#soft sniper sunday

[a-lil-perspective]

Crosshair: *generalized as smooth and flirty bastard*

Also Crosshair: Do you have two tongues in your mouth?

You: What? No..

Crosshair:

You:

Crosshair: Do you want to?

#bro wtf XD #he’s so fuckin weird and elusive lol just come out and sAY iT #now KisS- #soft sniper sunday #sniper sunday #tw suggestive #bad batch x reader incorrect quotes #incorrect quotes #crosshair x you #crosshair x reader #clone trooper crosshair x you #clone trooper crosshair x reader #tbb crosshair x you #tbb crosshair x reader #crosshair #clone trooper crosshair #it’s a lil thing

[moonstrider9904]

Sweet Home

Part 1 of Bread and Tea

Summary: after a long and tiring trip, you and Crosshair settle down in your little cottage in the forest and are met by rainy weather.

Tags/warnings: None, really. Just some soft!Crosshair, established relationship, couple banter, and a pinch of self-indulgence. Reader is wearing cozy clothing and likes doing so, likes cream in her coffee and is shorter than Crosshair (again, self-indulgent).

Word count: 901

{series masterlist} {join my taglist} {ao3 link} {wattpad link}

{Next chapter >}

He stood with his back leaning on the doorframe, coffee cup in his hands as the rain began to pour down. Crosshair had opened the door on purpose, knowing it would start to rain soon, longing to feel the cool breeze of a rainy evening. Few things whispered home more than that.

Thunder boomed around the little cottage in the forest. Behind him, the warmth and orange glow of his home radiated onto him, while in front the storm raged on as though to welcome him herself. He brought his cup of coffee to his lips, smiling just barely into it as the flavor filled his senses, and he breathed deeply as a flash of lightning announced another boom of thunder and the rain fell with more force.

Storms like that one made him feel alive, and when he heard the sound of steps approaching him, his smile widened. There was someone else in that house who shared his sentiment towards the rain.

He was just turning around when your hand softly brushed up his arm, covered by the wool of his black sweater with two horizontal brown lines along the chest, one of the very first presents you’d given to him. The gentle touch on his arm became a full embrace on your behalf, your cheek resting on his arm as you took a moment to watch the rain with him.

Crosshair looked down at you until he finally turned fully to have you in front of him, his gaze softening as he observed what you wore. You’d traded the light, summer clothing, with its thin fabrics and missing sleeves, for a heavy oversized sweater and cotton pajama bottoms, the ones with the mushroom pattern that made you giggle.

He loved the way you looked wearing what you loved, but what he loved even more was knowing you were far happier in that than you were during your trip.

The wind blew in your direction, granting you a whiff of the cup in Crosshair’s hand, making you smile as it entered your nostrils. Coffee now always reminds you of him, and it just made your arms around him tighten, making you want to snuggle into his chest, feel the wool of his sweater warming your face.

But if you were honest, you had also begun craving the coffee in his hands, making you perk up on your toes to get a look of it. At the sight of the nearly pitch-black liquid, you huffed, making a smooth, rich laugh form at Crosshair’s chest.

“You’re a no-cream-no-sugar monster,” you bantered.

“And you’re a bit of an all-cream-and-sugar goblin yourself,” he sneered playfully, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “Meanwhile, my coffee’s as dark as my soul.”

“Your evil act never convinced me, my love,” you told him. “A man with a dark soul wouldn’t be wearing the cozy sweater his girlfriend gifted him.”

“Of course he would,” Crosshair bared his teeth, his banter evident in the way his eyes gleamed at you.

You leaned your chin on his chest, looking up at him and fluttering your eyelashes.

“What?” He asked you, knowing the eyelash trick was code for I want something.

“Can I have a sip?” You asked him, eyeing his coffee cup.

Crosshair sighed and he snaked out of your grip, taking one step back to look at you. His deep brown eyes looked you up and down as a devious little smile found its way to his lips, and he brought a hand to the top of your head, grinning at you.

“Oh, I don’t think that’s a good idea, sweetheart,” he teased you. “You’re so short, drinking as much caffeine as this will make you go a bit crazy. You won’t be able to sleep.”

You pouted at him. “Jerk.”

“Your jerk.” He set the coffee cup on the little table beside the door and swiftly pulled you towards him, swaying both of your bodies gently to the tune of the rain as another round of thunder engulfed the forest.

You looked each other in the eyes, both smiling softly at each other as you felt the warmth radiate between you.

“Welcome home, sweetheart,” he said softly, bending over to kiss your forehead again.

You caught him before he pulled away, his hand, half-covered by the sleeve of your sweater, brushing tenderly along his cheek as your eyes gazed into his with the same utter sweetness that had made him fall in love with you one day. Your eyes fell on his lips, those thin, soft, warm lips you’d always find solace in.

Crosshair’s hand then went up to your cheek as well, and he pulled you up to finally grant you the kiss on the lips you’d been yearning for. Your weight collapsed onto his arms, letting him be the only one keeping you standing.

You felt him smile proudly into the kiss, smug at the effect he had on you.

Gently, you smacked his back, letting him know not to get cocky with you. Crosshair only chuckled in response; you knew from day one being with him meant being with his cocky bastard side as well, but you wouldn’t trade that for anything.

You hugged him again, your head resting on his chest, making you able to hear his heartbeat, the sound lulling you into peace.

You were finally home.

Taglist: @zoeykallus @sageislostinspring @misogirl828 @dangerousstrawberrypie @salaminus @ladykatakuri @whore4rex @morganlefaye13

{Next chapter >}

#moonstrider writes #tbb crosshair fluff #tbb crosshair x reader #crosshair x reader #crosshair x you #tbb x reader #tbb fanfic #the bad batch fanfic #crosshair fanfic #crosshair fluff #soft!crosshair #sniper sunday #soft sniper sunday #my prince #tbb crosshair #the bad batch #crosshair tbb #clone trooper crosshair

[techs-goggles9902]

Soft!Crosshair and fem!reader please

Maybe with something about his hand tremors?

Why did you wait for me? - Soft!Cross x fem!reader

REQUESTS OPEN FOR ALL LISTED FANDOMS. READ TERMS BEFORE REQUESTING ON MY MASTERLIST

Word count: 767

Warnings: none? Lmk if I missed something

A/N: Hey, I really wanna know who these anons are or if they’re the same person so I can thank you for these requests!!!! Sorry if this feels rushed or anything. I will happily rewrite it next week if requested. I’ve been sick since Sunday and I feel like trash :P

Ever since he came back, he’s been… off. His calloused fingers, his eyes, his voice, all once so familiar, now somewhat foreign.

But he’s your Crosshair, he always comes around. You’re his girl. This is no different. Right? And, he always comes back. It’s only been a few hours since the Marauder landed on Padu’s upper level, your home, at the crack of dawn. You were roused by that familiar chime on your comlink.

What the hell, Hunter, you thought when you woke. Couldn’t he wait a few more hours until your alarm went off?

He couldn’t, which you now know.

You met the batch while they were on leave a few years back, fell in love with that tall, lanky sniper of theirs. Once Order 66 happened, Hunter advised you to come with them since Crosshair wasn’t the man you met anymore.

You found Pabu, where you settled down while the boys didn’t. Could you blame them, though?

“Stop staring at me like that, Cross,” you say as you cook him breakfast in your warm kitchen, feeling his gaze dig holes in the back of your head as he sits at the island.

“I’m sorry… I just can’t…” he pauses, swallowing. “I can’t believe you actually waited for me.”

“How could I not? You’re you. No matter what Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum say,” You turn, about to scrape the eggs onto his plate when you see his watery eyes. Those dark irises that usually pierce into people’s souls now desperately gaze into your own.

“I… I did a lot of bad things. Why do you still love me?” He whispers as you slowly put down the pan of eggs. You step around the island to embrace the sniper, his face buried into your sternum.

“Shhh… You didn’t have a choice, back at Tantiss.” His shaky hands lock around the fabric of your shirt. He doesn’t make any sound, just lets the tears stream down his narrow face, catching on his stubble.

“That doesn’t answer my question, love.”

You sigh, cupping his tear stained face in your soft palms. “I loved you during the war, loved you when you left on missions, I loved you when you joined the Empire. This is no different. You’re mine, I’m yours.”

His eyes widen ever so slightly as he gazes up at you, for once.

“How ‘bout we get some food, real food, in you and then we’ll talk?” You softly ask, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead.

“Yeah… Yeah, okay.” He nods and you let him go to slide the eggs onto his plate. Watching him eat, you see the muscles working in his jaw as he chews, his temporalis bulging with each bite.

You haven’t seen him since… Kamino. You begged, pleaded for him to join the batch. You remember how he declined and begged for you to join the Empire, they’ll understand, he said.

He finishes eating and you scoop up his plate, turning away to put it in the sink. When you turn around, he’s gone off to your bedroom. You follow, thinking, I bet he hasn’t slept in a while. I mean, really slept.

He stops in the doorway of your room, turning back to you. He quietly asks, “Can I…”

“You don’t need to ask me for anything. What’s mine is yours.”

You sit against your headboard, his head in your lap. Before, you used to card your hands through his silver curls. Now… You make due with caressing his growing follicles, careful of his lumpy, dented scar.

His hands tremble as they lie against your knee. You tap his fingertip.

“Are you scared?” You ask.

“What? No, why?”

“Your hands.”

“Oh… It just came one day.”

“Tell me… What happened?” You tenderly take his shaking hand in your own and you run your fingers over his too-short nails. Hemlock must’ve had them cut so he wouldn’t claw someone’s eyes out.

Poor Cross… Hemlock’s dying for this.

“You remember the shadows?”

“Mmhmm. The clone assassins.”

“He… Hemlock tried to recondition me into one… I was tested…” He doesn’t have to finish his explanation.

You’re quiet for a beat before you say, “I’m sorry, Cross…”

“Don’t be. You couldn’t do anything.”

“You know, a friend of mine has tremors, too. We can try exercises to… help cope, if you’d like,” you say, pressing your thumb pad down onto his knuckles for a gentle massage.

“I’ll give it a shot, love,” Crosshair says, rolling onto his back to look up at you.

“I love you, Crosshair.”

“I love you too, riduur. You’re my girl.”

Riduur = spouse in Mando’a

Taglist: @will-is-silly @fionajames @sevdidntdie @dangraccoon @skellymom @hellhound5925 LMK IF YOU WANT TO BE ADDED OR TAKEN OFF TAGLIST

Dividers by @ saradika

#Sha speaks #star wars #clone troopers #tcw #the bad batch #tbb #the clone wars #tbb crosshair #the bad batch fic #the bad batch Crosshair #the bad batch x reader #crosshair #clone commando crosshair #Crosshair x reader #crosshair x female reader #crosshair x you #tbb spoilers #tbb season three spoilers #tbb season 3 spoilers #tbb season 3

[piccolos-bigtoe]

Hello everypony,,, I've been gone for a hot minute O.o Haven't I.... Anyways heres another fake book cover. I really haven't been in a huge drawing mood, and I miss it a lot. I want to keep practicing these because it's fun and I want to make cool posters for myself and stuff like that. I copied it from another cover (down below...) because the title was too funny. I don't know what a truckers chicken is, I don't know why truckers would have chickens (animal or food??). I looked at the word trucker so much that it's just gibberish to me and I had to check over and over if it was spelt right LOL.

Sniper my queen,,,, release the tatas... Ignore the backgroudn. ofc I know how to draw trucks.. Okay Inknow what ypu'er thinking, dear reader, "Gee whiz Piccolos-Bigtoe!!! ANOTHER speeding bullet drawing? AND shirtless Sniper??? How very original of you..." and you're right, it is original, and I'm not sure if I've done it before now, but I will keep doing it. Lowkey it is my coping at this point,,, I project my personal issues onto them to make writing about it easier.... Blah

I'm going to be real right now with you all.... controversial opinion ahead........ I am not compelled by the thought of soft gentle twink Scout. Before you boo me and throw tomatoes- I think he's fun and cool, and I enjoy others depictions, but I like to imagine him as some an asshole overconfident wanna be hunk, annoying, reactive, always talking up a big game about mostly useless things but he can't handle his ego being bruised. but it's all a facade to hide his true emotions that he feels deep down (BOOO CLICHE!!!!)... </3 I went crazy Sunday night,, wrote like a whole thing about it.

Also I almost got into an accident today because while I was driving home from work some old lady decided to pull out from a parking lot and gave me like 5 seconds to slam on the breaks. Good bye until next time. Which is hopefully soon. I miss drawing

#tf2 #my art #team fortress 2 #tf2 fanart #tf2 sniper #tf2 scout #sniperscout #speeding bullet

[hatosaur]

tlou hbo ep.4 & ep.5 thoughts.

more analyze-y than the others ones because i’m talkin thru my damn feelings >:,(

getting ep. 4 outta the way real quick because it was mostly setting up for ep. 5 but also i didn’t get to rewatch it since last sunday so memory’s fuzzy.

i’ve seen people have mixed reactions to ep.4 and i get it, because it was so different to how it played out in the game. biggest breaking point from game-joel was a) him talking about tess (which i felt broke a rule for his character) and b) him being openly kind to ellie. being soft with her when she shoots the hunter. laughing at her joke. these aren’t the end of the world. i can see how it was all to show he’s warming up to ellie but it did still feel odd.

i do kinda get the sense that him being mean old joel would wreck the momentum and tone, since we’re not watching pre-rendered cutscenes sandwiched between gameplay segments. you can’t have the danger happening and THEN joel’s yelling at ellie. that’s just TENSION TENSION TENSION; him being nice and open was a good way to balance things out and give us (and ellie) a breather.

so ep. 5. i have to fuckin take deep breaths.

once again, i can’t fucking believe that i can know exactly what’s going to happen and this show will still floor me. i’m broken over the immediacy that henry killed sam with, different from henry talking out his thoughts in the game. his scared, stammered “what did i do?” as he looks to joel, because he can’t believe what he just did.

when i look back to game-henry, it wasn’t emphasized all that much that he was pretty much still a kid, taking care of a kid. show-henry had plenty of those moments. both versions are cocky but the cockiness show-henry has was more kid-like, especially in his interactions with joel, and it only made it hit harder when he looked at him in those last moments, as if for help, and when joel tried to gently get the gun away from him. i’m very glad for them amping up the connection between joel and henry.

the choices they made with sam were amazing. the kid was a great actor and i love seeing all the extra bits that came with him being deaf. i knew it wouldn’t matter all that much that he was younger and deaf; what mattered at the end of the day was his connection with ellie and they fuckin knocked it out of the park. i love that even without them being close in age, they latched onto each other anyway.

the bit with ellie’s blood was such an interesting change. because that was a stellar way of showing despite her maturity, she’s still a kid too. you can tell she really believed she could save him.

this coupled with sam’s superhero fixation...god. the thought of him thinking of her as a hero because of that.

another big change was showing ellie’s reaction to henry’s suicide, instead of joel’s like the game. in the game, i think it was to remind joel about the fragility and impermanence of good things. the show’s not really joel city, they can’t really keep it on him the whole time because that’s boring. not to mention, it’s about more than him. in the show, you can tell it’s to show the impact it’s going to have on ellie’s journey.

i wasn’t a big fan of kathleen initially -- felt she wasn’t intimidating enough as a leader -- but as we saw her more in ep. 5, i was disgusted with her, which is good! i do like the complexity of her, how she’s the leader of this big resistance movement but also seemed unsure and grasping in a lot of moments (of which surprisingly did not include the moments where she ordered people to be killed or argued that ellie and sam should die because “kids die”).

brief note, the child clicker was cool but like...a bit farfetched right?? i mean unless she was bit as a baby and has just been turning since then? aside from that, i do like that she foreshadowed sam’s turning in a way. kid infected is such a gutpunch.

another thing i liked were the parts ripped straight from the gameplay. just watching joel reach the house with the sniper in it caused a lotta moments where i was like “OH YEA THAT HAPPENED.”

WHEN THE INFECTED CAME OUTTA THE GROUND??? i was like “OH YEA THAT WAS PART OF IT.” this show’s great. i love seeing the funny ways they tie back to the game.

all the episodes have been good so far but it really seems like the odd-numbered ones have consistently been bangers.

NEXT ONE THO. JACKSON TIME. TOMMY. MARIA. LET’S GOOO >:)

#tlou hbo #tlou hbo spoilers #this helped me talk out my feelings wowie #i was big sad #now i'm small sad #talkies #thinkies

[limetimo]

Bitchy Regulus Fic Rec

fics with "little bitch regulus where he's still a likeable character” vibes in no particular order

when you were mine by battlehamster - Regulus is literally on house arrest in James' house and he bullies James around he's so mean

Trials and Tribulations by lemon_drps Regulus is under a lot of pressure, gay and high and also a pretty shit person. I love him your honour

The Blood In Your Mouth by moonysmirrorball - not sure if this fits the vibes but it's homoerotic detective James x assassin for hire Regulus adn he’s def a mean one

Best Friend’s Brother by zeppazariel Reggie is a loveable mean BITCH in this one, also Jegulus and Wolfstar (ALSO IT’S ON GOODREADS???)

Open Season by avidita It’s 2023 and Regulus is not having it.

https://leogichidaa.tumblr.com/post/676082425074515968/psychoanalysis-sunday PSYCHOANALYS SUNDAY It’s a defense mechanism your honour

Drugs and surgical scrubs by anauro he's mostly just understandably annoyed in this one but it's really good so I'll just throw it here too.

The Horcrux Hunt by Keysie - Regulus & Remus banterrr

l'éphémère (the ephemeral) by anouri he literally got hit with a bike and had his dreams on being a professional ballet dancer shatter, he’s entitled to having a bad time. James is gonna kiss it better 

just lovers (like we were supposed to be) by zeppazariel he got outed as gay to his parents by veritaserum and his crush wants to fake-date him... I just realised he’s not actually bitchy in this one at all... but he literally banishes other Slytherins to the lake like a mean bamf so I say it still makes the list :D

Prove It by fuckboyregulus I think applies too but like, really soft-core

Teenagers Scare The Living Sh*t Out Of Me by LimeOfMagicLimo  ‘spiteful spitful little gremlin’ somebody called him I think

snipers solve 99% of all problems by silentwalrus is not a Regulus fic but holkahkfhl THE RABID ENERGY of the Fullmetal Alchemist team fucking around and finding out had me in stitches

Feel free to add more if anything comes to mind ♥

#random fic rec #regulus black #fic rec #i feel like fuckboyregulus should feature more idk why #please do rec more fics under here #it'll be fun

[altrxisme]

@basadoir asked ❛ still alive, are you? ❜ ( reaper @ jackson )

/shakes fists at the sky/ yeeee

He recognized the wraith's voice immediately. He remembered so many of their voices, faces, mannerisms— The brunet's usual demeanor, that charming smile paired with soft, frost blues eyes, was replaced with a neutral one accompanied by the drop of his brows. The visage of a sniper examining their target behind a scope on a Sunday afternoon.

Jackson's dealt with his fair share of Talon agents, but he's more familiar with their workings as that's what he's been keeping tabs on ever since the fall. The young man hasn't had the pleasure of meeting the REAPER himself, but it seemed that his time has come to meet the ghost he's read so much about in his findings.

"Dunno what ta tell ya, man. M'like a roach." A hand hovered over one of his pulse pistols beneath his coat. A wary gaze at the wisp of a man before him. "Don't reckon you're here a chat, hm?"

#basadoir #[ if jackson drops the happy face it's pretty bad owo ] #[ but talon is involved soooo there's really no helping the stink eye he's giving ] #v: overwatch ; united we stand

[eldritchsquared-albums]

Sniper & Other Love Songs - Harry Chapin

Sunday Morning Sunshine - right off the bat, i love his voice. i cant tell what it is but it reminds me of this christmas album my mom puts on sometimes (which may be the time period and location? id have to check). i like how this song tells you a story.

Sniper - did you know i fucking love ballads. its long, its dramatic, and it just kept building. a few times i went "WHAT" out loud because i really didn't expect an album with "& other love songs" in the title to give me This. i honestly really love this song. after 8:10 is REALLY GOOD. from where he screams "i hate you" onward. 10/10 song jesus fucking christ. added to my library

And The Baby Never Cries - really soft and nice to listen to. love the cello in here. im still a bit stunned from the last song so this was a good refresher

Burning Herself - i love songs with fire symbolism oh my goddd i love them. this honestly gave me brain animatic. i liked the different uses of guitar in here. adding this to my library so i can find it later for possible animatic use

Barefoot Boy - another little song telling a story. its about a barefoot boy. he doesnt like conk crete.

A Better Place To Be - THERES the love song. it was fun to listen to and it was, again, a story. really enjoyable. this one had a PLOT TWIST. i like to believe that this guy met a ghost.

Circle - MORE ANIMATIC FODDER LETS GOOO. this song is really nice. about how life goes on and whatnot

Woman Child - the cellooooo <3. squints at the lyrics IS THIS ABOUT AN ABORTION? oh my god it totally is. wild ass song

Winter Song - bro is right winter is kinda like that

IN CONCLUSION - singer/songwriter is a genre i love whenever i hear it, but i never really go looking for it. this album is REALLY GOOD. it honestly blew me away, and wasnt what i expected at all. most of the songs arent something id listen to on my own, but really enjoyable regardless. i even downloaded a few songs. 7/10

review for person: every single song on this album was a story, and a great one at that. loved the lyricism, loved the instrumentation. really positively surprised me. sniper was easily my favorite song. 7/10

#february 2024 #7/10

[perpetuallyaiming]

Soft Sniper Sunday! Crosshair is my absolute favorite Batch member and I am here to let the entire world know. But first, here’s some soft headcanons:

As they grew up, Cross was the closest with Wrecker, because Wrecker doesn’t judge him for any decisions he makes

Cross gets in a fight with Hunter? Wrecker is there to console him and coax them into making up. The big guy isn’t very eloquent but having him there makes Crosshair feel much better

Remember that scene where Wrecker pulls Cross in, in their barracks? Ohhh Crosshair will always visibly scowl, but both of them knows he is happy that his brother loves him so much

Cross finds himself trusting Wrecker the most, especially on-field. If anyone’s got his back, it’s Wrecker. Hence him calling for the latter’s knife in that Tarkin test.

Crosshair is super detailed, visible from his meticulous maintenance of his gear, and so he actually pays attention to the little things that might support his brothers, like an earplug stash for Hunter in their barracks and Marauder, charging Tech’s holopads when he falls asleep and forgets so that he’ll wake up to a full and useable device

And change my mind, he has commissioned copies of Wrecker’s Lula and replaced them overtime as they got misplaced or broken

He tucks Wrecker in !!

He hates showing it and would rather get shot than to be discovered, but he gets super soft for his brothers when they are vulnerable

One time, Hunter got super sick during the winters, high fever, runny and stuffed nose, chills, sore throat, the whole package, and boy he got delusional

Crosshair brews herbal tea and whips up porridge and spoon feeds him, staying near Hunter the entire time during his sickest hours

He will angry cat hiss at Tech if he ever dares mentions it to the sick man

His brothers all know he does this when they’re sick though, which is why they love him even more

When it’s his turn to get sick, Wrecker let’s Cross cuddle with Lula and they all take care of him. Tech preps the meds, Hunter makes chicken soup, and Wrecker stations himself right next to Cross on the ground just in case he ever needs anything

My heart—maybe now I need to write self indulgent sick!Bad Batch fics

#the bad batch incorrect quotes #the bad batch headcanons #tbb headcanons #tbb crosshair #tbb wrecker #tbb hunter #tbb tech #the clone wars #clone force 99 #soft sniper Sunday

[itsjml]

I love him.

I miss him.

I cry. 🥲❤️

#he deserves the world #save crosshair #crosshair my beloved #star wars #the bad batch #soft sniper Sunday #clone force 99 #tbb crosshair #crosshair #crosshair bad batch #bad batch crosshair #ct 9904

[a-lil-perspective]

*drops this and runs*👀

You and Crosshair having to pretend to be an item while secretly wanting to be an item has me by the throat jjsjsjshs.

A squeak involuntarily pulls from you as Crosshair suddenly reels you to his side, and you’ve not any time to register the deliberation - and dare say, possessiveness - behind his movements before you’re blinded by his audacity, the way your tone of surprise turns into a snarl and you’re fighting against him. “What’s with you?” you hiss.

His voice is eerily calm. “There are a few patrons with their eyes on you. I’m just trying to make it convincing that we’re actually here together.”

“Oh.” You work quickly to settle into his side, shame heating your cheeks in the wake of your undue haste.

Crosshair stares down a perceived threat as he sets his drink down purposefully, having nearly cleared the bottom while yours is barely touched, a lost cause with your nerves utterly shot. You’re on high alert and raptly watching his every movement. Crosshair suddenly reaches around you, and pulls you across his lap so that you’re straddling him.

You’re way too close for comfort, cleavage nestled against the crisp and folds of his suit, bodies inlayed a little too perfectly for your liking as you begin a dangerous game. You’re mesmerized by the immediate transfer of power between you. The fit of your dress entirely in his control. The way his mind is ten steps ahead while you’re left dizzy. You brace your hands on his chest to establish a modicum of space you’re not entirely sure you want. You swear you can barely breathe. “Maker, seriously?” is all you can say, albeit breathlessly.

His lips are hot on your neck. “Just trying to relay that you’re taken for the night.”

You let that sink in, along with a confounding level of arousal brewing. “I think they get it,” you breathe, involuntarily canting your neck to give Crosshair better access, fingers sidling into his hairline as you’re swept away by the undertow of his charisma, and before you know it he’s laying more of that hidden charm on you. Crosshair chuckles sordidly against your skin. His nose brushes the curve of your jaw and nestles in the crook of your neck, inhaling the sweet of your perfume. His hands tighten around your waist, feeling you out with purpose.

“You love this,” he accuses as he ravages your skin.

You graze your nails along his scalp and the pleasing hum against your neck in response is electric. You grin, all teeth and sunken seductively into your painted lower lip. You can play with that.

“That makes two of us, hotshot.”

#ruh roh #wips #tw suggestive #crosshair x reader #crosshair x you #clone trooper crosshair x reader #clone trooper crosshair x you #tbb crosshair x reader #tbb crosshair x you #soft sniper sunday #sniper sunday #crosshair #clone trooper crosshair #tbb crosshair #*drops this and runs* #it’s a lil thing

[moonstrider9904]

It's Sniper Sunday but not exactly soft, I'm in the mood for some smut of this man yes I am

#moonstrider speaks #tbb crosshair

[superiorsniper]

Happy Sniper Sunday because you’re not soft. I got you baby.

I am also not a baby

[yeojaa]

ANGELS & AIRWAVES (w. jjk)

He's never met you but you know how he sounds when he wakes up from a nap and his greatest fears.  You know the way he sings after a shower and that he could be mistaken for a dying seal when he's laughing too hard.  The best part?  You don't judge him for any of it - including the fact he's a filthy Widow main.  He might just love you.

alt summary.  Jeon Jungkook has a big fat crush on a girl he's never met.

pairing.  jeon jungkook

genre + rating.  fluffy crack. general, for now.

warning / tags.  long-distance relationship, crushes, canon compliant (ish),  eventual happy ending, gaming, gamer!jungkook, strangers to lovers, friends to lovers, overwatch.  tags are hard.  :( 

reading.   n/a.  a three part one-shot.

word count.  ~3400

part i.

JUNGKOOK’S ROOM Sunday, 10 November, 2019.  2:13 AM.

It’s 2:13 AM when Jeon Jungkook finally finds a match, the familiar in-game sound dragging his attention away from the illuminated screen of his iPhone to the monitor before him.  He studies the SR - 3779 and 3761, respectively - and skims burning eyes across the members on each team.  Four rocks, including himself, and two Masters.

One of them has a strange name - BIGMELON - that he stares at until he's zoning out, trying to make sense of it.  Was his teammate a pervert or just hilarious?

"Good luck and have fun, everyone!"  

Your cheer filters through his headphones crystal clear but he's somehow still surprised, head tilting curiously to the side.  He hadn't expected a girl to be playing Overwatch at quarter past two in the morning.

When there's no response - he notices no one else is in the voice chat, an oddity for such a high ranking game - he takes it upon himself to keep you company.  His username lights up as his finger glides across the ALT key, sleep-worn words breaking the silence.

"Thanks, you too."

Nothing follows until BIGMELON appears once again in the upper left-hand corner of his screen.  You have a nice voice, he thinks.  "Are you sticking with Widow?"

Jungkook takes in the team comp:  Sigma, Hog, Genji, and Lucio.  A little unconventional but not wholly un-doable.  They're on King's Row, too, which is one of his favourite maps.  Balanced enough that people aren't too salty when they get headshot but with enough coverage that he can get clear picks.  

"Should I?"

"If you want."  A pause and your hero slot is filled with Mercy's portrait.  "I can damage boost."

He thinks he can hear the teasing.  It's soft and sweet and a little rough - like you'd just woken up.  

"Who says I need it?"  Comes his immediate response, question chased out of his mouth by a laugh he can't help.  It echoes, filling the quiet of his bedroom.  He hopes you don't take it the wrong way.

"O—kay, Widow main.  We'll see if you get anything from me."

It's an empty threat because you're giggling along with him.  It's distracting in the strangest way.  The sound bounces around in his ears and he can't help but focus on it, realizing belatedly that he's still sitting in spawn as the timer runs down for setting up defence.  

"Are you going to join us?"  You quip, emoting right beside his stationary sniper.  "I didn't queue just to have someone go AFK."  

Mischief colours your words and he laughs again, snorting as he finally presses W.  Two sets of footsteps echo in game and he presses SHIFT once he's hit point - and with just a few seconds left to spare - launching Widowmaker's body onto the balcony overwatching it.  Mercy follows, Guardian Angel carrying her into the air to alight behind the blue-skinned hero.  

As the timer hits 0:01, Jungkook right-clicks, scoping in on the second-floor spawn door.

BOOM.

The kill feed reads DDEOKKOOKI x STRIKER007.

"I guess you didn't need the damage boost."  

He can't help the sound he makes - a marriage between a witch's shriek and a pig's snort.  It leaps out of his mouth, louder than he intends, and he feels equally bad for you and his hyungs.  He's definitely going to get an earful in the morning - or any minute now, when one of them bursts into his room to berate him for being so loud.  "I told you."

"Yeah, yeah."  The way you speak has him grinning from ear to ear, nose scrunching in amusement.  Mercy is flying across the map, healing stream trained on Genji as the cyborg ninja just narrowly misses an errant Hanzo arrow and dashes back to point.  "I'm gonna take care of the rest of our team.  Let me know if you need anything, O' Headshot God."

You're clowning him hard but he knows it's all in good fun.  Still, he likes the nickname and decides to keep it, effectively picking off the attacking team's stealthily half-hidden Junkrat and Ana right after. 

"Show-off!"   

Then he's dinked in the head - health dropping to 30 from the partially-charged shot.  He needs heals like yesterday.

Unfortunately, Lucio is up at choke with the tanks, skating circles around the base of the statue as they hold point.  Jungkook doesn't see you immediately - he’s scanning his screen for your witch skin (of course) - only realizing you've appeared at his side when his health bar begins to climb.  "Try to stay alive, yeah?"

"My bad,"  he drawls, scoping in the same instant the kill feed announces two more enemy deaths. 

There are only a critical Reinhardt and protected Zarya left.  The former falls the moment he drops shield and her bubble doesn't reset in time;  the Russian tank dies in the next instant, his charged shot firing the moment it hits 100%.  

"Thanks for the damage boost."

"Any time."

Then you're gone, off to support the rest of your team again while he grapples onto a different ledge and continues his oppressive gameplay.  He feels a little bad when the opposing team goes double shield tank and swaps their Junkrat for a Pharah.  He feels less so when he's slept out of nowhere. Four seconds feels like an eternity when he’s out in the open - vulnerable as a baby lamb in a den of lions.

"Looks like you're really making them mad."  You'd been relatively quiet when not tending to him - likely because it was only the two of you in voice chat - and he startles when your comment breaks the quiet lofi he has going in the background. 

"I don't know why.  I'm just having fun."  He's lying.  You're laughing.  

"Too much fun, I think."  

"Maybe they should be better."  Jungkook says this like he's commenting on the weather or the colour of the sky - offhand and nonchalant.  It makes your giggles come harder.  He can hear the scratch of your mic as if you've doubled over and it's now pressed into cotton clothing.  He can't help but pat himself on the back.

"Please don't tell me you're going to 'gg ez' them when we're done."

Now he's feigned offense, gasping at the mere thought.  "Of course not.  I'm not that rude!"

"Well, you never know."  You're right.  People could be the worst when it came to online gaming, spewing vitriol and hurling insults the moment their egos were bruised (or inflated). 

"I promise I'm not an asshole."  He's not really sure why he feels the need to make this abundantly clear.  After all, he'd probably never play with you again.  Korea's density of players was just too great - you were just one in hundreds, thousands, millions. 

Still, he smiles when you reassure him you don't think he is.  "I'm just teasing.  You seem nice."

"I am nice."  Spoken in the same instance he lands two consecutive headshots - one on the bouncing, wall-riding enemy Lucio and the other on the momentarily grounded Pharah.  You must see that, because you're mocking him in that dulcet tone of yours, caramel coating words and turning them soft like toffee. 

"Not according to them."  And not that you mind, it seems, because you're damage boosting him as he catches their out-of-position Rein in his sight.  He whoops in triumph, eliciting another bemused sound from you. 

"You know they're going to do everything to counter you when we go on attack."  Which was in sub-one minute, the timer counting down the last thirty seconds of your team's defense. 

"Who says I'm going Widow again?"  

You're scandalized.  "You mean you're not just a filthy Widow main?"

For a moment, Jungkook wonders if this is how his older members feel when he (and Jimin and Taehyung) mercilessly rib them.  He thinks it must be and oh, how the tables have turned.  He decides he doesn't really mind, though.  It's all innocent fun and it's keeping him awake, aided by the cold brew he'd chugged at midnight. 

"Woah - says the Mercy player?"

"Mercy is a respectable support, okay!"

"Sure, e-girl."  

"Take that back!"  How the words explode out of his headphones makes him momentarily worry he might've overstepped but by the way your laughter chases it forward, he knows he hasn't.  You can take it just as well as you can dish it.  

"Okay, okay.  You're a not bad healer."  Because he hasn't died yet and last he checked, neither had your tanks.  Genji had once or twice - to be expected, given his playstyle - and you had, but that was still pretty respectable.

He can practically hear you rolling your eyes.  "Oh, thanks."  

"Any time, BigMelon."  

"That's ‘daebak’ to you, pal."  Had he heard you wrong?

"What'd you say?"  

There's a long pause - he's not sure whether it's for comedic purpose or something else.  You sound muffled on the other end, as if you're repressing sound.  "Because watermelon?  Su-bak?  So big melon is dae-bak?"  Whatever you had stifled earlier disappears, torn away by the pride that shines bright yellow and boisterous in your peals of laughter.

It's such a bad joke that Jungkook feels like he's about to have an aneurysm.  Were you Jin moonlighting as a Master support player? 

"You're kidding me."  He wonders if you hear him above your own glee, giggles making it hard for him to hear himself think.  "What're you - a dad?"

You scoff now, parroting his words back to him.  "What're you - the pun police?"  

Another one?

He briefly considers ALT + F4-ing his way out of this match and away from your corniness.  Considers it but ultimately decides against it, instead remaining stoically silent and choosing McCree when the hero selection screen slides into place.  His silence will surely speak volumes.  

"You know that was funny!"  By the way he can practically hear your pout - it's endearing, much to his chagrin - he thinks you know where he stands.  

"Not the word I'd use."

"You just have bad taste, McCree."  You say it scathingly yet full of mirth, a sniff punctuating the end of your rebuttal. 

"Do not!"  He returns, just as quickly.  

"Prove it.  Laugh at my joke!"  You're shameless, confident, reassured - it makes him chuckle.  

You take it as his surrender though, your own laughter blending seamlessly with his.  It goes on for longer than is strictly speaking necessary, crowding like cotton balls in his ears as you leave sprays of your hero - Ana this time - across the spawn walls.  He wrecks every one of yours with his own, BAMF displayed in 1440p. 

"Hey - stop that!"  It doesn't matter that the round is about to start - you're spamming your melee button into him.  He immediately does it back, toggling between that and his voice line. 

The rest of your team is probably wondering what the hell you're both doing.  

"Stop distracting me!"  He barks into his mic, deep dimples on full display, nose scrunched adorably.  He doesn't really mind - it's clear by his hyena cackles that follow - and he likes when your chorus of shut up's pitch and leap with your giggling. 

As he navigates McCree out behind your tanks, he can't help but wish - maybe a little selfishly - that they'll lose this round and go into a best of three.  When the opposing team's healers both die - one to Ashe's dynamite and the other to Zarya's high-charged beam - he knows that's not going to happen.  Your team's going to cap point and then you're going to be gone - off to the next game and never to be matched with again.

"We did it, McCree."  You sound deeply pleased as the last of the defenders fall, leaving point uncontested.  The Lucio on your team lingers by the choke, ready to boop any last minute hoodlums;  Echo hovers just above the enemy’s spawn, dealing damage the moment any hero comes in view.  One of your tanks is already emoting.

VICTORY flashes across his screen.  

"We sure did, BigMelon."

The cards come next - they're all for your team, though he isn't surprised.  You'd gotten 37 defensive assists whereas he had 27% Infra-Sight uptime.  He's sure you both vote for each other, the remaining four going to your other support's Sound Barrier casts.  

"Thanks for the carry."  He doesn't mean it facetiously.  This is some of the most fun he's had in-game in ages.

"You're welcome,"  you chirp.  He thinks you'll leave right after.

Instead, you both sit in voice chat in silence, watching the timer in the upper right-hand corner. 

"Do you want to duo?"  You ask in the same instance he does, breaking the both of you into a fit of laughter.  It's more distracting than he realizes, the FINDING MATCH countdown replacing the end game statistics while you’re both still cackling.

Luckily, you invite him to a group right as he removes himself from queue.

JUNGKOOK’S ROOM Tuesday, 24 December, 2019.  11 PM.

It’s six weeks and a good three dozen games later - a feat for him, considering how much of his time is eaten up by literally every other obligation he has - when he asks for your name, not realizing the consequences of his action.  

“Most people call me Jinny.”  He thinks it fits you, bright and pretty and punchy.  “What’s your name?”

Jungkook's unprepared for the question, though he shouldn’t be.  Of course you’d want to know.  Anyone would, if they’d already given their own answer.

He's silent for the longest time, quiet stretching on and on over group voice chat.  He applauds you for your patience, how you don't press him on it when the hesitation has descended from appropriate to downright awkward.

"Uh."  The word drops like a weight, crashing through the tentative friendship you've built over the past weeks.  

"You don't have to tell me,"  you supply as softly as he's ever heard you.  It's the first time you've seemed uncertain - and it bothers him that he's the reason.  "I get that we haven't known each other that long."  

As if that's actually the issue.  He would've told you the night you spent four hours together, taking wins left and right, filling the time in between matches with silly banter that had his jaw aching from laughter.  He would’ve told you on that random Thursday, when you’d listened to him talk about his busy day, effortlessly keeping him occupied - and amused - while your SR nearly descended below 3500.  He would’ve even told you yesterday, when you’d said you were going to bed, only to be roped into another six games by Jungkook’s eagerness.

It has absolutely nothing to do with time - or the lack thereof.

But he can't say that - can't tell you who he really is - so he improvises as best he can.  "My friends call me Jay."

"Jay, huh?"  You turn the sound over on your tongue, like you're tasting it for the first time, trying to decide whether you love it or hate it.  He hopes you don’t hate it.  "Then I guess we're the best J-duo to ever exist."

"Woah, we?"  He's only doing it to rile you up, finding it cute when you huff and puff and threaten to let him die in-game.  You never make good on the threat anyway;  you just like to see him sweat, watching as his health bar drops to measly single digits.  "I don't think I agreed to that."  

It's your turn to mock him, that same edge turning your words into sour candy.  "Fine.  You can find yourself a new healer.  We'll see how your SR likes that, Bronzie boy!"  

Neither of you really take the game that seriously but he gasps like he's been shot.  

"No!  Don't leave me with them!"  The way he howls the plea is enough to return you both to your rightful place - one filled with boisterous laughter and things he never thought would see the light of day.

Because somehow, he's found somewhere he feels safe - a place he feels like himself, with no pretenses or expectations.  It’s where he can rant and rave, bouncing from topic to topic like an energizer bunny with no end in sight.  It’s, oddly enough, with you.  

Connected through voice chat and built by an endless stream of communication - sometimes productive, other times not - the space you’ve carved out together has come to feel like a third home.  It isn’t quite what he has with his family or his members but it’s just as nice.

Different, but nice.

"Fine.  You're forgiven."  You sniff in that peculiar way of yours and he snickers loudly.  "How was your day?"

And this is why it is - because it's ordinary.  It’s where Jungkook can rest his head and drift for a while without worry of what’s over the horizon, ready to swallow him whole the moment he takes his eyes off the calm blue sea.  He's not raised on a pedestal with you, all the weight of his choices resting on his shoulders.  He's just a normal guy playing games.  

It might not make up for all the years of normalcy he's missed out on - the movies after school, the street markets on weekends, the holiday parties with classmates - but it's enough.  

He eats it up like he's been starved of it.

"Busy.  Really busy.  I had dance practice all afternoon and forgot to eat so I'm dying now."  There'd been a time - about three weeks in - when he'd chosen his words more carefully.  He'd been worried he might let something slip but he's found what feels like the sweet spot now, where he can tell you about his day without thinking he’ll suddenly shatter the image you have of him.

It's not always easy - he has to remember to never mention names or intimate details - but it's better than nothing.  He can finally tell someone about his day like he wants - all of the good and the bad, too.

"You should make something to eat!"

He's used to your reprimands but he still laughs, crossing his long legs beneath him as he readjusts in his computer chair.  "But we're in queue."

"Jay!"  It comes out devoid of static, clear as the waning sunshine that filters through his blinds and reflects particles of dust that drift lazily through his bedroom.

"I'll make something after we win."  He knows what you're thinking - that he's gone and jinxed your whole night.  You’re weirdly superstitious, something he's learned only recently.

As if right on cue:  "Shut up!"  

Your words sweep his expression up with glee and giddiness, like a kid on Christmas morning;  lines dig themselves into the bridge of his nose and the delicate skin beneath his eyes.  Jungkook tells himself it’s the usual pre-game jitters but he knows it’s more than that.  

It’s you and that infectious giggle that careens through his headphones, making him see everything in a pretty haze of warmth.

He’s not sure when you’d started having this particular effect on him - maybe since the beginning? - but he feels it now, clearer than ever.  Every tinkling laugh makes his heart speed up, thump around his chest like a baseball missing its mark.  The sight of you logging in elicits the biggest, possibly dorkiest smile, all slightly too-big front teeth and deep dimples.  You have him rushing through his post-practice showers and devouring dinner in half the time he usually would just to get online a minute more quickly.  

There's just something about you. 

And sure - a part of him wonders whether it's all in his head (as if it could be anywhere else).  Wonders if he's seeing you through rose-tinted glasses, doing to you what so many do to him.  Was he in over his head, praying to a deity that didn't even know he existed?  

Sometimes it felt that way - a little out of reach, like childhood crushes and summer love and wishing upon a star.  Certainly far too much for a blossoming friendship of just a month and a half.  

But then you laugh and it's Pop Rocks fizzling in his stomach and he knows that no - it's there and it's real.

Jeon Jungkook has a big fat crush on a girl he's never met. 

notes.  i love overwatch and i love jeon jeongguk.  what more can i say?  :)

#heartsforbts #ficswithluv #goldenclosetnet #bts #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts fluff #jeon jungkook #jeon jeongguk #jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jungkook imagine #jungkook scenarios #jungkook au #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook x oc #work.zip #a&a.doc #jungkook.doc

[hypotheticalskinarios]

He hated that it had come to this. He hated that he had become this. It wasn't always this way though. No. When he was much younger, it took little more than the lingerie ad from the local Sunday paper...or the chance loose arm hole opening in the blouse of one of his mom's friends. And if he was really lucky, perhaps even the hastily flipped pages of an old Playboy Magazine between him and a circle of his friends in some lucky kid's dad's garage.

Even as he got older, the scent of a woman was enough to elicit that hardwired response that every boy inherited from the universe in his early teens, or the memory of past interactions...whether initially clumsy, or later almost borderline confident.

But that was then, in the pre-internet age...before sensory overload had basically desensitized him to the point that he had to hunt his prey to feel that once easy thrill as it were. So here he stood in silence with high powered binoculars pressed against his trained blue eyes. His tree stand was the window on the second floor of a two story house, and his five point buck was the woman next door...lying alone on her bed down below him.

He always followed the same progression. First it was the white plug in the outlet on the wall. Then he'd follow that cord along the floor and up the side of the bed. He continued to track it now, over her exposed leg...until it ended at the base of the wand that she held between her spread thighs.

So there he stood in complete silence with his shorts pulled down to mid thigh level and a condom rolled snugly down the length of his fully engorged penis. It probably wouldn't have made sense to the unlikely onlooker, but even one drop of his own DNA at that window seemed about as damning to him as spent shell casings left behind at a snipers nest.

He watched her intently from his lofty vantage point. He studied her completely exposed body from head to toe, although his focus never strayed far from the dark brown patch of seemingly soft hair between her legs. He wasn't hurting anyone, in fact, he was paying her a compliment if anything. The mere fact that she was holding a high dollar personal massager directly against her own clitoris told him that she must have felt at least a bit of longing for a man's attention.

It wasn't long before his binoculars were supported by a single hand, as his other one was now below his waist...gently mimicking the subtle rise and fall of her hips against the mattress beneath her. He stroked himself slowly....as he followed the noticeable outward curvature of her stomach upward, past her obviously alert breasts, until he found himself looking at her head thrust back into her pillow. It moved slowly side to side, her eyes alternating between a clenched and fluttering state. Then, for some unknown reason, she opened those very eyes and turned her head toward the window...filling both of those magnifying lenses in his hand with acknowledgement.

He backed away from the window and dropped his binoculars all at once. There was no way that she wasn't going to tell everyone, which meant that he was going to be a convicted criminal at worst, and a neighbor pariah at best. The only solution in his mind was to make her realize that this whole situation was mutually beneficial.

He pulled his shorts back up now, and ran downstairs. He opened the back slider quietly and then sprinted to the fence...which he easily bounded over. He pulled on the handle to her back door, which opened to his surprise, so he let himself inside. Silently, he crept down the hall toward her bedroom, and opened the door. There she stood at the window, with her back to him...looking upward. So before she could even react. he placed his hand over her mouth and dragged her back toward the bed.

He lay her back down now, still stifling her screams with his palm, and flung her robe back open with his free hand. He calmly explained to her that he wasn't a bad guy...that he just had the same needs that she did. He told her that she deserved better than a plug in partner, and that maybe they could be friends in need.

She just looked up at him without saying a word and slowly nodded. Maybe it was because she agreed with him, and maybe it was because she knew that she really had little say in the matter at all, that much wasn't exactly clear. So in an act of good faith, he removed his hand from her mouth, and then removed his clothing.

So there she lay, with this man on top of her. Inside of her. She tried with all of her might to remain expressionless, but the physiological responses of her body betrayed her stone cold gaze. She began to moan begrudgingly now...as his cock pulsed rapidly in and out of her. To her surprise, she found a certain nostalgic enjoyment in the feeling of a condom against her wet insides. She wasn't entirely sure why he showed up with it already on, but it made her feel young again all the same.

Still she said nothing, dare any acknowledgement be confused as consent. But it WAS going to happen. She could feel it building. And there he remained. Over her. Thrusting his latex sheathed sword in and out of her down below.

And then it DID happen. It wasn't anything that you'd see in an adult movie, but more like a woman bracing herself in the door jamb of her house during an 8.0 earthquake. The rumble filled her from head to toe as she lie there, quivering in safe silence, until she finally sunk back into the bed.

He didn't last much longer. It was maybe a minute before he filled whatever spacial void was left in that condom. Then he hastily got dressed and left, before it could even slip off of his slowly wilting cock.

So there she lay, carefully covering herself with her robe again before tying it snugly. Her husband would be home soon, and she had a decision to make. She HAD to tell him. But would he understand?

Maybe ten minutes later, she heard the front door open, so she got up and ran down the hall. It was her husband, freshly home from the gym, still sweating through his shirt even. She said nothing as she jumped into his arms and began to sob uncontrollably.

"What's the matter baby?" he asked her.

She continued to cry, but through her tears, she muttered "The man....next door" "What about him honey" her husband replied. "He...he came over earlier" she stammered. "And" her husband asked. "And told me" she continued "that he FINALLY accepted an offer, so...so the house won't be vacant for much longer."

[ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa]

Addicted to You

Part III: Renegade

Summary/Author's Notes: Frankie (and the rest of the boys) goes and gets his girl back. I won't say anything else because I know y'all have been waiting.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Pope's sister!Reader Word Count: 4.5k Warnings/Rating: R/18+ once again STRONG kidnapping elements, restraint, violence, death, murder, blood, language, PTSD, hurt/comfort

Gif by @hvitserkk

MASTERLIST

Part I Part II

Apparently this hell hole of a jungle insisted on being true to its word. Ever since they had left the bar it had been pouring down rain. Large torrents of water cascaded from the dark sky like the dump bucket at the local water park crashing down on a bunch of screaming kids. Unsurprisingly, Frankie had not slept at all. He tossed and turned on his cot in their hostel, spending the majority of the night staring at the ceiling, listening to Benny snore, and thinking about you.

A few times he gave up his restless dance and got up to crack the window and light a cigarette. Pope was already up as well, unable to rest for the same reasons Frankie couldn't, and he held out a smoke and a lighter to him in silence.

"Thanks," Frankie said, quietly and Pope nodded. The two of them didn't speak. What was there to say? He offered his presence and a cigarette as an apology and Frankie took it. That's just how they had always operated, with an unspoken language of knowing that even if they were pissed at each other, there was no one else they would rather have watching their six.

The watch on Pope's wrist beeped quietly and he pressed the button, nodding to Frankie that it was time to head out. Frankie returned the gesture, taking another long drag of his smoke as Pope started to wake the others. He stared up at the dark sky and wished there was some way to tell you that he was coming for you. Whatever was happening, whatever state you were in, just hold out a little longer.

The thickness of the canopy of leaves on Lorea's property helped with the rain. The large drops pat on the trees with soft thuds as the men took up their positions from yesterday and started in towards the mansion. Only this time, each of them was geared up, locked and loaded. Frankie was careful of his steps not because of noise this time, but because of the mud. The sheer amount of water that the forest floor had received overnight had flooded every tiny creek bed, and eroded enough earth that even the smallest hill was just an avalanche of silt. His shirt was already stuck to his body, protected only by his Kevlar and the pack slung over his back.

Pope turned his hat around backwards as he took up his sniping position on the hill and looked through his scope. Frankie moved quietly through the trees towards the gate and Will flanked him, each lowering their guns to start snipping the chain link fence with their bolt cutters. Benny mirrored Pope's sniper stance from the East side and kept a careful eye poised on the two men below working on the gate.

"Well, I guess it's a good thing they're so devout," Benny said flatly through the com piece. "My dad used to say when it's raining, that means god didn't need us in church today."

Will chuckled and shook his head, finishing up clipping the fence and putting the bolt cutters back in his backpack. "Yeah, he also said you go to heaven for the climate, and hell for the company."

"Actually I think Mark twain said that, shithead." His brother retorted as he adjusted his scope and checked on Frankie's progress with the fence.

"Alright, keep the radio clear. Stay awake and look alive." Tom's voice came through everyone's ears, his obviously irritated tone making Frankie roll his eyes. "How many is that, getting in, Fish? Count it."

Frankie looked up as he finished cutting and watched the family pile in the car adorned in their Sunday best and umbrellas. "Seven getting in the van," he answered Tom.

"Anybody see Lorea?" Pope asked.

"Negative. Never saw him come out." Will walked carefully back to his spot perpendicular to the road that led out of the fortress. He ducked behind a tree as the cars drove passed him down the gravel road. "Wife and two kids are with a single driver--the family has left the building. We're clear."

They all waited in silence as the family vans disappeared and another unmarked, black car rounded the corner in their place. Pope's informant had been true to her word and was here to deliver the day's round of Lorea's money like she didn't know that he was about to be robbed blind. The gates opened slowly and she drove right through. She had a beat up four door hitched to the van so she could drive away and leave them the extra van, just like Pope had asked.

"Damn Pope, your girlfriend is a keeper. She got us that second van." Benny said, looking through his scope and adjusting the settings. "Punctual, smart, and brave as shit--just how you like 'em."

Pope ignored his quip about the informant and asked, "Has anyone seen any sign of (Y/N)?"

"Negative." Frankie said flatly, squeezing the com button clipped to the inside of his shirt. His eyes diligently searched each window of the upper floor, desperate for even the smallest sign that you were inside and alive. But he saw nothing.

"Informant is in," Benny cut through the silence. "Making the handoff now."

"Here we go," Tom raised up off of his knees and started to move. "Ben, you're first hit. With this rain the guards are gonna be inside. Watch your angles--silence is key."

"Roger."

Will and Frankie started walking toward the back of the mansion, matching each other's strides as they let Pope take point in front of them through the tall grasses. Each man had their semi-automatic rifle level with their eyes, balanced against their chest as they strained their ears and vision to see anything in this fucking rain. Frankie ducked his head under the family's clothes line as they entered the backyard and waited for Pope to give them a hand signal.

To an outsider, this would have looked like any normal family's patio. A children's sized soccer goal and a few balls were off to the side, a grill and a white iron table and chairs sat waiting for summer time barbeques. And only a prick like Lorea would subject his family to his dealings out here in the middle of nowhere. Frankie hoped with everything he had that the man in question was inside, because he couldn't wait to get his hands on him.

"Steady." Pope said over the com and motioned that he was going in the side patio door, and that the other two should go in through the double doors.

"Alright," Will nodded, looking at Frankie and motioning him to take the lead. "We're going in."

The house was dark. Will checked the windows but it didn't offer much insight before they crossed the threshold. Most of the glass had been covered with newspaper, bleached from the sun and offering little to help with what he could only imagine was Lorea's paranoia. A lot of the furniture was covered in sheets and protective cloth like they had just moved in or were getting ready to move out--either way, it wasn't very homey.

Pope nodded as he crossed paths with the two of them from the side door, taking note of the guard watching soccer in the living room at such a volume that suggested he was absolutely hard of hearing. But that sure made sneaking passed him easier.

Will and Frankie headed to the kitchen. The fridge door was open and a faceless man was rifling through the contents. Frankie let Will take point, keeping his gun raised as the blond slung his over his shoulder and waited for the guard to shut the fridge. As soon as he did, he was on him with a swift punch to the face. Will twisted the man around and wrapped his bicep around his neck, putting him in a sleeper hold, squeezing tighter as the man struggled, ultimately falling unconscious and sliding to the floor.

Frankie white knuckled his gun as he saw that it was the smaller guard from the day before--the one who had called you merchandise. He hesitated, but shook it off as Will tossed him a zip tie and they secured the man's wrists and ankles before stowing him on the other side of the counter.

"Front gate secured," Benny said over the com from outside the house.

"One guard secured in the kitchen," Frankie answered as they crossed back into the foyer.

"Ben come to the house," Tom ordered from his place on the rooftop balcony

"Copy that."

Will followed Frankie into the next room as they looked across the foyer at Pope. The guard who had previously been watching his ridiculously loud television was nowhere to be seen. Benny's shadow appeared in front of the frosted glass of the French double doors and Pope held up a fist that he hoped he would be able to see.

"I'm at the front door."

"Hold Benny, hold," Pope responded, keeping his fist raised.

"Threat in the TV room is gone," Frankie said, keeping his voice calm and factual, letting Benny know the reason he was continuing to stand in the rain.

All three men looked up as the missing guard came down the staircase. Frankie's eyes narrowed as he realized who the guard in question was. He remembered the clear image of his disgusting hands over your mouth, hurting you, restraining you, and ultimately striking you--bitch. muzzle. cunt. His heart hammered in his chest and he could hear the blood rushing in his ears and he did the only thing he could think of. With an echo through the high ceiling entryway, he squeezed the trigger and fired, hitting the bald guard in the kneecap and sending him to the ground with a thud and a yell.

"What's going on in there??" Benny said over the com and Pope lowered his fist.

"All clear Benny. Eyes out for Lorea--"

"Well, he sure as fuck heard us now!" Will growled, dropping to his knee and pulling the zip ties and electrical tape from his pack. He spared a glare at Frankie as he got to work but Frankie felt no remorse. If he didn't need to find you, he would have shot the bastard a second time.

Will wrapped the black tape around the guys mouth to muffle his painful screams as Frankie pulled the zip tie tightly around his ankles--perhaps a little tighter than was necessary. The three of them looked up as Benny came in the front door and Pope pointed to the open utility closet at the left of the stairs.

"Set the charges for the security room. I want those cameras offline now! It's just Lorea and I do not want him to know our positions." Pope took a couple of stairs up and raised his rifle back to balance on his shoulder as he looked around the corner.

"What was the fuck was that? Who shot first?" Tom hissed through the com and they looked at Frankie.

"We had to shoot the third guard in the leg." Ben answered as he started pulling wires out of the cameras and lining the inside with a small amount of explosive, wetting his fingers with his tongue. "Taking him to the kitchen as we speak." He looked pointedly at Will and Frankie. It made Frankie realize that, unlike Tom, none of them would blame him for the shot, but they had to stay focused and keep moving.

They picked up the still grunting and thrashing guard and carried him into the other room and Benny turned his head and said with a grin, "Fire in the hole."

The camera system fuse sparked and popped like a line of firecrackers and all at once every camera in the compound went dark.

The rest of them let Frankie and Pope take the lead as they walked up the stairs. Both men shoulder to shoulder as they aimed down the sight of their guns and looked in each open door that led to a room, hoping that you would be there. With each empty room Frankie's heart beat harder. He found it more difficult to breathe every time he swept the area and you weren't there. Sweat dripped off his brow, both from the humidity in the house and the fear of the possibility that you were no longer in the house at all.

The two of them came to the last closed doors in the hallway and they looked at each other.

"You take right, I'll take left?" Pope offered and Frankie nodded wordlessly.

"I got your six," Will said behind them both as Tom and Benny moved to take the double doors that led to Lorea's office.

Frankie tried to calm his hands as he took one off of his gun to open the door. The room was dark and cluttered, a nice set of bay windows being the only light as rain pounded against the glass. Frankie swept the room slowly, using the barrel of his rifle as a guide for his eyes as they adjusted to the low light. He lowered his gun slowly as he laid eyes on you, for even in shadows he knew it had to be you.

"(Y/n).." he breathed out, dropping his rifle and backpack to the floor with a thud. Nothing in the house mattered anymore, not Lorea, not the Narcos money--even if Will wasn't watching his back, he would have dropped everything he was carrying to get to you faster.

You had heard footsteps and a gunshot long before Frankie hit the door. Not that any of the warning sounds mattered because you were basically a sitting duck, and you had been for almost twenty-four hours. Time was irrelevant though as the blindfold around your eyes made everything dark at all hours of the day. As the footsteps got closer you clenched your fists and pulled against the zip ties that held you against the straight back chair. A whimper fell around the gag that was biting into your cheeks and as a hand touched each of your arms, you let out a muffled scream.

The sound alone felt like someone was ripping Frankie's heart out with his own hunting knife. He released you like you had burned him and quickly went for your blindfold first so you could see it was him, not Lorea, not his thugs...him.

"(Y/n)! Baby, stop--it's me, it's me!" He raised his voice to be heard over your fear and you froze.

Blinking slowly, your eyes adjusted to the light as he came into focus in front of you. Frankie. Your Frankie. Frankie Morales was squatting in front of you, looking up at your face with a mixture of elation and worry.

His large but gentle hands reached up and, careful of your hair, slipped the cloth gag out of your mouth and let it drop to the floor.

"Cat?" You rasped weakly, the one word catching in your throat like a stone. Your mouth hurt and felt like it was full of paste, dry and clammy at the same time.

"Yeah," he laughed softly in relief as if hearing your voice made you more real. "Hold on, doll." He said, pulling his knife out of the sheath on his boot and cutting through the restraints on your ankles before moving up to each wrist. The plastic snapped easily under the blade and your body felt like it's entire existence gave a sigh as the blood flow resumed to those areas.

Before you could stop yourself, you crumbled off of the chair and against his chest, but he was expecting it. He knew you better than anyone and like always, it was as if he could read your thoughts. Your sobs came easier than you would have liked, but they were impossible to fight.

Frankie's arms wrapped around your body like they had a thousand times before. One hand went to your hair and he looked over his shoulder to Will, "Get Pope." His words were as quiet as he could keep them while still allowing the other man to hear him over your tears.

"Of course," Will nodded, leaving the room at a jog.

"Santi's here?" You managed to choke out and you felt him nod.

"You bet," he tightened his grip on you, clearing the emotion out of his own throat. "Who do you think called in the calvary?"

The fact that your brother had been the one to track you down was not surprising in the slightest. You had hoped against all odds that the moment you didn't show up to meet him in the city, he would have allowed his paranoia to go into full force. But you had no idea that it meant he would rally a rescue posse. It made sense--there was no way he would be able to take the mansion solo, but knowing that all of his guys, the guys that you considered part of the Garcia family, had dropped everything to help him find you made your chest tight. The tears started again and you gripped Frankie's Kevlar vest, too tired to fight them.

"Hey," he whispered, pulling you back against him. "I got you. You're safe now--we're gonna get out of here."

You nodded and looked back up at him. Two years. Two years and not a damn thing had changed about the man in front of you. He still wore a ball cap that you were certain you had seen before, his thick, dark hair curled out from under it and you knew if the hat came off it would be sticking out in every direction. Your fingers itched to touch it, to touch him, any part of him that wasn't the tactical gear that covered the outside of his body. The scruff at the sides of his jaw had just a touch of gray, now that was new, but then again neither of you were kids anymore. You couldn't stop yourself as you touched the edge of his beard with the tips of your fingers. He was here. He was real. And despite the distance and the time between your last encounter, he had come for you.

"Can I kiss you?" Frankie choked out in the empty room as if he held the thought in any longer he was going to burst. His chest ached, and his jaw hurt from clenching his entire body to keep his own tears at bay. He didn't need to add his own shit on top of your distress, and he shouldn't have asked for such an intimate act after just untying you from a fucking chair. But he heard Will's voice promising him that he would get to tell you everything he had ever meant to since you met.

"Yes, yes," you nodded, a few more tears slipping down your cheeks.

He cupped your face and looked at you like he had never seen you before. Your cheek was bruised from the day before, the purple edges starting to turn yellow but the majority not the center remained a painful looking black. Your lip was swollen, very obviously cut open and recently dried by something forceful and crass that should have never been allowed to touch you in the first place. The corners of your mouth were irritated and chapped from the gag and from screaming, another image that he didn't want either of you to have to remember after today.

He shouldn't kiss you, he shouldn't entertain such a self indulgent act when you were this badly hurt, but you didn't stop him. If he was a bigger man, he would have stopped himself, but the thought vanished as he met your eyes. Those soft, kind, eyes that he wanted to lose himself in were so tired, red with tears, and downright broken. If Lorea was still in this house...he would skin him alive.

His lips were a feather's touch against your own and you swallowed the whimper that threatened to leave your mouth because you knew such a noise would gut him. You wanted to hold him close and never let him go again. Suddenly all of the excuses you had ever had for settling down with Frankie Morales were bullshit. You allowed your arms to be pinned against his chest as he held you close and you closed your eyes. He smelled like rain and sweat but under that he smelled like how you remembered, like campfire and earth.

Not wanting to cause you any discomfort, he allowed himself one last quiet peck before nosing your cheek and exhaling softly.

"Take me home, Frankie," you breathed against his face, your voice shaking despite your efforts. "I just want to go home."

He nodded against you and you felt his grip tighten. "You got it. We're going home."

"(Y/n)?," Pope said as he broke the threshold of the room and laid eyes on you and Frankie. "Oh, gracias a Dios," he said, lowering his voice as he crossed the room and fell to his knees with a graceful thud. Frankie relinquished his hold on you so the other man could gather you up into his arms.

You hugged him back as tightly as you could, but nothing prepared you for the grip he engulfed you in and the grimace on your face made Will speak up. "Easy, man, she's seen better days," he called from his position in the doorway and it made you smile.

"Are you hurt? What did they do?" Pope said, sitting back on his heels and holding you at arm's length to see your injuries.

"I'm okay," you tried to sound reassuring. "Sore, but okay."

"Did you have any idea why they wanted your crew?" Will asked, and you shook your head.

"No, I don't. I've been in this room since I got here. I know they change who guards the door, but that's it." You put a hand on Frankie's leg to steady yourself and his hand found the small of your back. Even sitting on the floor, you felt weak, you were so tired.

For two days the only human contact you had was with a select few of Lorea's men. With a shift change, they gave you water, led you to the bathroom, and then redid the zip ties on your hands and feet. The blindfold stayed on through everything and they had strict orders to keep their hands to themselves and not rough you up too much. You weren't stupid--Journalists made good ransom chits, especially American, female ones.

"Is there any of your crew left?" Will asked and you shook your head.

"They killed them, oh god," your hands started to shake again and your breath caught as you remembered the men kneeling in the tennis courts of the mansion, landing in a puddle of blood and darker things with each bang of a gun. "They're dead--it's just me."

Santiago pulled you back against him and put his chin on top of your hair. "It's okay. Stop. Nothing you did would have stopped it. Your job was to survive, remember?"

You nodded, not really wanting one of your brother's trademark military pep-talks. You knew he was right, what else could you have done? But that thought didn't do anything to change the bile in your stomach that made you want to throw up.their coms crackled to life, thankfully drawing yourself out of your own thoughts.

"Fish? You got eyes on (y/n)?" Benny's voice came over the radio and you looked at Will who gave you a wink. Of course he had brought his little brother on the rescue mission.

Frankie reached up and clicked the button pinned to the collar of his shirt. "Yeah we got her. She's okay."

"Good," Tom's voice crackled back. "Now, everyone to the upstairs office. We got a problem."

"Shit," Pope cursed, getting up and letting go of your arms so Frankie could take over. "Take your time," he said to you as your knees wobbled and Frankie hooked his arm around your waist.

"I got her," the other man said, nodding his head in the direction of the door. "Go see what's wrong."

Pope hesitated, taking another glance at you before nodding his thanks to Frankie and Will. The blond moved to the side, but kept his post of guarding the door so Frankie could give you his full attention. He started unbuckling his bulletproof vest and you looked at him in confusion. He tossed his backpack next to his gun on the floor, clearly intent on getting to the vest itself.

"What are you doing?"

"You're gonna put this on," he said flatly, pulling the Kevlar over his head in one fluid motion.

"Frankie, you need that," you tried to protest but he shook his head.

"Arms up," he said firmly and you obeyed in silence. He was gentle as he pulled it over your head and tightened the first strap on your side. He clipped the buckle and moved to the next one, making sure the material hugged you tightly and was secure. As much as you wanted to argue, the look on his face made you bite your tongue. His sole mission was to get you would of that mansion alive by whatever means necessary.

His handsome face was much too serious and you couldn't help putting your hand on his cheek as he leaned down towards your chest to finish the last buckle around your back. The small smile you received was worth the action. He pulled a handgun from the back of his belt and held it in his palm.

"Safety," he said pointing to the small black dot under the magazine. He clicked it up and the dot showed the smallest flash of orange paint underneath. "On."

"I know how to handle a glock, Cat," you said quietly and he grinned.

"Just making sure," he raised his hands in playful defense as he let the full weight of the gun transfer to your own hand. "I know it's not the beretta."

You blushed and shook your head as you holstered the gun in the waistband of your jeans. You suddenly wished you had the beretta that was sitting useless in the nightstand beside your bed. Santiago had purchased it before he left back for Columbia and he entrusted Frankie to teach you how to use it. And the man in front of you had stayed true to his word.

"Let's keep moving," Will broke the silence between the two of you and nodded his head down the hall.

Frankie agreed with a nod of his own and started to walk towards the door only to stop and hold his hand slightly behind him. You crossed the gap and gripped it tightly, something you had done a thousand times, felt as wonderful as it had years ago. "Stay with me," he said gently and you nodded. He knew it was an unnecessary request, because right now, he couldn't think of a single thing that would make him let you out of his sight.

--

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