#Steel Gunner | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gracieheartspedro · 8 months

Text

Trash Talk

abby anderson x fem!reader

description: you and abby anderson go waaayyy back, and she can't stand you. after being distant for years, you can't help but pick on her and get under her skin. you can't help yourself. maybe it's those god damn arms and that cute smile she makes sometimes. so, why not try to bully her enough so she will take you to bed?

word count: 7.1k

warnings: MINORS DNI! this is 18+, nsfw, smut, wlw, some slight bullying, threatening of one's life, murder (reader kills scars), use of guns, dom!abby, fingering, eating out, shower sex, use of a strap on, dirty talk, abby calls reader tons of names, major teasing!!

author's note: first abby one shot. let's goooo! lemme know what you guys think. I really liked writing this and I'm down for any requests for abby or ellie!! love you guysssss <3

“Are you the one braiding your hair every day or do you have some pretty girl do it for you?”

Abby’s head spun over how dumb your questions had been all afternoon. Luckily for her, you were being quiet up until this moment.

You are propped up beside her on the back of the jeep, your rifle slung across your lap. You were itching to get a rise out her today, it was fun to watch her eyes roll into the back of her head.

She cocks her gun, her eyes trained forward and away from you. She’s always on edge when you’re out on patrol. Her furrowed eyebrows and tense shoulders made your relaxed and at ease body language look unjustified.

“I braid it myself,” Is all she says. You train your eyes to watch her muscles flex as she inspects her gun closely. You contemplate your answer, do you ask if she can braid yours next or do you ask if that’s how she got those insane arms of hers.

You don’t make a decision by the time Manny slams on the breaks, unexpectedly. Abby’s body flies into yours, sliding across the bench and crashing into your side. You wince, snapping your head forward to the road.

“We got company, chicas!”

You duck when the first shot hits the steel of the car. Abby grabs your waist, dragging you down onto the bed of the SUV. She didn’t want your death on her hands, knowing Isaac would never forgive her for losing his best gunner. You roll away from her grasp, propping your rifle forward where Manny is driving.

Scars on horseback surround the road in front of you.

They are easy to take out when they are high up, for you at least.

“Manny, duck your head!” You holler, glancing back at Abby who’s hand is still somehow on you. She looks conflicted, her gun still loosely in her grip.

You prop your gun up, aiming at a older man on the closest horse trailing the jeep. He has a bow, which doesn’t move as fast as your bullet. You ease into the trigger, taking out the guy with a head shot. You didn’t have time to think about your reasonings for killing the guy, you never had the time to think about it. You knew that these men would kill Manny, Abby, and you, if they had the chance, so you guess the proper reaction is a bullet to the skull.

You hear Abby yelling something but your ears are ringing at the sound of you taking out each Scar one-by-one. You don’t even let them get behind the SUV, knowing they would be getting a better shot at you. Once the last one flies off the back of their horse at the impact of your bullet, you sit up.

You realize that Abby hasn’t fired a single shot.

“I think we have a flat tire! I’m gonna pull off when I find cover,” Manny explains, his voice loud over the sound of the ringing in your ears.

Abby sits up beside you, gripping the side of the bench with her left hand. She gets a good look at your completely unfazed face and it pisses her off. You never had a moment to second guess your actions and you never had an honest reaction to killing upward of 7 men. You were always stone cold and even. You weren’t always like that. You used to have some life left in your steely eyes. At least, that’s what she thought.

You were disassociated from the entire world when put in any situation that could be deemed “dangerous”. It’s almost like a completely different person took over your body. Your reactions were not your own. But when you finally came to, your bones would vibrate with anxiety and adrenaline. You were just a master at disguising it because you didn’t want everyone around you to see you as weak. You can never be weak, again.

Even if Abby took out that many men, which she has done before, she still walks away with a small inkling of guilt written on her face. You don’t even quiver at the sight of violence and death, not that she sees, anyway.

But it does eat away at you. You’re plagued with nightmares if you can ever even find sleep at night. Most nights are spent curled into a ball, staring off into space, praying the walls will just cave in and suffocate you. You hardly eat most of the time, the thought of munching on food makes you nauseous.

Manny pulls into a familiar warehouse that’s usually a stopping point for one of your patrol routes. The jeep is jittering, chugging forward with a scraping noise. You stand up when it completely stops, jumping down from the side. You sling your backpack over your shoulder and your gun strap across your other.

You watch Abby jump down after you, her impact on the ground loud. She stares at you with this annoyed look on her face.

“What’s wrong, baby girl? Mad you didn’t get a shot off?”

Your tone makes her ball her hands into fists.

“Can you shut your fucking mouth ever?”

Manny chirps in quickly after she says it, “Ay! Quit it you two!”

You bow your head, “Yeah, Abby. You need to blow off some steam. Gettin’ all worked up.”

Manny slaps your shoulder lightly, gesturing you two to get inside the warehouse. You knew you had to clear it before you settled in to discuss the next game plan. You stand there watching Abby strut towards you, her eyes scanning your body up and down.

She is only a little bit taller than you, but she’s built like an ox. When you two were acquainted, she was about your stature. Now that she needs to prove herself, she bulked up and became even more hot.

“You’re lucky Isaac needs your ass, because if were up to me, I’d send you straight to the Island and watch them pick you apart.”

Her voice is vicious and you could tell she was pissed at you for teasing her. It only made you smile in sick pleasure. You craved getting under her skin.

“Love it when you talk dirty to me, Abs.”

She ignores your comment, knowing exactly what you were trying to do. You were doing it so well, too.

You three creep inside the warehouse, stalking around the open area, ensuring there’s no one nearby to sneak up on you. Your running low on ammo, but you didn’t want to ask Abby for a new magazine. She would bitch you out for not grabbing an extra. With that in mind, you sling your rifle across your back and pull out your pistol. You cock it, which interupts the silence you three had been settling in.

“A pistol?” Manny questions, quietly. You nod slowly, discharging the magazine to make sure you had a stacked shell.

You huff, “Yeah, I’m out of hallow points for the rifle.”

Abby stops in her tracks, “You forgot another magazine, didn’t you?”

She wanted so badly to be right, especially when it came to you fucking up. You stare at her as you shove the magazine back into the grip.

“Eat my ass, Abby.”

She laughs, watching your face fall as you cock the gun again. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Manny grimaces, “Please, stop, you two. Let’s get this place clear and then figure out what we do next.”

Manny was right. You and Abby separate, both of you trailing up some stairs to the extended area of the warehouse. You check every corner on your side, ensuring no one will be sneaky and catch you all off guard. Once you all decide it’s clear, you meet up at the staircase Manny is walking down.

Manny was a good friend and a rare hookup. You had slept with him a couple times and while he was always a generous guy, he never made you cum. He always joked that it was because you liked girls better, and truthfully, he may be right. He was handsome but he never really did it for you.

Abby, on the other hand, you and her went way back and she did it for you. Before becoming Isaac’s favorite, you were pretty good friends with her. You two sat together in “school” and she taught you how to make someone pass out by putting them in a headlock. You had confided in her about your past and she was the only one who truly knew everything. You genuinely liked her and wanted so badly to tell her how you felt. But once Isaac took interest in your skill set, he trained you vigorously with his top men. You had no time for anything anymore. It pissed Abby off so much, for some odd reason. You’d think a friend would be proud that the head honcho took interest in you and wanted to make you better. But instead, Abby took it as a personal jab and started ignoring you. When you confronted her, she told you that she was too busy for friends. That, of course, didn’t stop her from having a whole ass friend group without you. When you befriended Manny, he told you that Abby only saw you as competition.

So you became even better. Not wanting to repeat the same mistake, you kept everyone at an arms length and avoided getting close with anyone. It made you withdrawn, and eventually, you realized you were not meant to be a friend to anyone. You were made to be a killer.

“So what do we do now? Go back or go to our assigned checkpoint?”

Abby’s training her eyes on Manny and Manny only. She refuses to even glance your direction. You turn your gun safety on and tuck it into your waistband.

“How far do you think we are from the checkpoint?” You question, crossing your arms across your chest.

“Too fuckin’ far,” Abby responds, still not looking at you.

You smirk, “Perfect, then let’s do that. Maybe Abby can get her finger on a trigge-“

Before you can finish your sentence, Abby’s reaching out and pulling your body towards her by your shirt. You don’t even flinch, your body just flies forward as she finally stares daggers into you. You like being this close to her, it makes the hair on your arms stand up.

“I swear to God,” She’s gritting her teeth, “If you don’t stop fucking around, I’ll kill you with my bare hands.”

You press yourself closer to her. Her fist with your balled up shirt grazes your boobs. Manny doesn’t say anything, just rolls his eyes, anticipating your response. You like this game. The one where you tease Abby and she becomes enraged by your words and eventually it comes to a tipping point. She’s always just thrown something, her manhandling you was new.

“I’d love to see you try, sweetheart,” You mutter, your face millimeters from hers, “I don’t think you’re remembering what our body counts are and who’s surpassing the other by a fucking landslide.”

“I’d love to add you to mine, that’s for damn sure,” She responds quickly, eager to one up you. You giggle at the double meaning that comes to mind. You would like to be on her body count list, for sure.

“Stop it!”

You both shoot a look at Manny who’s nudging you two apart. Abby unhands your shirt, and you step backward away from her, tripping a bit over some broken concrete. She looks you up and down with disgust.

“You need to stop acting like you’re better than everyone else,” She grumbles, ignoring Manny’s pleas for a truce.

“You need to stop acting so serious all the time! Get a grip, I’m just fuckin’ with you.”

“I said stop! I knew you guys hated one another but I didn’t know this was gonna be a who’s dick is bigger competition. You both need to relax!”

Abby’s face is twisted and you hated that you found it attractive. God, you wanted to fucking hate her.

Abby crosses her arms, flexing them right in front of you. She notices your expression change. She knew you had a little crush before, but she thought that feeling was long gone. She shoves the small inkling of optimism that you may still feel that way down.

Manny speaks up again, “We should just head back and tell Isaac we will head back out tomorrow morning. It’s going to be dark in about an hour. It’s too risky.”

“Agreed,” Abby tightens up her folded arms, “If you wanna go out by yourself, you can do that. We can tell Isaac you went awol.”

You smirk at her suggestion, “No, I want to be there to tell him you can’t pull your punches. Be way more satisfying to watch you squirm.”

“I’m glad everyone was okay,” Isaac says, his deep voice dropping an octave, “I’ll get more guys to go with you tomorrow morning. You three get back here at sunrise, okay?”

You clear your throat, “Want me to run through how to shoot a gun with Abby before we ship out?”

Manny huffs, “Come on, dude.”

“I think she’d benefit from it,” You say matter-of-factly to Isaac. You can feel Abby’s gaze burning into you. She’s leaning against the door frame, while you are seated in front of Isaac’s sprawling desk. You always felt like he only sat there to seem more authoritative. To you, he was just a man.

“Play nice, little one,” He stands up from his rolling chair to stand in front of your manspreaded legs, “You still need to prove to me that you’re loyal. Don’t think I forgot about the incident at the hospital last week.”

Your stomach drops while Abby’s ears perk up.

“What happened at the hospital last week?”

Her voice is eager, which only makes you angrier. You adjust yourself in your seat, sitting up straighter.

“She refused to kill a Scar,” He explains, teetering over you, “She shot a Wolf instead.”

“He demanded I gut a child in front of her mother. I am not going to do shit like that.”

Isaac chuckles before slamming his fist down on the table beside him, “You can and you fuckin’ will. If I get any more push back from you, I’ll get Anderson here to take you out herself.”

You stand up quickly, avoiding everyone’s gazes. You want to throw your knife into his throat, but you know that wouldn’t end well. You didn’t want to have to be on the run again.

Being humiliated in front of Abby and Manny made you feel sick. You hadn’t felt shame in so long, not even when you were reprimanded last week for shooting that guy between the eyes. You were lucky he was just some new recruit and had no family back at the Stadium. Isaac spared you because he needs you. You’re a good asset.

“We clear?”

His voice bounces off the wall. You don’t say anything, you just nod slightly and storm out of the office. You hear the door slam behind you as you swiftly walk towards the staircase. There’s men loitering in the hallway, waiting for Isaac to tell them to go kill another Scar. Pathetic, you thought.

You start to think about how didn’t want to face Abby and Manny tomorrow, but you knew better to ignore direct orders. Maybe a shower would rinse off the disgusting dirty feeling that plagued your skin.

“Didn’t know I was workin’ with a traitor today,” Abby says from behind you. You’re in the community bathrooms, cursing that it’s even a thing because you knew some shit like this would happen. You thought since it was midnight, you wouldn’t have any company. You were, of course, wrong.

Abby has her towel draped over her broad shoulder and a small container with her soaps. You were just about to strip down and take one of the spickets on the tiled wall when she interrupts your routine.

You swallow hard, not in the mood to argue with her. Even if there’s no one around, you don’t feel like entertaining anymore.

“‘M not a traitor. I just don’t kill children.”

You had very limited morals, but you drew the line at children. You remember what it was like to watch your friends get picked off by raiders when you were a kid. You remember being horrified hearing the screams of their mothers. You remember the innocence being stripped from you. You can’t stomach the idea of killing someone who has no control over their life or the decisions of others, so you don’t.

Isaac showed no mercy to any Scar, but you did and he was trying his very hardest to beat that out of you. The only reason you were stuck on the patrol with Manny and Abby in the first place was because he knocked you down to more minor runs and not the intense ones you were on before. It was your “punishment” for disrespecting authority. You were lucky to even have your head after killing that guy in front of other Wolves.

Abby grumbles something inaudible.

“You remember when we were forced to watch those daycare kids after not doing our morning mile?” You reflect, thinking back to easier times with Abby, “Imagine one of those innocent kids being gutted by a machete and it’s your own hand doing it. If a child is going to die in the name of some stupid land, I don’t want to be the one holding the weapon. Isaac can have sociopaths like you to do that.”

“Me? The sociopath? If I’m remembering correctly, they gave you the nickname Heartless after your run through on the East side a couple months ago,” Abby’s voice is venmous, “You are the top Scar killer right now. You kill and you don’t even flinch.”

“I kill people who try to kill me,” You grab the hem of your top, pulling it over your head, “I need to protect myself. And whoever I’m with. I’m not given a choice.”

“Was that guy trying to kill you? The one you shot between the eyes?”

You’re silent. She poses a good question, a question you don’t have a good answer for. You turn to face her, and the first thing you realize is her braid is becoming unraveled. You purse your lips, racking your brain for a response after being distracted. The only rebuttal is a question, something that has eaten you alive ever since it started.

“Why do you hate me so fuckin’ much?”

She cocks her head to the side, “Are you serious right now?”

Deep down, Abby never hated you. She was jealous of you. She wanted everything you had. She couldn’t stand seeing someone be better than her, especially a girl she liked. And you did everything so well. She harbored a secret crush on you for a while, even when she was with Owen. She hated that she liked you and you were leaving her behind to advance up the ranks. She only wanted your attention, truthfully. Now, since she distanced herself from you, everything you did ate her alive. While poking fun at her was your way of flirting, Abby reeled over it every night before bed. How could you be so mean?

“We were friends, Abby. I told you about my family. I told you everything, and as soon as I got in with Isaac, you iced me out. Told me you didn’t need friends,” You huff out, “I knew that was a lie then and I know it’s a fuckin’ lie now because you have friends. Lots of them. Why couldn’t I be your friend?”

“Because I can’t be friends with you!”

Her voice is high pitched, almost shaky. You take a step forward and for once she doesn’t step away from you. You’re in her space, your hip bone millimeters from her hands. Your eyes are trained on her reaction, which is just her eyes averting away from you.

“Why can’t we be friends, Abs?”

You reach up, grabbing her messy braid softly. She flinches a bit, easing into the idea of you touching her. It’s been a long time since you were this close to her without her resisting. She still won’t look you in the eyes. Your fingers travel down her mousey braid until you’re trailing her collarbone and wide shoulders. As your digits trace her bicep, she finally looks at you for a moment. The tension is palpable, your question still hanging in the air.

“You’re impossible,” She murmurs, her eyes flicking away again, “And you’re despicable. You think you’re bett-”

“Cut the shit,” Your hand stops right at her wrist and you wrap your much smaller hand around it. You know the real reason she won’t be your friend, it’s written all over her face, “You hate me because you want me, Abby. You always have. Almost as much as I want you.”

“Want is a strong word,” She chirps, “I was in a relationship when we were friends. I had Ow-”

“Don’t even say his fuckin’ name,” Your free hand tilts her head back toward your gaze. You hated that fucker for messing with your Abby, “Can you just indulge me? Admit that the reason you’re pissy with me is because you want me between your legs?”

You can feel her tense up, her jaw going slack.

“Nah, don’t think that’s what I want,” Her voice finally changes. It’s more sultry, the tone shifting with the conversation. She shakes out of your grip, bringing her hand up to your chin, “Think I need to teach you a thing or two. Shut that stupid smart mouth up for a minute.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah, you’ve been a fuckin’ bitch and you need to be taught a lesson,” Hearing the words come out her mouth has your core clenching with anticipation. She’s silent waiting for you to agree, but you just stare at her with a smirk. “Do you need me to show you here or do you want me to show you in your room?”

“Why not yours?”

“Because Manny is there. Unless you want to give him a show like the slut I know you are.”

She makes the hair on your arms stand up. She scans your body as you contemplate your options. This is a moment you’d been waiting for, so you can’t fuck it up. You finally have her exactly where you want her.

You can’t be caked in dirt and grime when she’s devouring you, right?

“I need a shower,” You mutter. It catches her off guard. You swallow before continuing, “I think you need one, too. So, how about we take our showers and then you can walk me back to my room.”

She doesn’t even say anything, just begins stripping off her tank top. She’s sporting a black sports bra underneath and my God, does she look good in only a bra. You have seen her in a bra before, but never with a six pack and huge arms like she has now. She smiles at your gawking. She shoves off her cargo pants, leaving her just in her underwear and bra.

You finally come to your senses and start stripping as she walks over to one of the shower heads and turns it on. She looks excellent from the back, too, you think.

“We don’t have all night,” She groans, watching you slowly start undoing your bra, “Hurry up before I change my mind.”

You walk towards the shower head next to the one that’s running for her. She pulls the hem of her bra up and off, revealing her full chest to you. You follow her lead, undoing the back of your bra and letting your breasts free. The water is soaking your feet and you still have your underwear on. It’s almost like a competition as to who can break first and touch the other, and it wasn’t going to be you. You shimmy your underwear off, tossing both your bra and panties to the pile outside of the shower.

“Jesus Christ,” She howls as you let the water take over your body. Her eyes are glued to your chest, “It’s like they got bigger.”

You sneer at her comment, “I could say the same about you in general.”

“Yeah?” She slips off her underwear, leaving nothing to imagination anymore. She caves first, creeping into your stream of hot water with you and wrapping her large arms around your waist. Chills shoot up every part of your body when her lips dip down to leave open mouth kisses on your shoulder blade. Her hands trail upward from your hips to your stomach to your tits. You watch in disbelief when her massive hands take up most of your boobs. She cradles them in her palms before massaging you tenderly. You’re already a moaning mess, pushing your ass into her crotch.

“Let’s get you clean since that’s what you want,” She drops your boobs before reaching out for her soap. She starts to lather herself up before her hands return to your buzzing body. You let her hands wander, coating you in her pine soap. You didn’t care for the scent, but it smelled like her and you always wanted that scent on your body.

She manhandles you a bit before using your arm to twist you around to face her. She’s staring down at you, her pupils dark with desire. You realize her hair is still in a braid and resting on her bare shoulder. While she continues to rub you down, you grab the end of her braid and start to undo it.

When her wavy hair is released from the hair tie, you realize how long it is now. No wonder she keeps it braided, it must get in her way.

“May need to rebraid your hair,” You mutter, your hand still dancing around her decolletage.

“I’ll just have you hold it up while I eat you out.”

You smirk as she focuses her attention on pinching and tugging on your hard nipples. You ogle her, unsure how you got here. Earlier she was threatening to kill you, now she’s toying with your body and leaving you the wettest you’ve ever been. She backs you into the water, having you rinse off the suds.

“Abby,” You finally catch her gaze and her lips are pursed in concentration. She looks at your expression and then it finally happens. She kisses you, feverishly. You almost slip on the wet floor as she aggressively pushes you back against the tiled wall. Luckily, her arm is completely enveloping your hip, keeping you stable against her. Your bodies are wet and burning with desire, eager to touch every inch of each other. Abby pulls away, catching her breath.

“We need to speed this part up, I need to fuck you.”

You chuckle, wrapping your arms around her neck, “We are having fun though, aren’t we?”

She shakes her head, “Rinse yourself off, no more back talk.”

She pulls away from you, quickly showering herself. You don’t even wash your hair like you need to, you just watch her lather her body up, slowly circling your clit with your middle and pointer finger. She does not even realize what you’re doing until you are moaning in her direction.

“You’re a dirty little girl, aren’t you?”

She pulls your hand away from your sensitive nub, using you as leverage when she gets on her knees. She’s staring up at you, pulling you forward by your ass. She looks too good at this angle.

“Please, Abby,” You beg, wanting her to devour you whole.

“Hold my hair, baby. Just like I said.”

She nudges your knees apart, her face centimeters from your dripping core. She uses her long fingers to spread apart your pussy lips, soaking in the fact that she was the one who made you this wet. You reach down, pulling her long locks upward to get them off her shoulders. When she creeps in closer, her tongue is extended outward. As soon as it makes contact with your slit, you throw your head back, your hand full of hair loosening. She works her tongue around your pussy, pressing forward even more. She has her full face in you, her nose poking your clit every time she moves her tongue and lips.

You’ve never been eaten out like this before. She’s a starved woman, begging you to feed her your sweet juices. Your knees feel like they could give out at any moment, so you grip onto her shoulder to balance yourself. She’s switching between slurping and sucking, her mouth working magic on your senstive pussy.

Just when you think her head can’t get any better, her fingers enter the equation. She slips her long fingers between your slit, finding your hole after exploring for a moment. She guides one finger into you, then two. She’s groaning into you, watching your body twitch under her touch. She’s fucking you so fast, you can feel yourself teetering over the edge. She switches up her moves, flicking her tongue on your clit and fucking you slower. It sends you into bliss, your mouth agape as you stare down at her pressed against your core. You cry out, trying your best not to let your legs surrender to your weight.

“Yes baby,” She watches you fall apart, her finger tips swiping over your clit fast, “That’s right, cumming apart on my tongue. That’s so hot.”

Your vision is hazy, but you can still make out Abby as she stands up. Her hands rest on your waist as she brings you into a ravenous kiss. You’re still in a daze from your orgasm as she shuts off the warm water behind you. She’s guiding you out of the showers, bringing you back to your clothes and towel. She helps you by wrapping your towel around your center.

“You okay to walk back to your room?” She questions, watching you shakingly dry yourself off.

You chuckle a bit, “Why? Do you want to carry me or something?”

She gives you a smug look, “Do you need me to?”

You want to smack the expression clear off her face. The freckles that litter her face scrunch in a teasing manner, which makes you melt a bit. You continue drying off before you throw back on your pants and shirt. You would be taking them off within the next two minutes, anyway, but you had to make it through the main hallways.

Abby does the same thing before she gathers all her belongings and waits for you. As you rake your fingers through your hair, she jokingly starts tapping her foot.

“Can you relax?”

She shakes her head “no”. You roll your eyes, grabbing all your things and leading the way to your room.

Abby knew your room would be better because you were graced with a room all by yourself. Courtesy of being Isaac’s top dog.

You were vigilant about keeping a clean suite, always making sure your limited belongings had a place. You did not have people in your room often, so you were a bit nervous to have Abby Anderson in your room.

She trails behind you closely, grunting every so often to indicate her impatience. Once you're outside your room, you unlock it with the key around your neck. It was easier to keep it on your chain, you hated stuffing your pockets with loose items.

The cold air hits your skin. You were known for keeping a cold room. You always ran hot at night and you refused to sweat. When Abby walks into your suite, she starts to laugh. You lay down your towel and undergarments.

“What’s so funny?” You ask, your wet hair sticking to your shoulders.

“You haven’t changed at all,” She grumbles, tossing her stuff in a pile beside your front door. The comment takes you off guard, simply because you spent years trying to be someone different.

“Why do you think that?”

“You are still so Type A,” She’s bounding towards you, stopping centimeters from your still-orgasm-dazed body, “You always run hot. It’s fuckin’ freezing in here.”

She’s cowering over you, her hot breath getting closer to your face. Before she can kiss you, she averts her head to the crook of your neck.

“You still smell of lavender,” She kisses your pulse point before continuing, “And you need attention or else you’ll die. You thrive off pissing everyone off.”

“Especially you,” You practically moan as she continues to kiss your throat. When you say that, she lifts her head and stares down at you. She’s so symmetrical and beautiful. You loved seeing every freckle, every wrinkle of her nose. The fullness of her pink lips.

“Especially me, that’s right.”

She pulls you in again, this time using her large hands to push your ass forward, capturing your lips as you melt into her grip. You move fluidly with her direction, peeling off your clothes again and frenching her when her lips slip open. Your tongues battle but you fully submit when she slowly bites down. She’s hungry for more.

You grab onto her forearms, tugging her towards your full size bed in the corner of the room.

You always kept your blinds drawn, not allowing the large windows to expose your personal space. You’re silently thanking the angels for your obsessiveness because if someone spotted you and Abby right now, it would somehow get back to Isaac. He would have a cow if he found you two messing around. That’s too much of a distraction and you need to focus on the “mission”.

Well, right now your mission is to make Abby cum.

You two fall on the bed, her hands still resting on the curve of your ass. She groans when you pull away from her lips. You tug at her shirt, gesturing to her to rid herself of her clothes. She obliges and she’s finally naked in your bed. You could die happy.

You were too caught up in her touching you earlier, now you want to feel her. When the cold air touches her nipples, you notice them stand at attention. You practically fall into her chest, latching your mouth onto her tits, sucking the skin. She moans out, her hips reacting by pressing forward into you. You swirl your wet tongue around her areola, teasing her sensitive nipples.

“God damn,” She whimpers, her hands exploring your hips. You use your teeth, nibbling slightly as you pull away from her one boob. She falls onto her back, releasing you from her grip. You crawl on top of her, straddling her waist with your thighs. You press your slick entrance on top of her mound, dragging it back and forth, teasing her.

“You want me to touch your pretty pussy with my mouth?” You ask, resting your hands on her abs. She was so built, just tracing the outline of her 6-pack made you quiver.

“God yes.”

Her voice is deeper, her pleasure taking over her vocal chords. You grind down on her before you shimmy down her legs and settle between her thighs. You lay on your tummy, lining up your face with her middle.

She’s dripping, her entrance waiting for your fingers and mouth. You loved returning the favor, especially for women. You got off on hearing a woman chant your name as you alternate between licking and sucking. It would always boost your ego, but now that it’s Abby in your bed? You’ll be satisfied if she’s the last one to ever get in bed with you.

She talked a big game about “teaching you a lesson” but here you are, shoving your fingers deep inside her and fucking her with your tongue. You smirk at the thought, watching her face twist in delight. You swirl your tongue around her sensitive throbbing clit. You were fed off her reactions, your eagerness to make her feel good increasing the more she cried out.

You wrap your lips around her clit as you’re three fingers deep, fucking her steadily. As soon as you start the suction on her pussy, Abby is falling apart on your face. It’s a quick reaction, which gives you a bit of an ego boost. You watch her stomach flex, her jaw clench, and her mouth let out a guttural moan.

Once she catches her breath, you slide off the bed, heading to your side table. You open the drawer, searching for the one thing that Abby could use to teach you a lesson.

You pull out the black strap on you found a couple months ago at an abandoned sex store downtown. You haven’t used it yet, but you did make the effort to clean it before you tucked it away. This seemed like the perfect time for it to shine.

You show Abby, her eyes lighting up with excitement. She snatches it from you, giggling as she stands up.

“It’s like putting underwear,” You explain as she messes with the strap. It was like a thong with a dick attached. Very advanced technology.

“It’s perfect,” She whispers, sliding it over her massively thick thighs. Once she gets it on, it’s kind of silly to look at. Seeing Abby with a massive cock made you chuckle, but instead of following your reaction, it’s like it gave her a newfound attitude.

It’s like a switch goes off. Instead of slowing down after an orgasm, like you, she manhandles you and grabs your biceps. She tows you up to her naked body before she pins you down to the bed. She plants herself like a tree between your legs, the large silicone dick nudging your inner thighs. You still can see her glistening core through the straps.

“I need to watch you come apart again,” She explains as she holds the cock in her hand, “Wanna watch you cum over and over again.”

Her hair is messily over her shoulders, so when she leans down to stare down at the dick sliding between your folds, it falls in her face. She tucks it behind her ears, but it still drifts down her chest. You circle your hips, sighing at the feeling of the ridges of the dildo against your sensitivity.

“Fuckin’ hair,” She fusses. You giggle a bit, watching her throw it back over her shoulders. You nudge her shoulder, using some force to pull her over your body. She leans down, her hair falling onto your face.

“I’ll hold it for you, just make me feel good,” You murmur, using both hands to gather her hair. She gasps as you tug on her locks. You use some of the leverage you have to position her even closer to you. She reaches between your bodies and coats the cock in your slick. As soon as she teases your entrance with it, you pull her hair back. It sends her over the edge as she eases the dick inside you. It hurts a bit, so when she draws back you tell her to coat it in her saliva. She does what she’s told, spitting into her free hand a couple times and covering the appendage with it.

Once she eases in again, the stretch feels better with the lubrication. Your thighs want to clench so bad, but the way she’s resting on you, you have no way to. She draws in and out of your pussy, grunting at the impact.

It feels so good, but part of you wishes you just had her beautifully long fingers inside you.

She moves your hands away from her hair and throws her head back, tossing her blond hair back. She props your legs up, plowing into you. You’re crying out, your ears ringing with the sound of your own heartbeat.

“God, I need you to cum, baby,” She mumbles, kissing your knee as your body starts to vibrate. The cock is hitting you in all the right spots, but you need more. You reach down, using the pads of your fingers to stimulate your clit.

“Please don’t stop!”

It riles her up more, her pace quickening with every gasp. She pushes your fingers away, replacing them with her own. The pressure she applies sends your body into overdrive. Between her moans and the physicality, your orgasm hits you like a train. She fucks you through it, mumbling phrases like “that’s my good girl” and “yes baby, give it to me”.

Once it’s over, it feels like your heart may beat out of your chest. She pulls the strap out and stands up beside your bed, shoving it off her hips. You watch her closely as she props the item up on your side table. She’s careful not to mess with any of you meticulously placed knick knacks.

“You good?” She asks, her voice cracking a bit.

She wanted to say more, but as she looks at you all fucked out on your bed, she feels a pang of guilt. She should not be indulging in this type of stuff, especially when you’re going against the cause. Abby had it made here, she can’t risk anything.

“‘m all good, Abs. Do you wanna stay?”

She shakes her head negatively.

“I think I’m gonna head back to my room. We gotta be up in a couple hours.”

You notice she’s being cold, which sends you into a spiral. You want to reassure her, but you know deep down she’s already made up her mind.

You clear your throat, “Well, we can at least wake up together.”

“No, I don't think that’s the best idea,” She explains as she finds her clothes across your bedroom. She lays them on the bed beside you as she starts to dress herself. She has this look of concern on her face. It makes you physically ill, knowing it’s the face of regret.

“Well, I guess we are back to square one.”

She throws her shirt over her head before she’s gathering up her things and practically running to the door. You want to pick up the dildo and sling it at her head. You can’t believe this.

She reaches for the door before turning around to face you, “Guess so.”

PART 2 is HERE

#abby anderson #abby anderson smut #abby anderson x reader #abby tlou #abby from tlou #abby tlou smut #tlou x reader #abby anderson tlou2 #the last of us #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson x you #abby the last of us #abby x reader #the last of us 2 #gracieheartspedro

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dgrailwar · 2 days

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Round 10, Day 2 - Team Avenger vs. Team Gunner

There was a flare of magical energy, as a burning figure shot in through the shattered window of the industrial building.

With one smooth slash, the Avenger sent the Gunner careening out the window, the samurai spinning in the air before crashing on a rooftop. The Gunner stumbled up to his feet, before pulling out his shamisen.

"Avenger, huh? No reason to be stingy with ammo, then! Proto-Arahabaki, go!"

A barrage of gunshots erupted from the head of the instrument, the Avenger having to dodge and weave through them. A final beam, from a cannon manifesting next to the Gunner erupted in a violent blast, before the Gunner reached into his robes, pulling out a small bottle and lobbing it towards the Avenger, watching as it made contact.

Ice- a freezing agent sprayed out from it. Intense cold washed over the Count, as he waved his flaming sword, the frost instantly evaporating. He pointed the flame blade at the samurai, sneering.

"Gunner! We meet again! And this time, you have neither the cover of the forest, nor your mechanical army to assist you! Today, you face the might of the Avenger by yourself! As one man! I wish to see your resolve, gunman!"

"A lot of talk... 'one man'… don't you know who I am? Forget True Names, I'm a revolutionary! A nobleman like you stuck in the past, that thinks the whole world is his to command-- get with the times! The future is now! And the future will send you to Hell, Avenger!"

"Hahaha… Hahahaha-- KUHAHAHAHAHA!!"

"Imperial Edict. Wage war.": Boosts and demerits will be doubled for the upcoming round, as part of the Imperial Edict!

If someone wins with greater than 15%, they do double-damage!

The Count of Monte Cristo: 6 x 2 (12%)

Takasugi Shinsaku: 5 x 2 (10%)

SERVANT DETAILS:

The Count of Monte Cristo (AVENGER)

HP: 2/3

Avenger has a +3% boost to his skills as long as he's wounded!

Avenger has a permanent +2% boost against Alter-Ego thanks to his Class Trait!

Team Avenger has all 3 Command Spells remaining!

Determination of Steel (EX Rank) - If Avenger is about to take a fatal wound, if there's at least a 3% difference in their score and the victor above him, he may avoid damage. When facing a single-target (1-on-1), he will gain a +3% boost.

Monte Cristo Mythologie: The King of the Cavern (C Rank) - When battling enemies, his flames are like a poison. He reduces demerits against him by 3%, and when he is victorious against another, he inflicts a -2% demerit for their next round. This demerit increases by 2% by every 10% difference in scores.

Wisdom of Predicament (A Rank) - When engaged in a Free-for-All, gain a +3% boost. Additionally, if Avenger earns last place, both the victor and the 2nd place Servant gain a -2% demerit, rather than simply the 2nd place Servant.

Due to observing Alter-Ego's technique, he gains a +2% bonus against her!

Class-Traits:

AVENGER-CLASS Servants are vengeful by nature. The first time they are defeated by a Servant, they gain an automatic +2% bonus against that specific Servant, without needing to study them (but can in order to increase the bonus). They gain a permanent +3% bonus per wound they attain that will remain if the wound remains, but will disappear if the wound is healed.

Takasugi Shinsaku (GUNNER)

SERVANT DETAILS:

HP: 2/3

Team Gunner only has 1 Command Spell remaining!

Unconventional Child Prodigy (A Rank) - When fighting someone with a higher boost than Gunner, gain +2%.

Innovate - Armaments Reformation (B Rank) - Defeating a Servant once will net special 'components' from them. When at least 4 of those 'components' are gathered, a secondary Noble Phantasm will be unlocked. If 6 are gathered, then the utility and power of 'Kiheitai' will be upgraded.

Current Components: N/A

(Winning first place in a Free-for-All will count for gathering 2 components- one for each Servant beneath you).

Retaining the Japanese Spirit (A Rank) - When Gunner is about to take a fatal blow and the difference between scores is less than 5%, survive with one 'health' remaining. If this is triggered, replace the effect of this skill to instead grant him a persistent +2% bonus that cannot be reduced or removed.

Due to observing Alter-Ego's technique, he gains a +2% bonus against her!

Due to studying Foreigner's technique, you have a permanent +2% bonus against him!

Class-Trait:

GUNNER-Class Servants are quick to action and yet methodical with their attacks. When engaged in combat, gain a +3% boost. Additionally, if in last place during a Free-for-All, inflict a -4% demerit on the 1st place Servant.

#team avenger #team gunner #combat phase poll #extra summon event

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thesunisatangerine · 7 months

Text

against all odds (to wait for you is all i can do) – part six

alexia putellas x photojournalist!reader

warnings: explicit descriptions of violence, blood, and death

(a/n in the tags) [parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve]

word count: 3.3k

You had to get out of there.

Tremors shook the ground as another shell made impact somewhere far to your right but it was close enough that the explosion left your ears ringing. You flattened your back further against the fallen wall behind you when you heard the unmistakeable sound of gunfire, the rubble that cut into your skin barely registered in your mind from the adrenaline that rushed through you. But the cacophony of noise amalgamated into something continuous, something malevolent and cruel; something that promised death in its wake.

Bullets embedded themselves in a column, a wall, a body–everywhere–and fine pieces of debris flew and pelted against the exposed skin of your cheeks and against your helmet. Your eyes watered from the fine powder of pulverised cement and the oppressive heat, while your lungs were smothered by smoke and a choking stench–something like freshly-laid asphalt mixed with the distinct, rancid smell of burnt human flesh, sulphuric and sharp.

Through lidded eyes you witnessed the depravity; the extent of humanity’s appetite for senseless destruction and anarchy. It was total chaos–no, it was worse than that: it was butchery and brutality at its finest; a type of hell on earth.

All around you were bodies upon bodies, men and women alike–children. Their faces, frozen and pallid, permanently bore imprints of terror and agony; their crooked fingers and still eyes fixated to the sky imploring in violent judgment–resentful and anguished in their silence–the unspoken question:

Why?

Everything overwhelmed you all at once: the sight and the smell made your stomach churn to no end. Even when you heaved the remnants of your stomach to the ground, the nausea remained, pulsing and gnawing.

Wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, you brought your camera to your eye and you willed the shaking in your bones to still.

You took a shot.

Another round of bullets splattered to a nearby wall and this time, you threw yourself front-first to the ground and you felt the rhythm of your heart reverberating against the mud. And a sinking feeling hit you. You’d bore witness to many conflicts, faced mortal peril, and was familiar to death like it was an old friend. Each time you were in such a situation, hopelessness never got the better of you–it was like you’d always known you were going to make it out each time.

This time it was different, you could feel it in your bones. You were going to die here and it wasn’t a matter of if, just when and how.

But you had a job. If you were going to die, you would die being the mouthpiece for the ones who’d already been silenced–from their premature deaths or from the hand of the power meant to protect them or both–to show the world what they’d suffered, what they’d sacrificed.

With that in mind, you steeled yourself. You loaded your camera with another ring of film, fingers stiff from the cold and marred by blood and mud, and you captured the scene.

Repeat.

There were people screaming, running, clamouring for survival. As you moved with them, you kept an eye out for other survivors who needed help to get out of there. You scanned the faces for the familiar ones of Jones and Gilda but they were nowhere to be seen. You’d lost track of them after the initial explosion and the chaos that followed so the only thing you could do now was to look for them as you went and hope for their safety.

Meter by meter, inch by inch, you moved slowly away from the direction of gunfire. You were farther ahead now but the gunners were still dangerously close, still close enough to be able to catch up to where you were if they continued their pursuit, so you remained crouched and cautious for any sound that could indicate danger.

When you came across the rubble of a fallen building–freshly destroyed by artillery from the smoke that came from it–you heard a whimper. It startled you; the softness of the sound barely pierced through the ringing in your ear but when you peered under a slab of concrete braced by a rugged beam, you caught sight of a scene that shattered what was left of your heart.

In the shadows, big eyes that you could not mistaken belonged to a child shone with terror, a little girl that looked no more than ten years of age, her mouth partly open in fear. You could discern another person next to the child but they weren’t moving at all and from the blood smeared on the girl’s cheek, you had a sinking feeling that the other person was dead.

Gunfire echoed somewhere behind you and you flinched at its closeness. How did they get so close so fast? You needed to get the both of you out of there. If you could save this child’s life then maybe, just maybe, your life was worth something after all.

You raised both of your hands up and spoke gently, hoping the little girl would be able to understand that you were there to help as you stooped to fit through the gap. The child hesitated and receded further back into the rubble so you tried again as you inched closer to where the other person laid unresponsive, patient despite the ever-closing sound of shots being fired.

You reached the other person–a woman–and when you placed two fingers against her pulsepoint and found no rhythm, you bit your quivering lip and looked at the child, chest heavy. And as if the little girl finally understood that you meant no harm, she inched towards you and placed her small hand in your open one. With a firm yet gentle grip on the girl, you guided the both of you out of the rubble.

Once outside, you carried the little girl behind a wall, heart breaking when you felt her shiver and at the fact that it took little effort carry to her for she weighed so little. And now with light and cover, you inspected the little girl.

To your relief, other than the trail of flaking blood that originated from the crown of her head and on her cheeks, the little girl looked like she didn’t sustain any other physical injuries. Satisfied for the time being you began to tend to her, gave her water and what little food you had on you, and then wiped away the blood.

After she finished, you detached the velcro of your bulletproof vest and unbuckled your helmet before you put them on the little girl. Then you hoisted the girl up on your back, leaving your camera dangling heavily on your chest.

You managed to sneak across the district without being noticed but you knew the danger was never far away. A little farther on, you began to recognise key landmarks that let you know you were close to the base you came from. So even when the muscles in your legs protested for you to rest, you pushed on.

Not a moment later though did loud shots fill the air and immediately, you fell to the ground, feeling fine rubble and shrapnels cut into the side you landed on as you manoeuvred your body so that the child wouldn’t get hurt. The little girl cried out and adrenaline coursed through your veins, instinct driving you to keep the child safe so you pushed the two of you against a nearby wall, your back to the open space while you shielded the child with your body, her head safely caged between your arms and chest.

You craned your head over your shoulders to figure out where the shots were fired but then a feeling of lightness passed through you followed by a growing thickness at the back of your throat. You coughed, the force of it made you keel forward, and as you looked down you saw fresh blood splattered on the face of the girl, her eyes wide with horror as she looked up at you.

Then you felt it, a burning sensation that enveloped the entirety of your right side which left you cold. When you looked to your side your shirt clung to your skin, soaked with blood.

No.

You sputtered again and you tried to breathe but the pain only intensified and instead of feeling relief, the act smothered you–it felt like you were drowning. Then everything began to blend together: the shapes lost their edges and some images doubled, but the light seemed to intensify on its own, swallowing all in its wake. Then you sagged forward and the ringing in you ears, too, blared unceasingly.

No.

You must…

The child…

Wait.

Alexia–

“–are you okay?”

You started as Derek’s voice brought you from your reverie, your mind someplace else that you’d already forgotten but the feeling that you were missing something important lingered behind in the back of your mind.

“Huh?”

“Honey, your brother’s been trying to get your attention for the past minute. Are you alright?” The familiar voice of your mom brought your focus to her. She sat at the head of the long table while Derek opposite you, and you found twin pairs of blue eyes looking at you with concern. Your mom stood, chair scraping against the tiled floor as she did and she made her way towards you. She put a palm over your forehead once she was close enough before she asked, “do you have a fever?”

“Mom, I’m fine. I’m just–” You began but suddenly, a wave of exhaustion came over you which left you cold. It was as if a sheet of ice was put over you and you felt the coldness cling to your bones, weighing you down as your body slowly began to freeze over. “I’m–I’m just tired. I think I’ll rest up now.”

When you moved to stand, staggering slightly due to the weakness in your knees, Derek snatched your hands and clung to them, and you looked at him in alarm, eyes wide.

“Please, don’t. Don’t.” He said through gritted teeth, the corners of his mouth drooped low in a pained grimace, blue eyes glazed over and brows furrowed in a silent plea.

His obsecration confused you and you were about to ask him why you shouldn’t rest if you felt tired when your mother placed a hand on your shoulder, her grip gentle yet firm. You turned to her and when you found her gaze, she wore the same expression as your brother.

“You’re brother’s right, honey. Just–please, just stay with us for a bit more.”

What was going on? Why weren’t they letting you go?

Another wave of fatigue doused over you but this time, pain erupted from your chest. So intense was it that it nearly made you keel over the table, nails digging into its hard surface as you tried to catch your breath but with each inhale the more it felt like you were running out of air.

“I’ll–I’ll join you in a bit. I just… I just need a nap.” You staggered to your feet, pulling your hands away from Derek’s grip with the remaining strength you had and brushed off your mom’s protest.

As you passed the full-body mirror just beside your bedroom door, you saw your reflection, haggard and pale, and with her were the familiar silhouettes of the people that haunted you… your mother and father. They stood there behind you–your mother to your right and your father to the left–but you only found an empty space where they stood when you whipped your head back to look for them.

So there you stood, rooted in front of the mirror as you soaked their images in but for some reason, your couldn’t quite discern their faces. They were blurred; it was as if someone had swiped their thumb over the freshly laid ink of their image and made their features indecipherable.

Longing prompted you to reach out a hand to try and trace the lost edges of their faces but instead of meeting the mirror’s smooth surface like you expected, your fingers sank into the mirror like it was made of water. Quickly, in fear that it would hurt you, you retracted your hand and you watched in awe as the mirror image went still again, back to the reflection of yourself and your parents.

Then out of curiosity you plunged your hand again into the mirror and instead of feeling pain, you felt… nothing. The sensations in your hand in the mirror stopped as if it had ceased to exist completely.

Would it soothe then the pain in your body if you stepped into it?

The thought tempted you and you stepped forward, ready to sink into this silver miracle, but something stopped you–a weight on your shoulder pulled you back from the mirror. You staggered backwards, caught off guard from the force of it, but when you looked back you found nobody however this time, when you returned your attention to the mirror, the reflection of your parents was gone.

Emotions bubbled in your throat, bitter grief and burning confusion a familiar taste on your tongue. Where did they go? Why did they leave you? And as these questions filtered through your mind, another wave of exhaustion doused over you, its weight was unbearable. You needed relief, and soon.

You were ready to step into the mirror–into oblivion–but it wasn’t there anymore. In fact, everywhere you looked there was nothing, just negative space as if the light had dissolved all existence but you. You looked down and you saw your reflection on the still water you were apparently standing on.

It was so still, so peaceful, and you feel so heavy. It would be easy to just sink into this blissful nothingness–this silence–after… that’s right, after having witnessed the revolting boil of humanity’s thirst for blood. Yes, that was it, the reason you were here: you were here to forget.

The longer you stared into the water, the more your will to remain standing frayed.

Not a moment later, you let yourself be plunged downwards into the cold water. Into nothingness.

You woke with a start, breathing sharply as you did, the sensation of falling still with you and the memory of the dream you just had lingered. It was about… what was it?

When you opened your eyes, you found golden light and you squinted at the stream of the early sun that found its way through the gap between the heavy curtains. Your cheek was warm against Alexia’s bare back and you relished the way her muscles shifted beneath her skin as she breathed, still deep asleep.

With her so close like this a sense of peace and calm washed over you, the kind that only Alexia’s presence could provide. You turned your head slightly and shifted closer to her, pressing a soft kiss on one of her shoulder blades before you nuzzled the nape of her neck where her scent was most prominent.

You sighed as you breathed her in.

“What are you up to back there?” Alexia’s voice, rough and heavy from slumber, met your ears and the question elicited a small laugh from you.

“Nothing. Just getting comfortable.”

Alexia hummed then she murmured, “come here.”

You moved as she began to turn and disappointment filled you from the separation but when she pulled you into her embrace after she settled on her back, the disappointment quickly faded away. And when she kissed you, soft and languid, everything melted away except for the tender warmth of Alexia’s lips.

You were content.

Suddenly, a gnawing feeling seeped into the edges of your mind and, little by little by little, apprehension filled you. There was something you’d forgotten, somewhere you needed to be.

You pulled away from Alexia’s lips. “What time is it?”

“Don’t go.”

Her answer jarred you. You lifted yourself up on your elbow and considered Alexia, confused as to why she would say such a thing. She knew you had to go. How could you not go? Where else could you possibly be? So you asked her as much.

“No, you don’t have to. Please.” Alexia placed a hand on your cheek, her eyes glassy. You sighed, turned your cheek away from her touch, and extricated yourself from her warm embrace. You stood at the foot of the bed and regarded Alexia again who was now sitting up, the sheets pooled around her waist, her chest bare, shoulders hunched forward as she looked at you. You only shook your head before you went into the en suite bathroom to get ready.

Once you got in the shower you, unsurprisingly, thought of Alexia and your confusion returned twofold. Why was she making this difficult? She knew you had to go. You already told her…

At that thought, you frowned as you tried to remember. When did you tell her? Why did you need to leave? The questions were beginning to make your head hurt so you left the shower, wrapped yourself in a towel and headed to the closet. In there, you found your stack of simple white clothes. You picked a white shirt and a matching pair of jeans and you made your way to the bedroom door.

As you passed by the bed, you saw Alexia just as you left her and from where you stood, you saw how small she looked. And those eyes… they shone with something you could only name as plea, the tears in them now in danger of falling.

Your chest ached and so did your head.

You shook your head and made your way to Alexia, pressed an apologetic kiss against her temples, then you moved to the door.

You opened it and an abyss greeted you, a world of no outlines, shape nor colour, just a brilliant white that called to you. Its pull was magnetic, like a tide that wanted to sweep you away, but there was something keeping you in place, an invisible tether and it was anchored to the woman sitting in your bed.

“Please, don’t go.”

You had one foot out of the door when Alexia spoke with such gentleness you couldn’t do anything but look over your shoulder. The sight of her crying made the pounding in your temples unbearable and the pain in your chest blazed anew, excruciating and cruel. The world blurred and warmth slipped down your cheeks.

Why were you crying? Why was this difficult? You had to leave, you were about to miss something important.

“Alexia, why?” You sobbed, clutching your chest. It hurt.

She was out of the bed now, right beside you, and she reached out and cupped your face with one hand, the other went to your hand on the door handle. Her touch that used to soothe you, that used to bring you peace and clam, sent pain to every nerve in your body. You gasped, your chest was in danger of bursting and your knees lost their strength. And then you remembered why you needed to leave: you needed this pain to disappear; you had to get better.

Finally, your knees buckled under your weight but Alexia was there to catch you, her body strong and firm, and oh, so warm.

“Alexia, please let me go,” you sobbed into her arms.

Everything hurt. But she held you, unyielding.

“Stay. Please, stay with me,” she whispered in your ear and the words were followed by another wave of pain. This time, you screamed in agony and clawed at Alexia’s shoulders to get yourself away but still, she didn’t budge.

“I got you. I got you. I got you,” she repeated as every nerve in your body screamed at you. Everything coalesced into a singular, never-ending noise but Alexia’s voice pierced through the veil like a silver lining, a life line that you held onto as you were washed away into an ocean of light.

#ap11 #not proofread #mine #my writing #a/n: sometimes it just hits you: the magnitude of man's madness. where does it stop? when? who will pay? why?#cant think anymore right now but let me know what you think about the story so far #apologies for the mistakes i wrote this in sleep deprived mode ill fix them later #woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader

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mvfm-25 · 5 months

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" Super destructive action gun game! "

NG Namco Community Magazine n32 - February, 1991

#Namco #Namco Community #Namco Community Magazine #Steel Gunner #Arcade #Arcade Games

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ltwilliammowett · 1 month

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Cannon swab bucket, taken from the British Schooner "DOMINICA" August 5th 1813

Beside each muzzle loading ship's cannon there always stood a large bucket of water. Immediately after the cannon was fired a gunner was required to "swab out" the interior of the cannon barrel with a very wet mop to extinguish any remaining sparks from the previous discharge. Failure to do so could result in the cannon immediately exploding once a fresh powder charge was introduced into the muzzle.

These Swab Buckets always used Brass/Copper bands to prevent the possibility of a spark being unintentionally generated had they used steel that a true hazard during naval warfare.

#naval artifacts #swab bucket #19th century #schooner dominica #age of sail

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mastersoftheair · 3 months

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"Masters of the Air details: Part 3-Gunnery.

Guns:

"A lot of people have been asking about the guns used in Masters of the Air. I believe that full auto blank firing guns were going to be used originally. It turns out that the muzzle blast from blank guns could damage the sensitive screens used in the volume for the video walls, so they came up with another type of gun developed by a sharp special effects master. He made guns that operated on compressed air and would feed belted, projectile-less shells and links and spit out the empty shells from the bottom of the gun and the links out of the feed way just like the real guns would. The guns would recoil, and rattle and the muzzle flash would be added by VFX in post-production. "The guns worked well but fired slower than a real M2 50 cal at 600 rounds per minute. They did need a lot of tweaking and frequent reloading so some of the production staff were less than happy at the time needed to service the guns and keep them running. No good non-blank firing options exist for this kind of work so I thought that this was an impressive effort and ultimately looked good on screen."

Empty Brass:

"The shells and links dropping from the guns at a prodigious rate is a very important part in my mind as is the number of shells that should be all over the floor around the gunners. We were filming Regensburg which historically was a long running battle with the Luftwaffe so the amount of ammunition expended was amazing to say the least. "Each gun fires about 10 rounds per second so there are 10 empty shells and 10 links spitting out of each 50 cal gun per second. Imagine what the floor would look like and imagine walking all over those empty shells. "They actually made rubber empty shells and links painted perfectly to look like the real thing with the intention of people being able to walk on them and not have their feet flying out from under them like they would with the real thing. "At one point during filming, I couldn’t see enough shells on the monitors for the cameras, so I asked for more brass and I met resistance from one of the crew saying that they had already put some in. I had to pull up wartime images on my iPad to show them, and the director, just how bad it would look in the middle of battle so they could understand that just one half of a bucket of brass was not going to cut it. We needed at least 10 buckets so they stopped filming to fill up the floor with brass and links as it should be. The gunners should be wading through the brass around their boots. "This was an eye opener for them, and they ended up filming a lot of scenes showing this dramatic aspect or aerial warfare. It sure looked good!"

Feed Chutes:

"Reproducing fully complimented B-17’s is quite a chore. Some items are harder to replicate than others. One of these hard parts to reproduce are the flexible feed chutes used for the ammunition to get from the ammo box to the gun. Since the gun is swinging all over the place so do the feed chutes. Dave helped supply some of these parts and set them up for each gun position just like in the blueprints. There is an open end for the top and a closed end meant for the bottom. "All of the feed chutes used in MOTA were the real deal. Most of it had been dug up in some of the airfield digs that have been going on over the last few decades at the old dumps in East Anglia. I even found some at a military show that I bought for the show as we needed all that we could come up with. "As you can imagine, the feed chutes that have been buried for 75 years, are pretty beat up. Their saving grace is that they were made from stainless steel so they didn’t corrode away like most other metals did but they were seriously bent and twisted. Dave and others made wood former's to straighten them out and get them looking good once again. Dave had one chute that had heavy visible wear inside of it from all of the ammo that had passed through it during the war. For all we know, it could have actually been on the Regensburg raid! "I thought it was really cool that original 8th AF ammo chutes were used in the series."

Gun Mounts:

"One of the hardest parts to find are the gun mounts or recoil adapters that the 50 cal guns were cradled in. The guns impart a lot of hammering shock load when fired and this would tear up the aluminum structure of the aircraft so they made these mounts so they would recoil and absorb the shock of the gun. These mounts (Bell E-11 and Edgewater E-12) are quite hard to find and when they do show up they get snapped up by collectors. Each B-17 would need 8 of these so BGI went into production and made them from scratch. Anything BGI does is impressive, and these were especially so. As I mentioned above, they originally intended to use actual firing 50 cal guns so these mounts needed to be fully functional and not just some kind of plastic replica[...] "Frankly, to walk in and see a row of these rare mounts, all brand new, was quite a delight. There are a lot of collectors out there drooling heavily over these and many of the other props that were fabricated for the series. "One very cool aspect of being involved in this project was to see history come alive. I have been learning about this stuff since I could read and thankfully, I was able to get to know a lot of WWII veterans who lived it themselves. I have listened to their stories and have asked countless questions about how they did the things that they did. "It is quite another thing to see this stuff come to life with your own eyes. It answers some questions and generates a whole lot more. Getting down to the details is a lot of fun for us WWII nerds. "One aspect that came to life on the MOTA set involved the early B-17’s that had their waist gun windows straight across from each other. I had read and learned that this was a problem for the gunners and Boeing ended up staggering the waist windows so the gunners would not interfere with each other. "The MOTA B-17’s were the F models and when the actors were in place, with full flying gear, it was incredible to see just how crammed up they were around each other. "The other fascinating thing is all of the various connections that each gunner and crewman had. Each waist gunner, and all aircrew for that matter, would have four connections to the aircraft for: Oxygen, headphones, microphone and their electrically heated flying suit. All of these wires and hoses for each gunner connected up over their heads and hung down around them. Now imagine not only bumping to each other and swinging the guns and maneuvering in this cramped space with the wind from the open waist windows but keeping all of your life saving umbilical’s attached at the same time. It doesn’t take much to pull one of these out or break one off, which could be disastrous. "The actors on MOTA were constantly having trouble with this and needed to look out for each other just like they must have done in combat. We were also constantly looking at the monitors and trying to be sure that they were still plugged in. "A wonderful project that was a real honor to be involved with for sure. The devil was definitely in the details."

#looooooooooooooong post again Sorry!#i italicized sentences that i really liked. and then indented for readability #masters of the air #hbo war #behind the scenes #long post

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starstruckwillows · 1 year

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a pearl in his whiskey — remus lupin ♡

marauders pirate!au series masterlist

pirate captain!remus lupin x tavern keeper!fem!reader, humour, swearing, alcohol

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

the first time he saw you, remus lupin was tired to his bones, and all he really wanted was a decent tankard of ale.

he’d been fighting with his second mate, sirius black, all morning, and it had ended with both of their shirts torn to shreds.

lily evans, the ship’s surgeon, had gone to fetch them some more from the market. they were only scheduled on land for three days, but their jewels and feathers turned enough heads without the addition of a lack of fabric on their chests. currently, the buttons of his scarlet long coat were fastened to cover that issue.

“a pint of golden ale, love.” he murmured to you at the bar, sliding over too much gold and asking for no change.

you smiled sympathetically, though he missed it, staring at your hands wiping down the wood with a tattered cloth.

“ay, we’re out of ale since this morning. whiskey?”

he looked up to frown and tell you how he hated that foul drink, but the words were snatched from his throat as he met your eyes.

hardened, because if you’d made it so far in their world how else could they be. but also curious, maybe kind, definitely sharp.

“sure, whiskey.” he sighed, steeling himself for such a god awful drink.

you poured a glass with a practiced hand, about to give it to him. then, you saw the local taxmen entering your tavern, and promptly tipped the bitter liquid down your own throat.

remus huffed a half laugh, “what’s troubling you, then.”

he was jesting, not asking.

you swat him with your towel, and he wonders how you can be so at ease with a man who you can see is wielding five weapons.

“that’s my line! don’t worry, i’ll get ya another, just let me deal with these blokes. looks like you’ve got a friend here anyway.”

he would’ve refused the drink, but he wanted you to walk back over when you were done. you were also right. he did have a friend.

james potter jumped onto the bar stool next to him, “lily’s hit a snag.”

his first mate seemed a lot more jittery than usual, brimming with a nervous energy unlike his standard confidence. breathing in deeply through his nose, remus took the bait, “talk.”

the curly-haired man winced, “merchant called her out on fake coins, wouldn’t sell her the shirts.”

“why’d she use fake gold?”

james rolled his eyes, “she didn’t, but you tell a trader a pirate ain’t conning him. anyway, they arrested her.”

the whiskey arrived, skidding down the bar from where you spoke with another customer. he downed it in one, gesturing for james to continue.

“dorcas was tryna talk ‘em down. but she’s our gunner, not all charismatic and shit. marls went to help. didn’t go well.”

remus pinched the bridge of his nose, “right. gather everyone on the ship. we’ll figure it out...”

he looked towards you, only to find you smiling back at him, “looks like we’ll be here longer than we thought.”

🏷️ — @faeriieblush @ariyabella @it-be-me-ella @songofpatrochilless @goodoldfashionedluvergirl @saturnband @ell0ra-br3kk3r @meredarling @shefollowedthestars @sillylittlenonbinarygremlin

#starstruckwillows #marauders #marauders era #pirate!au #pirate!marauders #marauders pirate!au #pirate!remus #pirate!remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin series #pirate!remus lupin x reader #pirate captain remus #a pearl in his whiskey #remus lupin #remus lupin x fem!reader

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sweaterkittensahoy · 2 months

Text

Okay, so what you have to understand is that Jack Kidd did not want to be Air Exec. At all. That was for someone who didn't get the rush every time his wheels started picking up speed. And that wasn't him.

Yeah, he knew he'd likely die up there in the air. He's not a fool. He's a sharp realist. Forts are slow. Fighters are fast. They'll be bombing in clear daylight.

When he goes up the first time and makes it back, he's sweat the pomade from his hair (he won't be the last), but he's also come back.

So, when he finds out that fucking Cleven has gotten Egan out of Air Exec duties, and his own name is now on the list, he's ready to punch someone. Two someones. Right fucking there in the mess hall.

All that stops him is that Egan clearly didn't mean to do this to him. They get one another, Jack and Bucky. But also, Jack wants to drown Bucky is his coffee cup most days. Because as much as he loves the thrill and danger of his wheels going faster and that 10-man fortress going into the air, it only works as well as it does because of military discipline.

And on the list of things Bucky Egan does NOT have and had definitely NOT enforced amongst the men, is military fucking discipline.

But also, Bucky has taken Jack's boys from him. He's got a co-pilot, a navigator, and all his gunners who are gonna get handed over to someone new or--worse--broken up, and Jack wants to spit nails.

He goes to the new Colonel ready to fight to stay in a fort. The new Colonel sees his face and says, "Ah, you must be Major Kidd. Do you want to go first or should I?"

Jack's knocked sideways because Harding's question is sincere. He wasn't expecting that. The few career military men he's met have been, well, fucking insufferable.

"Go ahead, Sir," Jack says. Because military discipline.

And the Colonel explains. Yes, he wants Kidd to take over for Egan, and yes, he was recommended, but also, Harding's done his reading, and he truly believes no one but Kidd can pull together the 100th in the way that they already know they're going to need.

"We need a man on the ground with a good head on his shoulders. Same we need a man in the air who can keep those boys in formation."

"And you think Egan is the guy who can keep them together up there?" Jack says. No snide tone. No sneer. Just a question. He's intrigued.

"You need someone who won't ever admit it's as bad as it is," Harding says. "Half the battle is the men believing you."

Jack considers that. Chews on it long enough that Harding gets up and pours them both a cup of coffee.

"How do you take it?" Harding asks.

"One sugar if we've got it," Jack says.

Harding drops in one sugar and brings it over. Jack sips it. He thinks a little more. "Okay," he says. "But my boys--"

"We'll find a new co-pilot for your co-pilot," Harding says. "I wouldn't dare break them up more than I absolutely have to."

"And you absolutely have to?"

Harding nods slowly. There's sympathy in his eyes. "I really think I do, Major. I really think you're it."

Jack looks out the window at the runway and thinks about the thrill of his wheels going faster and faster until there's enough power that his fort lifts into the air. He mourns in for a moment, that feeling. But in its place, already, is something new. Something important. "Okay," he says. "I'll try it out."

He tries it out. He hates it. But he can also see no one else can do it. Not because he's especially good at paperwork or plans, but because it's a job that needs a steel spine but a soft heart.

And, well, that might be Jack.

He can discipline with the best of them. But he also knows them, all these boys. He knows the fear and thrill and worry and ecstasy of being up in that fort and coming back. Harding gets him on a couple more missions as something like an apology for taking all those feelings from him. It's risky as hell. Letting the Air Exec fly his own fort with his own boys until they find a co-pilot who fits.

So, he can discipline, but he can also understand. When you've nearly sobbed over the radio because the men to your left and right have gone down and there were no chutes, you have to let it out somehow. Jack's one of several kids with a family with much of the same. Those Cleveland Catholics don't fuck around. Sometimes the only way to get those feelings out is a punch out with an RAF man behind the pub (and goddamn Curt can punch like a champion). Sometimes it's loud singing after curfew. Or taking complaints from villagers because the friendly invasion bonded by pissing into a post box.

And sometimes it's knowing full well who pulled the prank and pretending like he can't possibly solve it.

"This has Payne's fingerprints all over it," Harding says to Jack one morning as they stare at a hand-drawn map of the world that has been tacked over their usual map in the tower, each country somehow wearing an impressive phallus (points for Bubbles not taking the easy route with just slightly reshaping Florida).

"Oh, absolutely," Jack says. "But he didn't sign it, so who knows which navigator possibly could have done this?"

And Harding pauses, then he laughs, and then he pats Jack on the back. "You make a good point," he says.

And if the world map ends up in the officer's club, well so be it. The Red Cross girls have seen and heard worse, and they end up making it even funnier when a few of them who know their geography start adding tributaries to rivers.

And then Rosie Rosenthal shows up just as everything goes to absolute shit. Buck goes. Then Bucky. Then Rosie's the only one to come back from Munster, and Jack takes the interrogation himself. He can't make himself assign anyone else. It isn't fair. They agreed to take notes in a crowded, rowdy room of boys. Not this. Not trays of undrunk rum. Not even a whole crew because two are injured and one's dead.

And then Rosie Rosenthal goes to the flak house, and Jack wonders if he'll actually come back. How do you get back in a fort after the one, two, three of those missions?

But he does.

And that's when Jack knows he's where he should be. He knows he couldn't come back from what Rosie's been through. But he knows he's the guy who might get that guy to 25.

And he does.

And then Rosie reups, and when Jack finds out, he punches him in the stomach. To his credit, Rosie grabs Jack by his lapels and yanks him to the floor and punches him in the jaw.

"Where fucking else could I be, Jack?" He asks thirty seconds later as they lie side by side and pant through the pain.

"Fucking HOME."

"I'm already fucking here. I won't put this shit on someone else's son."

Jack sighs and rubs his jaw and thumps Rosie on the arm, but not enough to be a threat. "Goddamn you, Rosenthal," he says because he feels a kinship in his bones. Because he feels the same. He can't let anyone else take this fucking awful job from him. Can't put anyone else in this spot to count how many boys don't come back. "If you die before the war ends, I'll kick your ass when I see you in hell."

"I'll keep the fire going," Rosie promises. "How's Harding?"

"a little more alive than last week," Jack says. "He might be a bigger fucking idiot than you."

"How do you figure? He can't re-up his gallbladder."

"No, at least you're not ignoring you're being a fucking idiot."

And Robert laughs and gets off the floor and pulls Jack up after him, and they go and have a drink at the officer's club. And when Rosie announces he's staying, he throws an arm around Jack's shoulder, and it helps, a little, to have that arm there while he's the guy who had to tell everyone they got pushed to 30.

#jack kidd #character study #i am just having a lot of feelings #masters of the air

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masterjedilenawrites · 6 months

Note

Hello! Is it okay if I can request Crosshair being father figure to self conscious and scared reader?

Hope it's okay that I'm using this prompt to continue the next part of my "Protecting a Princess" story!

The Bad Batch & Princess!Reader | 2k words

Content: Reader feeling some emotions, handling weapons, disappointed Hunter, Crosshair comforts in his own way

Also yes, the Marauder is a magical Mary Poppins bag of a ship with endless space for whatever emotional moment needs to play out.

You had cried yourself to sleep, waking up an undeterminable amount of time later with swollen eyes and an aching chest. But these men never seemed to sleep.

They were a bustling mess of activity for hours. Tech was picking over the droid parts, disassembling them all across the ship in some sort of vague effort to "better understand them." Apparently they were different than other droids they'd seen, though you didn't understand how as Tech brushed off his team's questions, unable to talk much while he was working. Hunter and Echo paced around the cockpit, throwing out all possible explanations for the odd series of events they'd encountered so far in an effort to identify which could make the most sense, and to figure out what they could possibly do about it. Wrecker couldn't seem to decide what to do, flitting between various activities such as working out, disassembling some weapons, and pulling snacks out of hiding spots from around the ship. Only Crosshair stayed quiet, keeping to himself in his own bunk as he slowly and methodically cleaned every piece of his rifle.

You wanted to cry again, and the longer you held in your tears, the worse you felt. You knew it was only a matter of time before it all came exploding out of you, and that seemed far too dramatic than what you actually felt. You felt embarrassed, for sure. Guilty, even. You didn't like being thought of as a silly girl who got into trouble because she wouldn't listen. That was juvenile. You were better than that. So you would not be throwing a tantrum, thank you very much.

You were also scared, though you weren't quite ready to admit that one yet. A simple trip to the capital had already turned into a mess, full of missing stations and experimental battledroids. Were you really prepared to handle any of this? Were you really the best person for this task?

Try as you did to hold them back, the tears still needed to come out. You didn't want to risk doing it in your bunk again. The boys had left you alone before, but now you could see Hunter glancing over at you every so often. He wore a look you recognized from your parents, one that said We need to talk. You'd definitely need to release another good cry from your system before that happened.

There didn't seem to be any private place to do so on this ship, other than the tiny refresher in the corner. After much debating on whether you could get away with steeling yourself in there for a moment, you finally slithered to the edge of your bunk.

But you were surprised by a figure jumping in front of you. Crosshair. He'd dropped down from his bunk and was now standing in front of you, another toothpick between his teeth. He seemed to be considering something, probably how pathetic you looked with red eyes and bedhead.

"Let's go for a walk."

You blinked up at him, not sure if you heard correctly.

"A walk?" Even with Tech's project out of the way, there wouldn't much room on the ship to walk around.

He didn't provide clarification, instead turning heel and started picking his way through Tech's mess of parts on the ground. You got up and followed him, partly out of curiosity, partly because you didn't want to have to interact with Hunter instead.

Crosshair had made it to the back of the ship. There was a little ladder that led up to the gunner's nest. He crouched down and released some kind of latch on the floor, sliding a panel backward and then shifting the ladder to then descend downward. He took a brief look back to see if you were coming, then he started climbing down.

You inched up to the edge of the opened floor, watching as his silver hair disappeared into the darkness. A part of you wondered if you should trust him. You hadn't always thought such things, unfortunately. You were far too trusting for your own good. Though, to be fair, you'd had no reason until recently to believe anyone would take advantage of you. But then you yourself took a glance behind you, saw Hunter at the opposite end of the ship, still eyeing you down with intent to reprimand you again at some point, and you decided you'd much rather follow Crosshair into the dark bowels of the ship.

It was a quick climb down, and by the time you made it, Crosshair had turned on the strip lighting along the baseboards. It was a cargo hold, by the looks of it. You recognized a few of your own trunks, stacked haphazardly right by the ladder. Elsewhere were a few other crates and boxes. There was also a mess of wires dangling from the ceiling, a bag of some kind of snack that had made its way onto the floor, and what looked to be a pile of books atop one of the crates.

Crosshair walked over to it and perched himself onto the crate next to the books. He drew one of his legs up and kept the other dangling off the ledge. It looked like a position he often settled in, so you figured those must be his books.

"I didn't know you were a reader," you said quietly, taking only a few steps forward.

Crosshair took out his toothpick and rested his arm across his knee, playing with the pick between his fingers.

"And I didn't know you were a scaredy-cat," he said in return. It wasn't malicious or taunting, so you were able to take his words and mull them over without breaking. You did hang your head, though, and that prompted him to continue. "What are you so afraid of?"

Your hands found the hem of your cloak, fiddling with the edges like he was with his toothpick. "I... I don't know. I've never felt this way before."

"No?"

You looked up at him. Though his face was contorted in its usual scowl, somehow it looked softer, more encouraging. Or maybe you were just getting better at reading him.

"I used to get in trouble for running from home. Sometimes that castle felt like more of a prison than a home. I wanted to explore, climb trees, find new views. I'd feel bad for a bit but then I'd sneak back out again. This feels different. It's not like a fun adventure I'm making up for myself. This is real. My people... they're depending on me. I can't let them down."

"Then why did you leave the ship earlier?"

The million credit question. You lowered your head back down. "I was being stupid."

"Yes, you were."

You risked a glance, expecting Crosshair to hold a similarly disapproving look as Hunter. Instead, you found the same stoic but gentle face that was there before.

"It was stupid to not have a way to defend yourself. You could've at least taken a stun grenade from Wrecker's stash."

You blinked at him in surprise. That was all he was concerned with? Not that you left in the first place, only that you weren't carrying a weapon?

"Oh," you said dumbly, not knowing how else to respond.

Crosshair flicked the toothpick away and got off the crate, moving over to another one and popping open the top. He rummaged around inside for a bit before pull out a small hand gun.

"Here," he said as he tried handing it to you.

"Oh I don't know how to use those things." You put your hands up so you wouldn't have to touch it.

"No kidding," he smirked, amused. He gestured for you to lower your hands, and then maneuvered the weapon into one so you were holding the grip and pointing the barrel downward. "Now aim."

He was pointing toward his stack of books. You looked at him in alarm.

"You want me to fire it in here? Isn't that dangerous?"

He huffed a little in annoyance. "No, I want you to aim. Get comfortable holding it. Feel how it sits in your hands. The less scared you are to touch it, the easier it'll be to actually use it."

You gulped, still nervous but trusting his advice. You raised the blaster up, pointing it toward the books. Crosshair walked around you and gently tapped your other arm.

"Hold with both hands. Don't lock your elbows."

You did as he said and found your new position a little more comfortable.

"Line up your sights," he instructed next, pointing out the two notches along the top of the blaster, one at the front and one at the back.

You adjusted your grip and sights in different ways until you could steadily hold it and see the target lined up at the other side.

"Squeeze the trigger," came the next command.

You panicked again, looking over at him with wide eyes.

"Never take your eye off the target," he said sternly, pointing your chin back the proper way. "And it's a dead blaster. Tech took the firing mechanism out for repair and forgot to put it back in."

You sighed in relief and worked on getting yourself back into position. After a beat, you sucked in a breath and pulled the trigger. The blaster made a little clicking noise but nothing else happened. Still, you pictured the stack of books in front of you bursting in response, and though it was a little scary to think about, you also felt proud of your imaginary efforts.

"You don't need to hold your breath," Crosshair huffed. "But we'll work on that."

You offered to give the gun back but he shook his head.

"I'll find the firing pin and get it working again. Hunter may not let you be by yourself ever again, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't know how to protect yourself anyway."

You nodded slowly, thinking it through. You supposed you wouldn't have felt half as bad as you did, had you not tripped pathetically over yourself in that forest and had instead fought back until your protectors came. Though it only took care of half the problem - the other being your naiveté as you navigated this strange new galaxy - it was the most comfort you'd been given amidst the chaos.

"Thank you, Crosshair," you said in a quiet but sincere voice.

The tall clone just brushed you off. "It'll make my job easier is all."

You slipped the gun into your belt, just underneath your cloak. And then the two of you climbed back up into the main deck of the ship. Not much had changed in your time away. Tech still had a mess, Wrecker was still searching for things to do. Echo was still in the cockpit. Hunter, though, was emerging from that room and heading your way. You were about to address him, figuring if you started with an apology then his speech may not be so bad. But then you noticed he wasn't looking at you, but at something behind you.

You turned to see Crosshair's lips pursed as he shook his head at Hunter. When he caught you looking he stopped, picked out another toothpick from his belt, and sauntered away.

You looked back toward Hunter, who seemed to be deciding whether to listen to Crosshair's signal to let it go or not. His eyes settled on you and that seemed to do the trick. His shoulders relaxed and he gave you an apologetic smirk.

"Alright, boys," he called out. Then, with a respectful nod your way, "And Princess... Whatever's going on, we need to figure it out before the Senate hearing. If there's some sort of trap in Coruscant, I don't want us taking her highness there unprepared. So we're going to stop by to see an old friend. Lay low for a bit while we find answers."

The others on the ship nodded but otherwise kept at their previous activities. Hunter turned toward you with a final message.

"Don't worry, Princess. We'll still get you to Coruscant, safely and on time."

Protecting a Princess Tag: @arctrooper69, @nekotaetae, @flowered-bicycles

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#star wars #the clone wars #the bad batch #princess!reader #crosshair #hunter #echo #tech #wrecker

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