way. Or the way his hands rub against your sides. Or how rougher he'll get later that night.
Another turn on for him when you've just finished doing a strenuous activity. Maybe exercise, training, or playing around with Omega. His senses will zero in on you the moment you're near. Even if he tries, the sound of your labored breaths, the rapid pulse beneath your skin, the scent of your sweat, and the color in your cheeks never escapes him.
The scent of you after a shower—fresh, clean, and so naturally you—it calms his nerves and makes his skin a little heated. And if you use one of his products, maybe his shampoo or soap, just something he usually uses. Hunter will immediately recognize the scent, and he's struggling not to press you up against the wall and mark you right then and there.
When you make those tiny little sounds not many can hear, and only he can. A breathy yawn. A tiny groan. A relieved sigh. A melodic tune. It messes with his senses. In both the good way and the bad way. The good way being he immediately calms down if he's in a terrible mood at that moment, that is if you were just humming. The bad way is that he wants to see if you can make other sounds.
ECHO
The way you ask him for help even in mundane things. You always look at him with kind eyes when you do so, bright and warm as you thank him. There's nothing really out of the ordinary about that, but Echo finds himself guilty of finding that innocent glimmer in your eyes so irresistible. He's trying to be a gentleman, but you make it so difficult for him to.
He won't admit it, but it drives him crazy when he sees you defending him from the regs. He could handle himself just fine, he's faced worse than egotistical Shinies and their empty threats. But the sight of you standing up against them fills him with the strong urge up to pull you away into an empty storage room and thank you for your noble actions.
Cotton shorts. Tank tops. Loose pajamas. Short sleeves. Anything that fits your figure perfectly well, Echo will have to restrain stop himself from gaping. Something about seeing you in casual clothes while walking around the ship triggers something within him, and he finds himself guilty because he can't stop himself from staring at your legs when you walk by.
The two of you could be lounging around in your free time, when you suddenly place your legs over his lap. Echo will turn into a statue the next second. Because he's battling an inner war within himself. Not to stare down at your legs, not to reach out and touch your skin, not to feel the softness of your thighs, not to push them apart and—
Another turn on for him is when you talk in your morning voice or just your sleepy voice in general. The natural rasp makes it so sultry even without trying. He's gonna be spending the rest of the day trying not to think about your voice. And how you would sound like saying his name.
TECH
When you remember random facts from his rambling, bringing them into the conversation or even mentioning them out of nowhere. He's just surprised that someone remembers tiny details others would normally forget. And if you correct him about something, he's either going to be incredibly annoyed—or mysteriously aroused.
You both know you can never win against him in an argument or a debate, but Maker he secretly enjoys the way you get so riled up in trying. The fierce spark in your eyes might have him a little breathless. Or when you're just being competitive in general. He's both amused and frustrated by it. Amused because he knows he's going to win again. Frustrated because you don't have any idea what you're doing to him.
The moment you do win in a debate or argument, you'd give him this victorious grin as you tease him saying things like. "How does it feel to finally lose, genius?" While leaning so close to him. His breathing will get a little heavier in the next second, and maybe he'll excuse himself to another room before it can undo him.
Most of the time he's the one infodumping, but when you do it? Looking so passionate and enthusiastic in what you're telling him? Heart eyes behind his googles. Sometimes, he's not even listening to what you're saying. Too busy watching the syllables shape your mouth. Too busy staring at your lips. Too busy thinking about the possibilities if he pressed his on them.
When he finds you sitting in his pilot seat, it makes him stop and his brain malfunctions by different thoughts. It's normal, you're just sitting there while you gaze at the stars or maybe to escape the rest of his brothers. But he's thinking about how you look so good there. How comfortable you look in his seat. How he's wishing he's the chair instead. How he's jealous of it.
CROSSHAIR
Whenever you roll your neck around as you groan, he's suppressing the curse stuck in his throat. Then, you'd stretch your arms up, and the tiny glimpse of your midriff catches his attention. He'll immediately sharpen his gaze, pretending not to stare. But you knew damn well he's watching.
The small habit of yours when you're adjusting your own gear or even fixing his? It's oddly personal and intimate. To see you handle his equipment with such care. He sees the way you softly glide your palm along his rifle, the way you sort out his armor when he's too tired, or the way you polished every gear with tenderness, and thinks to himself: "Would she do the same to me?"
He often teases and challenges your expertise, just to see you take the bait. And sometimes, he'll even make some lie up to mess with your mind. And the smug little smile when you know you're right? Oh, you're just asking him to wipe it off of your lips in many different ways.
When you give him that sharp glare, craning your neck up just to meet his stare? It does something to him. Oftentimes, it's because you were arguing yet again. He finds your attitude both infuriating and tempting. Especially when you do that little huff and roll your eyes as you walk away to finish the conversation. His fingers twitch at his sides so as not to drag you back to finish it. In one way or another.
When you nibble on something. A stylus, a snack, one of his toothpicks, your nails, your lips. Anything. It just does something to him he can't explain. And he's spending the entire time watching you, glaring at your lips, the thoughts on his mind too unsafe for you to know. He'll act like he's annoyed by your little habit, but on the inside, he's tempted to replace it with something else.
WRECKER
When you give him that little cheeky smile when you're being playful. Oh, it always makes his heart skip a beat to see you look mischievous and coy. It's like you're begging him to kiss you senselessly until you're out of breath.
Complimenting him! He immediately melts when you praise him. Sometimes, you lean up and whisper it in his ear. He turns so red it'll put the paint in the Corries armors to shame. Now, he's constantly trying to be good for you. Just to hear your praise again. Just so you could whisper it in his ear. Just so he has something to remember late at night while he's—
Tackling him with a hug out of nowhere. Always gets him giggly and happy! Or when you're being extra touchy with him. Grasping his hand, stroking his arm, squeezing his bicep, patting his thigh. He allows it all, craves it even, and wishes he could do the same thing with you. Only a little greedier. Only a little rougher. Only a bit more curious with little clothes at the way.
The sound of you cursing. Whether by accident or intentional. Wrecker blinks in surprise, always caught off guard when you do it. You always say it with that sharp hiss or an exhausted exhale, and he swallows down the dryness of his throat to stop himself from telling you to say it again.
Again, he's a pretty big guy. If you're shorter than him, it'll immediately trigger his cuteness aggression. But underneath it? He's thinking about the sheer size difference between the two of you. How his massive frame could cover you whole, how his hand could wrap around your entire thigh, how his shoulders could dwarf yours, how he would fit if he was inside—
CONTENT: The Bad Batch and my favorite Modern AU tropes <3
RATING: SFW
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HUNTER
THE SINGLE DAD NEXT DOOR
You recently moved into a quiet little neighborhood for your new job, and the quiet suburban street already captured your heart because of its scenery and the peaceful atmosphere. Plus, the amount of cute dogs being walked around was also a nice bonus!
You were hauling boxes from your car, making a round of trips back and forth along the front yard towards your porch. It was a tiring task to do all by yourself, but you had no one else to help you. And it's the last of your stuff anyway, the rest of the heavier boxes were moved in by the courier guys earlier that morning.
Exhaling, you wiped off the sweat gathering at your temple when you heard a voice from beside you.
"Hi there!" A little blonde girl greeted you over the fence, waving her hand around. "Are you our new neighbor?"
You glanced up, surprised to find the girl there. Nevertheless, you offered her a tired smile and nodded.
"Yup, just moved in today! Nice to meet you, new neighbor. Currently taking a break here before I start again."
"That looks like a lot. Do you need any help?"
"Oh, no. I'm fine! Don't worry, I can manage, but thank you. . ."
"Omega," The blonde supplied for you, smiling wider. "And nice to meet you too! Be right back, I'm gonna call my dad to come and help."
You blinked, hand raised to stop her, but she was already sprinting away inside her house. A few moments later, she came out again with a man in tow. And your jaw dropped at the sight of her dad—broad shouldered, ruggedly handsome, a swagger in his gait, and the most interesting tattoo you ever saw.
The moment you locked gazes, it was as if there was a spark of connection that clicked. His eyes widened by a fraction, almost like he was surprised by you as well, while you swallowed the sudden lump in your throat when you noticed how those dark eyes trailed down your body—subtly appraising you.
"Here's my dad!" Bright little Omega announced, tugging the man by his wrist. "I told him we should help the new neighbor, and he said yes."
Finally, you tore your eyes away from her dad and smiled down at her. Though, you could still feel his stare stuck on you, causing your cheeks to flush deeper. And it was not from the exertion.
"That's kind of you Omega, thank you."
"No problem!"
Then, the girl was skipping towards your car, leaving you and her dad alone.
Before you could speak, the man was extending his hand out towards you. "I'm Hunter, Omega's father. It's nice to meet you, new neighbor."
You smiled, more bashful now, and shook his hand. "Likewise, Hunter. Although, I'm sorry to bother you. I hope you weren't too busy with anything before she asked you to help?"
Hunter merely shook his head, his smile growing when he looked at his daughter carrying a bag in her arms.
"No, we were just spending the weekend baking. Which reminds me, after we're done, maybe you'd want some of the brownies we made?"
You held up your hands, about to refuse, when Omega's voice resonated from behind.
"Yeah! We made tons. Come eat with us after we're done with your stuff!"
Well, with no choice left, you agreed with a laugh. And for another hour, the father-daughter duo helped you with the remainder of your boxes. They were even kind enough to piece the furniture together. When the three of you were finally finished, Omega was tugging you back to their house—excited to share her homemade brownies with you.
And that was the start of your close friendship with your neighbors. As the weeks passed, your bond with them only grew more whenever Omega invited you over for dinner with the excuse of "We made too many again."
But you knew the reason why she was so adamant in having your company over, because there was something going on between you and her father. Not yet, at least, but there was definitely something that was yet to be addressed.
He called you mesh'la ever since the first moment he helped you, always offering to fix any broken parts in your home, finding an excuse to talk with you for hours. Then, there were the lingering glances and touches. You noticed how his hand seemed to stay on your waist for a second longer than necessary, you also noticed how his eyes and voice softened when talking to you.
How he's always there in an instant when you call him over for help, looking concerned and asking what's wrong in that soft tone. You also saw the way he looked at you when you were with Omega. Most of the time with a warm look of a father, and sometimes with a concealed longing of a man.
In the span of a few months, you've made their house feel new. Because now you were in the picture—and it felt like you've always been there right from the start.
But still, there was a problem with Hunter.
Months of dancing around each other, pretending not to feel the tension between the two of you, and trying to suppress the desire to confess what you've been both feeling.
One night, Hunter came back home from work.
He was tired, his muscles ached for his bed, as his feet dragged across the front porch. He was more than ready to take a shower and hit the hay, until—
He opened the door, expecting to see Omega eating her dinner, but instead found her sleeping on the couch. It would've been a normal sight, and it wouldn't be the first time she slept there waiting for him to return. But what stopped him in his tracks and made his heart pound so hard in his chest was you.
You were sleeping on his couch as well, hugging Omega close on top of you, curled and comfortable against each other.
And the sight melted all the exhaustion in his being in an instant.
Hunter smiled, a surge of warmth igniting in his chest, making his way over to the couch as quietly as he could. He brought the couch blanket over to your bodies, before placing a kiss—a quick peck to Omega, and one that lingered on your temple—muttering a soft goodnight under his breath.
He wouldn't mind the exhaustion weighing his bones if it meant coming back to this.
Back to his home. Back to his girls.
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ECHO
THE CAFE CRUSH
Your favorite cafe has a new barista, and he’s the one with the kind golden brown eyes, an adorable smile, and forearms that flex when he wipes down tables. You've never seen him before, being a regular customer here for the past year has left you acquainted with most of the staff.
It was obvious he was new in town, and has just been recently hired in this quaint shop. When you came up to him at the counter, he gave you a warm smile and a cheerful greeting.
"Hello, ma'am! I'm Echo, your server for today. What can I get you?"
You returned the greeting and smile, and ordering your usual drink in a familiar flourish. The other baristas would've known your order before you could even say it, after all you've been a regular for the past year now, but Echo was new and somehow you wanted him to settle more comfortably in this place.
"Alright, please wait for your name to be called for your order." He typed something on his tablet, a faint blush on his features. "Uh, may I ask for your name? S-So, I can write it down."
His genuine tone didn't sound like a rehearsed line that most employees repeat on a daily basis, and you told him your name. He beamed, nodding, typing away your name and muttering something under his breath. Something along the lines of "pretty name" and "suits her" to which you blushed at.
You noticed that each time you come back the following week, the new barista was there behind the counter—always greeting you in that shy gleeful manner that never fails to make your heart and stomach fluttering uncontrollably.
Echo, you discovered his name, was not only a hard-working man. He was also a sweet gentleman. Every time, before you left the cafe, he stopped you to ask how your drink was. Then, he'd inquire you if there's anything he could do for improvements, or make any adjustments with your drinks. Something told you he was just finding an excuse to talk to you, but you always found yourself staying longer than you should.
At first, you thought he was just asking you all these because he was new, and most likely wanted feedback on his work. He asked you how long have you been a regular at the cafe, and you got so lost in the moment. And during the whole time, Echo listened attentively—his eyes never left yours.
He remembered your order after the second visit, started drawing little smiley faces on your cups, and always saved you the corner seat when it’s too crowded. It's your favorite spot in the room, and how he managed to remember it was a mystery.
Maybe he's been watching you during the hours of your stay, and you were guilty of doing the same when he's busy serving other customers. The week went by, and you were questioning yourself about the new tension between the two of you. The lingering glances, the one too many accidental brushes of your hands when getting your order, and how he started calling you mesh'la every time you talked.
But you didn't want to assume anything, so you only smiled and thanked him before going to your little corner.
Until one day, the little smiley faces on your cups suddenly became hearts. At first, you assume he was just tired of the same drawing and decided to try something else. So, you ignored it for the time being, even though it made your stomach flutter each time you received another cup with another heart each time you went back.
And every time he handed you your order, he wouldn't set it down on the counter for you to pick it up. He held it towards you, a shy smile on his face, and you closed your hand over his—mirroring his smile whilst you thanked him.
The third week, you finally approached him when the shop neared its closing time. Again, he was wiping down the tables, humming a soft tune under his breathe. He didn't notice you approaching at first, until you tapped his shoulder and smiled when he did a double take at you.
Handing him a napkin, you didn't say anything else and left him in the cafe with your ears burning. On the napkin, your number was written down along with a heart and a short message.
– to the cute barista, xoxo
Another week has passed, you haven't stopped by the cafe in fear of getting rejected by the new barista. In the comfort of your home, you were surprised to receive a call from an unknown number. You were hesitant to answer it, but still picked your phone up.
"Hello?"
"Mesh'la? Is that you? This is your number, right?"
You know that voice anywhere, and you couldn't stop yourself from smiling at the sound. You were half-tempted to prank him by saying it was a wrong number, but when he repeated the question—shy and hesitant—your heart melted in surrender.
"Yeah," You were a little breathless, so you forced yourself to speak clearer. "It's me. You finally called."
"Oh, thank the Maker!" Echo beamed through the phone, and you smiled wider at his adorable energy. "I was just calling to uh... Well, you haven't been coming these past few days, and– I was just wondering if you were alright?"
"I'm doing good, don't worry about me." You replied, wracking your mind for an excuse. "Just been busy with work and all. You know how it goes."
You felt bad lying to him, but you couldn't just tell him you were being a coward by avoiding him. Specifically, avoiding the possibility of getting rejected, and having to suffer the stinging consequences afterwards. But sweet Echo only sighed in relief, his smile evident through his next words.
"Then, when you're free, maybe you could stop by again? I miss having my. . . favorite regular around here."
You could just die at the spot, your heart bursting into fireworks at his words. You were about to tease him, when he followed it off with another message that ultimately stopped your heart from beating.
"Look, I know I shouldn't be saying this on the phone, but I've been wanting to ask you out for a long time. I thought the hearts would be obvious, but I guess that's my fault for not being too direct. So, I was wondering if you're interested in going on a date with me?"
You've never said yes so fast in your entire life, internally squealing when the sound of his laugh echoed through the phone.
"I can't wait," Echo spoke again, his tone softening. "I can't wait to see you again, mesh'la. Maybe next time, I'll buy you coffee instead of serving it to you."
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TECH
THE LIBRARY TUTOR
The first time you saw him was during one of your free periods, your professor called in an emergency again for the second time this month, and you were left with nothing to do for the remaining three hours until your next class.
When you entered the library, you were surprised to see a stranger occupying your usual spot. A ridiculous pile of papers in front of him, his laptop open at his side, and two thick textbooks on the other.
Taking a look around, you were unlucky to find that most of the spots have been taken by someone else or by a group of people studying together. The only available seat would be the one in front of him.
Having no choice, you sighed to yourself and walked towards his direction. He didn't even acknowledge your presence when you sat across his—your—seat, barely looking up from his papers and continuing to mutter something under his breath.
You took that as a sign he didn't mind the shared table, so you quietly got your stuff out and worked on a pending assignment. For a while, you forgot he was even there. Too focused with a problem you've been stuck for the past ten minutes. No matter how many times you revised your solutions, it was not the result you wanted.
"You missed the variable from your first equation."
You jolted upright, blinking in shock.
The stranger across wasn't looking at you. He fixed his circular glasses, gaze zeroed in on your paper. "If you remembered to include that variable into your equations, you would have solved that problem ten minutes ago."
"Excuse me?" You could only gape at his blunt tone, and he finally lifted his eyes to meet yours.
"Would you like some help? It appears you are in need of it." The stranger inquired, and you fought back the urge to bristle. However, you couldn't even deny the fact you indeed needed help. This problem has been eating your mind away since your professor discussed it, and you're certain you're going to combust if you forced yourself to understand it.
So, you swallowed your pride and nodded.
He only nodded, inching himself closer, completely disregarding his own papers.
"Alright, I will first explain to you the context of the topic. Starting from the very first subject. Followed by the appropriate formulas you need in order to solve the problem. You have your notes with you, I assume? Disregard that, we will make new ones. Oh, and my name is Tech by the way."
And Tech proceeded to explain with the frightening accuracy and knowledge that would've put your own professor to shame. After all the problems have been solved, not only did you understand the subject clearer, but Tech also crafted new notes for you—and they were admittedly much more organized than yours.
After that first encounter, you began visiting the library in hopes to see him again. And he was always there, sitting at the same place you found him time and time again. Even where there were vacant spots when there were not many people in the library, he always chose that corner—and he'd looked up the moment he heard you approaching, briskly adjusting his collar or fixing his sleeves.
Each time you returned, Tech became more talkative with you. He no longer talked about papers, lessons, or formulas. Sometimes, when the two of you finish early, he'll start sharing something personal outside his campus life. And in turn, you start sharing bits and pieces of your life as well. Your bond gradually shifted into something more akin to friendship—but you can't help develop a small crush on him which makes you feel guilty.
One day, you found him again in your usual spot. Though, you immediately paused in your tracks when you noticed that the chair across from him was gone. It made you disappointed, assuming he didn't want your company at that moment.
You were about to turn away and find another spot, when he called your name and waved you over.
"Where are you going? Your seat is here."
You told him you don't see your chair, assuring him you could find somewhere else to study.
"Don't be absurd," Tech scoffed, making a gesture of his hand to his side. "I moved your seat beside me. In this way, I could teach you better. And you do not have to lean forward every time."
You blinked, dumbfounded. "Oh. Alright then."
It's safe to say you were more than distracted the whole time. You pretended not to notice how his hand lingered over yours when he corrected your errors, you ignored how close he was when he was looking over your shoulder to check your progress, and you chose not to be affected when he's murmuring a soft praise at your work.
After you were done, your heart still wouldn't stop beating so wildly beneath your chest. To escape the confusing feeling, you started packing your things away quicker than usual. However, before you could leave the area, Tech grabbed your arm and held you back from stepping away.
"I know our interactions are purely of academic motives," He averted his gaze, voice growing quiet. "But I– I cannot help but wonder. . . if you would be interested in meeting at another setting? Outside the campus preferably."
You didn't know what possessed you, maybe it's the way you found him stammering for the first time endearing, or the way your heart stuttered at the sight of his blush.
But you said yes, softly and warmly.
And Tech visibly brightened at that, wearing a rare grin on his face.
"Good, I have been planning to ask you for a while. I want to get to know you better. And to know if you are interested in doing the same."
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CROSSHAIR
THE GRUMPY NEIGHBOR WITH A CAT
You heard of rumors going around in your apartment complex about a new neighbor moving in that week. All you heard from the apartment manager was that the new neighbor moved in alone, and much to your surprise, he now lives in the apartment next to yours.
As a welcoming gift, you made the effort to bake cookies in order to get on his good graces. After all, it would be quite awkward to share the same floor with someone you're not acquainted with. And so, you took the baked goods after you wrapped them in a decorative box.
When you knocked on his door, you waited on bated breath holding the small box in your hands. From the inside, you could hear footsteps shuffling nearer towards the door.
And it finally opened, you blinked in confusion at the sight of a dark shirt. Until you crane your neck up, and freeze to your spot when sharp brown irises glared at you. And oh, your new neighbor was handsome. Terrifying, but drop dead handsome. His lithe and lean frame almost reached the top of his doorway, he has a tattoo (or was it a scar?) running down his right eye—similar to a rifle's crosshair.
Between his lips, a toothpick shifted as he assessed you quietly. For a while, neither of you spoke. Only stared, studying each other, and you almost forgot what you came here for. Until he finally blinked, opening his door wider and crossing his arms.
"Can I help you?"
You snapped yourself out of your daze, blushing.
"Oh, sorry. Hi! I'm your neighbor, I live two doors just down the hall. I heard you just moved in a day ago, and here! I made you some cookies as a welcome gift."
You held up the small box, a red ribbon tied neatly around the item, and held your breath as his piercing gaze flickered down to it. Another beat passed, and a swirl of embarrassment pooled in your stomach at the realization that he may not like sweets—he did seem like the kind of guy who hated it.
To your great surprise, he took the box out of your hands wordlessly. His mouth remained in that slight sneer, but there was a noticeable warmth falling over his mask.
"Thanks." Short, curt, and direct.
Sighing in relief, you were about to ask him if he was allergic to any kind of nuts when a small sound mewled through the doorway.
Then, a soft mass bumped into your leg.
You almost jumped in shock, until you glanced down and saw a white ragdoll rubbing itself against your legs. The cat mewled again, its fluffy tail wrapped around your shin as it continued to rub itself on you affectionately.
"Oh my stars, hi!" You couldn't contain the squeal escaping from your mouth, dropping down to a crouch to pet the sweet cat. "Look at you! Such a sweet girl, or boy? Oh, you're definitely a girl. Aren't you a pretty girl!"
Immediately, she started purring at your touch, rubbing her head against your palm.
From above, you didn't notice your neighbor staring at the scene with wide eyes. His toothpick almost fell out of his lips. His cat never liked anyone before, and she certainly never purred for someone else other than him. Well, that was his fault—he did spoil her to death—but now it's his first time seeing her approach someone and not get all hissy at them.
"Huh," Crosshair leaned against the doorway, raising an eyebrow at you. "She never lets anyone touch her. Not even my brothers."
Blinking, you almost forgot about your neighbor standing there. You quickly stood up, brushing the fur off your jeans, and smiled at him.
"I guess I'm her favorite neighbor already?" You joked, attempting to lighten the atmosphere, but all you received was an indifferent scowl.
Coughing, you held out a hand instead and introduced yourself. He shook your hand, firm and fleeting, introducing himself as Crosshair before taking both the cookies and his cat back inside.
Ever since that day, you barely saw him out of his apartment. You never really talked to him after that, at least not an actual conversation that lasted for five minutes. Whenever you shared the same elevator ride, it's always filled with palpable tension and awkward silence.
He's the kind of guy who didn't need to talk in order to establish his intentions—his dark leather jackets, cutting glares, and imposing height said it all.
Don't talk to me.
As much as you wanted to strike up a conversation with him, to ask him about his cat, you kept your mouth shut in fear of making a fool of yourself. His icy demeanor always kept you on your toes whenever you crossed paths, yet he always accepted your occasional gifts with a tip of his head before shutting himself back inside.
His cat, however, loved you. Always snuck her way into your place constantly. You ended up being a cat-sitter more often than not, which annoyed her owner to no end. One night, you heard a knock on your door, and you opened it to see him standing there—arms crossed against a fitting dark shirt wearing that usual scowl on his face.
He always came for her, picking her up whenever he arrived home from wherever he went. And you always give her back, it's basically a routine for the past month now.
"She's a good roommate," You joked, handing the sweet ragdoll into his arms. "I think she likes me more now."
Crosshair only hummed, sharp eyes locked on you, glinting. "She's not the only one."
You only gaped at that, staring after his retreating figure down the hall. Only when he disappeared into his apartment, you locked yourself in yours and squealed into your hands.
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WRECKER
THE GROCERY RUNS
After a long week of endless work, you decided to make a lovely dinner and maybe a bottle of wine as an extra treat for yourself. Only did you realize that you were short on the ingredients. So, you grabbed your keys and made your way to the closest grocery store near you.
You lost track of time, ending up grabbing more items than you initially planned. Now that you're here, it was reasonable to gather the things you needed to restock your pantry and fridge. Your cart was almost full to the brim, and you needed one last item before heading back home.
Unluckily for you, the cereal you wanted was located on the highest shelf. You cursed everything—yourself, the cereal box, the person who placed that there—but you're not going home without your favorite cereal. So, you leaned on your toes and tried to reach for the box as best as you could.
"Here, I gotcha!" A large arm extended over yours and your cereal was suddenly grabbed off of the shelf.
Turning to your side, you saw a grinning man who radiated an infectious energy that you couldn't help but feel grateful than annoyed. He handed you the cereal box, before grabbing his own—the same one you chose—and chucked it back to his cart. It surprisingly landed inside, and the sight amused you even more.
"Thanks for that," You smiled at him, placing the box into your own. "I must've looked silly trying to get it myself."
"Ah, don't worry about it. Just helping out a pretty damsel in need." He winked at you, and you couldn't help but roll your eyes playfully at his words. "I'm Wrecker! Need help with anything else, pretty lady?"
Crossing your arms, you tilted your head up and met his gaze. "Pretty lady? You're one straightforward guy, huh. You call every lady you help pretty?"
"Only the ones in the cereal aisle," Wrecker winked at you again, and you shared a laugh at that.
You just noticed the expansive scar running across the side of his head. It brewed a quiet curiosity within you, how he managed to earn such scar, but you quenched the thought when you realized it must've been insensitive for you to wonder a personal detail.
Instead, you tore your eyes away from the scar and met his eyes. "Thank you again, Wrecker. You heading out to check those?"
"Yeah! And you?"
"Same here. Guess we can walk back together, huh?"
"Yeah! Why not?"
And so, the two of you proceeded to check out your items while having a cheerful chat. In the span of ten minutes, you managed to make a new friend in the grocery store in an unexpected way. Not that you minded, Wrecker's presence was just a ball of sunshine and warm energy—similar to a Golden Retriever who cannot contain its zoomies.
Before you parted ways, he offered to carry all your bags back to your car. Who knew a random stranger from the cereal aisle could be a kind and sweet gentleman? He was beginning to grow on you, and it hasn't even been a day with him. After successfully putting all your bags into your car, you thanked him again for the third time.
He waved after you, still wearing that infectious grin on his face, before he returned back to his car carrying his absurd amount of bags.
You honestly thought that would be the last time you'd see him, because what are the odds of bumping into each other again in the future? However, fate seemed to pull both of your threads back together. Because the following week after that, you were back at the same grocery store to refill your stock again when suddenly—
"Hey, it's you!" Wrecker called from the side, his wide grin plastered on his face. "The pretty damsel from the cereal aisle."
You blinked in surprise, then chuckled warmly as you made your way over to him. "I have a name, you know? Plus, I don't call you the random man who helped me get my cereal, do I?"
Wrecker laughed, loud and carefree, placing both of his hands on his hips. "Touché! Alright, I'll use your name. It's not my fault pretty lady suits you better."
Again, like the first time, he helped you with carrying your bags back to your car after check out. Though, this time, he lingered for a while. You caught up with each other, right there on the parking lot beside your car—laughing and smiling the whole time you exchanged your week's events.
After that, every week for your grocery run, you and Wrecker would meet again—coincidentally or not—in the cereal aisle or another. Until the sixth week, you forgo in bringing your car, since you don't really need to buy much. As expected, Wrecker was already there waiting for you inside.
"No car today?" He asked, and you shook your head as a response. "Oh, that's okay! You can hop on in my ride. You're not that far from here, are ya?"
On the car ride back home, you kept shifting glances to him and he was doing the same thing to you. There was this unspoken tension in the air, and no amount of volume from the radio could drown out the questions flashing across your mind at the speed of light.
Thankfully, you arrived back at your place within a few minutes.
Wrecker immediately hopped out of the driver seat, bounding over to the other side before you could even remove your seatbelt. Then, he opened the passenger door for you, his grin unusually shy.
Your heart skipped a beat at the sight, stepping out of the vehicle wearing your own demure smile.
"Thanks for the ride, Wrecker. And for helping me so many times."
Before he could even say anything in return, you leaned up on your toes and kissed his cheek. Then, you were grabbing your things and hurrying inside of your house.
Once inside, you took a peek through the curtains and saw him quietly cheering to himself. Touching the spot where you kissed him, and even doing a little adorable dance that had you laughing to yourself.
You can't wait for him to find the piece of paper you left on the passenger seat—the one with your number written down on it.
