Lesson 5: Do not succumb to fear; it can kill you more quickly than true danger
Masterlist
Pairing: Wrecker x Reader
Words: 8600 words
Warnings: Fluff, a little spider?
Taglist: @haloangel391 @sunset-toast
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Controlling the urge to accidentally splash the bespectacled trooper with urine became more and more difficult as he kept asking questions about Cataclysm wyverns. You did not have any problem with answering his questions, other than the fact that answering meant opening your mouth and opening your mouth invited an acid taste to coat your taste buds. Your purifying mask was dearly missed.
You lost track of how many times you waved Tech off in an attempt to dissuade him. If only he could just wait until you gave him the Compendium, he'd have all the answers he wanted and then some, but no. Even his brother's order had no effect; he asked questions over questions, pushing you to admit defeat before the last of your sanity left your body.
Between pants you explained to how Shrieking Sylph could create tornadoes with the mere beat of its wings, how Lockjaw could take bites off literal mountains and would have told him how Deathmarch poisoned the ground with every step when it became too much and you dropped to your knees. Your gunlance touched the grass before you did. With an urgency you hadn't felt since, well, less than an hour ago- which was way too soon to your liking-, you pulled your helmet off before emptying your stomach on the forest floor.
Tears ran down your cheek at the acid burning your throat. A canteen appeared in your field of vision and you shakily reached for it. You shuddered as you washed your mouth and spit the water onto the grass. You looked up at Tech through blurry eyes, jaw tight. He hadn't stopped typing on his datapad, unfazed by your predicament. You fingers tingled with the urge to grab the piece of technology and throw it as far as you could.
"Is this a natural reaction to-" Tech started asking but was cut off by Hunter as he saw your hands close into a fist.
"I apologize." The sergeant moved between the two of you as you stood. He reached for your forearm when you huffed shakily. "Is there a way to make it more bearable for you?"
You exhaled sharply through your nose and closed your eyes. Now wasn't the time to contemplate your life choices. Or give in to your intrusive thoughts.
The rainforest was silent around you. Predators and preys had long fled the area, the fear of crossing paths with a Cataclysm pushing them to abandon their homes for safety elsewhere. It was calm enough, and more importantly, safe enough, that you could allow yourself some reprieve.
You pointed at your chest, then at Raek and finally at the sky above.
"You can avoid the smell up there?"
You nodded.
"Get in the air, we'll keep contact over comms."
You nodded again in thanks and turned on your heels to put some distance between you and the object of your annoyance. Wrecker handed over your discarded helmet as you walked by him. You hummed, thankful.
"You'll be okay?" You did not need to see his face to know he was worried.
You nodded, a small smile stretching your lips without effort. It must have reached your eyes because he mirrored your expression and stepped away to allow you access to your mount. You slid your helmet back into place and approached Raek in a light jog. He leaned down lightly, just enough for you to leap and reach up to grab your saddle. You pulled yourself up and sat while ensuring to not disturb Silica's position anchored at the base of her sire's neck.
Raek glanced back once to confirm that his cargo was ready before raising his wings and taking to the sky. The relief was near instant. The wind flowed over Raek's scales with little restriction to beat onto your armor. The ceiling of leaves was cleared in a matter of seconds and before you knew it, your eyes squinted at the unfiltered sunlight. Raek kept climbing, each beat of his wings bringing you higher and higher and away from the pungent smell that brought fear into the hearts of even the strongest wyvern.
He stabilized under a few clouds. You inhaled deeply, feeding your lungs with clean oxygen. Your muscles relaxed in satisfaction while a moan escaped your lips. Silica turned to level you with an equally relieved gaze. She chirped softly when you patted her head.
"Still in range?" Hunter's voice sounded in your ear.
"Still am," you confirmed. "Keep going South. We'll stay right above you for the last klick of the dead zone and come back once the air is breathable."
"The dead zone?" he asked, tone lowering in uncertainty.
"Ah, force of habit. It's eh- the zone in which people are most likely to die during a Cataclysm encounter," you explained. "Two klicks from the wyvern is the dead zone, ten klicks the danger zone, yada yada. But there's no Cataclysm so we're safe."
"These zones-" Before Tech could finish the sentence, the comms were drowned under the sound of a scuffle and his line cut abruptly.
Hunter's voice returned as if nothing happened, "Sounds like a plan."
You chuckled when you heard Tech's indignant complaints in the background.
For the first time in almost a whole day, you allowed the wind to pick up your worries and sweep them away. Flying was something you did on the daily, more often than not multiple times a day. Despite your lack of wings, you knew it was written in your DNA. It was a part of you, a need to fulfill else you'd get fidgety. Maybe that explained why Silica thought you were her parent.
As antediluvian as riding a wyvern was, it remained an undeniable fact that it was faster and safer than crossing the rainforest on foot.
In order to remain close enough to the clone squad should anything arise, the Starios had to fly in circle, like a predator stalking its prey. Thankfully, years of performing air maneuvers saved you from getting dizzy. What it did not help with however, was the boredom.
Scouting the horizon and keeping an eye on the ground used to be stimulating. Day and night, Halria bursted with life. Yet your little drip of repellent had cleared the area so thoroughly that you only had water to keep yourself entertained.
The moisture from the clouds gathered onto your visor and with nothing else to do, you tucked your chin to your chest, chose one droplet and mentally cheered it on to win the race against its peers to the bottom of your visor. The entertainment was short lived and showed how bad you were at choosing because out of three water droplets, none won the races.
You huffed and wiped the water away.
"Does one of you want to try his hand at flying?" you asked, fingers pressed to the side of your helmet to activate the comms.
"I prefer to stay on the ground where its stable and safe." Echo said.
"Tech and I will pass." Hunter assured.
"Actually I would appreciate to-"
"Wrecker would love to." Crosshair cut in. You huffed a laugh at the obvious teasing.
"I eh- I don't know if I can do it." Wrecker admitted. You cocked your head, intrigued by the consideration in his gravelly voice.
"But you would like to?"
You did remember hearing of his interest to ride on Raek's back over the comms, back when you were supposed to escort them to Zeppham and before Tech opened his mouth and stole your attention away.
"It looks fun," he admitted. "But last time-"
"Last time doesn't count." Hunter rebutted. "We were all on edge. Literally. And this time, you won't be hanging by a leg."
You blinked several times. Hanging by a what? No wonder the man was scared of heights.
"You sure it'd be fine?" Wrecker's voice softened.
"I promise. We don't have to go that high either."
There was a pause.
"Okay. I'll try it." His tone wasn't the most confident, but you understood. You were used to beings fighting their fears. Granted, it was the first time you'd tackle a fear of heights but the principle was the same.
The corner of your lips moved upwards as you reached forward to Raek's neck.
"Hey big guy, wanna show Wrecker that flying is the best thing? He's a little scared so let's take it easy for him, 'kay?"
With a grumble, Raek dove and in an attempt to not scare the man further than he already was, slowed his approach once he breached the leaf ceiling.
You scooted forward and out of the saddle. With an outstretched hand, you invited the soldier to join you. Wrecker's steps faltered. You patiently waited, mind off the acid smell still floating in the air.
You were about to reassure him that it was alright to rethink his decision when he pushed forward and scaled Raek's side. He sat heavily in the saddle and you heard the tightening of his gloves around the leather as Raek resumed walking to keep up with the clones.
"Let me know when you're ready," you told him, head turned to look at him. His helmet might still be on, his taunt body was easy to read.
Silica cooed from her spot against your thighs.
"I-I am."
You hummed.
"If you need to get down, let me know." You spared him another glance. "Keep your head level. Look forward," you told him and his helmet snapped back up. "One of the best thing about flying is the view, so don't look down, look around."
"O-okay." He didn't sound convinced. You pushed through the woozy feeling in your stomach, the smell affecting you once again in a vengeance. You needed to stop talking but you'd be damned if you destroyed his attempt at overcoming his fear.
"Release your shoulders. Yeah, just like that. And keep your grip. It'll be shaky for a couple seconds until we get over the trees and stabilize, okay?"
"Okay."
You grinned. He already sounded slightly more sure. Only slightly.
You patted Reak once and he got into position. Wrecker's breath caught in his throat at the first beat of Raek's wings. He groaned, unsure and probably regretting his decision.
"Hang in there Wrecker," Echo encouraged.
"I am," he assured, the shake in his voice betraying him.
Leaves fell around you and once again, the sunlight welcomed you with open arms. The rocky movements subsided and Raek remained amongst the tree tops. The canopy of leaves created a sort of floor, creating an illusion that you were not two klicks above ground.
"You doing alright back there?" You turned to take him in.
He was so taunt he looked ready to break. His visor met yours and you saw visible efforts into his attempts at relaxing his shoulders. It took some time, the muscles slowly releasing until finally he looked like he could breathe.
"I'm alright." His helmet slowly moved downward. You reached over before he could get a good look and lifted his helmet back up with a finger.
"Look around," you reminded him.
He obliged. You kept a close eye on him, ensuring that he wouldn't glance down again. His breath stuttered.
"Woah," he breathed.
His head swiveled slowly, taking in Halria's natural landscape. The mostly untouched wilderness was a beauty to behold. Cities and villages were build around nature as to not disturb the ecosystems that kept them alive. After all, they were part of it; they came from the earth, used its resources to thrive and would return to it once their role has been fulfilled. The circle of life, a core pillar of Halrian's culture.
"So, how's the view?" you asked.
"It's really nice." He kept his eyes glued to the horizon.
"Told ya." You grinned and breathed deeply.
Silence followed, light and comfortable. Wrecker kept lightly moving against your back as he took in the scenery.
"What's the other best thing?" he asked after a few minutes, the painted face on his helmet staring you down.
"What?"
"You said, one of the best thing in flying was the view. What's the other?"
"How calm and freeing it is." Wrecker hummed, looking back around. "Up here, you feel so light it's like you can forget everything. The wind blows but there's calm through the noise, you know? It's so serene. And the sky is endless. You could just go wherever whenever. I don't think there's a better feeling than this sense of freedom."
A few seconds stretched in silence and only then did you notice your bout of rambling. You scratched at the heat creeping up your neck.
"Ah, sorry about that. It might sounds a bid dumb-"
"It's not," he shook his head firmly. "It sounds nice."
Your gaze fell forward out of habit. Thankfully your helmet was still firmly in place and hid your softening expression.
"And then there's the adrenaline rush when you go crazy fast, but that might be a bit too much for your first time," you added to remove his attention from you when he leaned closer.
"Y-yeah. I think we're good like that," he forced a laugh.
"We're good," you confirmed.
Wrecker, despite his initial fears, fared pretty well. He remained still, managed to keep his body to a fairly relaxed state and overall did not seem to panic. It could be the easiest session of fear acclimation you ever did. A great thing, considering your attention was needed elsewhere.
Silica chirped, her own wings attempting to open. She only managed to slightly lift them before the wind pushed them back to her body.
"You'll get there eventually, Silly baby. Now might be a bit soon."
A helmet hit yours from behind, startling you.
"Oh, she wants to fly too!" Wrecker remarked.
You swallowed, all too aware of the hard armor pressing against yours.
"She still lack the muscles to fight the winds though."
"Aw." Wrecker reached around you to pat the baby's head. "You'll grow up big and strong! Don't worry!"
She thrilled in response.
"She'll be able to fly this high up in about a year."
"A year is nothin'! You got this!"
You offered your own pats, agreeing with Wrecker.
"Will you fly with her then?" he asked.
"Only if she chooses me."
"She needs to choose you?"
"Yeah. Riding requires trust. And I don't mean the I-would-lend-you-my-favorite-weapon kind of trust, but the deepest kind there is. The I'd-let-you-stab-me-because-I-know-you-have-a-good-reason kind of trust." Otherwise they could propell you from their backs when in midair or bite you in half. Not an ideal situation when you have no wings and no hard exterior shell. "And this is only truly acquired between partners. Raek chose me as his Rider, so I can ride on his back. Anyone else would be at risk of getting hurt if they tried."
"Oh. So- eh- Is it okay for me to…?" he trailed off, his voice lowering into uncertainty. You reached behind yourself to lay a hand on his knee in hopes of appeasing him.
"You're fine. There's a difference between being carried and riding," you explained, dropping your hand back to your side. "Riding means that I can give orders and directions. It means that we are a team through thick and thin. Being carried is simply to enjoy the ride without a say on anything. If someone other than me tried to take control, it theoretically could get messy."
"Only in theory?" Echo asked over comms.
"There are always exceptions to a rule," you pointed out. "A majority of wyverns are guarded and warried in nature since the world can be unforgiving, but Raek is easy-going and sociable. He wouldn't mind some small requests as long as he or I trust the person. Silica will most likely be the same as she grows up. She also trusts me fully since I raised her. I would advise against ordering any other wyvern though."
You felt Wrecker's body deflate against your back.
"Oh. So does Raek trusts me?"
"We both do," you confirmed. "He also wouldn't have let you carry his only child if he didn't."
You could almost feel his beaming smile.
"She's great. I hope she chooses you."
You looked at the baby and you knew she wouldn't. A wyvern only chose one Rider and she already made her choice.
"We'll see."
You could not even be mad about it. Her choice was sound.
The small mountain chain that was the Acer Range became visible. Soon enough you would reach its base and the clones would complete their mission. Then you would go home and return to your routine.
You stared ahead, unsettled. Why did you not feel excited by the prospect?
A shake brought you back to reality and made Wrecker gasp in surprise and light panic. Your hand returned to Wrecker's knee while Raek fixed you with a questioning gaze. You touched his neck in reassurance.
"All good big guy, just thinking."
He grumbled before turning back around and descending.
"Guess it's time to go back down, huh."
If Raek judged that the smell was tolerable, then it was time to regroup. Other wyverns could also think themselves sufficiently distanced from the threat and stall around to see the development.
"Get ready Wrecker, it'll be bumpy again," you warned, your grip returning onto Raek's neck.
The troopers came into view. They walked in a loose formation with Hunter at the head and Crosshair holding the rear. The men looked up as Raek flew overhead and landed meters away.
"Still in one piece?" Crosshair asked, his rifle resting upwards against his shoulder.
"Yeah! 't was great!" Wrecker admitted, dropping down Raek's back. You followed suit and thanked your partner with a few chin scratches.
"We're out of the dead zone then." Hunter walked up to you.
"Yup. And the mountains are not too far out either. Another two hours and we should be there."
"Great! And then we can get some grub!" Wrecker cheered. You repressed a laugh.
"Let's get there first and then we'll decide on our approach." Hunter said.
"Depending on the time you need to extract the crystals we might be able to start your operation today."
"Multiple variable comes into effect. Considering the rock formation surrounding the crystals, as well as their size and quantity, it might take an hour, possibly more." Tech supplied.
"Let's not waste time then. We need to get in and out, and clear the Dread Vox territory before nightfall." You resumed the march, the others in tow.
"How long until then?"
"About four hours."
"Let's make this quick."
The hike to the Acer Range was uneventful, if only a little hot. The winds on the ground were nothing compared to the ones that blew through the sky.
Wrecker groaned next to you. "Got any more rations, Crosshair?"
The sniper did not gratify his brother with a glance, choosing violence instead. "Sure do."
"Aw, would you mind if-"
"Yes."
"But-"
"You got your part. This," he says, showing off his ration bar, "Is mine." He all but shoved the whole thing in his mouth when Wrecker reached for it.
"You're mean!" Wrecker's face fell.
"Shocking it took you that long to notice," Crosshair said through his mouthful.
Hunter turned to Wrecker. His look was crystal clear. He had heard this exact chain of event before. You would bet your life it happened more than once too. "Wrecker-" he started before you jumped in.
"You can have my leftovers." You held out the pouch containing the nuts and berries you foraged before dinner last night. Thankfully, the Calamity smell was now nothing more than a memory. Your appetite had returned in earnest once the clones had pulled out their own supplies, prompting you to munch on the mix and watch the show that was a bunch of brothers interacting with each other.
Wrecker reached for the snacks with unveiled enthusiasm.
Crosshair clicked his tongue. "Figures you'd steal the guide's food."
The hand nearly grabbing the pouch recoiled. "I'm not-" The light waiver in his voice pulled your brows together.
"It's not stealing if I'm offering," you rebuked. You grabbed his bigger hand and dropped the bag into his palm. "He's just jealous I didn't offer him any."
Crosshair rolled his eyes.
Meanwhile, a grin pulled at Wrecker's lips. "I'm sure he is." He engulfed a handful, the movement quickly followed by the sagging of his shoulders and a groan. "That's so much better than rations."
"Glad you like."
You turned from him to walk up to the sergeant who was already looking at you with a soft expression.
"You didn't have to." He trailed his gaze back forward and slightly leaned sideways towards you. "You haven't eaten much," he added, his voice low enough to get swallowed under your partner's heavy footsteps.
You shrugged. "The tonic I drank earlier gave me a boost, so I don't feel the need to eat much. I would've given them to Raek otherwise."
"In that case, thank you." He pulled away and wiped the sweat covering his brow.
"Can't your brothers speak for themselves?" you asked with a grin.
He glanced down at you for a split second. "What do you mean?"
"You keep apologizing and thanking me in your brother's stead. Mainly apologizing." You held out your canteen. "Didn't take you for one to apologize to anyone, if I'm completely honest."
Hunter hummed in recognition. "Now that you point it out, I guess I did." He reached for the container and a single brow rose un emphasis. "Thank you." A breathy laugh escaped you. "Tech can be overbearing at times, but it doesn't come from a bad place, it's just how he is. His lack of filter has caused us some troubles in the past and sure, I don't usually apologize so easy, but if you decided to up and leave, we'd be in one hell of a problem." He took a few sips of water.
Now, that was interesting information that you were not surprised to hear. Tech? Causing issues because of his mouth on multiple occasions? Not too shocking.
"Ah. So you're spoiling me to stay in my good graces."
"Can you blame me?" he asked, handing back your canteen. Liquid still sloshed at the bottom. You downed the rest and strapped it back to your side.
"No."
The trees became sparse and soon you came to a halt at the bottom of a rock wall. The descending sun was a clear reminder of the race you participated in. You craned your neck and pointed at the Lemgona cave. Its entrance opened onto the side of the cliff, approximately sixty meters above ground.
"This is the cave."
Silence stretched and you turned to Hunter for his thoughts.
"It's pretty up high. I don't think we'll have time to climb up, extract the crystals and climb back down before nightfall." He glanced between the setting sun and the cave entrance.
"Who said climbing?"
His eyes narrowed in a squint. "How do you propose we get there?"
Raek leaned down next to Echo. His emerald wing lightly pushed his arm.
"How else? We're flying."
Echo looked back at Hunter, his body taunt. Tech pushed past him to climb onto the saddle.
"Better than climbing." Hunter shrugged.
"Three can go at a time." You beckoned Echo after you as you stepped up to Raek's wing. The man was more relaxed once he joined you and reached for Tech's outstretched hand. Despite the help, it was obvious the cybernetic forearm would make for a difficult climb. "Mind giving us a boost big guy?"
Raek kindly lifted his wing. Echo stumbled and caught himself onto his brother. With support, he managed to slip behind Tech while you jumped before them. A glance back confirmed that everyone was balanced and you signaled to Raek to go ahead.
The ride was short. Too short for Tech's tastes but you quickly reminded him of his initial goal. Raek left and soon after, Hunter slid down your partner's side.
The Lemgona cave opened into a long corridor, its walls sparingly covered in various crystals and moss patches. Less than three meters in and the cave became as pitch black as a stormy night where no moon shone through the sky.
The men unclipped their helmets from their belts and put them back on. Lights fixed at the side of their helmets shone to life, burning your eyes at their sudden appearance. You blinked a few times to chase away the sting before turning your back to the cave. You brought your fingers to your lips and whistled. The sound bounced against the rock wall until it faded in the distance.
"What was that for?" Crosshair asked.
A cry answered your call.
"I don't have fancy equipment like yours. Mine is more, I don't know, antediluvian?" You couldn't help the jab at Tech.
The beating of wings became closer and closer. You held your arm out and out of the sky shot a bird the size of your torso and abdomen combined. Sharp talons closed around the scales protecting your shoulder and upperarm while a beak cawked in greetings. You scratched its chest in appreciation.
"This is Chik, my Moon Feather."
Chik was a magnificent bird. His long, jet black feathers shone under the soft light of the runes marking them. The warm white glow reflected onto his sharp green eyes.
You produced a few pieces of dry meat from your pouch. He gleefully ate them and preened, the runes on his feathers shining stronger.
"Nice bird," Echo said.
You agreed with a nod. He truly was great, in more ways than one.
Tech pushed closer and you knew time had run out.
"Chik will open the way for us. Right?"
A sharp cry answered your question and Chik was airborne once more. The runes on his body shone like a beacon as he flew deeper into the cave system. The stone walls in a six meters radius became visible as if a small part of the sun - or moon in Chik's case - had been brought down to the dephts of the cave.
"Huh. Guess fancy tech is not always on par with the natives," Hunter mumbled. The beam coming from his helmet was now invisible through Chik's natural shine. He reached up and clicked it closed. "Stay close lads. The comms might jam any seconds now."
"I detect a considerable electromagnetic field," Tech supplied to which Hunter acknowledged with a grunt and added,
"Comes from all around, but its stronger below."
You looked back at him, puzzled. Before you could ask what he meant the comms line fizzled with static. It was promptly turned off.
"Are the markings on his feathers the result of man intervention?" Tech's visor covered his face for a few seconds until he pushed it upwards to type on his datapad.
You dropped your previous question in the face of Tech's curiosity. It was not worth it. You turned back around and the men's footsteps followed closely as you guided Chik to where you needed him to proceed.
The crystals were a few levels below where the ore grew more prominent. Coincidentally, it also happened to be Dread Voxes' favored grounds to meet up and mate, all due to the same electromagnetic field affecting your equipment. Nature had a funny way of protecting valuable resources.
If you were lucky, the Dread Voxes would all be on their merry way to their female's nest to prepare for the arrival of their egg. If you were very lucky, there would be no frustrated male who hadn't managed to impress a lady and would be more than happy to use your crew as an outlet. If you were even luckier, the caves would also be void of other aggressive leviathans.
It was a lot of ifs and way more luck than you tended to have on a normal day. Gunlance firmly in hands, you progressed through a tunnel leading downward.
At least you could rely on Chik to warn you of any danger in advance. While Raek had great hearing, he remained a rainforest flyer. By nature, he wasn't as reliable through the caves as he was in the trees. His sense of smell would be hindered by the lingering pheromones of mating season and he couldn't perceive the changes in electromagnetic fields that the nocturnal wyverns often emitted to guide themselves through the dark.
Chik on the other hand, was a master of both environments. He slept in caves at night and scouted the forest during the day. He could both rely on his light to roam the darkness as well as rely on the same electromagnetic field used by bigger predators to avoid them. He was the product of a perfect evolutionary line and a perfect friend to have.
"Is it far down?" Echo's unease carried through his voice.
"Not too much. Just a few levels."
An arm lightly bumped into your shoulder. Wrecker muttered an apology.
"How did you find this place?" he asked soon after.
"I needed ore for a new helmet." You knocked on the side of your protective gear. It had been tedious work to gather all the materials Finn said he needed to make your vision a reality. Despite the sweat and blood, it had been oh so worth it. "Some minerals found in here are known to resist electromagnetic fields and low frequency sounds, so I wanted to make a helmet out of it. Protect my ears and all."
"Why that kind of protection in particular?" Echo wondered.
The question shouldn't have caught you off guard but it did. And it almost caused you to falter. Almost.
"I- eh- It used to be useful when I was raising a Tree Howler. They're very affectionate primates, but he was pretty mischievous and loved to sonic screech at me. Apparently, making me pass out was fun." You coughed to keep your throat open. You missed him. Him and every single one you lost that night. "So yeah. Thats how I found the crystals. Didn't think they were useful at the time, but I guess I was wrong."
Out of the corner of your eyes, you noticed Echo's visor move to meet his sergeant's. Guess your diversion wasn't subtle, not that it needed to be anyway.
"They are said to be able to bring a person back from the brink of death," Tech supplied without missing a beat and you were grateful he followed your change of subject. Until you registered his words.
Cold seeped under your skin.
"Sorry, th- what? They can what?"
"Bring a person back from the brink of death," he repeated in the same nonchalant tone like it wasn't the huge deal that it was.
A weight fell into your stomach. Healing crystals.
Was this even real? Could someone or something truly be saved using a rock? Sure, they were a nice orange color, had a weird fire pulsing into the semi-translucent shade and even radiated some warmth that you doubted to be innocent, but could this be a cocktail to prevent death? If anything, it looked like an obvious trap. Pretty things are often deadly after all.
Your heartbeat picked up at the thought Tech planted into your brain. Could you have saved your family if you had harvested the crystals months ago and not some stupid ore? Perhaps, had you not been too much of a coward in the face of the otherworldly orange, warmth-radiating crystals then you could have protected your charges like you had swore.
Warmth seeped into your armor from your neckline where Raek pressed his snout and breathed deeply. He pushed you aside lightly, a low rumble resonating through his body in chastisement. You swallowed hard. The memories of that night still haunted him as well, that you knew for a fact, and yet he was the one keeping you whole. He had forgiven you long ago… no, you doubted he even blamed you to begin with, however he was the one keeping you from breaking apart. Despite the terrible loss he subsided, he still took care of you. This care, while being exactly what you needed, was so heavy to bear.
It brought a new sense of guilt back to the surface. Raek was still grieving his mate, day after day without fail, while burdening himself with keeping you afloat. More than once you wondered if he regretted his decision to align himself with you. It must be heavy to deal with me, you'd tell him. And every time he would force you into a snuggle pile and trap you under his weight for hours until you learned your lesson and relented. Raek was strong, he could carry you and your feelings without so much as a flinch. He would carry your burdens along with you without fail. He was way heavier after all, this was nothing to him.
You stumbled under the weight of Raek's head on your shoulder. The pointed look he gave you once you got back to your feet was clear. Still heavier than my conscience will ever be, got it. You wrapped your arm under his jaw and pressed your side to his head. The contact shushed some of the angry voices resonating in your mind.
"For what it's worth," a hand brushed against your upper arm, bringing you back to reality. Echo stared back. "Even we don't know how they work. Probably need some Jedi voodoo to work or something."
Your head fell back to Raek's with a snort. He might be right.
He might also be wrong.
The tunnel split into a smaller corridor, prompting you to push the miasma of dark thoughts away to mull over later. You guided the group to the left and further down the cave system. It was a relief that the tunnels were large, otherwise you might have found yourself even more on edge. Closed areas were not your favorites, not when you could be flying in an open sky. The cold feeling creeping under your skin wasn't fear, no. It wasn't as visceral, but it reminded you that you did not belong in this place. Thankfully, Chik's light added another layer of relief as the darkness beyond his reach was absolute. Again, not a fear, but basic survival skill. Who knew what kind of teeth were waiting in the dark for a fleshy snack to venture right into their maws?
A loud gasp broke the otherwise silent atmosphere. Goosebumps spread over your arms at the surprise in the clone's voice. You spun just in time to see Echo struggle against something on his armor. He jerked his arm back in a few quick successions, curses escaping his lips. You sidestepped Wrecker to get a better look of his struggle. A few strings were stuck to his vambrace. Off-white. Shiny. Thin but surprisingly sturdy. You followed the strings with your eyes, up and up until your gaze caught the shape of two stick-like appendages poking out of a hole in the ceiling. Your breath caught in your throat.
"Echo," you whispered, the sound ending in a squeak. Of course there had to be a Silent Weaver. "Stop pullin-"
The warning came too late. The leviathan crept out of the hole, its sight sending a shiver down your spine. Eight legs, two scarily long fangs, hundreds of eyes staring you down and a sticky rope escaping out of its abdomen were just the nightmare fuel you could have done without. Its size rivalled Raek's and never in your life had you wished more that your partner had the ability to breathe fire.
"Hells." Crosshair muttered before rising his rifle.
Your name died on Hunter's tongue as soon as Echo's feet left the ground. Curses flooded the tunnel. You aimed at the silk line stuck to Echo. Bullets cut through the line, clean and effective. Echo crashed to the ground at the same time a gust of wind blew past your side. The air howled around the shockwave before ending in a loud clap as the high-pressured air hit the leviathan in the legs.
Its right side caved momentarily. The next second, its whole body came crashing down.
Reflexes took over and you jumped backwards, away from the tons of flesh falling from above. Your arm collided with something hard, sending you stumbling at the same time the leviathan hit the ground. Chik's light was snuffed by dust and rocks, leaving you to blindly crawl backwards on your ass.
Breathing was lightly tedious with all the dust, but it soon became impossible as the ground opened under your sprawled self. A feeling of free-falling gripped your guts. The feeling, while one you were familiar with and sometimes enjoyed, was deeply unsettling when you knew Raek was not there to catch you. Your eyes scrunched closed while your hands flew to cover your head. Over the sound of your heartbeat thundering in your skull, you managed to distinguish the distant sound of a roar. It might also have been the rocks hitting each others on the way down, you weren't sure anymore. A silent prayer left your lips, a last wish for your family to be safe. All breath escaped your lungs halfway through, cutting your hopes short as you hit the ground.
Pain flared from your backside up to your spine, forcing a wheeze past your lips. Through the fog of pain, you knew that every second counted. You needed to scramble away from the raining rubble if you wanted to survive. You needed to get away right this damn second. But your body was too shocked to move. Your muscles were stuck in position, unable to relax from your fetal position.
The Silent Weaver crashed a few feet away, too close for comfort but far enough that you were still breathing. Then came the first rocks, their masses meeting the ground like small explosions urging you to get the hell up. The explosions grew stronger and closer, but never quite touching you. Not enough to hurt anyway. Some hit you from the side, most likely ricochetting off the ground, but none came at you directly. At last, your hands fell from your protective stance and your eyes grew wide.
Above you, covering your body with his, was Wrecker. Even on his elbows and knees, his form dwarfed yours completely. The light on the side of his helmet burned your eyes, forcing you to squint to see the rocks hitting his back. They beat into him without respite, yet Wrecker kept his stance without faltering.
The ruckus progressively came to a stop. As the world stilled, you reached towards his chest. Your fingers stopped short of touching the plastoid. What could you do? There was nothing you could truly help with, not in your position. Was he hurting? He must be. There were no sings of straining on his part, but who knew what kind of weight he was taking on right now.
"Wrecker," you whispered in a low breath, voice wavering in concern.
"Are you okay?" he asked in stride. How he managed to sound so composed, you had no idea.
"Y-yeah, I am."
"You sure?" he pressed. "Nothin' broken?"
A few beats of silence passed as you took a moment to assess your condition. Toes wiggled fine, fingers stretched between your bodies, chest raised with each breath and head tilted up to fully take him in. Carefully as to not hit his arms or legs, you shuffled from your side to lay on your back. The small space separating the two of you only allowed so much wiggle room and your side brushed onto him as you moved. Wrecker's breath stuttered audibly and you froze, scared of disturbing his position.
"Don't move too much. I- eh…" he trailed off, his helmet now touching yours at the foreheads. "Just don't."
A sharp rock stabbed the small of your back but you could ignore it.
"Okay."
A hum of approval resonated between the two of you.
Then the silence registered in your brain like a shock.
The Silent Weaver should be onto you by now. If the fall hadn't been enough to kill you, then it surely wasn't enough to kill it. Yet, the world was dark and eerily calm. Tearing your eyes from Wrecker, you tried to move your head to look around but found yourself stuck in place. His forearms, you deduced. His elbows encompassed your shoulders and he must be protecting your head with his arms.
From your limited point of view, all you could see were walls of rock surrounding you from all sides. From top to bottom, the sediment covered the two of you like a blanket. A blanket that would have crushed you to death had the man not volonteered himself to be your personal shield.
"Are you okay?" you croaked, hands now fully pressing against his chestplate- not to push him but to feel him. Maybe offer some support. Something.
"Ha. I'm stronger than I look, remember?"
You could hear his grin as you stared in light shock.
"But this is- that's-"
"This is nothin'!" he assured with such enthusiasm that you couldn't help but believe him.
"Still, we need to get out of here."
Another look around showed no opening. No gaps. Some of the rocks were small enough that you could push them, but who knew how much rubble was on the other side? Perhaps it wouldn't even budge, but it also could disturb the fragile balance that kept everything from crushing the two of you.
You stared at the walls enclosing you. They were so close. Too close. Their holds on you was tight, like the grip closing in on your chest.
Your heart picked up, fast and hard. Your next breath was heavy.
"Hey," he coaxed softly. "The others will get us out. Don't worry."
Your gaze moved back to the familiar patterns of his helmet. Forget the walls. Forget the rocks. Focus on Wrecker.
"You okay?," he asked again.
I'm okay, your brain supplied on habit, but your body wasn't fooled. Your breath cut and your fingers closed around the neckline of his armor.
"Hey, it's alright. I got you. My brothers will get us out and we'll be fine. Silica will give you headbutts soon, okay? Just, eh, keep breathing. It'll make them come faster."
A wavering smile stretched the corners of your lips.
"You promise?"
"Yeah. I promise."
"Okay."
The next breath came slightly ragged. The next one was easier and the one after that was even better. You laid there for what felt like hours, but realistically, you knew only minutes passed. You remained still, concentrating on your breathing while keeping your sight solely on him. The plastoid under your fingertips was solid, anchoring, just like his voice.
"Good girl, you're doing great," he praised, his voice more gravelly than usual thanks to the constant physical effort.
Heat spread under your skin like a wildfire. Your gaze fled away from him as you let go of the clone to gather your hands to your chest in a bout of self-consciousness. At the sight of the rocks, you closed your eyes firmly and wrung your fingers together.
Amongst the white stars swimming behind your eyelids, Wrecker was there, bare-faced and smirking. Your fingers hurt under your grip.
Only then did you truly realize that your armor brushed his in many places. Places that shouldn't be touching. Heat crept up your cheeks. Earlier, had you…? Surely you hadn't… Your hips, had they…? You desperately searched your memory, trying to remember if your hip had touched something when you shuffled to your back. Maybe? It also could have been the rocks. But then, could it also have been his codpiece? The uncertainty ate at your mind.
"What's wrong?" he asked in light urgency.
"I'm alright. Just eh-" you faltered, brain too occupied to function properly, "it's getting a bit hot in here."
"Ah, sorry. Might be my fault. Tech says I run hotter than others, or whatever that means."
You mentally facepalmed. Count on you to make him feel bad when you're the one making a mess.
"I'm sure it's not you, don't worry about it. I'm usually good with heat. It just caught me by surprise."
Good girl, your brain repeated as if to mock you. You were ready for the ground to swallow you whole for the second time that day. Hopefully it would be gracious enough to take you alone this time.
"That's good," he said and you shivered in response. Gods, you were a mess. At least your helmet was firmly in place. "Your armor looks way more comfier than mine that's for sure. Bet that helps."
"I could have one made for you if you wanted," you blurted faster than you could think. Why was your brain not functioning when he was around? Why were you talking so much?
But more importantly, why would he ever want something from you? Your ways were too outdated for them and-
"Really?"
The hope in his voice gave you pause. You tentatively looked up at him.
"Sure. I have plenty of material to spare."
"That'd be great!"
Tension left your body in a sigh.
"I'll work something out once-" you nearly jumped out of your skin at the sound of rubble being moved by your head.
Smaller rocks fell from their previous position and hit you lightly. Another beam of light pierced through the slowly crumbling wall and before long, you found yourself looking at a white, painted crosshair. The man stared you down once he dug a hole big enough to take you both in. His visor moved from Wrecker, down to you, then back up. The snort that followed was too jugdmental to be innocent. Heat flared to your cheeks once again.
"Hey Cross!" Wrecker acknowledged. "Good to see ya!"
"I'm sure," Crosshair said under his breath, followed by a snicker.
He resumed his task of moving rocks around until he could finally grab onto you and pull you out. He kept his grip on you until you managed to stay upright on the pile of debris. Once you got your bearings, you assisted digging Wrecker out.
"Ah, this feels good!" Wrecker groaned in satisfaction as he stretched his back, arms open wide. "Thanks Cross!"
His brother clicked his tongue.
"Don't do that again," he grumbled before turning to you. "Hope you know the way out of here."
You straightened. "What about the-" Words die on your tongue at the sight of the ceiling. No holes in sight. "What the hell?"
"Bigger rock fell after us," Crosshair explained. "Plugged the hole."
"Huh." Begrudgingly accepting the fact that an easy escape was not in your cards, your gaze fell down to the small hill that was the Silent Weaver, its head half gone under a boulder. "Guess we're going deeper then."
"Oh great! Look what I found!" Wrecker's voice caught your attention and you swiveled to take him in. He dug up your gunlance.
Crosshair ignored his brother to address you. "Deeper?"
"To find the annexing tunnel to go back up."
Crosshair's helmet tilted downward. You followed his line of sight to your fingers digging into your palm.
"Deeper is not better," he remarked.
"I haven't been this deep before," you admitted.
Crosshair paused. "Then how do you know about the annexing tunnel?"
Your weapon appeared between the two of you and you grabbed it from Wrecker with a thanks. Gunlance in hands, you looked back towards the void of the tunnel for a second.
"That's how this cave system works. Others have gone deeper, but they were better equipped and, well, they had their partners."
Raek's absence was a major point of anxiety. While you were a competent hunter and were capable of taking care of yourself, it was healthy to know your limits. And you knew yours. Fighting a wyvern tribe in a tunnel without competent backup or viable escape route was way past your abilities. Two, you could manage, but more than that would pose a serious problem.
"We'll try and stay under the radar." You made your way to the Silent Weaver and pulled at the silk covering parts of its body. With difficulty, you dislodged it from the leviathan to stick it to your pauldrons.
"What's that for?" Wrecker wondered, closer now.
"Covering my scent. I prefer to pass as a predator than a prey. Hopefully it's known in these parts and we'll be given space."
"Right. Make sense."
He put down his axe and did the same, while Crosshair watched from the sidelines.
"Cross! You too!"
"As if I'd ever." He sneered.
"You have to!"
"Watch me."
With a grunt, Wrecker approached his brother, determination making him look bigger. A short scuffle took place, Crosshair doing his best to keep his brother at arms lenght without giving in to his annoyance and start a full on brawl, before he seemingly gave up with the most pissed off expression and let Wrecker stick some silky webs onto him. All in all, you were grateful for the subtlety of it all. None of them yelled, and the sharp teeths remained oblivious to your presence.
They stuck close to your sides, the lights fixed to their gear helping as much as it could to navigate the darkness. Steps after steps, you walked deeper into the cave system. You were thankful that the Lemgona cave wasn't a tortuous labyrinth but consisted instead of a main tunnel that connected smaller ones together. Finding the main path meant that you could walk your way out easily. In theory.
In practice, you'd have to make it without encountering anything remotely hungry, which was less easy to do. Even smaller prey kept far away from these parts.
On top of that, you slowly came to the realisation that perhaps you were afraid of the dark after all… just a little. Without Chik's light, it felt like the walls were encasing you tightly. It was as if you could touch the rock walls just by sticking your hand out slightly. It was irrational. Your brain knew that. You knew that. But the two moderately small beams of light did nothing but help the irrational thoughts proliferate.
Your mind slowly fueled with monsters lurking in the dark, like nightmares creeping around for an opportunity to feast. The darkness was near suffocating and frayed at your nerves. It reminded you of the stone tomb that encassed you mere minutes earlier.
Calm down, you urged yourself. There's no real danger. Just you and the clones and the silence and-
In a short spike of panic, you reached to your right, hand tightening around an armored arm. Wrecker glanced down, the beam of light reflecting inside your helmet for a short second. You squinted through the stinging in your eyes, only relaxing once fingers found yours and interlocked in a soft grip. His thumb softly stroked yours and you chose to focus on the contact. Your heartbeat settled in response.
His footsteps echoed through the otherwise heavy silence. Crosshair progressed with ease, blaster at the ready. Soft scratches could be heard in the distance, far enough that you kept walking in its direction. You silently wished that the entrance would appear soon.
"Do you eh- think the others will be okay?" Wrecker's concern bled through his words.
With a deep breath to control your own nerves, you nodded. "Raek and Chik will keep them out of trouble."
"Like they did for us?" Crosshair butted in.
Your eyes closed slightly at his insinuation. "You try detecting a web string in the dark. See how that works out for you."
Lesson 4: Beware of stowaways; they were not invited for a reason
Masterlist
Pairing: Wrecker x Reader
Words: 7600 words
Warnings: TW: Poaching, wildlife torture, angst.
Taglist: @haloangel391 @sunset-toast
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Another slap to Wrecker’s greave earned an exasperated sigh out of you. This was the fifth time in under two hours that Silica accidentally tripped on her legs or wings and hit the clone with her tail. You had tried to guide her away from him but each time she would be back where she started within the following five minutes. It did not help that Wrecker would constantly crouch to pet her head or give her berries you had said were safe. He did not seem to mind the occasional hits, yet the same could not be said of every other trooper around.
Crosshair’s grip on his rifle would tighten at the sudden sounds, Hunter rotated his shoulders at the fourth slap and Echo kept glancing at her. Even you were trying to find a solution to the irregular sounds. If this was to continue for another four hours before you stopped for lunch, many of you would go crazy.
Before you figured something out she dropped to the ground, ass in the air, eyes fixed on the horizon. On your left, a few metres ahead played three Stripped Sables. They jumped over each other, pushed and nibbled. Silica’s feet lightly scratched the ground, her tail high in the air. Her jaw jumped in quick succession, soft chirps escaping her in her excitement.
You kept an eye on her as you walked, Raek doing the same. Apart from seeing her siblings play-fight, she had never participated in a hunt before. Her positioning could use some work, yet her body seemed to somewhat know how to place itself.
In her progression, her tail ruffled some high grass and alerted the Sables to her presence. She bolted as soon as they spotted her, closing the distance as fast as she could. The Sables fled in all directions, momentarily confusing her. She slowed before picking up behind one. She lost ground until she tripped at a sharp turn and tumbled over herself. She laid on the ground, panting slightly.
You caught up to her. “Not bad for a first time.”
“Aw, don’t worry, you’ll get one next time!” Wrecker assured her, his cheery tone perking her up. She chirped and stood back up, ready to start over.
The cycle repeated itself as the group progressed, her spotting small prey before running after them. Wrecker cheering her on every time she missed. To his credit, you were certain she would have already given up had he not been lifting her spirits at every turn.
“She’s getting better.” Hunter noted.
He was right. After her third attempt she had lowered the height of her tail while making sure it did not touch the ground, after her fourth she kept her wings tightly tucked against her sides, on her sixth she stopped chittering, slowing her approach and on the seventh she brought back a squirming Winged Fox.
“You gotta finish it before-” The Winged Fox managed to land a kick to the side of her face and her grip loosened. Echo recoiled as it fell to the ground and fled through his legs with Silica right on its tail until it took to the skies.
“Aw that was close.” Wrecker looked between the escapee and Silica beating her wings to no avail.
“You’re selling her short.”
“It’s slowing down.” Crosshair pointed out.
The Winged Fox’s wings moved considerably slower each passing second. In its panic, its heart pumped blood faster through its system and accelerated the effect of the venom. Once it reached the brain, it was game over. The moment she got a bite in, its fate was sealed.
“This would be the effect of the neurotoxic venom.” Tech pushed his glasses up his nose. “Its action period is quicker than I theorized.”
Once it fell within her reach, Silica jumped to regain her prey and brought it back to your feet.
“It ain’t the most dangerous at her age, but the thing with neurotoxin is that even a small dose has nasty effects. It might not stop your heart but something important will get affected for sure.” You knelt to pat her head. “Good girl. Now you gotta finish it.”
She looked at you, the mammal trapped in her jaws unmoving, but still breathing.
Raek grumbled behind Crosshair. She glanced between the two of you, shook her prey lightly and bit down until a crunch resonated. You pat her again, pride swelling in your chest. Your baby’s first successful hunt.
“Great job Silly baby!” You removed your helmet to rub your face on the top of her head. She chirped, mouth still full.
“You did great!” Wrecker chimed in with his own pets once you stood up.
“How old is she?” Echo glanced down at your baby tearing through her meal and gulping it down. Her feeding forced the group into an impromptu break.
You returned your helmet back on your head. “She hatched a month and a half ago.” Echo’s eyes widened in surprise.
It had been a tedious task to keep a hatchling alive, it was your and Raek’s first time ever having to care for a baby fresh from the egg. The first week had required a lot of trial and error, many sleepless nights, forced you into mithridatism and stole the feeling at the tip of your right hand fingers from the repeated accidental nibs to your hand. It had been painful, but very much worth it.
“She’s pretty young.” Echo said as he switched his helmet from his hand to his scomp to grab the canteen offered by Hunter.
“And still very much dependent. Considering the way she keeps looking at you for guidance, I’d say she imprinted on you.” Tech observed.
Happiness and pride filled your chest. Yet, there was still a tinge of sadness coating the feelings. She imprinted on you because she had lost her biological mother.
“Imprinted?” Hunter used the break to steal a swig of water.
“Raek and I were the first things she saw. She perceives him as her father, and me her mother.” You clarified.
His eyebrows shot up, mildly impressed. “You got one hell of a kid.”
The corners of your lips pulled upwards. “She’s gonna work more on her hunting skills and pretty soon we’ll have to work on flying lessons. I won’t be much of a help there.”
“Could cushion her falls.” Crosshair smirked.
You laughed, already seeing yourself being thrown to the ground under flailing weight. “Yeah, definitely could.”
Once the only remaining traces of the Winged Fox was the blood tainting the grass, Silica bounced to her sire, chirping with every step, belly full.
“Guess the break is over.”
Thanks to the migration season, there were less territorial wyverns to worry about, allowing you to spend the following hours in idle chatter with Wrecker. Tech occasionally chimed in with various questions whenever you had to make a detour to avoid crossing too close to a nest or offered commentary if he wasn’t in agreement with Wrecker’s reenactment of their mission involving creatures trying to mate with them.
You were busy laughing, images of an insectoid creature trying to mate with the clones because they were running around with a stinger flashing through your mind. You had to remove your helmet to wipe at your crying eyes, Crosshair’s annoyance at the retelling was way too obvious and entertaining. Your feet caught unto something, earning a yelp out of you. Hands grabbed your arms to keep you upright as you tumbled to regain your footing.
“Thanks.” You straightened against the hard plastoid offering you support.
“No problem!” Wrecker boomed, crouching to gather your helmet and hand it back to you.
“She alright?” Hunter asked, prompting you to look down at the sprawled baby feigning death in the middle of the path.
“Huh. You done, Silly?” She whined in response.
“She’s tired?” Wrecker crouched next to her.
“She’s not used to that kind of activity.” You strapped your gunlance to Raek’s side and crouched before Silica. You moved your hands to your back, and with a coo, she climbed your armor like a tree. Her feet grabbed your hands for support while her leaf-shaped wings rested over your shoulders, covering your chest. She affectionately hit your head with hers. You nodded off Wrecker’s offer for help before standing with a huff and securing your grip on her paws.
“How heavy is she at her age?” Tech wondered, eyes glued to his datapad.
“I’d say about thirty pounds, more or less.” You noticed the clone typing the information on his device. "Didn't know that was information worth saving.”
“Of course. There is very little information on Halria and its fauna in the Republic databases. Recording data to further our knowledge is fundamental.”
“I guess you’d want to look at our Compendium then.” His eyes flew to yours, sparkling with interest. “It gives a description of every wyvern and leviathan of the planet and stuff like their weak points, their habitats-”
“I’d highly appreciate it.” He cut you off through his rapidly growing interest.
“I’ll give you my copy once we’re back.” You offer.
“Your copy? You only have one?” His bemused tone told you that he most probably kept back up of his back ups.
“It’s on paper.” You couldn’t imagine having multiple copies of the thick tome. One was plenty enough and fulfilled its function perfectly.
“Don’t you want to keep it?” Echo wondered from the back of the group.
Shrugging, you performed a quick, full turn on yourself to get a look at him. “I’ll get a new one in a few months time if I say mine got shredded.” You told him, walking backwards.
“You’d lie for Tech?”
“Knowledge is what keeps you alive. Plus, I’ve read the thing about four times already.” You turned back around when your package started repeatedly pushing your head with hers. “Besides, it’s not gonna hurt anyone.” Unlike your charge if she keeps banging on your head. You were thankful for the extra padding you added to the interior of your helmet.
“Why all the face rubbing?” Wrecker asked. “She’s been doing that a lot.”
“That’s how wyverns display affection.” You rubbed your head against hers and she returned the gesture. “They don’t exactly hug.”
“She sure looks like she’s hugging you right now.” He grinned.
Your steps faltered for a second. The feeling of her wings tightly tucked against your chest plate finally registered, not only as an occurrence, but as a hug.
“Huh. Guess you got a point.” Warmth spread through you at the realisation. “Thanks for pointing that out.”
Wrecker’s head tilted at the softness of your voice. “Why?”
You adjusted your grip on the sturdy little feet and pushed her slightly higher so she could hug you better. “She’s gonna grow really fast. I can still hold her now, but in a month she’ll be way too heavy. And I wanna remember that hug, so thanks for pointing it out.”
He beamed. “You’re welcome.”
Gazing forward down the trail, a single thought rang through your mind. If only he had been a villager. It would have been nice to hang out with him. Perhaps he could have helped you with the orphanage seeing as he liked them younglings as much as they liked him. Forging connections with wyverns came naturally to him, so much so that you were certain many of your charges would have competed between themselves to become his partner had he been one of your peers. Wrecker’s kind nature drew them in and seeing him go would most definitely trouble Silica who has been bonding with him through the attention he showered her with.
The sun nearly reached its peak, cramping up the heat beneath the trees. You were grateful for both the coverage offered by the leaves and for the slits running down the sides of your pants. The air caressing the exposed skin of your thighs was heavenly. How you wished to simply jump onto Raek’s back and take to the sky, the force of the wind would cool you down instantly. Alas, duty tied you to the ground. A side glance to Tech wiping down sweat trailing down his forehead told you that they were not immune to the heat either.
Despite it, none of them voice any complaints. They pushed through, determination and discipline guiding their steps.
You took in their armor, dark - at the exception of Tech's -, intimidating, the paint singed at some places. Before yesterday, you had never met a soldier and hadn’t given a thought at the war gripping the galaxy. You were amongst the lucky ones, you supposed, fortunate enough to not know the pain that came with the conflict. You had your own killing machines to take care of, both those who looked up to you and those who wanted to feast upon your flesh, but now faced with the very men fighting for your side of the war, you couldn’t help but feel like you had been self-centered.
“How’s it like being a soldier?” You asked before you could truly think it through, your gaze inadvertently moving to his cybernetic eye and the scar marring the side of his face.
Wrecker looked down at you, brows furrowed in confusion.
“What do you mean?”
“Do you like it?” You clarified. In spite of your limited attention to the war, it was well known that clones were literally bred for war. Your planet was under the Republic’s wing after all. The thought of being created to serve a sole purpose given to you by others sat wrong with you and that was withstanding the fact that they were created for war. These men walking next to you were not weapons nor computer systems, they were sentient and kind and funny and fully deserved to have a say on their own lives.
As a Rider, it was one of your duties to protect your village. You had chosen this life knowing that you could very much lay down your life one day to offer assistance to others, a choice they didn’t have the chance to make. What did that make them in the eye of the Republic? Things to manipulate at their own will? The prospect of these men being objectified, used and replaced if broken without a single thought to who they were angered you.
“It’s great! I get to blow things up!” The genuine smile and enthusiasm threw you off slightly, simmering down your boiling thoughts. You hadn’t expected this much joy at being used as tools. Yet, this wasn’t exactly what he had said, had he?
As tempting as it was to push the question of his willingness to play soldier, you knew it was wrong and would lead to nothing. It wasn’t like they would suddenly have an epiphany and desert because one little lady in a rain forest asked questions they most definitely asked themselves at some point. Mutinous talk should probably stay unheard.
“Isn’t it dangerous?” You couldn’t help but add. Wrecker shrugged.
“Guess it is. But I know explosives and how to work them fine.” He grinned. “And the clankers have no chance against us! We have a one-hundred percent success rate, you know!” He finished with pride.
You hummed, his energy soothing your concerns if only slightly. The discoloration of his cybernetic eye and the nasty scar on the side of his face was enough to keep you rooted in reality. Wrecker could die at any moment. Probably almost did more than once. Your stomach dropped at the thought.
You physically shook the thought from your mind and stubbornly decided to avoid thinking of the reason why you were this…worried - no - concerned in the first place.
“I don’t know how you do it. Fighting in a war sounds scary.” You faintly recall hearing that droids were taller than you and came in numbers so as to overwhelm their enemies. In your ears, being faced to a sea of tall robots ready to send you to your grave with only a blaster to defend yourself sounded pretty scary. You were not well versed in anything military, but you could guess that they being commandos explained the size of their squad as well as their efficiency and successfulness.
“It’s alright. The clankers are just big bags of scraps! Not like that big flying wyvern with the blade tail, that one was scary. And you chased it away like it was nothin’!”
You pursed your lips as realization came too late. War wasn’t something you knew and the unknown scared you. Yet, all they’ve ever known was how to maneuver active battlefields and come out on top. The reverse was also true; wyverns that were common, low hindrances for you were humongous threats to them.
“Spathas sure are imposing.” You agreed. “But you get used to it after a while. They aren’t the quickest around so you can easily get one down if you know where to strike.”
Between the trek through the thick rainforest, Silica’s semi-constant squirming and her overall weight, it did not take long for your arms to become sore. She wasn’t as small or light as she used to be. The temptation to push your limits and continue carrying her was strong, however it wasn’t an option, not when you were the main fighter of the group. It was your responsibility to keep the group of clones safe and to do so, you needed your energy to fight in case of a wyvern or high leviathan attack. Dead arms would not do you any good.
“Right, you should be fine by now. Down you go.” You tried to let Silica down by releasing her feet but she held on, wings flexing and feet moving to the small of your back for support, shifting the burden of her weight from your arms to your back and core muscles. You clicked your tongue. “Hey, I said down.”
Low rumbles drowned her whines as she remained stubbornly attached to you. Before Raek could even take a step closer to remove his child, she suddenly detached from you in a squeak.
“It’s alright, I’ll take her!” Wrecker turned her in his arms so she laid on his front, his forearm offering the same support you did behind your back.
You grabbed the axe from his other hand before it hit someone. “You don’t have to.”
“I want to!” Silica rubbed her head on his helmet so hard you wondered if he had enough padding to protect his head from the composite. “She likes me!” He pointed out loudly, happiness dripping from his voice.
Yeah, you’d need to keep a close eye on her once the commandos left.
Strapping the axe to your back, you shrugged. “As you wish, but put her down whenever she gets too heavy.”
“Ha! That’s not gonna happen. I’m stronger than I look!”
A huff escaped your mouth without your consent. He was built like a brick house and looked strong enough to bend metal walls with some punches. Stronger than that? You were almost scared to ask.
“Is that even possi-” A shimmer caught your eye and muscle reflexes kicked in. The axe was already in your hands, fingers pressed to the trigger activating the Sparsuchus cells forming the weapon. You brought the axe up in a swift cut through the air, launching a shockwave towards your target. The Vanisher is quick to jump to another tree to escape the attack, its camouflage failing as two blaster bolts charred the thick skin of its back and the shockwave dug deep gashes in the flesh of its hind leg.
Crosshair’s support fire came as a nice distraction as you rushed forward, engaging the Vanisher. The clone’s yelps of surprise soon morphed into barked orders that you barely registered under the roar of the raging high leviathan. You dove forward to avoid the leaping beast, its arm-long claws reaching for your frame, following with a swipe of your axe to its already injured leg. The shockwave splattered blood in every direction, covering half of your visor.
Habits urged you to jump backwards and create distance in case of retaliation, yet the Vanisher ignored you in the face of the rain of bolts hitting its form. You wiped the blood away and took in the men’s positions. Echo and Tech flanked Crosshair who slowly retreated to create distance between them and the navy beast, marching right under Raek’s belly. The Starios used his imposing wingspan to intimidate the threat into staying away from the clones, menacing snarls backing his threats. Wrecker was nowhere in sight while his sounds of protests were everywhere, coming from further away. Knowing your partner, he probably forced the trooper carrying his young to the back of it all, far away from the danger.
A black streak caught your eye, prompting you to jump back into the fight as Hunter reached the other side of the leviathan, his sword at the ready.
“Squeeze the trigger!” You yelled at him, your own strike falling in tandem with his. Your shockwave did not go unnoticed this time. The Vanisher turned on itself, claws flying to cut you apart. Its movements were slower than moments prior, allowing you to leap backwards and avoid the hit.
Quick on your feet, you performed a dance so familiar it was almost second nature. You alternated between offence and defense, striking and dodging. The sound of your heartbeat resonated loudly in your ears and heat engulfed your body in a well-known blanket. Your once emerald armor became progressively tainted in blood and dirt.
With Raek keeping away to cover the clones and most probably keep tabs on the precious stowaway, you were left to take care of the majority of the altercation.
You slashed twice as hard as you usually would in hope to shorten the fight. What would usually take nearly an hour, you aimed to cut in half. Battles of attrition were a weekly occurrence. Everyday you worked on your endurance, but you couldn’t tell if the commandos were the same. They most probably were resilient, however fighting a wyvern required another whole level of fighting durability.
Hunter’s use of the Orixus sword showed that he wasn’t used to this type of weapon, or perhaps it was the size that caused problems. He manipulated it just fine, although fine could not win against a high leviathan. He would need to master it, yet there was no time for him to learn. On the bright side, what he lacked in power, he offered in distraction.
As the Vanisher concentrated on Hunter and you didn’t have to dodge every two seconds, your own hits connected with force. Each strike resonated like thunderclaps, the blasts wearing away at the wyvern’s health and resolve.
The Vanisher screeched, pressing its face to the dirt and scratching itself with its front paws. The sudden frenzy caught you by surprise mid strike, leaving you open for a tail to hit you square in the side as it jerked around in pain. The air whistled in your ears as you flew through the air, before you crashed on the ground.
Your lungs emptied on impact, keeping you from yelping as you bounced and tumbled into various rocks and roots protruding from the earth. The world stabilised and the pounding in your ears eased. Oxygen returned to your lungs, slowly, carefully. Each breath caused a burning pain to envelop the right side of your chest.
Hands supported your shoulders as you sat up. Tech looked you over, his visor covering his eyes. You could hear his voice but did not register any words. He reached over and you tried to push his hands away from your helmet. You were fine. Sore, but fine.
Just as you successfully managed to untangle yourself from the pushy engineer and began standing up, bigger hands pushed your ass back to the ground. You grunted both in discomfort and annoyance.
“Get off.” Your new attempt at pushing Tech away failed. He removed your helmet and grabbed your cheeks to keep you steady. “I’m fine.”
“You were projected twenty-seven meters away and crashed. The chances of you suffering a concussion, spinal trauma or bone fractures are-”
You struggled against Wrecker’s grip. “I’m just winded.” You took care to slowly breathe in as to avoid wheezing. That would probably get him going forever. “‘s not the first time I got knocked back. I’ll live.”
“My scans show that you are not, as you say, 'fine’.” He leveled you with a no-nonsense look. “Four ribs are bruised and two of them sustained small cracks.”
“So, none are broken?”
His eyes closed to a slit, half intimidating, half daring you to protest against his next words. “No. Not yet.”
A beat of silence passed.
“So I’m fin-”
“You’re not!” He admonished.
“Do we need to abort the mission?” Hunter’s voice came as you rolled your eyes at Tech’s outburst. His presence brought you up to speed. If he was here, who was fighting the Vanisher? You glanced behind him to see Raek keeping guard over the unmoving body of the leviathan. You slumped.
“Good job on the kill.”
Hunter towered over your seated frame. His head tilted to the side. “Raek did most of it.” He turned to his brother. “So, abort?”
“If she refrains from entering another fight-” The snort that escaped you was purely unintentional. Tech glared in response. “Perhaps we should go back and request another guide.”
“As much as I’d like to, it would be a waste of time. I just need a tonic and I’ll be right as rain before dinner.” You pushed the hands keeping you down and this time they let go. “You seem to forget that this is what I do for a living.”
“A tonic? This is bones we’re talking about!” You ignored Tech’s indignation to scout for your lost weapon. Echo kindly handed it over.
“I am aware of what ribs are, thank you very much Tech.” You mumbled as you put your helmet back onto your head.
“Yeah Tech, stop badgering her. She said she’s fine.” Wrecker came to your rescue. “Didn’t know the axe could do that!” He said, his attention now on you.
You turned to him, appreciative of the support. “It’s the Sparsuchus cells, they-” You stopped short, your brain registering something wrong. “Where’s my four-legged baby?” Your head swiveled around, trying to find your fiery orange hatchling.
“She’s right behind m-” Wrecker turned as he answered, his words dying on his tongue as he took in the green grass behind him and the absence of said four-legged baby.
Your heart pumped faster. Your ribs hurt. Hunter cursed.
“She can’t be too far.” Echo tried to reassure you as your head snapped in Reak’s direction in the hope that she had joined her sire. Your hands became clammier by the seconds, the lack of visuals on your charge affecting you greatly. You looked around frantically with no better result.
“He’ll find her.” Crosshair nodded towards his CO whose head was slightly angled downwards like he was concentrating.
Seconds passed, silence stretched, your nerves frayed. You couldn’t dare glance back at Raek. He was meters away, tearing through the flesh of the Vanisher in the prospect of the upcoming lunch. You knew he would soon start shredding smaller portions for his girl if he wasn’t already.
You knew you had to tell him, the words were on your tongue, but your head was so full of what ifs and of bloody memories, your ears were bombarded with phantom cries and your veins were on fire.
Nausea gripped your throat at the thunderous sound of heavy steps marching your way. The slow progression felt like fatality. You craned your neck to take in the approaching wyvern, his questioning yellow eyes meeting yours as you removed your helmet.
Raek has been your partner for nearly half your life. One glance at your devastated expression was all it took. He glanced around, noticed the disappearance of his offspring and immediately took off into the sky in a roar.
Tech and Echo fought to regain balance as the powerful beat of Raek’s wings moved the air and lifted fallen leaves off the ground. Instincts screamed at you to follow suit, to look every bush, upturn every den, yell her name until she came back, to not stop until she was back in your arms, hitting your head hard enough to give you brain damage.
Phantom wings wrapped around your shoulders and laid on your torso. Your blood froze at the thought that the hug she gave you merely an hour ago would be the last.
Your heartbeat quickened as heat spread through your veins, urging you to move. Your first step was wobbly, the second was more secure and the third was determined. A hand grabbed your wrist in a steel grip, interrupting you in your mad dash. You attempted to pull your hand free as you fixed Hunter with a mask of panic.
“Let-”
“That way.” He pointed to the side. His hand squeezed as your head snapped in the direction. “Stay with us. Let us help.”
You nodded, a new heat wave engulfing you. They ran by your side, Hunter at the lead. Distant cries reached your ears, followed by laughter. Human laughter.
Your hand clutched your axe tighter, the other shoving your helmet back in place.
This time, before Hunter could stop you from breaking formation, you hurriedly side-jumped him and breached the line of trees. With a curse, the men followed.
Bile rose in your throat.
Pinned under a Shimmering Tyrant was your small hatchling, crying out. Her tiny frame squirmed in the grass in a desperate attempt to free herself and cower away from the gaping maws closing around her head.
Your heart stopped. You were too far to do anything.
Silica screeched the same time you did.
Heat shot past your neck in a blue bolt and hit the Tyrant in the eye. It recoiled and yelped in pain, scratching its head in the dirt like the Vanisher did minutes prior. Crosshair’s rifle remained trained onto the beast, its barrel passing right over your shoulder.
Laughs abruptly came to a stop. Five sets of eyes turned in your direction, their expressions ranging from surprise to anger.
Without the leviathan keeping her down, Silica crawled to her feet, whimpering. You approached, the sight of her so close pulling at your heartstrings. One of them, dark-haired, green eyed and annoyingly muscled, pushed her back down with his foot, his gaze never leaving your form.
His armor, along with his comrades’, were composed of mismatched materials. Chimeraos fur, Pygmy Woodland wyvern hide, Sparsuchus scales, Nautile scales… A colorful combination. Yet, there were no Shimmering Tyrant spikes in sight.
As you closed the distance, your brain registered the size of the scales covering his chest. Some could cover the pad of your thumb, where others were as small as your pinky. They were nowhere near the average three-inch adult size scale.
Something in you snapped.
“Let her go.” You growled, jogging to get closer. Hunter’s call of your name fell on deaf ears. The raider lifted his rifle, aiming at your head. The Shimmering Tyrant hissed in warning from where it stood behind its partner. “She’s mine.” Against your wishes, your feet stopped moving.
Progressively, your surroundings noticed the scuffle. The lower leviathans fled through the underbush to regain the safety of their dens, insects put an end to their chirps and klicks to scurry away, the breeze fell. The forest became silent, enraptured, watching as tension rose and eagerly awaiting the upcoming disaster.
The raider scoffed, a smirk stretching his lips in a cocky manner. “Found the runt first though. You know what they say, finders keepers.”
Your blood boiled. “You fuckin-”
“Let’s talk about this, lads.” Hunter intervened. You heard his cautious steps join your side. You were certain the hand on your bicep was meant to be something calming or reassuring. It was clear to anyone with eyes that the situation at hand had to be handled carefully to ensure the best outcome and Hunter, as a seasoned CO with wartime experience and a perfect success rate was the best one out to tread the situation. It was wise to give him the reins.
Yet as it turned out, you were way past your limits allowing you to think wisely.
“Right right.” The same man waved you off with a hand. “You want the flyer back?” He twisted his boot on Silica’s nearest wing, causing her to bellow in pain. “Whatcha have to offer for it?”
“You can stay alive, how’s that for payment?” You spat, venom dripping from your tone.
The Rider laughed as Hunter called your name again and pulled you behind him, his grip tightening in warning. “You should let the men do the talking, darling. We’d get better results.” He snickered, his gun still aimed at your face, boot digging into Silica’s wing who kept crying.
Hunter took a step forward to take control of the negotiations when you held him back using your free hand. He hadn’t noticed him yet.
“Men?” You scoffed. “Sure. Talk to her dad.”
The ground shook as Raek slammed into the ground from above, the sounds deafening through the silence. Dirt and leaves flew upwards, blinding the Raiders who lacked helmets.
Hunter tensed. Clear as day through the momentary chaos, you heard his breath catch in his throat, and you knew he hadn’t missed it either.
The dust settled, revealing the Shimmering Tyrant stuck in Raek’s mouth, blood oozing in constant rivulets, and the Raider leader crushed under sharp talons, wheezing. Blood splattered from his mouth as he attempted to cry out.
You crept forward, your eyes never leaving the Raider’s comrades, filtering through them to find which one would snap out of their daze first. One of them gripped his sword tighter and you were ready. You dashed forward, parrying the sword aiming for Raek with your own weapon. A kick to the stomach sent the man tumbling back.
The Shimmering Tyrant was thrown overhead as bolts rained on the Raiders and Raek roared. The men fell like flies.
With shaky hands, you discarded your axe to kneel beside an equally shaking Silica. Cuts littered her shoulder and neck, and blood trickled out of some tears in her right wing. Instincts took over, guiding your hands to your pouches and layering coats of bacta.
Tech and Echo kneeled beside you, looking her over. Their words were lost under the enraged roars of your partner digging his claws deeper into the offending man. The clones shared a look before looking back at you.
The Raider’s muffled gasps and pleas for mercy came to an end in a wet crunch as his chest was crushed under Raek’s weight. Echo’s eyes widened and his breath caught in his throat. On autopilot, you stuck bacta patches wherever needed. It wasn’t until your baby crawled into your lap and forced herself as deeply into your body as she could manage that you got control over your shaking. She was back into your arms. Alive.
The clones retreated from your side under the stern gaze of the emerald wyvern. With the added space, Raek approached to lean his head against Silica’s back, comforting himself with her contact, just as you were.
“She okay?” Wrecker asked, his anxieties bleeding through his tone. You released a breath as you stood, pushing your fear and anger as far down as you could before nodding once. His shoulders dropped in relief for a short second before he became taunt again.
“‘s not your fault.” You assured him.
Even if your heart told you otherwise, your brain knew that you could not hold what happened against him. The fact of the matter was that it wasn’t the first time Silica had ventured away from where she should have stayed put. She was supposed to be at home, waiting safely for your return along with the rest of your charges. She was Raek’s and your responsibility, not Wrecker’s. The fault laid in your camp. You should have anticipated that Wrecker’s attention would be solely on the fight and not on a careless hatchling, he was a soldier first and foremost. If anything, you were now certain she wouldn’t sneak away again.
“I put her down to try to get the lance…” He explained, eyes full of remorse. “I didn’t think people would take her.”
“Considering the significant distance we crossed to find her and how none of us noticed any of these intruders, it would be a safe hypothesis to say that she ran away.” Tech pointed out.
“He’s right.” You chimed in when it became clear that he did not believe a single word his brother said. In the face of Wrecker’s self-inflicted pain, the last of your remaining outrage snuffed out. “No harm, no foul, Wrecker. It’s what she needed.” He frowned, his eyes screaming indignation. “It might sound harsh, but experience is the best teacher.”
Raek retreated slightly, allowing you to lift his offspring onto his back where she balanced herself with practiced ease. Silica’s shaking had subsided enough that you were confident in her ability to stay where you left her without tumbling down. Soft whines followed you as you made your way to the Raider’s body to kneel next to it, staining your poleyns in red.
“What are you doing?” Crosshair wondered, watching you carefully push the body of the man over so he laid face up.
“Freein’ his soul for its passage.” You explained, as you used a clean cloth from your pouch to remove the blood from around his mouth and nose. “He might have been an asshole, but he was someone’s child and friend. Maybe even a brother. Or a lover. He deserves to be freed.” You weren’t against Raek’s actions, he had protected his child from harm and retaliated the way nature did when it was threatened. Echo’s weary gaze betrayed his thoughts, those in which he believed the situation went overboard. Your opinion differed. Human morals could not be forced onto wyverns and leviathans. “I don’t know what brought him to be this vile, but I do believe in second chances and his soul deserves to pass onto the next life.” You fished through your belt, pulling out the soulstone you kept in there. “Perhaps he’ll turn out better than he did in this one.”
A feeling of heavy judgement prickled the back of your neck and you knew, almost to the point of hearing his words in your head, that Tech was rebutting your beliefs. He probably would have done so verbally if Hunter hadn’t snapped his head in his brother’s direction.
With more care than you probably should offer, you reached over and touched the smooth, translucent stone over the man’s heart. You mumbled the cleansing prayer under your breath, the words leaving your mouth with an ease you were not happy to possess. In response, warmth engulfed your fingertips as the soulstone reacted to the trapped soul and pulled it from its confines. You turned your hand, presenting to the sky the once colorless stone now shining a light blue. Its surface cast a soft glow against your palm.
“It changed.” Wrecker noticed in awe.
“The stone acts as a temporary refuge for the soul. It helps them to find the path to the Next.”
You finished the last verse of the prayer and watched as the blue glow escaped the stone by the top, dissipating through the air like vapor. The soulstone was cold once more and the cycle was complete.
“You believe that it acts as a catalyst for reincarnation?” Tech asked, his hand reaching up to touch the side of his glasses. The red light fixed to the frame stopped blinking.
“At least to free a soul for its next purpose, yes.” You noticed how his eyes moved from the stone to your eyes, doubt fighting with his logical mind. “You believe in the Force, yet not in souls?”
“The Force’s presence has been proven time and time again through sightings, analysis and experimentation, whereas souls and reincarnation haven’t.”
“You’ve seen one just now.” You pointed out, lifting the soulstone in emphasis.
“I’m positive that there is a logical explanation to this phenomenon.” Tech’s tone warned you that he would not take any argument on the matter.
Not that you cared. “Knock yourself out.”
“If you’d let me borrow the stone-”
“Not a chance.”
With the help of Echo who kept a hand on his brother, you avoided the engineer and knelt next to another Raider. You frowned at the steady rise of his chest. You were certain he got shot by a bolt. Even more strange was the lack of plasma burns. Looking over the rest of the Raiders showed that they shared the same state of unconsciousness. Some of them used wyvern scales to protect their most vital organs which would be blaster proof if the scales had been from an adult. Young ones had no chance against a 10,000 degree bolt. And that did not count for those with pelt armor.
“Thought your blasters were more lethal than that.” You remarked.
“That would be something called stun mode.” Crosshair explained, his rifle leaned up against his shoulder.
You raised an eyebrow. That was an option? How did they survive this long sparing whoever aimed at them? You pushed the thought away, not having the energy to open that can of worm. “Neat.” You said instead.
But then this brought up another issue. What would you do with them? As they were, their chances of survival were close to none should you leave them behind. With a click of your tongue, you pulled a metal flask out of your belt. You grimaced in apprehension.
“You all might want to stop breathing for a while.” You warned them as you stood back up.
“Why?” Hunter asked.
“‘cuz that thing stinks so bad you can smell it klicks away.”
“And you need that because?”
“You guys stunned them for a reason, I’d wager. I don't know how long they’ll be out for, but if we leave them as is, something will just come around and get them. And this,” you shook the bottle and the sound of liquid sloshing around reached your ears, “is one of the most powerful repellents that can be found on Halria. It will keep any nasty fang away for days.”
“Seal your helmets, lads.” Hunter ordered, walking back.
Seals? Lucky bastards. You took a mental note of requesting an enhancement to Finn, the village’s armorsmith. With a deep breath, you removed the lock covering the cork and opened the bottle. Raek jerked back, his instincts telling him to flee far away from the threat, and Silica whined in fear. You spilled a third of the liquid onto the unconscious men, having no qualm into ruining their armor and possibly their sense of smell before closing the bottle and bolting.
You rarely used your reserve of Cataclysm wyvern urine, mainly because it was terribly hard to obtain and its rarity made it an invaluable resource. Cataclysm wyverns were omens of death and brought natural disasters in their wake. They were feared by every organic species on Halria due to their size and destructive power. Obtaining a urine sample required to kill one of such beasts, which was no small feat. These fights tended to happen once every other generation and always brought their share of heavy losses. The last one, four years ago, nearly took your life.
The clones kept the rhythm with Raek holding the rear. Your lungs burned in protest at your lack of breathing, but you pushed through. You needed to put as much distance between you and the spilled urine to save your olfactive receptors.
You held your breath until black spots danced amongst the leaves and your steps faltered. Oxygen filled your lungs in a gasp but you kept running. The pungent smell burned your nose and was so potent you could almost taste it. You gagged and immediately mourned the fact that you couldn’t take Raek and fly high enough to escape the smell. As a last resort, you slowed your steps and avoided Crosshair to grab your pack off your saddle and pull out a tonic. You uncorked the vial with your teeth after pushing your helmet half off your face and threw your head back to down the medication in one go. The bitterness that usually made you cringe was a welcome change to the previous acrid one.
“You doing okay?” Hunter asked as he fell back to your position.
“I’ll survive.” You assured. “Just gotta clear the first two klicks and then I’ll be able to breathe without wanting to hurl or eat dirt to change the taste.” You almost heard him cringe. “Be grateful for your seals.”
“Believe me, I am.”
“Using the repellent was unnecessary.” Tech cut in. “We did not have any reason to use stun mode other than regulations. We do not harm civilians if it can be helped, but if nature follows its course, then we are not to blame.”
You spared him a single, annoyed glance before your foot caught into a rock and your helmet fell back into place with a vengeance as you fought to keep your footing.
“And you’re telling me this now?” You grumbled.
“You didn’t offer us time to explain.” He countered.
You stayed silent, idly wondering if dousing him the rest of the repellent would make you feel better. With a sigh, you decided that no, it wouldn’t, and continued running.
Thank you for tagging me in this tag game, @polillarockera 🖤
✦ ── Send Me an Angel
by Real Life
...I happened upon it while writing Tamsy fanfiction and used it for the fic, but I find it extremely catchy and love to sing along.
✦ ── Honey Boy
by Purple Disco Machine (feat. Nile Rodgers & Shenseea)
...by a new favourite band of mine, there isn't really an attachment, just makes me want to dance.
✦ ── Tell It to My Heart
by Taylor Dayne
...i love to imagine myself skateboarding or rollerskating along a busy pier on a nice day while the plays in my headphones.
✦ ── Substitution
by Purple Disco Machine & Kungs (feat. Julian Perretta)
...genuinely just cant help but want to dance, the beats this band makes are so wonderful.
✦ ── Fernando
by ABBA
...apparently im in a dancing mood because most of these are just about dancing. i do lip sync to this one dramatically like the first song.
Tagging ── @silliestgoobber @psi-landy @the-silentium @anajellyc (im not sure which of my moots want to be tagged, sorry guys 😭)
So my beta reader for the Big Fics is an astrophysicist, right. Who is currently also writing a hard sci-fi novel about the exploration of Phobos (more power to them, I cannot with the physics required for that, best I can do is soft sci-fi/fantasy and that reminds me I should finish that story).
Anyway I was bitching about how hard it is to come up with feasible planets in Star Wars because sometimes you need a new planet from scratch and sometimes you need to know more about a planet than the 'has jungles, is probably a moon technically' than Wookieepedia will give you, and they're like 'oh yeah I can do something about that'.
So they've written (in Matlab but they swear it will run as a .exe as well and I may be conscripted to embed it as a web tool at some point) a star system generator.
You input what you know about the planet (ecosystem, population, sun colour, does it have liquid water, does it have a moon or moons, is it a moon or moons, temperature averages, atmosphere, you get me) and it will give you the... everything else about the star system, in obedience to real-universe physics. And if you input nothing you get a randomly generated star system.
And I’m like oh I know people who will be into this with a vengeance, and they're not on Tumblr, so this is me seeing who exactly would be keen on, and I cannot stress this enough, a real-physics comprehensive star system generator.
It's still in the debugging phase (last error fixed: every planet wants to have a population of exactly 5000 regardless of other factors, turned out to be a missing equals sign somewhere), but I'm psyched for this and trying to gauge interest for how high a priority 'make this an accessible web tool' needs to be.
Someone made a post about this a while ago but apparently they de-activated so it is possibly lost to the mists of time. Here is what I put together for myself as a writing reference. Image heavy, meta heavy.
Last edit: 2025/08/13
Edits: Replaced garbage text layout with actual ship overhead. Realized the two concept art images face different directions. This likely explains the magical moving jump seats. Also added discussion of a cargo hold. Added discussion of ship dimensions (specifically length). Replaced old guesstimates with numbers from Dawn of Rebellion. Added commentary about the magical seat. Added comment about the belly airlock and updated the floor plan. Added commentary regarding a possible galley based on TBB Sanctuary and the concept art.
I think people under- and over-estimate the Marauder's interior potential. Given its overall size and intended use (transporting about 10-15 troops plus assorted equipment and providing air support in a forward area), there's not much room left for creature comforts.
Except the Batch aren't 10-15 people, they're 5, and the shuttle is referred to as modified numerous times. This leaves plenty of room to make assumptions and freeform. So, as to what we have actual, visual evidence for from episodes and concept art, here is a rudimentary floor plan:
An important point about the two concept art images: they do NOT face the same direction. The top image faces to the aft/back of the ship, i.e. the tailgun. The second image faces to the fore/front of the ship.
Number Key
1: We know this is where the ramp and door are located from War Mantle and Metamorphsis.
2: We know about this upper storage area from Cut and Run
3: The aft of the ship surrounding the tailgun has changed visual from TCW s07e02 and various TBB episodes (see below in the Meta section under 'Quarters').
4: Access to a floor hatch with a narrow, vertical 'airlock' can be seen briefly in Bounty Lost.
The Airlock
With thanks to @megmca for reminding me of this: there's a narrow, belly-hatch airlock. We see it briefly in Bounty Lost, when they attach to the escape pod Omega has commandeered and Wrecker brings her in.
For all of you wondering what airlock-access the ship has, this is it.
The Magically Appearing/Disappearing Seat
In Cut and Run we have this moment with Hunter and Omega, but in most other shots each of these consoles has only one seat (eg. Tech and Echo in prior frames). I think this is actually NOT a magically appearing seat. I think it's the other console seat, because I suspect they can be moved. I base this one this shot from Replacements:
That looks like a seat with a moveable base.
Obviously this is bad design for a ship which is doing barrel rolls and what-not, so I have to assume they're magnetically locked. Even if it is the same seat, in the shots right before that one above, Omega walks up and it's not in that space. So it's almost like the scene was longer and was shortened, and we missed a few frames of her or Hunter unlocking it and moving it over.
Meta Discussions
tl;dr: I think of the Marauder as a small fishing vessel or a van-conversion RV. You can put a lot into a small space if you get creative.
Bathroom
I know the writers have made weird assertions there isn't one and omg they all smell gross from no hygiene but that makes zero sense. Soldiers are constantly under stress, they're getting injured, they need to stay clean when possible or they're going to get sick and die from a systemic infection in short order. Anyone who's glanced in the general direction of military history knows this. You can argue about clone expendibility all you want but the Batch minimally qualify in that regard, being Nala Se's pet project. Can you imagine losing one of them to a staph infection because there's nowhere for them to bust out some no-rinse antimicrobial soap or get their scalp clean? I'm not saying they'll be doing photoshoots in between missions (well maybe Hunter would ) but, come on. (And are you going to tell me Mr. Sensor Sensoria is cool with doing long hauls with 4 people who don't bathe? Just, no.)
But that much aside, anyone who's ever been in an RV, a commercial airliner, or a modest-sized sea vessel knows you can cram a bathroom into a tiny space. Yes, you're going to be spinning in circles doing things, but the benefits of a spot to clean up, manage waste, and tend to injuries far outweigh any other use of that area. So regardless of what the writers say, a transport without a minimal refresher (to use the SW term) is counter to the ship's designed use. It has to be able to accommodate Wrecker, of course, but in the end it can double as storage when not in use. There is zero reason to not have one. Added to this, we now officially have a length for the Marauder, which is 30.3 meters (see below). RVs which are 1/5 of that size have bathrooms. You're going to tell me the Marauder doesn't?
If nothing else, since the TCW episodes and the beginning of S1 have pointed to them going on extended deployments with long hops between stops, they're going to need one or constantly be handling waste in much less efficient and sustainable ways.
Added to all of this, it's specifically called a modified variant of an Omicron. We're probably meant to think this means 'Tech would like to fly faster than the GAR and ship engineers think is reasonable for a shuttle' but IMO it extends to changes like this as well. So, there's a refresher in there, feel free to choose a spot. Right across from the fold out racks is a good candidate because in most imagery it's just weapons storage, and there's an entire upper-deck space which you could use for that.
Galley - updated 2025/08/13
The novel Sanctuary, which is set just after the events of s02e13 Pabu, suggests the Marauder has a galley, as well as places to sit around a table and quarters for Hunter. Regarding the galley, though I'd previously indicated I didn't think there was a space for something like that, in looking over the concept art from the TCW arc I noticed something.
These two areas I've outlined might actually represent storage spaces with roll-up doors. I base this on their visual design, the mention of a galley in the novel, and the fact that amidships on the Marauder is quite narrow. This could be why: if those walls open up, they could easily hold storage, a sink, a small cooktop, even a refresher. Tight fit, but workable.
You can also make an argument the Batch (and all clone units) have cook kits for improvised eating in the field; in the Batch's case I suspect that's a given, as they'd just start doing it because who's going to stop them? Additionally, the sheer amount of rations you would need to carry around to feed Wrecker would be ridiculous. (Remember when Wrecker talks about never being full in S2E13? I feel like this is an indication they did and still do, in fact, have to improvise a lot of additional caloric intake. Hunter probably thought Cut and Suu's farm was a genius idea. 'Grow your own food! Wrecker will never be hungry again! Fucking incredible.' Then Tech got the ship impounded.)
If that's not the original use of these two areas, I think you can argue for one being added, like with the refresher. Otherwise what is this space going to?
Table - added 2025/08/13
TBB Sanctuary suggests the presence of a table for eating at. Although we never see one in the show, it's easy enough to have a stowable table; similar to the mysterious mobile chair, it would be magnetically locked when in use, and pulled down/set aside otherwise. It could be placed between the jump seats.
Quarters - added 2025/08/13
TBB Sanctuary suggests the presence of a room for Hunter. Bearing in mind that on smaller vessels one's 'quarters' amount to not much more than a closet housing a footlocker and a rack to sleep on, you could theoretically argue they did something like this where the gun racks are shown to be in the TCW arc. There's a large capsule shape on the wall which is gone in TBB, making this whole spot look more like it might be the world's least comfortable room.
This doesn't really look like it would work, but I suppose you can argue for it in the 'the Marauder is as big or small as it needs to be' writing perspective.
Beds
As you can see in the concept art above, there are at least 3 racks that fold out from the wall on the port side. They're at a minimum wide enough to accommodate Wrecker, they may also be long enough for him to not need to curl up (unclear because in this shot from Bounty Lost his knees are bent and he's hugging Lula):
Three is a weird number since originally there were four of them. I figure the options here are:
The pilot/copilot/second row seats all look 100% more comfortable than the racks. We actually see Tech sleeping in one, at one point, so this has actual evidence to support it.
It's war time, they're never all asleep simultaneously. Someone is always flying the ship or on watch.
The floor is in effect the same as a rack, arguably preferable as you can't fall off it in the event Something Happens while you're out. So, one of them might actually be ON the floor sometimes.
(Added 2025/08/13) Per TBB Sanctuary, the depth of the access ladder to the tailgun could indicate there are two 'rooms' flanking it, offering some super uncomfortable sleeping arrangements.
They're not really intended to sleep on the ship for extended periods, but narratively we're lead to believe they have, many times, and needed to make adjustments to it as a result. Notice how quickly Wrecker whipped up a bed for Omega? IMO, not the first time they've done something like that--they did it for themselves first.
Cargo Hold
Based on that screenshot of Omega above and the below shot from Cut and Run, the 'hold' of the ship is actually a storage area overhead, running the length of the ship. In that shot above of the rack, there are a series of yellow rungs which imply you can climb up somewhere on the port side. This is probably alternate access to that same overhead storage space.
In Cut and Run we see Echo, Omega, and Tech hide in it, coming back out from a slide-open hatch:
Given Tech's height this is probably somewhere around 1.5m high.
We can be reasonably certain the hold isn't under the ship, or at least storage there is minimal, due to a couple of things:
In all instances where the hyperdrive has been pulled, it's under the ship on the belly, and takes up a reasonable amount of space. Eg., in Retrieval, here's a bunch of stuff which has been pulled from the ship:
In instances where they're working on the ship from the outside, like in Cornered, the sides and belly never have panels open which contain empty space unless the ship's hardware have been removed to reach something:
So, the cargo hold is probably that space on the top from Cut and Run. It doesn't have much room; reasonably speaking, the area with the weapons and sleeping racks was probably a cargo hold as well, they just converted it to a more general purpose area. (So IMO this is a stronger argument for putting a commercial airliner-style bathroom in place of the weapons racks, particularly once they bail on the Empire.)
Dimensions - updated 11/3/23
Dawn of Rebellion has a Bad Batch section, and indicates the Marauder is 30.3m in length, 36.65m wide (presumably with the wings extended, and 12.41m tall (this probably includes the central stabilizer).
I will edit this to update it as we get more pictures. Since the toys that I know of have no basis the show from an internal perspective I didn't include anything from them.
“I’d be lying if I said I didn't volunteer for this moment.” Maeve said quietly as she peeled her stare from the clones and looked out over her home. “It’s not often we get new visitors. Their first moments remind me of my own. I try to relive it vicariously through others.”
Her soft expression met Omega’s wild one. “I was about your age when I arrived. Still, there isn’t really getting used to it.”
“You weren’t born here?” Omega questioned, looking back to the village to watch a group of children joyfully running down the sandy trail that led to the lake.
“No, I was not. Parahdee is a refuge planet. It’s the native’s culture to rescue lost souls. They’ve done such a good job, in fact, that the native population is greatly outnumbered by non-native citizens.”
“Fascinating.” Tech mutters, ignoring the twitch in his hand that begged him to document everything onto his datapad just so he could drink in the sight for as long as possible.
Silence fell over everyone again. It wasn’t until a sniffle caught their attention that they looked away and behind. Echo quickly put his helmet back on.
“Are you crying?” Wrecker gasped in disbelief, trying not to laugh.
“No,” Echo miserably attempted to assure. “I just got some sand in my eye.”
Maeve stepped back to rest a hand on his right arm. “It’s a completely normal reaction. It’s said this platform was three inches taller when it was first built. Tears eroded this entrance.”
Her hand gracefully slid from his arm as she began leading everyone to the stone bridge off to the left. Through Echo’s tears he hardly noticed the large palace just a short walk away. The village itself was a sight, and the palace even more grand. Everyone followed loosely. Nobody was in a hurry to leave the outdoors, yet curiosity beckoned them onward.
“It is Parahdeesian culture that visitors do not discuss business matters until well rested and fed,” Maeve glanced over her shoulder to watch as everyone put their helmets back on.
Without needing to break stride, her entourage opened a set of large doors. Inside, people of different shapes and sizes wandered about. Some stray up the stairs, others down halls. Nobody seems rushed.
“Rooms have been prepared for each of you. They are close in proximity to each other.” Maeve paused her well-practiced phrasing to bow her head at a man that approached with a small, wooden box.
The group slowly came to stop in order to witness Maeve’s reach inside, pulling out a key. She held it out to Hunter. Hunter extended, allowing her to drop it into his palm before balling his hand into a fist. She plucked key after key until each of them was given one, kneeling down to Omega on the child’s turn to accept.
“Safety is not a concern, but as you may imagine, many refugees have a hard time adjusting to that sentiment,” Maeve said as she began leading everyone to the grand staircase.
Omega and Wrecker look up to gawk at the giant chandelier that hung over them. Confusion flooded over the rest quickly. They’re staying here? In the palace? And not in some tucked away area, either. Maeve began to lead them around the balcony that overlooked the main floor, then ushered them down a hall.
“Each room has a washroom attached, along with respectable amenities. There is also cooling. The heat and humidity isn’t always pleasant to some from more cold origins.” Maeve hummed as she opened a door to her side.
The door swung open to reveal a generously sized room, completed with a small seating area near a window that overlooked the jungle. A large canopy bed was placed to the right, with intricate stained glass lamps placed on end tables at either side. The room had everything they could need, including a desk and bookcase that was lightly filled with holobooks and a few boxes.
Exhaustion slammed into Hunter like a giant wave from the comfortable sight. It wasn’t until he had to shake it off that he realized he had felt drunk off the entire situation. Perhaps it was all in his head, but he suddenly began to feel anxious.
“I understand your culture requires us to rest before business, would it be rude to ask otherwise?” Hunter says sternly after clearing his throat.
Maeve looked to Hunter’s helmet, studying it in an attempt to read his expression. However, though his
unfaltering stance despite Wrecker’s whine, it was clear he was serious. She relaxed her posture and turned to him fully, smiling softly.
“It would not be disrespectful. But, like I said before, your caller isn’t exactly free at the moment. Do you feel it’s urgent?” Maeve tilted her head as she spoke, folding her hands at her front again.
“Forgive us.” Tech pushes in an attempt to help Hunter. “It’s unusual for us to rest before business-“
“We insist.” Hunter finishes.
“I understand,” Maeve smiled. “Allow me to direct you to each of your rooms first, then I’ll see about getting you that meeting as quickly as possible.”
- -
Hunter paced at the window of his room, glancing at the large bed that begged to be slept on. He paused to stare, wondering if Omega would be able to handle sleeping all alone in such a big room. None of them have ever had their own room before. Cid said this job could take weeks. Could all of them even handle being that separate for that long? Relief quickly overcame him at the sound of Wrecker’s muffled voice behind the door to his room, followed by a pounding. Hurriedly, he made his way to it.
“What is it?”
“You need to check this out!” Wrecker gleefully leapt into the room, ignoring how he had nearly knocked Hunter down.
He turned to face Hunter, revealing an object tucked under one of his arms. “Smell this!”
“I can.” Hunter muttered as he closed the door, staring at the bar of soap Wrecker proudly presented. It smelled like fruit.
“It doesn’t taste as good as it smells!” Wrecker laughed as he dropped the bars on the desk near the door. “I’m taking as much as I can when we get out of here. I can’t believe they’re just letting us use this for free.”
“Is it free?” Hunter cringed.
“That’s what Maeve said. When Echo asked how much we’ll owe she laughed and said in the most serious way- nothing.” Wrecker sat on the chair at the desk, swiveling.
Hunter clenched his jaw, tongue running over his teeth. “This doesn’t feel right.”
“What doesn’t?” Wrecker stopped swiveling, all joy quickly dissolving.
Hunter paused at the sight of his brother. Guilt began to sink in. He shouldn’t have said anything. Not unless he was certain.
“Nothing,” he muttered softly. “Sorry, Wreck. I just don’t think I can relax until we know why we’re here.”
“Awe,” Wrecker gushed as he stood and slapped a firm hand on Hunter’s shoulder, giving him a loving nudge. “Neither can Echo. Tell you what, let’s go find this caller of ours ourselves.”
Hunter slowly nodded. Maeve did say they were allowed to roam about as they pleased, though it would have been more efficient to stay in one place for Maeve to locate them again. He picked up his Helmet and put it on as Wrecker began his exit out the room.
“I’ll check on Omega,” Hunter said after a sigh, giving Wrecker a nod, then parting separate ways down the same hall.
His was only a door away from Omega’s room. Hunter knocked softly, pausing for an answer. A quiet call of her name still didn’t earn a response. The anxiety bubbles through him again. Where was she? Did she wander out and get lost? Was she taken? Separate bedrooms weren’t a good idea. He carefully tested the doorknob. Of course, she hadn’t locked it. He wasn’t sure if he should be relieved or worried about that. Hunter leaned inside, whispering out for the child as he scanned the room . His eyes fixated on a bundle of blankets and pillows on the bed.
Stepping into the room, he made his way to the bedside, shoulders lowered at the sight before him. Omega was tangled in the puffy blankets, softly snoring as she held Lula close to her chest. She was fully relaxed, smiling a little even. She must have been absolutely exhausted. After watching for a few moments, he began reaching to move a strand of hair from her face, but his hand quickly returned to his side at the sound of familiar footsteps outside of the room. Hunter made his way back to the door, gently closing it behind him as Echo, Tech, and Wrecker approached with helmets on.
“Let’s go. I’m getting antsy,” Echo muttered, earning an agreeing sigh from Hunter.
“They had holobooks on the history of Parahdee just ready in the room,” Tech said, completely impressed as they began their way back toward the staircase.
“Yeah, and not-so-tasty soap!” Wrecker laughed.
“Soap is never a desirable flavor.” Tech looked to Wrecker, dropping the enthusiasm. “The basic pH level of lye triggers a bitter taste on the tongue-“
“Oh!” Maeve clapped her hands together as she skipped the last step to the top of the staircase, stopping the group of men from going any further. “I was just making my way to you.”
“As were we,” Hunter slowed with crossed arms.
“I would recommend waiting on that meeting,” Maeve begins, pressing her hands together at her chest.
“Listen,” Echo sighs. “We would love more than anything to relax right now, but until we get a slight rundown on why we’re here in the first place it just isn’t going to happen.”
Maeve nodded and pressed her lips together, forming a straight line as she weighed Echo’s words. “Very well, follow me.”
Maeve led the men away from the staircase to a door just down the opposite hall. She paused, holding up a hand.
“Please, allow me to warn her…” she mumbled softly and disappeared behind the door, careful not to reveal what’s inside.
Several minutes passed before the door opened again, wider this time. Maeve held it open and waving a hand. Under his helmet, Hunter’s eyebrow raised. There was something at the corner of Maeve’s lips: a small smirk.
“You may enter.”
Hunter glanced at the others before slowly stepping in. Instantly, his senses were overcome with a heavy perfume of earthy sweetness. He thought it was hot before stepping in that room. He was wrong. His visor began to fog, and he instinctively reached to wipe it so he could have clear vision.
“Look, ladies,” a woman’s voice sings from across the room. “My guests couldn’t wait to meet me.”
At once, the brothers come to a halt, realizing what room they had entered. A woman’s washroom. Just a few feet away, a medium sized pool of steaming water rested. There were a few women sitting at the sides, positioned to hide their bodies under the milky water. Flowers were sprinkled on the surface, moving with the light waves the woman created as they all giggled. Their gaze quickly fixated on the tile floor - shame, embarrassment, and guilt gripping them.
“Sorry-“ Hunter began, face hot.
“Oh, it’s okay. I’m sorry for teasing.” The earlier voice laughed. “You don’t have to be shy, everyone is decent.”
Hesitantly, the four of them searched for the source of the obviously smiling voice. She was right. There was no way to see anything through the water, and the women who weren’t in the water were all wearing robes or towels. A small group of women sat at a large window, sharing puffs from a hookah. Below them, a woman with long golden hair sat in the water, perfectly parallel to the clones. Two robed women brushed the locks of her hair, stopping when she raised a hand and waved gently to signal them to stop.
“May I ask what’s so urgent?” She hummed.
There was a long pause before any of the clones spoke, most of them too distracted at the sight before them. They were grateful for their helmets. Finally, Hunter cleared his throat, but when he still couldn’t find the right words, another giggle from the women surrounding them bounced off the walls.
The blonde woman lightly splashes at the group of girls near her. “Knock it off. Please forgive my friends. It’s not often we’re blessed with men in uniform. I’m going to stand now. I don’t mind if you look.”
Thankful for the warning, Echo averted his gaze down again. It felt like the most respectful action to take. However, the others held their stare. It was rare they got to see a naked woman. And, if one is consenting, it would be foolish to reject. Especially if that woman has the appearance of a goddess. Tastefully, they would argue, they admired the way the water slid over her breasts. When she turned to reveal her backside and stepped out of the hot pool, Wrecker’s knees began to buckle, and if it weren’t for Echo’s stare at everyone's feet so he could gently kick at his ankle, he might have toppled over.
With the help of the two women that were brushing her hair, she slid on a thin white robe. A hair pin was handed to her, and as she slowly approached the men, she wrapped her hair up. Quiet conversation resumed amongst the women, allowing for a more private introduction between the five of them. The closer she got. the more the clones realized the robe wasn’t just thin, but sheer.
“Well, what do you think, boys? I showed you mine, you show me yours?” She smirked up at them then giggled at the beat of silence. “Just the helmets will do for me.”
Hunter's heart began to pound in his chest, and he slowly reached to remove his helmet, tucking it between his arm and his hip. Maybe she wouldn’t notice how red in the face he was, or at least chalk it up to the heat. He glanced at the others as they removed their helmets as well. Wrecker stifled a laugh in reaction to his brothers’ faces. Hunter quickly looked down to the woman, praying she didn’t notice the laugh or think it’s directed at her.
If the woman did notice the snigger, it didn’t seem to bother her. She brought her arms to cover her chest and nibbled at her knuckle with pearly white teeth, eyes glimmering with a mixture of hunger and awe.
“Wow,” she breathed, taking another breath to compose herself. “Now, don’t tell me.”
Her gaze fixated on Hunter. She stepped back to take him in from head to toe. “You’re Hunter,” she trails, beginning to slowly circle him, inspecting every nook and cranny of his armor she possibly could with just her eyes, pausing just inches in front of him.
Hunter’s eyes met hers for the first time. As discreetly as possible he sucked in a sharp breath through his nostrils, holding it when she reached to caress his face. It took every soldier's instinct in him not to melt into her soft touch, and it was impossible not to stare back into her piercing grey eyes. He was shamefully disappointed when their eye contact broke so she could study his face tattoo, goosebumps returning at the feeling of her lightly tracing the shape of it with her dainty fingertip.
“Extraordinary tracking skills,” she listed with a hum as she slowly pulled her hand away from him, unaware of the slight forward lean Hunter uncontrollably made toward her when her attention moved onto Echo.
“Echo,” she purred out, stepping closer to him.
Echo kept his stare at the floor, studying the detail of the tiles beneath them. She smiled warmly, crossing her arms back over her chest as she bent forward and tilted her head to block his view of the intricate mosaic.
“Hi,” she chirped with a smile, eyes meeting his.
Echo couldn’t fight it, lifting his head to follow her eyes as if in a trance. He ignored the fluttering in his stomach and decided to shift his concentration at keeping proper posture. His lips parted at her giggle, taking in a shallow breath.
“You specialize in infiltration and cybernetic data. You weren’t an original member of clone force 99,” she said softly as she reached to gently caress his chin, tilting his head to the side in order to study his cybernetic implants. “Though, I’d say they’re quite lucky to have you now.”
Echo swallowed at the way she gently bit her lower lip, catching a sorrowful glint in her gaze. Normally, a woman looking at this part of him so closely would make him feel insecure, but the way her touch lingered on his chin a moment longer than necessary to fix his tilt strangely comforted him. She took a beat longer to move onto Wrecker than she did from Hunter to Echo.
“And you,” she giggled, placing a hand on Wrecker’s chest plate, giving him a gentle push.
Wrecker swayed back an inch, exaggerating her strength and allowing a small laugh to bubble from his stomach. His uncontrollable grin earned a cheeky crinkle of the woman’s nose. She pointed up at him.
“You’re wrecker,” she sang, wagging her finger at him with an equally uncontrollable smile and laugh, “the muscle, clearly, specializing in...”
She tapped her chin in thought, taking her time to circle him as well. Her free hand snakes under his bicep, giggling when he exaggerates her strength again, creating an illusion that his arm is light as a feather, then allowing gravity to drop his arm.
“Heavy weapons and demolition.” She grinned proudly up at Wrecker.
“That’s me!” He chuckled out, crossing his arms over his chest.
The woman’s giggling faded to a finish when she looked at Tech, eyebrows raising when she found him already seeking out eye contact. She takes a large step to be parallel with him, shivering out the giggles she experienced moments before. Her tongue slightly brushed over her lips to relax her smile, bowing politely.
“Tech,” she greets him.
“Hello,” he answered calmly, unsurprised she was able to guess who he was. It was a simple process of elimination.
“Hi,” she said softly, testing the waters by taking a slight step forward.
Tech shifted, unsure what to do with the sudden closeness, but relaxed quickly. She was nonthreatening enough. He averted his gaze from her eyes, looking forward to the haze formed by the girls sharing the hookah. He swallowed dryly when her face leaned close to his, her minty breath cooling his ear as she examined the details of his goggles. He shuddered when she pulled away, gaze meeting hers again.
“Extraordinarily intelligent, specializing in data analysis, slicing security systems, translation, and technological repairs.” She listed, smiling warmly as she stepped back to view the four of them. There was a short moment of silence as she eyed each of them, then frowned. “One of you is missing.”
“Have we met?” Hunter’s brows stitched together as he questioned.
“I think we would have remembered that,” Wrecker sidebared.
“I’ve done my research,” she folded her hands in front of her. “Forgive me. My name is Rivqah; specializing in political and social sciences.”
A/N: Genuinely wondering what was wrong with me when I first wrote this chapter because, GIRL, FIND YOUR VERB TENSE. Most of these earlier chapter were written in a complete rush because I just needed to get the ideas down and out of my head. I think I got better as I wrote more but don’t trust me lmao
Tag list: @redheadrenaissance @the-jedi-jamboree
Special thanks to @ech0e for these beautiful separators!
I was interested in the first chap but that second one got me hooked. I know I am going to religiously read every chapter. This is so amazingly written, the pace, the descriptions, I love it all. The premise is very interesting, but like Hunter, I feel like its too good. Very unsettling when you're a soldier used to seeing the bad side everywhere. And when you're a writer who lives writing angst. I see the angst potential here and I'm on my toes.
Looking forward for what happens next! I'd love to join the taglist if possible (please), otherwise I'll just keep an eye out 💜
Reader x Crosshair. Reader is very sensitive and doesn't take Crosshair's jabs well, even though she tries to hide it bc she rationally knows Crosshair is like that with everyone and it's not that deep. Meanwhile Crosshair is unaware until he finds her crying at night. Then some soft!Crosshair and hurt/comfort with a confession
wounds
crosshair x fem reader
summary: secret softie crosshair regrets being mean to you
warnings: some hurtcomfort
a/n: so like let's ignore the fact that hunter probably heard this whole interaction and chose to keep his peace. sensitive girlies, professional criers please RISE.
crosshair doesn't mean to be so cruel. the others have a much easier time brushing off his quiet, sarcastic hostility as he snickers under his breath at the clear disconnect between what he thinks is comical and what you think is normal. your heart twists in encroaching agony every time you feel like you've done something wrong—like you've fucked up and he's always there to catch you in a mockery. his words, his looks, his wounds all tear through your skin, constantly bubbling up until one night, you can't swallow it down anymore. you feel like you'll choke otherwise.
you wipe your tears furiously as the knocking against the door gets more impatient. your reflection is red and tear-streaked, yet another embarrassment you accept that crosshair will have a field day out of. he stands outside the tiny refresher shared amongst the six of you with his arms folded across his chest, clearly unimpressed at how long you holed yourself up in there. you cast your head down, hoping to escape this moment just like you wish to disappear from his scrutiny.
"sorry, it's all yours," you whisper hoarsely. you wince, deciding it's better not to speak.
crosshair scoffs through a yawn. "go to bed."
you nod, avoiding his gaze that seems to pierce right through you. you hurry back to your bunk, not knowing that crosshair lingers outside the refresher, still looking in your direction. an uncomfortable knot settles in his gut, intuitively indicative of something he can't quite put his finger on. he can tell you're acting off, though. he knows you well enough—perhaps more than he likes to admit.
the marauder is dark and silent, other than wrecker's snoring from a few bunks over. you hear crosshair come back, his footsteps light and nimble like a cat. but instead of sinking back down into his warm blankets, he sits at the foot of your mattress and glances down at the cocoon you've wrapped yourself up in to hide your face.
you hold your breath. he sighs, the sound thin and exasperated. "i know you're awake," he says tersely.
"am not," you reply, your voice muffled under the covers.
he raises an eyebrow while the corner of his mouth twitches in amusement. his long, careful fingers find your ankle and wrap around it, tugging slightly. your breath hitches in surprise, and you try to wiggle out of his grip. it's a childish attempt, but it leaves both of you trying not to laugh as the others try to sleep peacefully for once.
"crosshair, let go." you pause. "i'll kick you. i'm serious."
he squeezes your ankle playfully. "i'd like to see you try."
you groan under your breath. "crosshair, please..."
he's quiet. not unlikely for him, but you feel the silence suddenly weigh on this conversation. his voice is oddly gentle when he says, "look at me."
his fingers loosen around your ankle like a truce. you swallow hard, wondering if he's caught onto you. your blankets fall away from your figure as you sit up, letting your eyes adjust to the darkness. he's nothing but a tall shadow at the end of your bunk at first.
"it's too dark to see anything," you mumble, lying back down on your side, "you can call me ugly in the morning."
crosshair stills. his enhanced vision allows him to see you better than you can see him, but he's not sure what stops his heart more—the sight of your swollen, puffy eyes, or your words.
"and why would i do that?"
you close your eyes. "forget it. i'm sorry."
you feel the bunk dip under his weight as he shifts closer, slow like he's almost...scared. you nearly jump out of your skin when his fingertips brush the skin under your eyes, where some tears still slip through, cascading down your cheeks—the ones he's thought about kissing more times than he can count.
"i fucked up," he mutters, "didn't i."
you take a shaky breath and try to shake your head. "mm-mm. it's not you—it's just me—i'm..." your tears drown out your words in a surge, and you press your face into your pillow to stop yourself from making a sound. crosshair's hand smoothes over the top of your head, gently threading through your hair as guilt tangles with the knot inside of his stomach.
"bullshit," he says quietly. "it's never you."
you rub your eyes and look at him. "huh?" you whimper. this time, it's his turn to avoid your gaze. he sucks his teeth and shakes his head, hanging it low. his hand slides down from your hair to to your face, where he cups your cheek and slowly swipes away some stray tears. your eyes widen at how soft his touch feels, how his skin warms yours despite having the coldest heart you know.
"my brothers are gonna skin me alive if they find out i made you cry," crosshair murmurs.
you can't help but smile at this remark. "yeah, well, your brothers actually like me."
"who says i don't like you?"
you scoff incredulously as he draws his hand away to adjust the blankets over your shoulders. "oh, come on, you hate my guts."
crosshair tilts his head to the side a bit. "and this upsets you."
"i'm not upset."
he stares at you before nodding. "right," he says slowly, his familiar sarcasm dripping from his tongue.
you pull your blankets up to your chin with a hurt frown. "i just...i feel like you're always mad. at me."
"i'm an ass. it has nothing to do with you."
you can't help but laugh at how bluntly he says this. "so you admit it."
"hm?"
"that you're an ass."
crosshair squeezes your shoulder. "don't tell the others."
you laugh again, realizing he has a more playful side than you gave him credit for. he brings a finger to your lips as if he's shushing you, and you remember to keep quiet. your eyes lock, and both of your gazes seem to crinkle into knowing smiles, but his still feels heavy with regret.
"i won't," you whisper, reaching up to wrap your pinky finger around his. "it's our little secret."
he exhales a quiet chuckle. "good." his eyes soften, and he just looks at you for a moment before he speaks again. "i never meant to hurt you."
you bring your locked pinkies close to your chest. "i know," you tell him.
his lips part like he wants to say something else, but his words get stuck in his throat. quiet is usually his comfort, his natural state of being when conversations fail to interest him. only now, he wishes he could come up with something more—something better. perhaps the sweet things wrecker might've said, or the honest truths tech could've suggested. the right words hunter would've known to use, or the apology echo would've given despite his pride. crosshair finds it all to be so foreign, like a language he doesn't yet speak. but that doesn't mean he can't try, in his own way.
he leans down and brushes his lips against your forehead. the kiss lingers before he pulls back, silently stretching out of your bunk to disappear into the refresher. your eyes flutter closed, thinking that's the end of this moment, as you hear some water running. he proves you wrong when you feel a cold, wet towel drape over your eyes to help with the swelling. his thin fingers gingerly press down, touching you so delicately it's like he's worried he'll break you all over again.
"i'm okay," you whisper, "just go to sleep..."
"you first," he whispers back.
you sigh and reach for him, lacing your fingers around his free hand. he startles a bit, but tries not to show it. "thanks, crosshair."
he shakes his head even though you can't see. you slowly slide further back into sleep as he applies this cold compress to your eyes, hoping to calm the irritation that's to come from your tears. he stays wide awake, paying close attention to your soft breathing slipping through your slightly parted lips. he thinks you can't hear him when he speaks quietly, under his breath.
"i know that i'll never deserve you," he chuckles drily and shakes his head.
"but i'd be fucking crazy not to want you."
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Synopsis: With the emergence of highly intelligent and evolved kaiju, Hoshina has his hands full after being tasked with heading a newly formed investigative unit.
Complex and twisted as these cases turn out to be, your role as the team’s assigned forensic analyst is a crucial one … along with concealing your growing infatuation with the charming Vice Captain under a polished and professional exterior.
Contents: Mystery, investigation, suspense, romance, humour, fluff, canon-typical violence, possible depictions of sex, multi-part.
Dividers by: @uzmacchiato
Part 7 (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6)
The glass-fronted town hall, with its rock gardens and careful caretaking, seemed to be a point of pride to the citizens.
As they pulled up in the large parking lot, Reno was glad to see that Superintendent Kitagawa had cordoned off a parking space for them close to the entrance, as the place was filling up at a decent rate.
Stepping out of the vehicle, Reno took a moment to shake off the discomfort from the weighted stares they were receiving. It wasn’t that they were hostile (at least, not yet), but this was certainly different from what he was accustomed to.
As an officer of the JAKDF, there was a quality of unquestionable authority that the uniform gave, the unspoken knowledge that one was qualified to kill kaiju, and that this was what one would do best, with no opposition.
Roadways were cleared, civilians stowed safely away in shelters, the shattered architecture of the cityscape an open battlefield on which to take down the foe.
He was beginning to see the inherent privilege that came with such a job, one that was often ignored in the face of how dangerous each mission was. Here, there was no such wall of assumed anonymity, and the crowd waiting for them was undeterred in the absence of gas masks rendering one faceless, or the most powerful weapons and tech their suppliers had to offer.
He chanced a glance sideways at his companions.
Kafka looked as ill at ease as he did, a little more transparently so. That didn’t stop him from turning to give Reno a wide grin, and a thumbs-up, even as sweat dampened his hairline.
Smiling slightly in return, Reno followed the others into the cool interior of the hall, where a table and podium had been set up, press conference-style, on the raised stage across one wall.
This was obviously where they were to be situated, and he adjusted the collar of his pale blue button up shirt as the lights cast their team in a bright glow.
Blinking once, twice, he allowed his eyes to adjust, scanning the hall carefully as the crowd outside filtered in and took their seats, the hum of voices mingling with the occasional raised clarity of a greeting or laugh.
The front rows consisted mostly of the older residents, given first preference in seating out of deference to their age, or affluence perhaps. There were certainly some well-dressed citizens present.
Behind them, the younger cohort of the townsfolk. Here he could see some familiar sentiments, in the brighter gazes, hissed whispers and blatant pointing, unusual for a formal setting, but considering the fact that the majority of the KIU had been in the papers and all over the internet for the past few months, it was hardly surprising.
Reno didn’t doubt that they might receive some questions entirely unrelated to their investigation.
The group that gradually arrested his attention, though, was located close to the entryway, never moving further in beyond the glass doors. A motley crew they were, of seemingly all ages and occupations, but there seemed to be one man who they gravitated around, muttering close-lipped speculation to him, and to each other.
Even though he didn’t have much experience in such settings, Reno could sniff out the brand of ‘troublemaker’ as well as anyone who cared to observe closely.
Turning his head, he caught Hoshina’s eye.
The Vice-Captain had maintained his signature, inscrutably pleasant smile, and this didn’t falter, even as a flash of guileful awareness passed over his gaze, and he gave Reno a small nod.
So, he had seen it too.
The thought gave Reno a small boost of confidence, and he continued to scan the hall, allowing his glance to pass evenly over the crowd, even as he paid closer attention to the group milling about the entrance.
Superintendent Kitagawa stepped forward to the podium, after giving each of them a brief, firm handshake.
“Greetings to all present. If we’d all take our seats, we can begin today’s proceedings.”
Even though there were empty seats available, the group at the back of the hall remained mutinously standing, arms folded, appearing as a solid front.
Kitagawa ignored them with the air of one accustomed to dealing with such, easing into the agenda of the meeting and introducing each member of the KIU.
Eventually he stood aside for Hoshina, and another round of murmurs went around the hall. Some even sat closer to the edge of their seats to get a better view.
Hoshina’s greeting was even, his voice confident and melodious, the distinctive Kansai accent lending a personable tone as always. Reno did note that behind the easy charm, he made no effort to disguise the steely, military inflection, the clipped edge of each sentence that never failed to straighten the spine of any officer who heard it.
By his voice alone, Hoshina was laying the foundation for their future interactions with civilians; polite, helpful and competent, all while maintaining a firm boundary of professionalism that should only be crossed at their own peril.
Wondering if that would be enough to deter the potential rabble-rousers, Reno brought his attention back to the Vice-Captain’s speech.
“… intentions here are purely for public interest. The KIU is a newly formed unit, as I’m sure you’re all aware, but our officers have more than distinguished themselves in our ongoing fight against kaiju. We’re here to ensure that any potential threat is thoroughly analysed and dealt with. We hope that we have your full co-operation throughout our investigation.”
Kitagawa cleared his throat and stepped forward once more.
“Thank you, Vice-Captain Hoshina. I’ll now open up the floor for any community concerns and questions.”
As expected, it took a while for any in the audience to speak up. Most were discussing amongst each other, slowly gaining the momentum to ask what they needed to.
Hoshina’s clear directive and self-assured style had obviously had the intended effect.
Reno kept his eye trained on the suspect group at the back as the first few hands in the audience began to raise.
The questions that came at first spoke to the heart of the issues troubling the community. One bespectacled man, who had arrived with his wife and young daughter, asked what many had evidently been wondering.
“Vice-Captain, just how worried should we be? Since the two incidents six months ago, there hasn’t been anything else. Is it possible that whatever has done this has left the area?”
“It’s entirely possible. The fact remains that the murders occurred in this area, and no clear answer has been reached. We’ll continue our operations here until that time.”
“If you do clear the town, does this mean that the mine might re-open?”
“That can only be established by Hasegawa Inc. It is not within the rights of the JAKDF or the KIU to speak on their behalf. I can say, however, that no further mining operations can occur as long as this investigation is ongoing.”
Glancing around, Reno took a moment to marvel at how easily and innocuously Hoshina had laid his trap.
On the one hand, all citizens should want an end to the investigation to restore peace and to continue living in the ideal of safety. It also would cast any who impeded the investigation in a poor light, even if they claimed to want an end to the mining operation.
It would, more importantly, give Hoshina the grounds to investigate those individuals should he deem them suspicious enough.
Finally, after a round of queries that Hoshina fielded with ease, one echoed over from the back of the hall.
“Isn’t Hasegawa Inc. affiliated with Izumo Tech?”
Heads turned, whispers relayed in hushed anonymity.
Hoshina nodded amiably.
“That’s true.”
The speaker stepped forward from the crowd, obviously unafraid of exposing himself.
Reno made out an elderly man, features wizened by the outdoors, face half-shaded by a flat cap. The greying hair at his temples was neatly trimmed, as was the goatee that adorned his chin. His cheeks were gaunt, eyes red-rimmed and focused on them with a laser-like stare.
“And isn’t Izumo Tech the main supplier of the JAKDF?”
Again, Hoshina tipped his chin in acknowledgement.
“Of course.”
“So, it’d be fair to say that you’re here to further your own interests, no? The faster the mines are cleared, the more materials Izumo Tech gets hold of to make you those fancy suits, right?”
More voices swept the hall, and this time, some were raised in protest.
“For shame!”
“Shut up, Usano! We’ve had enough of you!”
“The suits that keep us safe, you moron!”
Usano sneered in return.
“Brainwashed, the lot of you. You know what kills a town like this faster than a kaiju? Pollution of the water sources. That’s all those mines are good for. And now we’re supposed to sit back and watch while these posers march in, waving their big guns around, intimidating us into silence? Well, I won’t be intimidated.”
Even as Reno felt his hackles raise at the belligerent attitude of the man, Hoshina lifted a hand, quelling the tumult that Usano had started.
He spoke into the silence, still pleasantly measured.
“Those’re all valid concerns. Really, they are. But I’m gonna have to correct you on one point.”
He raised a cheerful finger of admonishment, one all his officers had learned to fear above any other signal.
“There’s not much that can kill faster than a kaiju. Unless we’re talkin’ a matter of seconds here. And as for our fancy suits, they won’t save, or bring back the officers who have died in the line o’ duty.”
The reminder was stark, cutting through the hall like one of Hoshina’s blades, but he didn’t stop there.
“My intention is not to compare one struggle to another. I’m simply emphasizing that the danger to your town, and the people that live here, is very real if kaiju presence is involved. Our team would like to eliminate that possibility, along with the kaiju, and then move on to where the public requires our services next.”
He tilted his head, and to anyone sitting in the audience, the implicit statement was clear. As personable as Hoshina was, he was not the kind of leader to back down from a challenge, nor would he be cowed from performing his duty by public disfavour or bureaucracy.
More murmuring came from the back of the hall, and Reno watched carefully as the man named Usano took a step back into the ranks of his own unofficial ‘resistance’.
Hoshina’s words had, once again, laid out a course of action that was not unreasonable to the ears of anyone listening objectively. As all such meetings were matters of public record, Usano and his ilk might only cast themselves in an unfavourable light if they pursued such a protest further.
As Superintendant Kitagawa wrapped up the meeting with clear relief writ on his features, it was evident to Reno that their problems were far from over.
The fact that Usano had allowed for a tactical retreat from a confrontation only meant that his group might interfere with the investigation on other fronts later.
Reno turned to Hoshina, who had stepped back from the podium. Meeting the Vice-Captain’s gaze, he experienced a moment of clarity in terms of the weight that his role as ‘community liaison’ carried.
He’d have to be the one to keep an eye on things here in town, talk to the citizens, walk among them, and keep a finger on the pulse of events. Without that kind of presence, the investigation might meet unnecessary obstacles which might slow everyone down and lose them valuable time.
To a JAKDF officer, whether in the field, or in a new form of unit like this one, time was always of the essence.
Straightening, you eased the tension from your back, eyeing the cold cup of coffee at your elbow with distaste.
Time to make a fresh one, but not before –
“Anythin’ new come in?”
The door to the lab swung open and Hoshina strolled in, looking as if he’d just attended a picnic, rather than a tense public hearing.
Granted, one did not don military formal wear to relax on a blanket outdoors, and you couldn’t help but admire the way the tailored suit sat on his trim form. Unlike standard uniforms, the gilt badges and epaulettes indicating his position as Vice-Captain looked singularly impressive.
In the hope that you hadn’t been staring too long and hard, you cleared your throat.
“Ichikawa and Furuhashi’s medical reports are in, but … how did everything go over there?”
He shrugged, a small smile in place, as always.
“As good as we could have expected, I think. Most folks ‘round here are just worried about the risk of kaiju activity, but there’s some who might try to put a spanner in the works, if you catch my drift.”
Frowning, you gestured at the door leading to the outer rooms.
“I’m sure they know our base of operations by now. Should we be worried?”
He grinned and stepped forward, one hand dropping with easy familiarity to the top of your head.
“Now don’t you fret about that. One of us’ll always be around to make sure you’re safe.”
“Sir! That’s not what I – “
Embarrassment flooded you as Hoshina doubled over, his laughter clear and ringing.
“Oh man, I gotta stop by the lab more often.”
“Vice-Captain.”
“Fine, fine. What’s in those reports?”
Huffing out a put-upon sigh, you swivelled to face the screen of your laptop, pulling up the two medical summaries that you’d spent the better part of the morning analysing.
“So, from what I see here, Number Nine’s attacks were pretty extreme. It condensed energy in short, high-impact bursts, mimicking the firing of bullets from a rifle. But here is where the issue is.”
You traced out the pathway of the wounds that had laced the torsos of the two young officers, imaged clearly on the attached scans. Hoshina leaned over your shoulder, eyes trained on the screen.
“Hmm. Looks like clean exits on all of ‘em.”
“That’s because Nine’s energy attacks copied a standard firearm in the truest sense. Unlike the effect of some our own special rounds, it didn’t cause explosive force and outward trauma.”
“Like the head wounds on our victims?”
“Exactly. I looked it up further, and most kaiju that are able to emit energy attacks like this rely on high frequency vibration of particles within specialised chambers in their bodies. They create a massive amount of energy all at once. It’s something that Nine honed down to a precise form. Based on that mechanism, though, something like this wouldn’t be able to create the kind of wounds found on the victims. If it is a kaiju, it’s evolved some other way to kill.”
“And the additional knife marks?”
“Look, this is just a hypothesis sir, but I think that whoever took a knife to the victims was trying to conceal something. Possibly, the way they actually died.”
“In other words, covering up the method the kaiju might have used to kill them?”
“Right. Implying that – “
“A human agent found victims of kaiju attacks, and removed vital evidence from the bodies.”
You glanced up briefly, noting the grim set of his jaw.
For an officer like Hoshina, this must have been a first. The idea that one of the people he’d fought so hard to protect could be actively participating in a case like this, as a perpetrator no less, must have been a hard pill to swallow.
Tentatively, you placed a hand on his sleeve.
“We’ll get to the bottom of this, sir. Don’t worry.”
He looked down at you, and even as difficult as he was to read at most times, there was an element of surprise in his expression, one that morphed to something softer before he stepped back, gently placing distance between you once more.
“Of course we will. Now, don’t let me keep you from your duties.”
You had to wonder at the mental fortitude it took to occupy a position like his. Hoshina was clearly not accustomed to receiving reassurance from someone else, especially a subordinate.
Nodding, you shot him an encouraging smile.
“On it.”
In the doorway, he paused, fingers tapping out a steady rhythm on the metal frame. You watched him attentively.
“Vice-Captain?”
He turned, brow furrowed.
“Hey, can you check somethin’ for me? It’s just … what that guy in the town hall meeting said. It’s been buggin’ me ever since I heard it. Can you do an analysis of water quality from sources around the town centre? Maybe from the areas surrounding the original mining operation?”
Well, this was an odd request.
Obviously, the earlier meeting had set him on some scent.
“Of course. I’ll identify sites to sample and head out there myself.”
“Take Kafka with you. You’re not goin’ anywhere alone.”
This time, there was no air of amusement surrounding his statement.
If it hadn’t been evident before, it certainly was now. Hoshina took the safety of his team, and by extension, you, with a great deal of gravity.
Haruichi settled into the comfortable chair at his station, taking a sip of the mineral water Reno had brought him earlier. Arms outstretched, he cracked his knuckles, taking some satisfaction from the sound.
His father had always found the habit distasteful. He’d often reminded Haruichi that hard work didn’t have to be announced by pointless gestures.
Since joining the JAKDF, Haruichi had been engaging in such small acts of rebellion more often. Meaningless as they were, they brought him comfort, a reminder of the purpose he’d constructed for himself away from the influence of his family.
Since Kafka had headed out with their new analyst to help collect samples, he’d taken on the task of contacting the former residents of the compound himself.
Accessing one of his saved contacts, he turned the speaker up to maximum volume and placed the phone beside him, using his own high-priority login to access Izumo Tech’s employee database.
“Sir?”
The voice that answered was a familiar one, bringing a smile to his face.
Sakuchi Endo had been one of the most efficient project managers in weapons development at Izumo Tech. Haruichi’s father had seen fit to appoint him as a mentor of sorts for a few years, in order to teach him the rudiments of the sector he’d someday hoped to hand over.
“No need for the formalities, Endo.”
“Well, I – it’s nice to hear from you. It’s been a while.”
“No need to sound so surprised.”
“You haven’t called in – “
“Seven months. I know.”
The silence on the other end threatened to grow heavy, and Haruichi sighed.
“Look, you know this new unit I’m part of?”
“The KIU?”
Endo’s voice carried an air of pride, in spite of it all.
“Yeah. So, we’re working a case that involves Hasegawa Inc. I’m pulling up the personnel files right now, but I need specific details of the site. Who was allocated housing and which homes they occupied according to the site plan.”
Haruichi could hear the faint sound of Endo’s fingers on the keyboard.
“Hmm. Can do. Is this about that kaiju case from a few months back?”
“Yeah.”
There was a pause.
“Does he know? That you’re working on this case, I mean?”
“Dad? Nope. He might figure it out sooner or later.”
“Oh, he will.”
Huffing out a short laugh, Haruichi leaned back in his seat.
“Has that ever stopped you from helping a guy out?”
“It hasn’t before, and it won’t now. I’m too valuable, and he knows it. Anyway, I’ll have the files sent over in a few hours.”
“Thanks. Owe you one.”
“And Haruichi?”
“Hmm?”
“How is it over there? They treating you well?”
No doubt, this was the fear that most from his former life had harboured when he’d chosen to join the force. It was dangerous work, and gruelling, a far cry from the privilege and power that had been promised to him if he’d followed his father’s wishes.
Eyeing the half-empty water bottle on the desk which Reno had absently placed there for him earlier, the haphazard stickers that Kafka had adorned the files with, the formal coat draped neatly over the back of a chair while Hoshina hummed a light tune somewhere nearby, Haruichi grinned.
Ok, I got so excited when this series got updated.
Just like the previous chapters, this one is amazing. You can read how much thought was put into this story by all the events, and -holy shit- how the characters are so in depths. I feel like I'm watching a real tv series. And that would be something I'd watch on repeat btw.
Hoshina's protectiveness of everyone is 🥺🥺🥺 And he better get used to people being concerned about him 💜
A new bad batch project from the one and only leonidas-banana-phone??? I am still reading Reaper's story to this day and I am so excited for whatever you write next!
I went to Anime Boston and this was like the only KN8 merch in the whole con that I could see lmao but of course yall know I HAD to get it, it’s my man. I can’t not get it.
I went to my town's AnimeCon and I ran into the same problem. I don't understand the lack of merch for KN8. I did find one thing tho. One. And I had to get it.
I was rolling my eyes at my hubby for wanting a Ghost of Tushima katana (men and their swords), but as soon as I saw the blades, I understood 😂👌
🫧 Pairings: Crosshair X Female!Reader
🫧 word count: 12.5k (it might be worth it)
plot summary: Tasked to gather intel on a spice shipment, yourself and crosshair find yourself in a luxurious hotel but with only one bed and have to pretend to be married. But after a tense couples meal, you wonder what it would be like to truly be in his arms.
warnings: NSFW, 18+ ONLY. Fake dating trope, only one bed trope, sub/dom sexual content, explicit language, cunnilingus, blowjob, kissing, neck sucking/biting, spanking, dirty thoughts, dirty talk, praising and teasing, marriage kink, slight possessive sex, soft and rough sex, all consensual, creampie, aftercare, jealous crosshair, brief alcohol mention, reader wears a dress and minimal makeup, implied medium to long hair, minor sexist comment made to reader (not by crosshair), flirting, not proofread, pre order 66 so crosshair is not crossbald x
Anon, this is for you.
You pushed your way through the crowded bar, weaving between patrons with a small smile tugging at your lips. The parcel you’d just dropped off for some locals hadn’t paid much, but credits were credits. However, the smile didn’t last.
At the far end of the bar, the boys were clustered together in an unusually tight knot — heads tilted in, voices low. The closer you got, the more you caught the hiss of “shh, shh”.
You stopped in front of them and let your gaze sweep the circle. Hunter avoided eye contact by pretending to adjust the strap on his breast plate. Echo suddenly found his drink fascinating. And Wrecker’s big frame actually shifted behind Tech like he could use him as cover.
“Alright,” you said, planting your hands on your hips. “What’s going on?”
They exchanged a silent conversation with just their eyes. Eventually, Hunter straightened, cleared his throat, and said, “We’ve just got word on a potential new job. Good money.”
“Great.” You nodded slowly, scanning their faces. “…Is there a catch?”
Tech pushed his goggles higher on his nose, as if the gesture would somehow make his delivery smoother. “You will be the one doing the mission.”
You blinked at him. That wasn’t exactly unusual. “Okay… and what is it?”
Wrecker’s grimace was the first giveaway. Echo’s wince was the second. You knew those expressions — the last time they’d looked at you like that, they were trying to talk you into playing “happy wife” for some sleaze.
Your hands went up immediately. “Nope. Not a chance. I am not pretending to be married to some sleemo again.”
A vivid memory surfaced where it was one of Cid’s old jobs, where the fake husband in question had taken the role far too seriously. You’d told them you wouldn’t ever do something like that again after that, and a few months ago when they tried to pitch you something similar, you laughed in their faces.
“Maybe you’ll change your mind with this one?” Hunter offered, a faint smirk at the corner of his mouth.
“Doubt it.” You turned on your heel, but curiosity got the better of you two steps later. “…Go on.”
“You’ll be with Crosshair,” Hunter said.
Your gaze slid sideways to where Crosshair was leaning against the bar like the galaxy’s most bored sharpshooter, a toothpick balanced between his teeth. His eyes met yours for half a heartbeat before drifting away again.
You turned back to Hunter. “As in, he’ll be with me while I fake-date some idiot?”
“Not exactly,” Tech corrected, eyes still on his datapad. “You will be dating Crosshair.”
Your jaw actually dropped. “Huh?”
Hunter took over, laying it out in his steady, matter-of-fact way: a heavily guarded resort on Corellia, a contact who only worked with “registered guests,” the cover being a couple in a hotel suite.
“So, will you do it?” Echo asked, leaning on the bar.
“No,” you said instantly with a scoff. “Just because I know him doesn’t mean I want to spend an entire mission holding hands and pretending we’re madly in love. And did you even ask him if he’s okay with this?”
“Oh, he already agreed,” Wrecker said with a big grin.
Your head whipped toward Crosshair. “You what?”
He shrugged one shoulder, unbothered. “And hey,” Wrecker then added, “he cleans up real good.”
“Not the point,” you muttered, dragging a hand down your face.
“It’s good money,” Hunter reminded you, knowing exactly how to push.
You groaned, glaring at each of them in turn. “Fine. But if this blows up in our faces, I’m blaming all of you.”
“Atta girl,” Wrecker said, giving you a pat on the back that nearly sent you into the bar.
The others drifted off to start planning, leaving you and Crosshair alone. He finally pushed off the bar, sauntering past you as he pulled the toothpick from his mouth.
“Don’t worry,” he drawled, his voice low and mocking, “I’ll be a good husband for you.”
You opened your mouth to shoot back, but he’d already walked away.
This was going to be interesting.
When the Marauder settled down in the landing bay at the location, you and Crosshair stood side by side at the open hatch, bags in hand, both wearing expressions that could curdle milk.
“Maker,” Wrecker said from behind you, grinning in amusement, “You two’ve got faces like a slapped arse.”
You didn’t dignify him with a response as Crosshair just gave him a long, flat look that said Wrecker was lucky they were on a timetable.
The hatch closed behind them and the ship began to lift away, the sound of its engines fading as the Marauder disappeared into the hazy Corellian skyline.
You let out a quiet huff, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. “Well,” you muttered, “guess we’re doing this.”
Without waiting for him, you started up the paved path toward the resort. At least the place was nice. More than nice, actually.
The white stone gleamed in the sun, balconies lined with planters spilling over with flowers in deep reds and golds. There was even an elaborate fountain glittered in the courtyard. It was the kind of place you could almost enjoy if you weren’t here to play pretend.
You were halfway up the front steps when Crosshair’s voice stopped you.
“Wait.”
You turned just enough to give him a questioning look. “What?”
His brown eyes scanned the building like he was sighting a target. “You remember the plan?”
You rolled your eyes and resumed walking. “Yes. Do you?”
“Just making sure.” He replied, his mouth twitching in slight annoyance.
The two of you were… sort of friends. He was quiet, moody, and impossible to read, but you’d learned to tolerate him. In his own prickly way, he seemed to tolerate you too.
Crosshair fell into step beside you, lowering his voice as you reached the ornate glass doors. “We’re here to meet Sabaz Trill. Dinner with him tonight, part of some couples’ mixer the resort is hosting. You smile, you nod, you make it look like we belong here.”
“And tomorrow?” you prompted as he maps out the plan again just for reassurance.
“That’s when we get the intel on the spice shipment,” he finished. “Clean, simple.”
You gave him a side glance. “With us? There’s always drama.”
He snorted faintly but didn’t argue. You reached for the buzzer beside the grand glass doors when Crosshair’s hand landed lightly on your upper arm.
“Wait.”
You froze mid-reach and turned your head toward him, irritation slipping into your voice. “What now? The sooner we do this, the sooner it’s over.”
His eyes flicked past you toward the courtyard. “We need to act like a couple,” he murmured, his tone low enough not to carry.
You frowned but then followed his gaze. Right. All around you, other guests strolled hand-in-hand or with arms linked, smiling like they were in a holonet romance. Every one of them screamed we’re in love and on vacation. You and Crosshair on the other hand…
You bit your lip and nodded. “Right. Okay. Uh…”
The pause dragged, the two of you standing stiff as statues. You could probably fake coupledom with someone like Wrecker which would probably be more easy and natural. But Crosshair? Tall, quiet, and perpetually unimpressed? It felt like trying to warm up to a wall.
“Should we hold hands?” he asked finally, rubbing the back of his neck and looking very uncomfortable.
You hesitated. “Uh… no.”
His gaze dropped, not offended exactly, but definitely unreadable.
Guilt gnaws you, so you quickly held out your travel bag instead. “You could carry my bag for me, though?” Your smile was a little sheepish, a silent peace offering.
One dark brow arched at you, but then his mouth curved into the faintest smirk. “Fine.”
He took the strap from your shoulder in one smooth motion, slinging it over his own like it weighed nothing. Somehow, that small shift of just him holding your belongings made the whole act feel just a little more real.
“Better?” he asked, the corner of his mouth still twitching upward.
“Better,” you admitted, trying not to overthink why his smirk made your stomach swirl.
You both walked up to the reception desk, where a young, overly-joyous man practically beamed at you like the sun itself had possessed his face.
You tried to match his enthusiasm with a polite smile. Crosshair, of course, did not. His expression screamed I hate every second of this before the poor man had even spoken.
“Hello, and welcome to Under the Hearts Hotel! How can I help you?” the receptionist chimed.
“Hi,” you begin, doing your best impression of a cheerful tourist. “We have a room and meal booked for tonight?”
“Perfect! What name is it under?”
You froze. Right. The names. No one had told you what cover identities you were supposed to use.
For a heartbeat too long, your brain went completely blank. Then, mercifully, Crosshair leaned in ever so slightly: “Eres.”
You let out the tiniest breath of relief, glancing at him with a quick, grateful nod. He didn’t acknowledge it, eyes fixed on the desk clerk like he was ready to shoot the man for smiling too much.
The receptionist’s fingers tapped away at the monitor, his grin never faltering. Honestly, you were starting to wonder if it was painted on. Then he looked back up, eyes positively sparkling.
“Ah yes, here we are! The honeymoon suite — booked and ready for you! Rose petals on the bed and champagne on ice.”
Your mouth opened. Nothing came out.
You turned slowly to Crosshair, who looked equally frozen. Neither of you had been prepared for that particular detail.
The receptionist chuckled lightly at your strained expressions. “Oh dear, trouble in paradise already?”
Crosshair’s brow furrowed instantly. “Is that any of your business?”
“Cross!” you hissed under your breath, snapping out of your horror long enough to act. Quickly, you slid your arm through his and plastered on a sweet smile, tightening your grip on him — not a reassurance, but a don’t you dare warning.
“Sorry about him,” you said brightly, practically grinding your teeth through the smile. “We’ve… well, we’ve been traveling a long way to get here. Just need to put our feet up for a bit. Don’t we, my love?”
Your grip on his arm tightened enough to make the point.
Crosshair closed his eyes, jaw tight, then forced the stiffest excuse for a smile you’d ever seen. “Yes. Sorry. Long day.”
“Of course, of course,” the receptionist chirped, undeterred. He slid the room fob across the counter, still smiling that terrifyingly wide grin. “No worries at all. Our jacuzzi baths will wash that stress away in no time!”
You snatched up the fob like it was a lifeline. “Wonderful, thank you,” you utter quickly, already tugging Crosshair by the arm toward the lifts before he could open his mouth again.
Once you were safely out of earshot, you released him with an annoyed huff, spinning to face him. “So much for acting like a couple, Cross.”
He arched an eyebrow at you, unimpressed. “What? He asked, I answered.”
You threw your hands up at his lack of care. “Fantastic. Just fantastic. At this rate, they’ll kick us out before we even make it to dinner. Great job, husband.”
He smirked then, sharp and smug, clearly enjoying himself now that you were wound up. “Relax, sweetheart. Nobody’s buying the ‘happy couple’ act if you keep hissing at me like that.”
“Oh, don’t you start—” you groaned, stomping into the lift as soon as the doors slid open.
It’s not long until you get to the suite and as the key fob beeped and the door slid open with a smooth hiss, you both stepped inside and instantly froze.
The room looked like something straight out of a holovid romance: soft golden lighting, a massive circular bed in the center draped with pristine white sheets, rose petals scattered across the duvet, and a bucket of champagne on ice by the bedside table.
You blinked once. Twice. “...kriff,” you muttered under your breath.
Crosshair didn’t say anything, but you felt the shift beside you. His usual scowl faltered into something halfway between disbelief and annoyance. He let out the faintest exhale, almost like a laugh, before muttering dryly: “Subtle.”
Your eyes landed on the bed again, and your brain screeched to a halt. One bed. Of course it was one bed. It was the honeymoon suite. But at least there was a loveseat just at the end of it.
You didn’t point it out. Neither did he. The both of you just stood there, staring at the sheer lavishness of it all, like maybe if you ignored the obvious, it’d disappear.
You tugged at the collar of your shirt, suddenly aware of how warm the room felt. Or maybe that was just you. The whole setup—the petals, the champagne, the bed that looked entirely too inviting—was making your skin tinge in the worst possible way. Heat crawled up your neck, and you quickly turned toward the bathroom.
“Maybe I’ll, uh… check out the shower,” you said quickly, voice a little higher than intended. “Y’know. Before the dinner.”
Crosshair quirked an eyebrow at you, as if he could hear the nerves bleeding through your tone. He glanced toward the large jacuzzi tub visible just through the bathroom’s frosted glass door and gave a faint snort.
“Not good enough for the roses and bubbles?”
You shot him a look over your shoulder. “I’m thinking cold shower.”
The shower hissed to life, steam curling around the refresher stall as you stepped in. The hot water poured down your shoulders, washing away the travel grime and some of your stress. Eyes closed, you let out a soft sigh and tilted your head back.
But as the room filled with steam, another thought nudged its way in, uninvited. You hadn’t locked the door. Crosshair could come in at any moment. And for some reason… the idea didn’t repulse you.
It intrigued you.
Your pulse spiked at the thought of him stepping through the fog, his sharp eyes narrowing as they trailed over you, water dripping down your skin, steam sticking hair to your face. Would he hesitate? Or would he… join you?
You caught yourself sucking in a breath and immediately bow your head under the spray. “Get a grip,” you hissed at yourself, flicking water from your lashes. Maker above, what was wrong with you? Crosshair wasn’t someone you ever saw in that light. He was moody, sarcastic, aloof. Hardly your first thought for a lover. And yet… now, in this ridiculous hotel room, with only one bed and all the pretending you’d have to do…
No. Stop.
With a sharp twist, you turned the dial colder. The shock of icy water stung your skin, snapping you out of the fantasy as you scrubbed your face. By the time you shut the refresher off, the steamy images were shoved firmly to the back of your mind.
You dried quickly, wrapping yourself in one of the plush white robes—ridiculously soft, of course, because this was that kind of place—and wrung a towel through your damp hair.
When you stepped back into the room, Crosshair was leaning against the balcony railing. His posture was casual, but his eyes were distant, scanning the horizon like he always did. Always watching. Always wary.
“Like the view?” you asked, attempting something lighthearted as you rubbed at your hair.
For a moment, he didn’t move. Then he turned his head toward you and stilled.
Not long. Barely a heartbeat. But you caught it: the way his gaze flicked over you in that robe, the way his jaw tensed. It was gone almost immediately, his expression flattening back into its usual disinterest.
“It’s alright,” he muttered, eyes snapping back to the balcony. His voice was just a touch lower, rougher. “We’ll be safe here tonight.”
“I should hope so, if the client booked us,” you chuckled, padding over to the bed and perching on the edge. The mattress dipped under you, petals shifting with a faint rustle. It was ridiculously comfortable.
You tilted your head at him. “But I bet you brought your sniper anyway. Didn’t you?”
Crosshair’s lips twitched at the corner smugly as he moved back inside. Without a word, he crouched by his pack and unzipped it, pulling out the long, gleaming rifle like it was an extension of himself.
You let out a short laugh. “Figures. Romantic suite, rose petals, champagne… and you’re cuddling your blaster.”
He glanced up at you with that smirk which again made your stomach swirl. “At least it doesn’t snore.”
You scoffed, tossing the towel at him. He caught it one-handed, but instead of throwing it back, he just set it aside, unbothered. Somehow, that smug little win of his only made your chest feel hotter.
Crosshair disappeared into the refresher with a muttered, “Don’t touch my rifle,” which gave you just enough time to get yourself sorted.
The dress slipped smoothly over your skin, the fabric hugging in all the right places without being too much. Knee-length, off the shoulder—simple, elegant, and just enough to look like you belonged in a place like this. You dried your hair, styled it with a little extra care (because Maker forbid you look out of place next to a table of polished couples), and added a touch of makeup for good measure.
You’d barely finished adjusting the hem of your dress when Crosshair reappeared. His damp silver hair had been combed back neatly, and he’d traded his blacks for a crisp white shirt and fitted black slacks. And for a second, you forgot yourself.
He stood at the mirror, tugging at his collar and you just couldn’t stop your gaze from dragging over him. Simple, understated, but undeniably… handsome. You swallowed the thought down and busied yourself with your earrings, pretending you weren’t staring.
Neither of you said much as you left the suite. The quiet stretched between you as you moved through the elegant halls; both of you so out of place with the expensive décor. Crosshair walked with his hands tucked behind his back, eyes flicking here and there, ever alert.
Then, almost without thinking, your arm slipped through his. The movement was instinctive and you found yourself leaning closer, your shoulder brushing against his as if it had always been that way. He stiffened for a moment, but he didn’t pull away.
By the time you reached the dining hall, it was already in motion. A long, polished table stretched across the room, covered in glittering glassware and plates that looked far too pristine to ever eat from. Couples mingled and chatted with easy smiles. You had expected Sabaz Trill. You hadn’t expected all of this.
Crosshair leaned down, his voice low in your ear. “Didn’t realise we’d be dining with the whole kriffing hotel tonight.”
You gave his arm the faintest squeeze. “Smile and nod. Let me do the talking.”
He shot you a look, dry as bone. “Wasn’t planning on anything else.”
Together, you approached the table, sliding into your seats that were the only ones available. The schmoozing began almost instantly. Other couples introduce themselves, complimenting your dress and asking about “your story.” You smiled, laughed, told little fabrications as if you’d been rehearsing them for years. Crosshair played his part the only way he knew how: quiet nods, forced polite smiles. If you're lucky, he will push out the occasional one-word reply.
Then Sabaz Trill himself turned his gaze on you.
“Ah, there she is,” he said smoothly, his voice carrying over the chatter. “My dear, you look radiant tonight.”
Before you could reply, he lifted a bottle and poured wine into your glass—only yours.
The crimson liquid swirled in the crystal, catching the candlelight as you blinked at him, a polite smile plastered onto your face. Crosshair’s hand tightened almost imperceptibly on his napkin, but his expression didn’t change.
You raised the glass lightly in thanks, meeting Sabaz’s eyes with the same warmth you’d given everyone else. “You’re too kind. I should be careful though,” you added with a playful lilt. “A few more of these, and I might embarrass myself in front of the table.”
The other couples chuckled politely. Sabaz didn’t. He only smirked, his gaze lingering on you just a beat too long before shifting back to his plate.
Crosshair’s jaw ticked. You felt it more than saw it.
You smiled at Crosshair, soft and sweet and the way a woman in love ought to. But his eyes were elsewhere, distant. It made your chest pinch a little.
Slipping your hand beneath the table, you let your fingers brush his knee before resting there with the lightest pressure. It startled him just slightly, meeting your gaze.
“Are you okay, my stars?” you murmured.
The words left your lips in the same careful tone you’d used all night but this time, it didn’t sound like part of the act. Not to him, anyway. For the briefest moment, his chest tightened.
“Fine,” he answered steadily. “Just taking it in.”
You didn’t believe him, not entirely, but you didn’t press. Before you could, the couple seated across from you smiled warmly, drawing you into conversation.
“So,” the woman leaned forward, “How did you two meet?”
You let out a little laugh, your hand still ghosting Crosshair’s knee as you launched into the story you’d rehearsed.
“Oh, it’s hardly romantic,” you said, feigning modesty. “We met when I was visiting Coruscant for work. I was lost and asked him for directions. He was polite, but very blunt. I thought he was the rudest man I’d ever met.”
The table chuckled, and you reached for Crosshair’s hand on the table, lacing your fingers through his.
“But,” you continued, glancing at him with that same staged fondness, “I ran into him again two days later at a café. He bought me a caf to make up for being so… well, him. And we’ve been together ever since.”
The woman sighed, clearly enamoured. “That’s wonderful. Fate has a way of working, doesn’t it?”
Her husband, however, leaned back in his chair with a smirk. “And have you given him any children yet?”
The question caught you so off guard you awkwardly laughed aloud, shaking your head quickly. “No… not yet. We only recently got married.”
“Well,” the man chuckled, lifting his glass, “give it time, eh? And I assume you don’t have to work, not with a husband like that. He looks like the type who brings home the credits while you get to lounge about. Lucky thing.”
Your jaw ticked, but you forced your expression into one of pleasant neutrality. Beside you, Crosshair set down his knife with deliberate care.
“I don’t know about luck,” he begins, his voice calm but carrying an edge sharp enough to slice the air. “She does more than her share. I’d be nowhere without her.”
The man faltered, clearly not expecting such a clean rebuttal. Crosshair didn’t flinch or waver, just leaned back with the ghost of a smirk tugging his lips.
“I’d suggest you don’t underestimate her,” he added smoothly, raising his fork to his mouth. “Wouldn’t want to embarrass yourself.”
The table chuckled again, but this time the sound was thinner, laced with unease. You, meanwhile, found yourself fighting a different reaction entirely. The sudden, overwhelming urge to drag him back upstairs and–
Okay, stop.
Leaning in, close enough that your lips just barely brushed the shell of his ear, you whispered, “Thank you for that.”
Crosshair didn’t so much as twitch, though you felt the faintest tilt of his head toward you, like he was subtly indulging the warmth of your breath. “No need. I’m just saying the truth.”
Your chest gave an odd little pull at that, but you covered it with another soft smile as you sat back, reaching for your knife and fork to focus on the meal placed before you. You ate in silence for a few minutes, letting the rich flavours distract you, until Sabaz’s voice broke through the murmur of the table.
He leaned slightly closer, lowering his voice. “Tomorrow,” he said, “we can speak of… private matters. No need for heavy words tonight. But I trust you understand what I mean.”
His words were subtle enough not to draw suspicion, but clear enough for you to understand. You inclined your head smoothly, lifting the delicate glass of wine to your lips.
“Of course,” you replied. “Tomorrow.”
Sabaz’s eyes glinted as he watched you drink. “And? How does it taste?”
You couldn’t hide the small hum of approval as the flavour lingered on your tongue. “It’s… honestly the nicest wine I’ve ever had.”
His mouth curved, amused. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Turning, you nudged your glass toward Crosshair. “Want some?”
He shook his head without hesitation. “Not my thing.”
Sabaz’s chuckle was low, a little too warm. “A shame. It suits her, don’t you think? Expensive tastes…”
You thought nothing of it, brushing off the remark as idle banter, but Crosshair’s jaw twitched almost imperceptibly. Sabaz was clearly referring to himself and as the meal stretched on,
Sabaz’s comments came in trickles. Harmless, on the surface. But Crosshair’s eyes tracked every word and every look.
Finally, after one particularly lingering comment about how “gorgeous” you looked in the candlelight, Crosshair snapped.
“Tell me,” he drawled, tone calm but carrying steel. “Do you flirt with all the women who are married, or just mine?”
The words silenced the table around you. You turned wide-eyed at him, stunned, your knife clinking faintly against your plate.
Sabaz chuckled, leaning back with the relaxed confidence of a man who already knew more than he should. “Married, are you? Mmm. Perhaps you’d give her more attention.”
Your eyes drop to your half-eaten grub, finding it hard to breathe all of a sudden. You can’t have tonight screw up over some… some… jealousy? Was he?
Crosshair, however, didn’t flinch at his words. He leaned back as well, long fingers drumming idly against the table, his gaze cutting through the man opposite him.
“She has all the attention she needs,” he responds coolly, voice like a blade sliding free of its sheath. “From me.”
The way he said it was utterly possessive and you can’t help but feel the heat curling low in your stomach.
Sabaz only chuckled again, raising his glass in mock salute before turning the conversation back to lighter topics. But you could feel it—the tension buzzing under your skin.
You left the dining hall together a little later on, the heavy atmosphere of the meal clinging like smoke. Another couple joined you in the lift, chatty and smiling, and you forced yourself to match their tone, your hand looped neatly through Crosshair’s arm. But the second the lift doors slid shut after the couple exited on their floor, your hand dropped from his arm like it burned.
The silence stretched for a beat before you sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose. “Want to tell me what that was about?”
Crosshair didn’t look at you, his gaze fixed straight ahead on the lift’s closed doors. His voice was calm, as if nothing had happened. “What’s the issue? We’re still meeting him tomorrow.”
“Yeah,” you huffed, sharp and low. “Thanks to me. Because I had to apologise to him after the meal for the way you acted.”
Crosshair’s eyes flicked to you then, narrow and unimpressed. “The way I acted? You didn’t notice him? The way he kept looking at you? Talking to you?” His lip curled faintly. “I didn’t like it.”
Your jaw tightened, heat pricking the back of your neck. “You didn’t like it? We’re not actually married, Crosshair.”
The silence that followed was thick, humming with all the unsaid things between you. Crosshair’s expression barely shifted, but his shoulders set, rigid under the crisp fabric of his shirt.
The lift pinged. Doors opened. Neither of you moved at first, locked in that silence. Then you both stepped out, footsteps echoing too loud against the plush carpet of the corridor.
When you got back to the suite, you didn’t even glance his way as you made a beeline for your travel bag, pulling out the little bundle of satin nightwear you’d tucked away earlier. Without a word, you slipped into the bathroom and shut the door behind you with a soft click.
You perched on the edge of the jacuzzi bath, hands braced on your knees, and just breathed. Maker, tonight has been… a mess.
Crosshair had been jealous, there was no other word for it.
And yet… stars above, you’d never found him more attractive than when he’d calmly cut down that other man’s sleazy sexist little jabs at dinner.
It made your thoughts twist in knots. Jealous Crosshair was frustrating. Protective Crosshair was devastatingly sexy.
You rolled your eyes at yourself, muttering something under your breath that this whole place felt like a huge aphrodisiac. Soon you stripped out of the dress, letting it pool on the tiled floor. The satin nightwear slipped over your skin with a soft sigh, the fabric clinging in all the right places. The colour brought out the warmth in your skin, and though you weren’t dressing for anyone’s eyes but your own, you couldn’t help but imagine what Crosshair might think if he saw—
You stopped that train of thought before it could wind you up further.
A splash of cold water on your face dulled the day’s makeup, you tied your hair up, loosening the strands around your face, and studied your reflection for only a heartbeat before flicking the light off and stepping back into the suite.
Crosshair was sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his knees, still fully dressed and deep in thought.
“Do you want some caf?” you asked quietly after a moment, nodding toward the sleek caf machine gleaming on the dressing table.
He shook his head, then looked at you. The sight of your satin nightwear hit him like a blow, pupils dilating before he could stop it. His throat bobbed with the faintest swallow as he cursed himself silently and dragged his gaze away.
“You should get some sleep,” he muttered, voice low.
You tilted your head. “I could say the same thing about you.”
Your bare feet padded across the carpet, rose petals soft beneath your toes and you stood directly in front of him. He looked up, sharp eyes catching yours for a charged moment before closing them.
Crosshair pushed himself to his feet. “I’ll take watch.”
You frowned, confusion flickering. “Crosshair, the door is locked. We’re safe here.”
He didn’t meet your eyes, just reached for his rifle and moved toward the small loveseat at the foot of the bed. “You can never be too sure.” He gestured at the bed with a tilt of his chin. “Get some rest.”
There was so much more you wanted to say, but you swallowed it down. No good would come of pressing him tonight. Not when everything already felt odd.
So you slid into the left side of the bed instead, sinking into the impossibly soft mattress. The sheets smelled faintly of lavender and something warm and expensive. You didn’t even bother to remove the rose petals.
The lamp across the room threw a faint amber glow over Crosshair where he sat, long legs stretched out, rifle propped against his thigh. A sentinel in the half-dark, sharp eyes fixed on some distant threat only he could see.
Your body melted into the mattress, the exhaustion of the evening tugging at you like a tide. You watched him for as long as your heavy eyelids would allow, the image of him—silent, watchful, stubborn—burning behind your eyes until sleep finally dragged you under.
You stirred, rolling onto your other side with a groggy sigh, only to find the chair opposite the bed still occupied. Crosshair sat there like a shadow carved into the half-light, rifle propped against the armrest, a toothpick twiddling absently between long fingers.
Your eyes flicked to the chrono on the wall. Only two hours had passed.
Chewing the inside of your cheek, you tilted your head as you sat up and whispered, just loud enough for him to hear, “Cross… come get some sleep.”
His eyes lifted, shadows and conflict tangled in his gaze. He shook his head once. “No… I can’t.”
You frowned softly, leaning forward. “Why not?”
The sound he made was halfway between a scoff and a tut, quiet but sharp. His jaw flexed. “I can’t sleep in the same bed as you. It’s…”
Your brows arched. “It’s what?” You pulled the duvet back and shifted onto your knees. The simple movement snagged his attention; his sharp gaze lingered, “It’s just me.”
Crosshair drew in a long breath through his nose, pressing the heel of his hand over his eyes as if that might ground him. “I don’t want to bother you,” he muttered, voice rough. “I’ve already done that enough tonight.”
For a moment, you said nothing. Then slowly, you crawled toward the foot of the bed, knees sinking into the mattress until you sat back on your heels, steadying yourself.
Your hand extended, palm open, reaching across the small distance between you. “Come to bed.”
His amber eyes locked onto you. He watched you as though weighing a hard decision, gaze running over your face, your hand and the space you’d made for him.
“We need to act like a couple, right?” You prompt and that’s when he finally, with the faintest exhale he flicked the toothpick into the bin and rose to his feet.
He crossed the few steps to the bed in silence. He stopped just before you, the mattress dipping faintly under your shift forward.
Your lips parted, breath caught, as you tipped your chin up to look at him. He loomed above, gaze tilted down, unreadable except for the faint storm flickering beneath.
You straightened, sitting taller on your knees, and without hesitation placed both hands flat against his chest. The warmth beneath the fabric hit you instantly, as did the hammer of his heart pounding against his ribcage. It made a small smile tug at your lips, your eyes softening as you whispered, “You can’t sleep in this shirt…”
His breath caught with an imperceptible hitch.
Your fingers curled into the fabric at his chest, tugging gently. He hesitated, but only for a moment, before his arms moved, allowing you to peel the white shirt away from him. Inch by inch, the fabric slid over his shoulders, revealing lean muscle and skin mapped with faint scars.
Your eyes went wide, breath catching as you pushed the shirt down his arms and let it fall to the floor. A sound, no, an almost moan, threatened to escape you, but you swallowed it back. Still, your hands had a will of their own and began trailing slowly up and down his torso.
You felt the hard ridges of his stomach, the steady rhythm of his breathing. His reaction was immediate, his eyes fluttering shut as his jaw tightened. The bottom lip caught between his teeth betrayed what he was trying to suppress.
The sight made a heat coil low in your stomach, your own breath turning shallow.
Your gaze drifted lower, tracing the line of his abdomen until it landed on the waistband of his black slacks. He seemed to sense the shift in your attention, because his voice came low, rough, like gravel dragged over velvet.
“Do you want them off, too?”
The rasp sent a shiver racing down your spine.
You blinked, meeting his eyes again, a laugh slipping from your throat, “If it will make you comfortable… yes.”
The corner of his mouth twitched into a faint smirk, but his gaze burned steady on you as he reached for the latch of his trousers.
You swallowed hard, watching as his long fingers hooked into the waistband of his trousers and pushed them down. The sound of the fabric sliding over his legs seemed louder than it should’ve been. When they hit the floor, he straightened, standing there in nothing but his briefs with hs hand not-so-subtly shielding the hard outline straining beneath the thin fabric.
A hot pulse bloomed deep inside you, your arousal pooling between your thighs as your breath caught. You broke your gaze away, feigning innocence, though the ache in your chest gave you away. “See? Is that better?”
Crosshair’s eyes dragged over you with open hunger, the sharp angles of his face softened by the shadow of want. “Much…” he breathed, like it was the only word he could find.
Your pulse stumbled, your eyes drawn back down before you could stop yourself. His hand shifted just slightly, enough that you caught the movement of the deliberate, slow palm against himself. Your heart stalled, then thundered.
You licked your lips, your voice almost breaking into a whisper as you shifted back. “Like what you see?”
“Do you?”
Your head tilted, eyes half-lidded as your fingers danced at the band of your satin shorts, teasing without quite committing. “I do,” you murmured, letting your body arch ever so slightly, the pose dripping with invitation as you leaned back on your hands. “Now tell me, do you… husband?”
His eyes narrowed, studying every subtle shift of your body. His jaw worked, and then he gave the smallest of nods, voice rough and quiet. “A lot.”
The words sent your skin prickling with awareness. Your hand slid from the band of your shorts to your thigh, fingertips tracing upward, grazing your skin softly as though demonstrating exactly what his stare made you crave.
His eyes followed your movements, darkening as though he were fighting to keep control.
You raised a single finger, crooking it toward him. A wordless summon.
Crosshair’s gaze burned hotter, but he obeyed without hesitation. His long, lean frame shifted forward as he planted both hands on the mattress for the first time, the springs dipping beneath his weight as he prowled closer. When he reached you, he hovered over your body, his face so close you could feel the warm graze of his breath against your lips.
“What do you want?” he asked, low and rough, his voice scraping like gravel, like he already knew but needed to hear it from you. He dipped his head nearer, inhaling deeply, his nose brushing your temple as though memorising the scent of your skin.
Your lips parted, your tongue darting out to wet them, every nerve in your body trembling as you leaned in, close enough your mouth brushed his. Your voice broke into a heated whisper, “I want you to fuck me.”
The words detonated between you.
A sharp hiss of need left him and before you could second-guess yourself, his mouth was on yours, scorching and demanding.
His lips moved with bruising force, teeth catching your bottom lip as though he’d been starving for the taste of you. One hand slid from the bed to your waist, gripping and dragging your body flush against his until there wasn’t an inch of space left. You could feel every inch of his arousal pressed against your belly, hot and unyielding.
You gasped into his mouth, fingers tangling in his short hair that soon became unkempt as his tongue swept past your lips, claiming you with a hunger that made your head spin.
When he broke from your mouth, it was only to trail searing kisses along your jaw, down your throat. His breath was hot, uneven, his teeth scraping sensitive skin before his tongue soothed the sting. “You have no idea…” he rasped between kisses, “…how long I’ve wanted this.”
You blush intensely, arching your back into him, craving more of that heat, that weight. His hand dipped lower, spanning your hip, fingers digging into the satin of your shorts as though he could crush the fabric away.
Your lips brushed his again in a soft, fleeting kiss. You pulled back with a mischievous glint in your eyes that made Crosshair chase the contact immediately but you giggled and tilted away, planting a kiss instead against his cheek.
“Tch,” he mutters, but you only laughed again, moving lower. You kissed along the sharp cut of his jaw, slow and deliberate, feeling the subtle twitch of the muscle beneath your lips. He exhaled through his nose, trying to keep control, but you knew you had him wound tight.
Your mouth hovered at his ear, your words a sinful whisper. “You like fake dating me, then?” you teased, lips brushing the sensitive skin just beneath. “Is this how you’d treat me if I was yours?”
He groaned under his breath, his hands clenching against your hips as though debating whether to hold you still or let you drive him mad. His chest heaved against yours, hot and solid, and when you kissed lower down his throat, his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard.
And then, almost in the same breath, you were pulling at each other’s clothes, the tension too much to keep contained. His hands fumbled your satin vest before he pulled it over your head meanwhile you hooked your fingers into the waistband of his briefs, tugging impatiently. He then stripped you of your shorts as you shoved his last layer down.
When his lips crashed back onto yours, your words slipped out between ragged breaths, needy but daring: “It was sexy… watching you defend me at dinner.”
Crosshair froze for only a moment, pulling back just enough to smirk down at you. “Sexy, huh?” His voice was a rasp of sin. “Did it turn you on?”
You didn’t give him the satisfaction of a verbal answer. Instead, your hand slid boldly between your bodies, fingers wrapping around his rigid heat. The sound that left him was a low, primal and guttural groan that vibrated in his chest and into your palm. His head dropped against yours, lips parting as his eyes squeezed shut, every muscle in his body shuddering under your touch.
Your smirk was wicked as he whispered, “I’ll take that as a yes.”
Confidence blooming inside you, you gave him a little push that made Crosshair fall back into the mattress. His long body stretched out beneath you, skin lit faintly by the bedside glow.
You straddled him, your bare skin sliding against his as you pressed down into the lines of his chest and abdomen. Lower still, the thick weight of him rested against your thigh, hot and heavy. His eyes tracked you like a predator and yet… there was awe in them too, something reverent, almost disbelieving.
It made you ache.
“Cross…” you purred, dragging your palms down his chest, tracing the scars and sharp dips of muscle, before raking your nails ever so lightly across his stomach. He hissed, the muscles flexing beneath your touch, his fists knotting in the sheets.
“You’re beautiful,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to his chest before sliding lower.
Your hand wrapped boldly around him then—thick, hard and burning against your palm. His whole body jerked at the contact, a sound low in his throat. You gave him a slow, deliberate pump, feeling him twitch against your hand, and his breath hitched.
He bit his lip, sharp eyes flicking away as he tried to choke back the groan threatening to break free.
Now that wouldn’t do.
You leaned down, lips brushing against the swollen head of his cock as you looked up at him. “No,” you whispered, sultry and commanding. Your tongue flicked out, teasing a slow lick across his length, tasting the salt of him. His hips bucked despite himself. “Don’t hold back from me. I want to hear you, husband.”
That broke him. His marriage kink unable to be tamed any longer.
A guttural moan spilled free, raw and gravelly, vibrating through his chest as his head tipped back into the pillow. His long fingers shot into your hair, not forcing, but clutching like he needed to anchor himself.
“Fuck…” he rasped, eyes squeezing shut as you stroked him firmly, your tongue teasing at his tip. His voice dropped lower, almost desperate now. “You’re gonna kill me, sweetheart.”
You let your lips ghost over the head of his cock, just enough to make him twitch. His sharp inhale was music, the kind of sound that made your pussy ache. You opened your mouth slowly, letting him slide past your lips inch by inch, your tongue flattening against the underside to savour.
Crosshair’s body went rigid, another deep groan breaking from his chest before he managed to stifle it behind his teeth. His hand clenched tighter in your hair, the other curling into the sheets so hard the fabric threatened to tear.
“Stars…” he hissed, voice gravel rough. His eyes cracked open to watch you, his pupils blown wide, jaw tight as he fought for control. “You’re—.”
“Mhmm? A good cock-sucking wife?” You hummed around him, the vibration making his hips twitch up involuntarily before you slap his cock against your tongue.
He cursed again, raw and breathless, as you then sank lower, taking more of him into your throat with a languid patience. When you finally pulled back, strings of saliva connected your lips to him. You stroked him with your hand, pumping lazily as you licked your lips, gaze never leaving his.
“Sloppy enough for you, sniper?” you teased, your voice husky.
He swallowed hard, chest heaving. His eyes darted to your mouth, wet and swollen, then back to your gaze. “Fuck—don’t tease.”
You smirked and slid him back between your lips, this time messy, unrestrained. Your spit coated him as you bobbed your head, tongue working every sensitive ridge. The wet sounds filled the room were obscene and echoing.
And Crosshair lost the last of his composure.
His hips thrust up, shallow at first, testing your tolerance. When you moaned around him in approval, he swore viciously and gave in, driving himself into your mouth with snapping thrusts. His groans grew louder, unfiltered now of pure need.
“Fuck—sweetheart—you feel so—” His head tipped back, tendons straining in his neck as he lost himself in the wet heat of your throat. His grip on your hair was tight but not cruel, guiding the momentum. “Don’t stop… don’t you dare stop.”
Your eyes watered, spit dripping from your lips and chin as you let him use your mouth, the sight of his unraveling making you slick between your thighs.
The more he thrust into your mouth, the less control he had, his rhythm breaking into jagged, needy snaps of his hips. His jaw slackened, head tipped back and his voice dropped into a low, desperate growl.
“Stars—” his hand fisted your hair tighter, his thighs tensing under you, “I’m—fuck, I’m gonna—”
You hollowed your cheeks and moaned, and that did it. Crosshair groaned in pleasure as he spilled hot and thick into your mouth, the taste of him flooding your tongue. You swallowed around him greedily, gulping down every drop, your eyes fixed on him while his face contorted with the kind of pleasure he’d never let anyone else see.
When his hips finally stilled, his chest heaving, you pulled back slowly, breathless, lips shining. A stray strand of saliva clung to your chin as you licked him clean and swallowed the last of him with a shaky exhale.
Crosshair stared at you like you were a miracle. In a blur, he sat up and pulled you into him, his mouth crashing onto yours. The kiss was searing, teeth and tongue, his taste mingling with the faint salt still lingering on your tongue. His hands framed your face like he couldn’t get enough, like he was starved for you.
Then he was easing you down onto the bed, his body covering yours as he grabbed a pillow, slipping it beneath your head with an odd, almost tender care. His lips broke from yours only long enough to mutter against them, voice rough and hungry:
“My turn.”
His breath fanned hot over your lips before he started kissing lower—your throat, your collarbone, the swell of your breasts. His hands roamed as though he had to touch every inch of you, his mouth trailing fire down your body.
When he finally reached the edge of the bed, Crosshair settled between your thighs, his sharp gaze fixed on your glistening pussy like it was the only thing in the galaxy worth worshiping. His lips parted, his breath hitching audibly, and he muttered low—more to himself than you—
“Fuck… you’re perfect.”
Crosshair didn’t dive in straight away. He hovered, eyes locked on your pussy as though the sight alone could undo him. His lips curved into a lazy smirk, and he dragged two long fingers down your inner thigh, stopping just short of where you needed him most.
“Maker…” he murmured, “You don’t even know what you do to me, do you?”
Your breath hitched as he finally let his fingers ghost over your folds, feather-light, so teasing you nearly whimpered. He let them trail lower, then flicked—just the faintest tap against your clit. The jolt of sensation had your hips twitching and a broken whine slipping from your lips before you could swallow it back.
His smirk deepened. “There it is. Thought you were gonna keep all those sweet little sounds from me, hm?” Another tap, deliberate this time, making your thighs clench around him.
“Cross…” you gasped, tangling your hands into your hair in frustration as he refused to give you what you wanted.
“Patience, sweetheart,” he drawled, his breath ghosting hot over you as he leaned closer. “Gonna take my time with you.”
And then, instead of another flick, he pressed his lips to your pussy. Not a lick. Not a graze. A kiss—slow, tender, as if he were kissing your mouth. His nose brushed your clit as his lips molded against your folds, and your back arched helplessly.
“Oh, stars—” you whimpered, every nerve alight.
“Mmm,” he hummed against you, his lips moving in lazy, wet kisses over every inch of your cunt, the sound obscene and intimate all at once. Between each press of his mouth, he whispered filth in that low gravel of his:
“So soft…” kiss.
“So sweet…” kiss.
“Mine…” another kiss, deeper, his tongue teasing past his lips just enough to taste you.
Your thighs trembled around his shoulders as his hands held you steady, his kisses reverent and filthy all at once. The sensation was maddening, tender enough to make you shiver but edged with hunger that had your body straining for more.
When he finally let his tongue part your folds and give one long, deliberate lick, he groaned into you like he was the one unraveling. “Fuck, you taste better than I imagined.”
And then he was back to kissing, savouring and making you whimper and writhe with every press of his lips.
Your breath hitched when Crosshair finally gave in to what you’d been silently begging for. His lips parted and his tongue slid between your folds, slow at first and deliberate. He pushed deeper, tongue-fucking you with unhurried precision, dragging every needy whimper out of your chest.
Your fingers fisted the duvet, crushing a rose petal or two between them as your back arched off the bed. “Baby—” your voice broke, strangled, your thighs trembling against his shoulders.
He groaned low, the vibration making you gasp, before his tongue left you only to wrap his lips around your clit. He sucked once, hard enough to make you cry out, then let it go with a wet pop, smirking up at you with his mouth glistening.
“That’s it,” he cooed, voice soaked in lust. His grip shifted, long arms sliding under your thighs so he could pin your hips down, your body useless against his strength. “Such a good wife, taking it just like that.”
The filthy words made your pussy clench, heat flooding you in a new wave, and you let out something between a whimper and a moan. “Fuck…Crosshair…”
He chuckled against you, the bastard, and dragged his tongue back through your slit before sucking your clit again, longer this time. Your body jolted against his hold, toes curling, fingers grabbing fistfuls of bedding and petals alike.
“I’m so glad it’s you who volunteered,” you gasped, words spilling out broken, your thighs tightening around him. “So glad it’s—ah—fuck!”
His chuckle was muffled against your folds, his tongue relentless, before he pulled back just enough to mutter against your swollen pussy:
“The others wouldn’t treat you like this.” His teeth grazed your clit, playful, making you shudder. “They wouldn’t know how to worship you.”
Then his mouth sealed over you again, sucking hard, tongue teasing, his hands keeping you caged and helpless as he devoured you.
Crosshair pulled back again with that maddening pop of his lips leaving your clit, strings of spit shining between you. He didn’t go far though—just hovered, breath hot against your swollen flesh, and you swore the sound of him inhaling your scent was almost louder than your whimpers.
“Maker, look at you,” he murmured, thumb coming up to flick your clit once, twice—sharp little sparks that made your hips buck against his unrelenting grip. “All puffy and dripping for me. For your husband.”
“Cross—” you tried, but it came out as a broken moan, your thighs twitching around his shoulders.
“You like this, don’t you?” His tongue darted out, giving a light, taunting lap over your slit before moving away again. “Being spread out like this, my mouth on your sweet cunt, making a mess of my face.” He chuckled, low and dark, and flicked his thumb over your clit harder, making you cry out. “Bet you’d let me keep you here all night if I wanted.”
Your hands tangled in your own hair, pulling at the strands, desperate. “Please—” you gasped, voice shaking as your body jerked when he suddenly tapped your clit with his fingers, light but fast, like he was testing how far he could push you. “Fuck, please!”
He groaned, sounding almost feral, like your begging was better than any victory he’d ever had in battle. His teeth grazed you again, soft nips that made you jolt. “Not yet,” he rasped, giving your clit another sharp flick that made your whole body seize. “I want you begging properly first.”
You sobbed his name, hips fighting his hold as he alternated between sucking you into his mouth and pulling away with those obscene, wet pops that echoed in the quiet room. Each time he left you empty you wanted to scream, and each time he came back it was too much, your orgasm building like a storm he refused to let break.
“Tell me,” he drawled, lips brushing your clit, not giving you the pressure you craved. “Tell me you want to come for me. Tell me no one else could get you this way.”
Your head thrashed side to side against the pillows, sweat beading at your temple. “I—fuck—I want to come for you, Cross. Please. No one else—no one could—just please let me—”
He hummed in satisfaction, mouth closing over you again, sucking slow and deep while his fingers tapped in time with your racing pulse. “Good wife,” he muttered against your soaked heat, “that’s my girl…”
Your whole body tightened, teetering right on the edge, held hostage by his mouth.
Crosshair must have the way every muscle in your body went taut beneath his grasp. How your breath came in sharp little gasps like your lungs couldn’t keep up. He groaned into your cunt, and then mercifully gave you what you’d been begging for.
His mouth sealed over your clit, sucking hard and steady, tongue flicking in relentless little strokes that pushed you right past the edge. His grip on your thighs tightened, locking you down as your body jolted violently against him.
The orgasm ripped through you like fire, so sharp it almost hurt, and you cried out his name in an almost a sob as you broke apart as your vision blurred.
Crosshair didn’t stop. He groaned against you, drinking every drop of you down, his lips and chin slick as he worked you through it. “That’s it,” he rasped between licks, voice ruined but steady. “Good girl. Come on, give it to me. Give it all to me.”
You were shaking, trembling uncontrollably under his hold, pleasure crashing in waves so strong it left you breathless. He eased the pressure only when you began to whimper from overstimulation, his kisses softer now, soothing little laps that felt almost adoring against your swollen clit.
When he finally pulled back, his lips and chin glistened and he tenderly kissed the inside of your thigh before crawling up the bed. His body caged yours in, the hard weight of his cock pressing heavy against your hip as he gathered you into his arms.
You were still gasping, chest heaving, tears pricking your eyes from the intensity of it all. He brushed damp hair away from your face with surprising gentleness, thumb swiping at the sweat along your temple.
“Good girl,” he whispered again, voice gravelly, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips. “You did so well cyare.”
You hummed weakly against his mouth, lazy and sated but achingly aware of the thick length pressed against you. He groaned as your thigh shifted, brushing it on purpose, and his hips twitched forward helplessly.
“Fuck,” he muttered, forehead pressed to yours, his cock throbbing now and resting against your stomach.
He kissed you slowly as though you hadn’t just come undone screaming his name minutes before. His tongue brushed yours, unhurried, while his hand slid down your hip, anchoring you. “More,” you moan beautifully into his mouth, “I want more.”
When he shifted, rolling halfway onto his side beside you, you felt the slick head of him glide down against your folds. You gasped, shuddering at the sudden jolt of sensation as your pussy was still swollen and tender from his mouth. He didn’t push in, though. Just stroked his length along your soaked slit, letting the tip bump your clit in maddening, teasing drags.
Your hips did a desperate little roll that had his lips curve into that infuriating smirk. “Still sensitive, huh?” he rasped, the gravel in his voice betraying just how tightly he was holding back. You tried to answer, but all that left you was a breathy whimper as he dragged himself down and back up again, coating his cock in your wetness.
“Look at you,” he murmured, gaze locked to your face as his hand tilted your thigh open wider. His tip nudged right at your entrance, circling but not pushing in yet. “So fucking ready for me.”
He then lowered his head, lips kissing your shoulder so tenderly that your heart melts. You caught his eyes when he finally lifted his head. Neither of you spoke, but the air between you thrummed with silent consent, the kind that left no room for doubt.
His forehead brushed yours, lips hovering as he rasped low, “I’ll go slow.”
And then, slow but steady as he promised, he started to press forward. His breath stuttered the second his tip pushed inside, the blunt head parting you inch by inch.
Heat—wet and velvet-tight—closed around him, and Crosshair almost crumbled then and there, his body trembling faintly as he held himself back. “Ffff—” He bit off a curse, jaw tightening.
You whimpered softly, the initial stretch making your walls flutter around him. It wasn’t painful. Just thick and slow. A fullness that made you gasp. Your fingers clutched at his arm, nails grazing the skin as you whispered, “Cross…”—your voice shaky, needy, urging.
His cock twitched deep inside at the sound, his hips rolling forward another careful inch. “You alright?” he rasped, voice breaking low.
You gave a quick nod, looking down as his cock disappeared inside you with every slow movement.
He didn’t slam, didn’t shove. He inched forward, then drew halfway back, then pressed in again with a rhythm of patience. The drag of him pulled a breathless moan from your throat.
“Breathe,” he muttered, his lips brushing your temple as if grounding you as much as himself. He let you cling, let you adjust, every tiny movement deliberate. “I’ve got you, mesh’la.”
The way he said it made your heart lurch, like it wasn’t just about sex…like he meant all of it.
And when you finally tilted your hips, just slightly, letting him know you were ready for more, his control frayed. He sank in deeper, a low moan slipping out of his throat at the way your body welcomed him.
Crosshair bent close, lips brushing over the shell of your ear as he murmured, voice roughened with memory, “When you called me ‘your stars’ back at that meal…” His hips pressed deeper, making your body jolt against the mattress. “…Maker, I wanted you then and there. Didn’t care who was watching.”
Your mouth fell open, breath catching, a whimper spilling out with the way his words wrapped around you as intimately as his body did. You tilted your head back, enough to find his lips. The kiss was soft, slow, your tongues brushing as his cock slid out and then back in with a steady glide.
Each thrust melted into the next, your body clenching around him instinctively as you clung into his chest. His groan rumbled against your mouth, and when he broke away, his forehead pressed to yours. “Feels so good like this. You, wrapped around me, taking me slow.”
The pace wasn’t frantic. It wasn’t about release. It was about every inch of him inside you, every shiver of your body responding, every sigh and moan you gave him like it was for him alone.
He kissed you again, even more gentler this time, lips brushing yours in little whispers of touch before pulling back to watch your face twist in pleasure as he filled you over and over.
His rhythm stuttered for a moment, pulling all the way out of you with a slick, obscene sound that made your body twitch in protest. The sudden emptiness tore a desperate whine from your throat, your hands clutching at the sheets.
“Shh,” he rasped, voice dripping with smug satisfaction. “Already needy, aren’t you?”
Before you could form a reply, he shifted up, long fingers curling under your thighs. In one smooth move he lifted your legs and hooked them over his shoulders, folding you open for him as he sat on his knees. You gasped at the change and at how vulnerable it made you feel… owned.
And you fucking loved it.
Crosshair smirked, eyes gleaming as he angled himself, the fat head of his cock nudging back against your soaked entrance. “Yeah,” he murmured, dragging it through your folds, coating himself in you. “That’s it. This is where you want me, isn’t it?”
You nodded helplessly, breathless. “Yes—fuck, yes, Cross—”
He slid back inside with a single, deliberate thrust that made your vision spark, filling you to the hilt. A strangled moan tore from your throat, your back arching against the bed. He groaned deep in his chest, bending forward so your calves squeezed tighter against his neck. “Shit, you feel so good. So fucking tight. Like you were made to take me.”
The pace changed—no longer slow and sweet, but harder, sharper, his hips snapping against yours with wet, slapping sounds that echoed in the suite. Every thrust pushed you further up the bed, rose petals clinging to your damp skin.
Crosshair turned his head to the side, his lips brushing your calf before biting lightly, sending another shiver racing through you. “Look at you,” he muttered against your skin, voice dark and possessive. “Spread out for me. Letting me fuck you like you’re mine.”
Your nails clawed at the duvet, head tipping back as the words spilled out of you before you could stop them. “I am yours, Cross. No one else—just you.”
The admission made his hips slam harder, a ragged growl leaving him. His hands wrap around your legs, holding them tight to his body, keeping you pinned. “Say it again,” he demanded, amber eyes burning into you as he drove deeper, harder.
“I’m yours!” you cried out, voice shaking, tears stinging your lashes with the force of it. “All yours, Crosshair!”
He smirked, satisfaction dripping from every thrust as he fucked you rougher, his possessiveness unraveling in every movement. “Good wife,” he groaned, bending lower so your thighs framed his face, “my perfect fucking wife.”
He didn’t even pause to catch his breath, just gripped your hips and dragged you to the edge of the bed. With a swift, fluid motion, he flipped you onto your stomach, and you gasped at the sudden change of angle, the cool sheets against your bare skin.
“You like it when I take control, don’t you?” he rasped, one hand landing hard on your arse, sending a delicious shock through your body. You grinned, breath hitching, letting out a low laugh that was part pleasure, part defiance.
“You’re mine,” he whispered, sliding himself back inside you from behind.
Your legs instinctively spread wider as he pulled you closer, his hand tangling in your hair. He tugged sharply, bringing your head back so you bounced against his cock with each controlled thrust. “That’s it, bounce for me. Show me how good it feels, wife,” he growled, every word thick with control.
You cried out, loud and unrestrained, the bed creaking under the force of him driving into you. “Oh, Cross—yes! Harder! Please—don’t stop!”
He chuckled darkly, leaning over you so your cheek pressed into the sheets, his lips brushing the back of your neck. “Good girl,” he praised, hand slapping your arse again, rough and loving at the same time. “So fucking good for me. Look at you, taking me so well.”
Your chest heaved, legs trembling but you kept bouncing back, your body obedient and desperate, lips parted in a moan that didn’t care who could hear.
He angled himself just right, hitting deep and slow at first, then snapping his hips faster, letting you feel every inch. “Maker, you’re perfect,” he groaned, voice low and commanding. “So wet, so tight… all mine.”
You pressed your face further into the sheets, moaning around the muffled sounds, your body arching up instinctively. “Crosshair! Oh—yes! I’m yours! Always yours!”
He responded by tugging your hair harder, his cock driving into you with relentless force, hand roaming over your hips and arse, marking you with every movement, praising and claiming you at once.
You turned your head just enough to catch his burning eyes over your shoulder. Your lips curved into a wicked grin even as your body shuddered with every rough slam of his cock.
“Look at you,” you moaned, voice sharp and sultry, “losing yourself inside me. You can’t help it, can you? I’ve got you wrapped around my finger just as tight as I’ve got you wrapped inside me.”
His thrust faltered—just for a second—as if the words themselves had tripped him. His eyes narrowed, mouth falling open, but the sound that came out was a raw and pathetic whimper betraying how undone he really was.
“You love it,” you taunted, rolling your hips back against him with a delicious grind that had him growling through clenched teeth. “My good husband, falling apart because of me. Cockdrunk.”
“F-fuck—” he hissed, the word tearing out of him. His pace grew erratic, desperate, like he was chasing something he couldn’t hold back any longer.
Then suddenly he hauled you, panting and trembling, onto your back again. Your legs spread wide as he pressed himself flush against you, cock sliding right back into your soaked heat without hesitation.
The air punched from your lungs as he buried his face in your neck, breath hot and ragged, his weight pinning you down deliciously. Your nails raked down his back, dragging red marks into his skin while he drove into you with merciless force. The headboard slammed rhythmically into the wall with every thrust, each clap of wood-on-wall punctuated by your screams and sobs of pleasure.
“Yes—yes, Crosshair, please—” your voice broke, cracking under the relentless pace. Your body arched under him, sweat slick between you, every nerve ending aflame as his hips pounded into yours.
“Where—” he groaned into your throat, biting your skin like he needed to anchor himself, “where do you want it, baby? Tell me—fuck—where should I come?”
Your head snapped back, eyes wild, desperate tears clinging to your lashes. You clutched at his back, pulling him tighter, legs wrapping around his waist to lock him in place.
“Inside!” you cried, voice shaking, pleading. “Please, Cross, come inside me. I want it, I need it—fill me with your hot cum. P-please!”
He groans like a man possessed, hips snapping even harder, his control shredding as he buried himself deeper and deeper.
Crosshair’s movements became almost frantic, hips stuttering as he drove into you with a desperate rhythm. His hand slid down between your bodies, fingers landing squarely on your clit, rubbing with perfect pressure and speed, coaxing you closer and closer to your edge.
“Come for me, right now, right now,” he growled, his teeth grazing your neck as he slammed his cock into you. “I’m going to fill you up, good girl—come on my cock.”
Your body convulsed at his words, every nerve screaming as your climax hit with a white-hot force. You grabbed his face, forcing your lips to his, biting his lower lip as you panted hotly into his mouth, gasping, moaning and utterly undon. .
“Baby…” you whispered between ragged breaths, your fingers tangling in his hair as your body shuddered uncontrollably around him.
Crosshair’s groan deep as he tensed, shuddered, and finally spilled inside you. Warm and overwhelming. You felt him pulse inside you, his hips stuttering with each breathless thrust, as your own climax trembled out against his hand, still pressing your clit with maddening rhythm.
Even after he came, he stayed buried deep, hips rocking slightly, his chest pressing to yours, letting you feel every lingering pulse of him. He nuzzled against your neck.
Crosshair let out a low, almost inaudible sigh of relief, his forehead resting against yours as you melted into his side. His hand lingered soflty on your waist, fingers tracing lazy circles over your hip.
There was a small tension as you saw him look down where his hands had been on you. You use your finger to angle his face back to you and say reassuringly, “you didn’t hurt me.”
“I can’t believe we just did that,” you rasp, voice trembling slightly from exertion and lingering arousal.
He hesitated for a moment, the usually unshakable Crosshair sounding almost vulnerable. “Do… do you regret it?”
You cupped his jaw with one hand and silenced any doubt with a slow, deliberate kiss. And when you pulled back, your eyes softened.
“Definitely not, my stars,” you said fondly, voice carrying sincerity. His lips twitched, almost a smile, though he’d never admit it outright. Relief settled into his posture, the tension leaving his shoulders, and for the first time since the two of you had been tangled together, he seemed… at peace.
Your fingers brushed over his chest, tracing the rapid rise and fall of his breath. “You feel… amazing,” you whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the side of his neck, feeling the steady thrum of his pulse beneath your lips.
He let out a low hum, nudging you closer with his shoulder. “So do you,” he murmured, still holding you like he was afraid to let go.
The two of you lay there, sweaty, sticky, and utterly spent, yet somehow more connected than ever.
You do eventually shift, muscles sore but tingling from the aftermath of everything, and groan quietly as you attempt to tug your nightwear back over your body. Crosshair watches you with a glint in his eyes, “You look ridiculous like that,” he teases.
You shoot him a mock glare, though your cheeks betray the flush of heat and lingering pleasure. “Oh, and you don’t?” you retort, finally wriggling into your nightwear.
He hums, the sound rumbling in his chest. “Maybe not,” he admits, voice edged with amusement, “but I think we’ve earned a bit more… relaxation.”
Your brow quirks, intrigued. “Relaxation?”
Crosshair tilts his head, smirk growing. “The jacuzzi,” he says simply, climbing off the bed. “Warm water, bubbles… think you can handle that after an hour like this?”
You let out a breathy laugh, the soreness in your thighs reminding you just how much fun you’d had. “I think I could manage. Maybe,” you tease, still rolling your shoulders to loosen the tension.
He steps closer, eyes tracking your movements, and reaches for your hand. “Then come on,” he says, dragging you toward the bathroom. “Let’s make the next hour… just as enjoyable.”
You let him lead you to the jacuzzi once it’s filled, the scent of soap and warm water filling the room. And as you both sink into the bubbling warmth, the world outside ceases to exist.
Crosshair leans back, one arm draped across your shoulders, and you curl against him, feeling both soothed and mischievous as you ponder just how long you two could stay here.
Silence stretched comfortably between you. He shifted after a moment, reaching for a bar of soap resting at the edge. Without a word, he lathered it between his hands, then pressed his palms gently against your back, his fingers smoothing over sore muscles. He was careful as he washed down your arms, sliding his touch from your shoulders to your wrists. Every stroke was accompanied by a quiet kiss to the back of your head, your temple, the damp strands of your hair sticking to his lips.
“You’re spoiling me,” you teased softly.
“Good,” he muttered against your crown, fingertips tracing over your skin like he was memorising it.
A sly smile pulled at your lips. “You know, you enjoyed calling me your wife a little too much back there.”
You felt him stiffen almost imperceptibly, his hands faltering just for a second before resuming. “…You noticed.”
You turned your head, grinning up at him. “Hard not to. You sounded like you meant it.”
For a long moment, he said nothing, eyes fixed on the water, jaw tight. But then his shoulders relaxed, and he exhaled, lips brushing your temple once more. “…That’s because I did.” His voice was low, almost grudging, but the truth in it made your heart soar.
“Crosshair—”
“You’re… marriage material,” he cut in, avoiding your gaze as you tilt your head back, as though the words embarrassed him more than any of the filthy things he’d whispered between the sheets. His thumb traced circles absently on your shoulder. “Don’t ask me to say it twice.”
You blinked, stunned into silence for a moment before a soft laugh slipped free. The sound made him glance down, eyes narrowing like he regretted saying anything at all—until you leaned up and pressed your lips against his.
