Latest Posts by why-am-i-here24 - Page 3

candy crush. rex x f!reader. domestic & suggestive, acotar spoilers lol. mdni

“see, look. piece of cake.”

you turn your attention from your book to watch the remnants of the matching game rex is playing. power ups are exploding on the large screen of his ipad. a ‘good job’ floats across the screen in stylized purple.

he’s got one life left, out of five. you look from the screen to him, reach over and pat his forearm.

“that’s nice, honey,” you say. you gaze flits down his exposed chest, then to where the sheets and duvet barely keep him decent. you hadn’t actually been paying attention to when he got into bed, and it doesn’t look like he’s got any underwear on, as you can see his hipbone and the very outside of his v line.

rex smiles. he leans into your space, looking over your shoulder. “hows your book?”

“you know. same as ever. they’re going to have a baby but there’s complications because he has wings and she’s a human. he’s just told his brothers and now everyone needs to make a big deal about it,” you say, bored. you put down your book and instead lift the covers, more interested on figuring out of rex has on bottoms.

“what happened?” you ask, not looking up from where you can see his cock. just flaccid, content under the blankets.

“what do you mean?” rex asks, already engrossed in the next level.

“why no underwear?”

“i was nice and clean from my shower.”

“and is your underwear not nice and clean?”

“well,” rex sets the ipad against his chest. “i was going to come in and romance you into taking off your clothes, but you were occupied with your little fairy boys.”

“they’re fae,” you correct him, meeting his gaze while you let the duvet fall. “you could have interrupted me.”

rex shrugs, picking his ipad back up. “seems like a lot is going on in your book.”

“i’m just reading,” you huff. you dogear your page and set it aside. “i’m sorry i didn’t notice you getting into bed naked.”

“i was standing around naked for a while too,” rex sniffs. “brushed my teeth and everything.”

“well i’m glad you brushed your teeth,” you say. “i’m paying attention now.”

“moment’s passed,” rex says, but he’s fighting a smile as he glances up from his game.

you hum, sliding your hand under the duvet and over his thigh, inching through his pubic hair to feather over his cock. “yeah, right.”

“moment’s passed,” rex repeats, making a match on his ipad. your finger slides through the slit at his tip, and he stirs against your touch.

both of you make eye contact. hold it.

“has it?” you question.

“let me finish this level,” rex says quickly.

“it’s now or never,” you tease, rising to your knees and shimmying the blankets back.

you settle between his thighs. immediately, rex dumps the game on the nightstand, spreading out to make more room for you.

“lock it so i can’t hear that stupid music,” you say, taking a firmer grip around his cock and stroking once.

rex scrambles to do so.

Incorrect Bad Batch Quote #3

Crosshair: They all look so stupid coddling the girl.

Crosshair: All 'cause of this stupid "Foundling Gene"

Crosshair: That's not going to happen to me, no sir! I am a Soldier not a nanny!

[Omega curls up to Crosshair's side and rests her head on his lap.]

Crosshair: .....

Crosshair: Look at this thing, so pathetic and small, anything could harm her fragile little body.

Crosshair: Stupid girl.

[Crosshair absentmindedly caresses her hair.]

Crosshair: I'm gonna have to protect her since those idiots sure wont.

Crosshair: Then, when her arms are strong enough, I'll teach her to shoot so she can protect herself.

Crosshair: Then I'll--

Crosshair alarmed: WAIT A DARN MINUTE!!

Tech Turn = "sharp [turn] with zero thruster pull"

Tech Hug = Tech placing his hand on your shoulder

Examples:

Note #1: a Tech Hug is distinct from a 'Mega-Tech Hug, which involves short little Omega wrapping her arms around Tech's waist and trying to squeeze as tightly as Wrecker does, while Tech affectionately and awkwardly pats her back (examples exist in headcanon and artwork such as this from the talented @doodlingfoolishness :)

Note #2: a Tech Hug is also distinct from a Tech Twirl -

- and Tech Talks -

- and your general, everyday Tech Saves.

We saw how that mess hall fight went... Don't think this is a smart idea

Tech: We do not require supervision, Hunter.

Crosshair: Yeah, we’re both grown-ass adults!

Echo: Guys, your dino nuggets are ready. I also got your favorite juice boxes.

Hunter: …

Crosshair: …

Tech: …

Echo: …

Hunter: What was that about being “grown-ass adults”?

Crosshair, grabbing a juice box: Shut up.

Don't Go (One-shot):

young!silco x gn!reader - 3.6k words - SFW 

cw: angst, fluff, breakup conversations, happy ending, reconciliation, arguments, silco struggling with his emotions, little bit possessive, soft silco, suggestive ending (this one is pretty angsty but don’t worry, it all works out in the end!)

summary: Silco, your long time boyfriend, does something you’d begged him not to, so you regretfully decide that you need a break from him. Silco has other plans. 

You didn't want to go. Not really. 

But after Vander’s revelation, you felt like you had no choice. 

Silco had been all fired up the night before, ranting and raving about his latest (and quite frankly terrible) plan of breaking into the Sheriff’s office Topside to gain information about any upcoming raids in your neighbourhood. 

The surprise Enforcer raids had been hitting businesses across Zaun at random, an M.O of storming in and ransacking each place with no clear means or motive, and definitely without any warning. 

Understandably then, Vander, Silco, and you had been particularly concerned that a raid would hit The Last Drop any day now, and despite every effort to hide anything that could give you away, there was a real fear that your revolutionary group would be discovered and brutally dismantled. 

But the idea of breaking into the Sheriff’s office of all places was beyond dangerous and to your frustration, you just couldn’t get Silco to listen to reason.

You’d pleaded with him not to do something so risky. You’d tried to calm down, told him to just wait until you could all discuss it together as a group and come up with a plan that wasn’t so grandiose, and in your view, completely and utterly stupid. 

Eventually, Silco had gotten frustrated and rolled his eyes, grumbling that he wouldn’t go as he’d slunk off downstairs to no doubt drink the night away in the bar. 

This morning you’d woken with him fast asleep by the side of you in bed and, assuming he’d wasted the evening drinking himself dry, you thought nothing of it until later this afternoon when you’d found out the truth from Vander. 

Silco had gone Topside to scout out the building that housed the Sheriff’s office. 

Vander had desperately tried to reassure you that Silco wouldn’t have done anything stupid but it had done absolutely nothing to douse the flames of anger and hurt spreading through you. 

The damage was done. 

Now, salty tears finally drying on your cheeks, you stand in your shared bedroom packing your belongings into the rucksack laid out on your bed. 

Silco is still out running errands so there's a note placed carefully on the desk in your bedroom. It's not ideal, but it's for the best. 

However cowardly it makes you feel to reduce your breakup to a measly note, you're too emotionally drained to even think about having another argument with him.

You just can’t deal with it right now. 

Planning to stay with a friend until you found somewhere you could afford by yourself, you convince yourself that if he truly wants you back, if he truly wants to fix things, he’ll come and find you.

You’ve already packed the easy things, like most of your clothes and your toiletries from the bathroom. The real challenge now it would seem is the more sentimental items, like the pile of gifts currently lined up on the bed that you’d received from Silco over the years. 

The little toy poro he'd scrimped and saved to buy you for your birthday that one year. Or the matching sunglasses he'd stolen as a little souvenir from your third date. 

As you stare down at the gifts on the bed wondering if you’ll have enough room to bring them all, the door opens behind you.

You freeze, knowing exactly who it is before he’s even spoken. 

"There you are," Silco announces, his voice clearly tired but still laced with a hint of relief. "Vander said you were-" 

He cuts himself off as he undoubtedly takes in the state of the bedroom before speaking again in a tone of pure shock. 

"What are you doing?" 

You can’t bring yourself to answer so instead busy yourself with shoving all of the gifts into your bag before he can see them. 

"No," he breathes out from the doorway as it dawns on him. 

It sends a horrible pang of hurt ringing in your chest, only made worse when he pleadingly says your name.

"Please don't do this." 

"I have to, Silco," you sigh, trying to keep your heart as closed off as you can. It hurts enough as it is without you letting your emotions run wild. 

"You don't,” he says. “You don't have to." 

You stop answering because you can tell this particular line of conversation will just go in circles. 

Behind you, he shuts the door with a click and it irritates you into shoving more into the bag, no longer caring about being neat or if you should leave anything behind. 

"Is this because of what happened last week? I already told you that wasn't my fault," Silco continues when you don’t respond or turn to face him. 

He's referring to the incident where he almost got shot after taunting some enforcers for no good reason.

Truth be told, that incident had absolutely terrified you, but it was just one of the many reasons why you couldn’t keep doing this. 

"No, it isn't because of that," you say flatly. 

"Then why?" 

You finally turn to look at him, the first time since he’d left the bar this morning. (He looks gorgeous and like he's on the verge of heartbreak and you hate that you still love him despite it all.) 

"Where did you go last night?" you ask flatly, looking him square in the eyes.

As expected his expression instantly turns stony, but after years of learning and reading his tells, you can see the twitches of regret in his eyes. 

A few beats of silence pass and you know he’s too stubborn to admit it out loud. 

Your response is quiet. Resigned. 

"That's why."

Turning back round to face the bed, you begin to shove down all your belongings as far down into the bag as they can go, making sure you have enough room for the last bits that you know are in the wardrobe. 

"Look, I'm sorry for doing it behind your back, but I had to go," he starts, and it feels like the beginning of the heated argument that you were so desperately hoping to avoid.

Your cool facade broken, you whirl round to face him straight on, built-up ire finally pouring out of you in reams. 

"No, you didn't have to go! You went because you wanted to and you went even though I asked you- no, begged you not to," you yell at him.

He flinches minutely at the sudden raise in volume, but keeps his own voice calm and steady when he crafts his response. 

"You don't understand, this is important," he emphasises. "They cannot find out what we’re doing to fight against them, not when we’re this close to finally having the lives we deserve, that all of us deserve.”

It takes all your strength not to give in to his words and continue the argument with an incredulous scoff.

As if you don’t know all that. As if you didn’t spend your days fighting for Zaun as well. 

As if you didn’t fight every second for him. 

You shut it down immediately, twisting back round to face the bed. 

"I'm not doing this," you say blankly. 

"What?" he replies, clearly stunned. 

"I'm not arguing with you, Silco. I'm leaving." 

It breaks your heart to say it, but in this moment, you see no other way forward. Not if he’s going to keep on like this. 

Silco says nothing as you pack away the rest of your belongings into your bag, briefly recalling that you still have a few last bits in the wardrobe. You're almost certain that his anger is charging up in the silence, readying himself to launch into a whole speech about how wrong you are.

But when he does speak again, the sound of his choked-up voice feels like a shot directly to your heart.  

"You can't leave." 

Your heart sinks into your stomach and everything within you practically screams to cross the room and hug him, but you know that if you even look at him you’ll end up changing your mind. So, you move over to the wardrobe instead and pull open the doors to ensure he’s not in your line of sight. 

Silco says your name in that horribly soft timbre he only uses when he’s desperate and even though it pretty much tears you apart to ignore him, you focus on pulling the rest of your clothes from the closet.

He speaks your name again, this time even more desperately and you suddenly find yourself biting back tears. 

Fuck, why did he have to come home early? Why couldn't you just have some time to grieve by yourself? 

"Silco, it's over," you bite out, just wanting this horrible situation to be done with so you can work on healing. 

Finally moving into the room, you hear his footsteps creak on the old wooden floorboards behind you. 

You brace yourself for him to take your hand or wrap his arms around you but to your confusion, his footsteps halt in the centre of the room and you hear an unexpected rustling sound instead. 

Spinning around, you find Silco holding your backpack upside down in the air, emptying the contents back onto the bed with vigorous shakes. Your belongings drop onto the sheets in a crumpled mess, undoing all your work to get them all into the rucksack. 

Silco glares at the bag with tight-lipped hatred, as if it’s the reason you’re leaving, the longer strands of his hair falling down and bouncing with each rough movement of his arms. 

You stare at him in disbelief, your jaw slack until you find the words to confront him.  

"What the fuck, Silco? Put them back!"

He grips the bag even tighter. 

"No." 

And just like that, your astonishment slides into anger. 

"Silco," you warn, eyes narrowing dangerously. "Put. Them. Back." 

"Not if it means you'll stay," he replies obstinately. 

He continues to shake the bag but, ever the impatient boy, gets too frustrated and decides to drop the bag onto the bed. Rapidly taking out handfuls of your belongings until the backpack is empty, he then throws it at the wall furthest from you with a grunt. 

Silco’s gaze slides to look at you from across the room and you both stare at each other breathlessly, chests borderline heaving. 

A clear challenge. 

Unfortunately for Silco, you can be stubborn too. 

Without another word, you reach into the wardrobe and pull out his backpack, moving over to the other side of the bed to restart your packing. 

This time, Silco rushes around the bed to you and tries to grab your hand, but you pull it away, taking a step back. 

"Just stop-" 

"Please don't leave me," he pleads in the most heartbreaking, riven timbre you’ve ever heard him speak in and your heart wrenches. 

He sounds like the little boy you’d met all that time ago in those dark mines, the one who was so desperate to no longer be alone. 

"I'll do anything, I can't do this without you," he begs. 

"Do what without me?" 

"Any of it," he blurts out, running a distressed hand through his hair. "Some days, the only thing that gets me through the day is knowing that you'll be here when I get home."

Your insides jolt at such a vulnerable confession from such a headstrong man, but it’s nothing compared to the feeling you get when he suddenly drops to one knee in front of you, taking one of your hands in both of his. 

Heart racing ten to the dozen, you watch in horror as he glances up at you. 

He’d better not be doing what you think he’s doing…

"Silco-" 

"I love you," he says. "I love you more than anything in the world." 

You watch as tears line his lashes and soon find yourself matching. 

Fuck, you were expecting yelling and anger, not this. 

You’ve never seen him like this before. 

"Please," he repeats and it cracks your mask in two.

Your knees give out and you let yourself sink down onto the floor with him. 

Silco immediately throws his arms around you, only just stopping you from falling back with how quickly he presses his body against yours, burying his head in the crook of your neck. 

On instinct, you wrap your arms around his frame, one hand rubbing his back whilst the other cards through his inky strands as he rocks you gently from side to side. 

Little whispers of “Don't go,” and “I need you,” are mumbled into your hair, and you’re almost certain the wetness on your neck is from those tears that had been threatening to break free. You kindly decide not to mention it. 

Eventually, you sigh and rest your forehead on his shoulder, squeezing your eyes shut in a pitiful attempt to ease the difficult conversation up ahead. 

"Sil, I can't keep doing this."

He sniffles a little and pulls back to look at you but doesn’t let go. (He never lets go.)

"Doing what?" he asks, brows furrowing in that cute little way he does when he’s confused about something. 

"Watching you destroy yourself." 

"I'm not-" 

"You are, Silco, and it's hurting me," you enunciate, holding his cheeks to force his gaze on you. He needs to understand how serious you are about this. 

The horrified expression on his face instinctively causes you to brush some of his hair back tenderly while he processes your words. 

"I want a better Zaun too, but not at the cost of you sacrificing yourself," you continue, keeping your voice quiet but firm. 

He’s clearly overwhelmed, seafoam eyes so wide and trenched in deep-rooted panic. But with a lack of response to distract you, you’re forced to take notice of the pain spreading through your back and legs at the awkward sitting position you’re in. 

You shift your body, pulling away from him to situate yourself in a comfier position, but the second you loosen your arms from his thin frame, his hand desperately grip you even tighter, clutching onto you like a child to their mother’s leg. 

"No, I-"

"I'm not going anywhere, I just need to move before my legs go numb," you’re quick to reassure him. 

At this, Silco relaxes slightly, allowing you to move so your back is resting against the side of the bed. His fingers clasp onto your shirt the entire time and the very second you’re planted in a spot that doesn’t completely ruin your spine, he pulls you against him once more. 

"What- What can I do to make you stay?" he says between a harsh swallow. 

 You sigh, swiping a hand across your face tiredly. 

"I need you to stop this ridiculous crusade you're on. Or," you add when he goes to protest, "at the very least, include the rest of us in it." 

He bites the inside of his lip and entwines his fingers with yours. 

"You can't keep making reckless decisions by yourself, Sil. It affects all of us. Especially me." 

Silco keeps quiet for a few moments, so you give him time to think while his thumb rhythmically traces your knuckles back and forth. 

This can’t be easy for him. He’s pretty independent by nature (most Undercity kids are), but Silco is especially so when it comes to the fight for Zaun’s freedom. 

But if he wants you to stay, you’re going to need some compromise. 

"Okay," he eventually says, breaking the silence to gaze at you with muted hope. 

You’re not letting him off that easily. 

"Okay what?" you say expectantly. 

He sighs and suddenly he’s transformed into that petulant little boy again. 

"Okay, I'll run things by you and Vander before making any big decisions," Silco heaves, like it physically pains him to say. 

"And?" you prompt with a raised eyebrow. 

Silco stares at you with a look of disbelief, but his lip is curled in clear disgust. 

"There's no way I'm running anything by Benzo," he scoffs. "It'd be more useful talking to a brick wall." 

You slap his arm half heartedly and bite back a laugh. 

"No! I meant, are you going to stop throwing yourself into stupid situations for no reason?" 

"I knew you were still upset about last week," Silco replies, a knowing expression melting across his features. 

"Of course I'm upset about it! They almost shot you!" you fire back with indignation. 

As if you wouldn’t be horrified at the idea of your boyfriend getting seriously hurt and potentially arrested just for being an idiot. 

Silco gently combs his fingers through your hair, eyes tracing your features as that smug little smirk you secretly adore colours his lips. 

"The key word in that sentence is almost, my lovely." 

The glare you level him with is met by a crooked grin, but it’s soon wiped off his face when you jab his stomach with your elbow, ignoring the “Oof,” in favour of cuddling up to him even closer.

Silco lets out a sigh of relief and rests his head against yours whilst one hand sneaks up behind you to surreptitiously wipe his eyes dry with his sleeve. 

You allow yourself to relax for a few quiet moments, slowly calming each other down with soft touches until your breathing syncs up with the boy holding you close to his chest. 

Silco soon murmurs into your hair, hand smoothing along your waist. 

"So you'll stay?" 

"Yes, I'll stay," you reply softly, nestling into the crook of his neck. 

It’s seemingly not enough to soothe his nerves because he leans back and tilts your chin up with one finger until you meet his anxious gaze. 

"You promise?" 

"I promise, Silco." 

Relief melts through his whole body, but with it brings a cool wash of physical and emotional exhaustion that you wish you could wipe clean. 

"You know you can always talk to me, right?” you tell him gently, pinky finger delicately tracing along one eyebrow until the lines of his face relax. “I know you're always so busy trying to keep us afloat but you don't have to do it all alone. You can tell me when things are bothering you, it doesn’t make you weak or ‘less of a man’." 

He gazes at you in profound wonder before lightly cupping one side of your face with his hand. 

"I really do love you," he whispers, tenderly tracing one thumb down your cheek.

It feels like the weight of your near-breakup is lifted off your shoulders when you finally say it back. 

"I love you too, Sil." 

He leans down to kiss your head and you find yourself desperately hoping that he keeps his promise. You never want to have to go through this again. 

But for now, graced with another chance to stay with the only person you’ve ever loved, you focus on the present, needing to change the heavy atmosphere stifling the room. Your tone shifts into a light, coy thing that immediately grabs his attention. 

"You know, if you hadn't rushed in all guns blazing last night you'd have had the chance to listen to my plan for getting the info we need," you tell him. "Y'know, one that wouldn't get you thrown in Stillwater." 

Silco stares at you with a frown and you struggle to keep in the smile that threatens to break. 

"What plan?" 

"The one where I seduce a poor, unsuspecting enforcer and use a bit of good old-fashioned lip service to get what we need," you say coquettishly, batting your eyelashes at him innocently despite the clear innuendo lacing your words. 

Instantly, (brilliantly), his seafoam eyes darken with a delicious combination of jealousy and lust, sending a spark of hot desire through your body. 

"Not in a million years," he says gruffly, pulling you even closer to him. 

You twirl a playful finger through your hair. 

"I don't know, I think it's a great plan if you ask me," you reply with an air of teasing nonchalance. 

"I wouldn't let you anywhere near them,” his grip tightens on the fabric by your waist. “You're mine.”

Leaning forward, you whisper in his ear, knowing exactly what it does to him. 

"Prove it." 

There’s a beat of electrified silence before Silco abruptly stands, pulling you up with him until you’re both on your feet.

He smoothly coils one arm around your waist, the other snaking around the nape of your neck until his lips hover tantalisingly above yours. And just when you think he’s about to finally close the gap, he pauses.

You frown, chest flooding with anxiety that you’ve done something wrong, or he’s changed his mind, or-

Silco removes the hand resting behind your head and before you can voice your concerns, he suddenly grabs the bed sheet, ripping it off the bed in a move that sends the mess of your once-packed belongings tumbling to the floor in a cacophony. 

"Silco!" you admonish him, already envisioning the amount of time and effort it would take to pick everything up and put it back in its rightful place. 

"What?” he says, like butter wouldn’t melt. “We can put it back in the morning." 

Then, he swiftly picks you up and tosses you onto the mattress, making you squeal in surprise. 

Silco kneels onto the bed and climbs until his body is hovering over yours, arms caging you in as you heat up, warmth flooding downwards in anticipation. 

"Now, I think it's time I make it up to you, sweetheart," he purrs, leaning down to hotly trace your ear with his lips. “I’m going to make sure you never want to leave this bed again.”

- A/N: don’t mind me, just casually obsessed with the idea of silco emptying out your bag to desperately stop you from leaving and then frenziedly trying to propose to you when he doesn’t know to deal with his emotions 💁‍♀️

I'm trying to prove a point to my brain: Reblog if you think fanfiction does not need sex to be good.

There is a trend I’ve noticed that smut fics tend to be much more popular than anything else and honestly I just want to have something to look at to remind myself and that writing doesn’t have to have sex to be worth putting out into the community.

I named my cat after you because she pulls your facial expressions sometimes

Good call.

might as well

This is Money Snake. She only appears every 312 years. 

If you reblog her picture within the next twenty-five seconds you will have good luck and fortune for the rest of your life. 

Peak character development 🩷

You (And I):

Silco x f!reader - 2.6k words - SFW

cw: best friend!silco, fluff, banter, mutual pining, idiots in love, mentions of cat-calling and harassment (not silco), mentions of poverty, soft silco my beloved, a little bit of angst in the form of reader being anxious about not knowing who is climbing through the window, but it's just the boy

summary: Your best friend misses you, so the only logical solution is for him to climb through your bedroom window at three in the morning, without telling you beforehand… It’s a good thing that you love him (and it’s an even better thing that he loves you too).

It’s taking you a little bit longer than usual to drop off to sleep as you lie in bed, curled up under the covers, trying to keep as much warmth in as possible. Your room is right at the very top of your parents’ bar, The Last Drop, which is also where you’ve just started to work full-time instead of just the odd job you’d helped out with growing up.

But now, with money for food tight and the threat of closure even tighter, you’ve found yourself doing pretty much anything to help keep the bar afloat, from running errands and setting up during the day to serving customers all evening and cleaning up after a long night. 

Your first proper job; you’d think with how exhausted you were you’d drop to sleep the very second your head hit the pillow. 

Not tonight, it would seem. Tonight your mind appears to be far too preoccupied to let your body relax. 

Your train of thought easily wanders to what you’d usually be doing on a Friday evening. More often than not you’d be holed up in the corner of a tiny café, trying to read your book while Silco asked your opinion on every little detail of whatever scheme he was working on at the time. 

Or you’d be forcing Silco to give you a piggyback through the streets after raiding the market for the cheapest items you can find, Vander in tow carrying all the loot. 

You can’t help but smile at the memories, a fuzzy, warm feeling spreading through you at the recollection of your best friend. Just the thought of him calms you; your lighthouse even in absentia. 

And it seems to do the trick, eyelids just starting to feel too heavy to keep open, a sure indicator of incoming sleep, when a scrabbling noise outside your window causes you to frown.

…you really hope you don’t have rats again.

Of course, the sensible thing to do would be to get up and investigate. But you’ve only just gotten warm and sleepy, and not only is the window on the other side of the room, but you’re laying on your side with your back to the glass, and honestly who in their right mind would want to get up in the freezing cold just to have a staring contest with some rats?

Scrunching your eyelids even tighter closed, as if it would block out the sound, you attempt to lull yourself back into that bliss you were so close to achieving, vowing to deal with the little rodents in the morning.

Almost like magic, the scrabbling stops and you sigh in relief.

Until you hear the unmistakable sound of the window creaking open.

Your eyes shoot open and your blood begins to pump urgently around your body. 

Fuck, why didn’t you lock the window before getting into bed? You must’ve forgotten in your sleep deprived state. 

One hand slowly inches towards the knife you keep under your pillow as two, almost-silent thuds resonate across the floorboards. 

Your heart practically leaps in your chest when you hear a series of soft footsteps approaching your bed, but you manage to keep yourself as still as possible, your only movement hidden beneath your pillow as you grip the knife handle tight.

A beat. Then another, as you wait for the exact right moment with bated breath. 

The intruder pauses by your bed and you inhale sharply, preparing yourself to strike.

Without warning, you abruptly swing your body around, throwing off the covers as you blindly leap towards them.

But they’re faster, shoving you back down against the bed with their lithe body and clapping a hand over your mouth before you can even think to scream out.

The knife slips from your hand, leaving it to clatter to the floor while you thrash about in your assailant’s grasp. 

“Stop it, it’s just me!” a familiar voice hisses down at you, halting your movements instantly.

You gaze up at the figure in bewilderment, slowly but surely recognising those jet black waves and hooked nose with every rapid heartbeat. 

It’s just Silco. 

He must spot the very moment that recognition sparks in your eyes because he’s soon grinning down at you, boyish, slightly crooked, and entirely too cheeky for his own good.

“Hey,” he says smoothly.

You push him off you with an unamused scoff, aiming to send him tumbling off the bed as you sit up and try to calm your erratic breathing. 

No such luck though, he just stumbles to his feet and quickly drops down next to you on the bed while you plant your feet on the cold wooden boards, running your hands through your bedraggled hair. 

Silco’s hand rests gently against your lower back and you glance up at him from your hunched up position of elbows on knees, palms against your forehead. 

You’re filled with the sudden urge to yell at him. Loudly. 

But your parents are asleep and they’ll be positively furious if they discover Silco in your bedroom in the middle of the night, so you settle for hissing at the ridiculous boy like an angry cat. 

“What the fuck are you doing climbing through my bedroom window at half three in the morning?”

Silco appears completely unfazed. 

“I left my lockpick at home, so I couldn't get in through the front door,” he replies, swiftly dodging the smack you try to deliver to his arm and instead catching your hand to press a chaste kiss to your knuckles. “And I missed you.”

You roll your eyes and snatch your hand back, but you’re unable to prevent your heart from swelling in your chest at his sweet words. Damn that natural charm of his. 

Luckily, a glance down at the knife by your feet distracts your wandering heart. 

“Why didn’t you say anything? I could’ve stabbed you.”

“Nah, you couldn’t,” he says dismissively until you shoot him a murderous glare. He returns it with a nonchalant shrug. “Thought you were asleep.”

“So why even bother climbing in?” you ask with a frown. 

And then, from the corner of your eye, he begins to look the tiniest bit bashful, gaze dropping to the floor as he starts to draw random shapes on the material of his trousers with his nails. 

“I, uh… I was gonna wake you up and ask if you wanted to go skip stones in the river.”

Your expression drops as you slowly turn to stare at him, which he meets with a dorky little grin. You groan and flop back down onto your bed, swinging your feet up so you can lay your head against the pillow, completely and utterly exasperated. 

Your best friend has been possessed by a five-year-old boy, you’re sure of it. 

Silco watches your dramatic display with clear amusement. 

“I’m gonna take that as a no, then?” he asks. 

“How do you have so much energy?” you whine, throwing your arm up to hide your face in the crook of your elbow. “Didn’t you have work today?”

“I had some work today,” he says, eyes quickly darting away from you. “Just not at the mines.”

Now this causes you to frown, peering over your arm at his trying-too-hard-to-look-relaxed body language. 

“What kind of work?” you question, which he promptly ignores, so nudge him with your foot, concern growing by the second. “Sil… what kind of work?”

He lays down next to you, propped up on his side with one elbow, and starts absentmindedly playing with your hair. 

“So, how was your day? You didn’t get any creeps trying to feel you up again, did you?”

You sigh heavily, knowing you’re not going to get an answer to your question. To be honest, you wish you didn’t have to give one to his. 

It had only happened once or twice since you’d started working late shifts in the bar, and it hadn’t been as bad since your parents had begun to shut it down everytime a patron got a bit too touchy. 

But it still didn’t make it right. 

“No, just the odd comment,” you reply, suddenly overly-interested in your nails. 

Silco wraps his arm around you and pulls you onto your side so he can hold you against his chest, chin resting on the crown of your head. 

“I’ll hang around during your next shift and kill anyone who even looks your way,” he declares, with a ridiculous amount of conviction. 

You roll your eyes even though he can’t see. Dramatic boy. 

“Don’t be stupid,” you say, lightly tapping your palm once against his back as a half-hearted scold. 

“You’re right,” he agrees with a resolute nod. “I’ll let you kill them yourself, you deserve it.”

Your sigh is laced with exasperation but you still shift to cuddle him properly, arms wrapped around his midsection. You just want to enjoy his presence while you have it, even if he is a pain in your ass. 

“I missed you too,” you say quietly after a peaceful silence, recalling his words from earlier. “It sucks working so much, I feel like I never see you anymore.”

“I know,” he hums soothingly, hand now rubbing tiny circles into the small of your back. “Just means we gotta make the most of the times we do.”

Snuggling him even tighter feels like the only appropriate response, so that’s what you do. 

You could honestly stay here forever. No responsibilities, no stress, just Silco. 

“You free tomorrow lunch? We could grab something to eat and then climb up to the roof of that factory by the river, if you want?” Silco asks. 

A warm smile tugs at your lips.

“Yeah, I’m free.” 

Your parents had been kind enough to give you the afternoon off tomorrow, but you were still expected to help out in the morning and evening as usual.

“Is Vander coming too?” you ask.

Silco shakes his head above you. 

“Nah.”

“Oh,” you respond, surprised the third member of your ragtag trio won’t be joining you. “Why not?”

“I thought it could just be a you and me thing, you know?” Silco reasons confidently, although you do spot just a hint of insecurity in his voice, like he’s nervous you’ll interrogate him further. 

Butterflies twirl through your stomach at the phrasing. You and him. You and Silco. A duet in this city of lonely hearts. 

“Okay. That sounds nice,” you say, trying to keep the smile out of your voice. 

He squeezes you once before he sits up a little, twisting around to pick the duvet up from off the floor. The covers are soon pulled over you both, where he tries to wrap his arms around you once more only to be met with you aiming little kicks at his legs. 

“Oi, shoes off, you heathen,” you demand, ripping the duvet away from him. “I just washed these.”

Seriously, you didn’t spend all morning washing, drying, and ironing all your clothes and bedding just for him to muddy them with his filthy shoes. Janna knows where he’s been in them or what he might’ve stepped in (especially considering you’ve never seen him clean them in all the years you’ve known him).

“Alright, alright,” he grumbles, muttering a sardonic little,“Bossy boots,” under his breath. 

Surprisingly, he does actually take the time to unlace them and even places them carefully under the bed, instead of just lobbing them across the room like you expect him to. 

Only then do you allow him back under the covers, shifting about until you’re both comfortable in each other’s arms, legs tangled together to ensure you’re as close as possible. 

“You know, you should really lock your bedroom window,” Silco comments after a few moments. “You never know who could be lurking about this time of night.”

You huff an amused breath through your nose.

“What, like you?”

“No, like some weirdo with nefarious ideas,” he insists, annoyed that you’re not taking him seriously.

You pull back in his arms to look him square in the face.

“...so, you?”

Silco pouts so adorably, you have to hold yourself back from just kissing him right there and then. 

“You’re mean,” he says, looking like a little boy who has just had one of his toys stolen in the playground.

In lieu of kissing him, you boop him on the nose with your finger and give him a cheeky, affectionate grin.

“You love it.”

But your heart sinks in your chest when Silco’s face drops, gazing at you intently as if he’s searching for something. Then his gaze darts away, the tips of his ears turning red, and you start to panic that you’ve said or done the wrong thing.

Instinctively, your hands hold him a little bit tighter, scared that he’ll just get up and go. 

“You know, my parents are going to kill me if they see us in bed like this,” you whisper over his shoulder, desperately trying to lighten the mood before he scarpers. 

“Well, as long as they don’t kill me, then that’s fine,” he whispers back, and you can tell by his timbre that he’s smiling through the words. 

You smack his shoulder, relief flooding through you in abundance. 

“Idiot.”

There’s a pause. 

Then, he says tenderly, (almost too tenderly for your poor heart).

“...Yes, but I’m your idiot.”

Patterns are happily traced against his back until you finally notice just how tired you are, leaning back to twist your head away from him so you can yawn into your hand. 

Silco watches you quietly, stroking your cheek with his thumb like a slow, soothing metronome. 

“You should get some sleep,” he says softly, his expression etched in quiet adoration. 

Your eyebrows lift at the sheer audacity. 

“Bitch, you’re the one who woke me up,” you protest sleepily.

He makes a show of turning to look over his shoulder and then back at you, pointing at his sternum with a quizzical frown. 

“Who? Me?”

So, you sneak your cold hands up against the back of his warm neck until he yelps. Silco wrestles your hands off his neck, clasping them in between his palms until he lets you tiredly wrestle them back and smoosh your face into his chest, giggling into the front of his shirt. 

He gently runs his hands through your hair as you both settle down once more, his own quiet laughter feeling like a blessing.

You almost don’t want to sleep now. You don’t want to miss any more time with him. 

“Sil?” you murmur. 

“Yeah, Squidge?” he replies.

Your nickname, from the time he threw a leftover tentacle at you from Jericho’s, named after the absolutely ridiculous noise it made when it slapped against your face. You love to hate it, which of course only makes Silco love it more. 

“We’re always gonna be best friends, right? No matter what?” you say, deep down hoping you don’t sound too clingy. 

You just can’t bear the thought of drifting apart from him. You honestly don’t know what you’d do without him. 

Luckily, he soothes your worries without even a hint of the usual teasing.

“Absolutely,” he affirms, carefully running his nails along your scalp in a calming, repetitive motion. “You’re stuck with me now, come rain or smog.”

“Good,” you nod happily. “Just checking.”

Basked in Silco’s warmth, you’re far too exhausted and cosy to fight against closing your eyes, drifting off to sleep while the boy presses a delicate kiss to your head. 

And right before you fall, he mumbles, oh so gently, into your hair.

“As if I’d want to be anywhere in this world except right here next to you, my perfect girl.” What a coincidence. There’s nowhere you’d rather be than right here, next to him.

Sims 4: Crosshair's Armor S1

Crosshair's S1 armor & helmet DOWNLOAD Armor found under jumpsuits, Helmet under brimless hats. Base game compatible. Custom icons.

CC used:

Toothpick by @the-daydream-archives

Tattoo by me

Pose pack Anger by @samsstudio

Pose pack Emotions by @simmerberlin

Crosshair sim based on TBB by ArthurKirky.

I'm very happy with how this set turned out. Helmet's almost perfect while the armor looks good and animates quite well considering some non-standard parts. On the downsides though, Wrecker (and perhaps Hunter as well) should be redone when the whole squad is complete, so the quality's consistent.

Don't Go (One-shot):

young!silco x gn!reader - 3.6k words - SFW 

cw: angst, fluff, breakup conversations, happy ending, reconciliation, arguments, silco struggling with his emotions, little bit possessive, soft silco, suggestive ending (this one is pretty angsty but don’t worry, it all works out in the end!)

summary: Silco, your long time boyfriend, does something you’d begged him not to, so you regretfully decide that you need a break from him. Silco has other plans. 

You didn't want to go. Not really. 

But after Vander’s revelation, you felt like you had no choice. 

Silco had been all fired up the night before, ranting and raving about his latest (and quite frankly terrible) plan of breaking into the Sheriff’s office Topside to gain information about any upcoming raids in your neighbourhood. 

The surprise Enforcer raids had been hitting businesses across Zaun at random, an M.O of storming in and ransacking each place with no clear means or motive, and definitely without any warning. 

Understandably then, Vander, Silco, and you had been particularly concerned that a raid would hit The Last Drop any day now, and despite every effort to hide anything that could give you away, there was a real fear that your revolutionary group would be discovered and brutally dismantled. 

But the idea of breaking into the Sheriff’s office of all places was beyond dangerous and to your frustration, you just couldn’t get Silco to listen to reason.

You’d pleaded with him not to do something so risky. You’d tried to calm down, told him to just wait until you could all discuss it together as a group and come up with a plan that wasn’t so grandiose, and in your view, completely and utterly stupid. 

Eventually, Silco had gotten frustrated and rolled his eyes, grumbling that he wouldn’t go as he’d slunk off downstairs to no doubt drink the night away in the bar. 

This morning you’d woken with him fast asleep by the side of you in bed and, assuming he’d wasted the evening drinking himself dry, you thought nothing of it until later this afternoon when you’d found out the truth from Vander. 

Silco had gone Topside to scout out the building that housed the Sheriff’s office. 

Vander had desperately tried to reassure you that Silco wouldn’t have done anything stupid but it had done absolutely nothing to douse the flames of anger and hurt spreading through you. 

The damage was done. 

Now, salty tears finally drying on your cheeks, you stand in your shared bedroom packing your belongings into the rucksack laid out on your bed. 

Silco is still out running errands so there's a note placed carefully on the desk in your bedroom. It's not ideal, but it's for the best. 

However cowardly it makes you feel to reduce your breakup to a measly note, you're too emotionally drained to even think about having another argument with him.

You just can’t deal with it right now. 

Planning to stay with a friend until you found somewhere you could afford by yourself, you convince yourself that if he truly wants you back, if he truly wants to fix things, he’ll come and find you.

You’ve already packed the easy things, like most of your clothes and your toiletries from the bathroom. The real challenge now it would seem is the more sentimental items, like the pile of gifts currently lined up on the bed that you’d received from Silco over the years. 

The little toy poro he'd scrimped and saved to buy you for your birthday that one year. Or the matching sunglasses he'd stolen as a little souvenir from your third date. 

As you stare down at the gifts on the bed wondering if you’ll have enough room to bring them all, the door opens behind you.

You freeze, knowing exactly who it is before he’s even spoken. 

"There you are," Silco announces, his voice clearly tired but still laced with a hint of relief. "Vander said you were-" 

He cuts himself off as he undoubtedly takes in the state of the bedroom before speaking again in a tone of pure shock. 

"What are you doing?" 

You can’t bring yourself to answer so instead busy yourself with shoving all of the gifts into your bag before he can see them. 

"No," he breathes out from the doorway as it dawns on him. 

It sends a horrible pang of hurt ringing in your chest, only made worse when he pleadingly says your name.

"Please don't do this." 

"I have to, Silco," you sigh, trying to keep your heart as closed off as you can. It hurts enough as it is without you letting your emotions run wild. 

"You don't,” he says. “You don't have to." 

You stop answering because you can tell this particular line of conversation will just go in circles. 

Behind you, he shuts the door with a click and it irritates you into shoving more into the bag, no longer caring about being neat or if you should leave anything behind. 

"Is this because of what happened last week? I already told you that wasn't my fault," Silco continues when you don’t respond or turn to face him. 

He's referring to the incident where he almost got shot after taunting some enforcers for no good reason.

Truth be told, that incident had absolutely terrified you, but it was just one of the many reasons why you couldn’t keep doing this. 

"No, it isn't because of that," you say flatly. 

"Then why?" 

You finally turn to look at him, the first time since he’d left the bar this morning. (He looks gorgeous and like he's on the verge of heartbreak and you hate that you still love him despite it all.) 

"Where did you go last night?" you ask flatly, looking him square in the eyes.

As expected his expression instantly turns stony, but after years of learning and reading his tells, you can see the twitches of regret in his eyes. 

A few beats of silence pass and you know he’s too stubborn to admit it out loud. 

Your response is quiet. Resigned. 

"That's why."

Turning back round to face the bed, you begin to shove down all your belongings as far down into the bag as they can go, making sure you have enough room for the last bits that you know are in the wardrobe. 

"Look, I'm sorry for doing it behind your back, but I had to go," he starts, and it feels like the beginning of the heated argument that you were so desperately hoping to avoid.

Your cool facade broken, you whirl round to face him straight on, built-up ire finally pouring out of you in reams. 

"No, you didn't have to go! You went because you wanted to and you went even though I asked you- no, begged you not to," you yell at him.

He flinches minutely at the sudden raise in volume, but keeps his own voice calm and steady when he crafts his response. 

"You don't understand, this is important," he emphasises. "They cannot find out what we’re doing to fight against them, not when we’re this close to finally having the lives we deserve, that all of us deserve.”

It takes all your strength not to give in to his words and continue the argument with an incredulous scoff.

As if you don’t know all that. As if you didn’t spend your days fighting for Zaun as well. 

As if you didn’t fight every second for him. 

You shut it down immediately, twisting back round to face the bed. 

"I'm not doing this," you say blankly. 

"What?" he replies, clearly stunned. 

"I'm not arguing with you, Silco. I'm leaving." 

It breaks your heart to say it, but in this moment, you see no other way forward. Not if he’s going to keep on like this. 

Silco says nothing as you pack away the rest of your belongings into your bag, briefly recalling that you still have a few last bits in the wardrobe. You're almost certain that his anger is charging up in the silence, readying himself to launch into a whole speech about how wrong you are.

But when he does speak again, the sound of his choked-up voice feels like a shot directly to your heart.  

"You can't leave." 

Your heart sinks into your stomach and everything within you practically screams to cross the room and hug him, but you know that if you even look at him you’ll end up changing your mind. So, you move over to the wardrobe instead and pull open the doors to ensure he’s not in your line of sight. 

Silco says your name in that horribly soft timbre he only uses when he’s desperate and even though it pretty much tears you apart to ignore him, you focus on pulling the rest of your clothes from the closet.

He speaks your name again, this time even more desperately and you suddenly find yourself biting back tears. 

Fuck, why did he have to come home early? Why couldn't you just have some time to grieve by yourself? 

"Silco, it's over," you bite out, just wanting this horrible situation to be done with so you can work on healing. 

Finally moving into the room, you hear his footsteps creak on the old wooden floorboards behind you. 

You brace yourself for him to take your hand or wrap his arms around you but to your confusion, his footsteps halt in the centre of the room and you hear an unexpected rustling sound instead. 

Spinning around, you find Silco holding your backpack upside down in the air, emptying the contents back onto the bed with vigorous shakes. Your belongings drop onto the sheets in a crumpled mess, undoing all your work to get them all into the rucksack. 

Silco glares at the bag with tight-lipped hatred, as if it’s the reason you’re leaving, the longer strands of his hair falling down and bouncing with each rough movement of his arms. 

You stare at him in disbelief, your jaw slack until you find the words to confront him.  

"What the fuck, Silco? Put them back!"

He grips the bag even tighter. 

"No." 

And just like that, your astonishment slides into anger. 

"Silco," you warn, eyes narrowing dangerously. "Put. Them. Back." 

"Not if it means you'll stay," he replies obstinately. 

He continues to shake the bag but, ever the impatient boy, gets too frustrated and decides to drop the bag onto the bed. Rapidly taking out handfuls of your belongings until the backpack is empty, he then throws it at the wall furthest from you with a grunt. 

Silco’s gaze slides to look at you from across the room and you both stare at each other breathlessly, chests borderline heaving. 

A clear challenge. 

Unfortunately for Silco, you can be stubborn too. 

Without another word, you reach into the wardrobe and pull out his backpack, moving over to the other side of the bed to restart your packing. 

This time, Silco rushes around the bed to you and tries to grab your hand, but you pull it away, taking a step back. 

"Just stop-" 

"Please don't leave me," he pleads in the most heartbreaking, riven timbre you’ve ever heard him speak in and your heart wrenches. 

He sounds like the little boy you’d met all that time ago in those dark mines, the one who was so desperate to no longer be alone. 

"I'll do anything, I can't do this without you," he begs. 

"Do what without me?" 

"Any of it," he blurts out, running a distressed hand through his hair. "Some days, the only thing that gets me through the day is knowing that you'll be here when I get home."

Your insides jolt at such a vulnerable confession from such a headstrong man, but it’s nothing compared to the feeling you get when he suddenly drops to one knee in front of you, taking one of your hands in both of his. 

Heart racing ten to the dozen, you watch in horror as he glances up at you. 

He’d better not be doing what you think he’s doing…

"Silco-" 

"I love you," he says. "I love you more than anything in the world." 

You watch as tears line his lashes and soon find yourself matching. 

Fuck, you were expecting yelling and anger, not this. 

You’ve never seen him like this before. 

"Please," he repeats and it cracks your mask in two.

Your knees give out and you let yourself sink down onto the floor with him. 

Silco immediately throws his arms around you, only just stopping you from falling back with how quickly he presses his body against yours, burying his head in the crook of your neck. 

On instinct, you wrap your arms around his frame, one hand rubbing his back whilst the other cards through his inky strands as he rocks you gently from side to side. 

Little whispers of “Don't go,” and “I need you,” are mumbled into your hair, and you’re almost certain the wetness on your neck is from those tears that had been threatening to break free. You kindly decide not to mention it. 

Eventually, you sigh and rest your forehead on his shoulder, squeezing your eyes shut in a pitiful attempt to ease the difficult conversation up ahead. 

"Sil, I can't keep doing this."

He sniffles a little and pulls back to look at you but doesn’t let go. (He never lets go.)

"Doing what?" he asks, brows furrowing in that cute little way he does when he’s confused about something. 

"Watching you destroy yourself." 

"I'm not-" 

"You are, Silco, and it's hurting me," you enunciate, holding his cheeks to force his gaze on you. He needs to understand how serious you are about this. 

The horrified expression on his face instinctively causes you to brush some of his hair back tenderly while he processes your words. 

"I want a better Zaun too, but not at the cost of you sacrificing yourself," you continue, keeping your voice quiet but firm. 

He’s clearly overwhelmed, seafoam eyes so wide and trenched in deep-rooted panic. But with a lack of response to distract you, you’re forced to take notice of the pain spreading through your back and legs at the awkward sitting position you’re in. 

You shift your body, pulling away from him to situate yourself in a comfier position, but the second you loosen your arms from his thin frame, his hand desperately grip you even tighter, clutching onto you like a child to their mother’s leg. 

"No, I-"

"I'm not going anywhere, I just need to move before my legs go numb," you’re quick to reassure him. 

At this, Silco relaxes slightly, allowing you to move so your back is resting against the side of the bed. His fingers clasp onto your shirt the entire time and the very second you’re planted in a spot that doesn’t completely ruin your spine, he pulls you against him once more. 

"What- What can I do to make you stay?" he says between a harsh swallow. 

 You sigh, swiping a hand across your face tiredly. 

"I need you to stop this ridiculous crusade you're on. Or," you add when he goes to protest, "at the very least, include the rest of us in it." 

He bites the inside of his lip and entwines his fingers with yours. 

"You can't keep making reckless decisions by yourself, Sil. It affects all of us. Especially me." 

Silco keeps quiet for a few moments, so you give him time to think while his thumb rhythmically traces your knuckles back and forth. 

This can’t be easy for him. He’s pretty independent by nature (most Undercity kids are), but Silco is especially so when it comes to the fight for Zaun’s freedom. 

But if he wants you to stay, you’re going to need some compromise. 

"Okay," he eventually says, breaking the silence to gaze at you with muted hope. 

You’re not letting him off that easily. 

"Okay what?" you say expectantly. 

He sighs and suddenly he’s transformed into that petulant little boy again. 

"Okay, I'll run things by you and Vander before making any big decisions," Silco heaves, like it physically pains him to say. 

"And?" you prompt with a raised eyebrow. 

Silco stares at you with a look of disbelief, but his lip is curled in clear disgust. 

"There's no way I'm running anything by Benzo," he scoffs. "It'd be more useful talking to a brick wall." 

You slap his arm half heartedly and bite back a laugh. 

"No! I meant, are you going to stop throwing yourself into stupid situations for no reason?" 

"I knew you were still upset about last week," Silco replies, a knowing expression melting across his features. 

"Of course I'm upset about it! They almost shot you!" you fire back with indignation. 

As if you wouldn’t be horrified at the idea of your boyfriend getting seriously hurt and potentially arrested just for being an idiot. 

Silco gently combs his fingers through your hair, eyes tracing your features as that smug little smirk you secretly adore colours his lips. 

"The key word in that sentence is almost, my lovely." 

The glare you level him with is met by a crooked grin, but it’s soon wiped off his face when you jab his stomach with your elbow, ignoring the “Oof,” in favour of cuddling up to him even closer.

Silco lets out a sigh of relief and rests his head against yours whilst one hand sneaks up behind you to surreptitiously wipe his eyes dry with his sleeve. 

You allow yourself to relax for a few quiet moments, slowly calming each other down with soft touches until your breathing syncs up with the boy holding you close to his chest. 

Silco soon murmurs into your hair, hand smoothing along your waist. 

"So you'll stay?" 

"Yes, I'll stay," you reply softly, nestling into the crook of his neck. 

It’s seemingly not enough to soothe his nerves because he leans back and tilts your chin up with one finger until you meet his anxious gaze. 

"You promise?" 

"I promise, Silco." 

Relief melts through his whole body, but with it brings a cool wash of physical and emotional exhaustion that you wish you could wipe clean. 

"You know you can always talk to me, right?” you tell him gently, pinky finger delicately tracing along one eyebrow until the lines of his face relax. “I know you're always so busy trying to keep us afloat but you don't have to do it all alone. You can tell me when things are bothering you, it doesn’t make you weak or ‘less of a man’." 

He gazes at you in profound wonder before lightly cupping one side of your face with his hand. 

"I really do love you," he whispers, tenderly tracing one thumb down your cheek.

It feels like the weight of your near-breakup is lifted off your shoulders when you finally say it back. 

"I love you too, Sil." 

He leans down to kiss your head and you find yourself desperately hoping that he keeps his promise. You never want to have to go through this again. 

But for now, graced with another chance to stay with the only person you’ve ever loved, you focus on the present, needing to change the heavy atmosphere stifling the room. Your tone shifts into a light, coy thing that immediately grabs his attention. 

"You know, if you hadn't rushed in all guns blazing last night you'd have had the chance to listen to my plan for getting the info we need," you tell him. "Y'know, one that wouldn't get you thrown in Stillwater." 

Silco stares at you with a frown and you struggle to keep in the smile that threatens to break. 

"What plan?" 

"The one where I seduce a poor, unsuspecting enforcer and use a bit of good old-fashioned lip service to get what we need," you say coquettishly, batting your eyelashes at him innocently despite the clear innuendo lacing your words. 

Instantly, (brilliantly), his seafoam eyes darken with a delicious combination of jealousy and lust, sending a spark of hot desire through your body. 

"Not in a million years," he says gruffly, pulling you even closer to him. 

You twirl a playful finger through your hair. 

"I don't know, I think it's a great plan if you ask me," you reply with an air of teasing nonchalance. 

"I wouldn't let you anywhere near them,” his grip tightens on the fabric by your waist. “You're mine.”

Leaning forward, you whisper in his ear, knowing exactly what it does to him. 

"Prove it." 

There’s a beat of electrified silence before Silco abruptly stands, pulling you up with him until you’re both on your feet.

He smoothly coils one arm around your waist, the other snaking around the nape of your neck until his lips hover tantalisingly above yours. And just when you think he’s about to finally close the gap, he pauses.

You frown, chest flooding with anxiety that you’ve done something wrong, or he’s changed his mind, or-

Silco removes the hand resting behind your head and before you can voice your concerns, he suddenly grabs the bed sheet, ripping it off the bed in a move that sends the mess of your once-packed belongings tumbling to the floor in a cacophony. 

"Silco!" you admonish him, already envisioning the amount of time and effort it would take to pick everything up and put it back in its rightful place. 

"What?” he says, like butter wouldn’t melt. “We can put it back in the morning." 

Then, he swiftly picks you up and tosses you onto the mattress, making you squeal in surprise. 

Silco kneels onto the bed and climbs until his body is hovering over yours, arms caging you in as you heat up, warmth flooding downwards in anticipation. 

"Now, I think it's time I make it up to you, sweetheart," he purrs, leaning down to hotly trace your ear with his lips. “I’m going to make sure you never want to leave this bed again.”

- A/N: don’t mind me, just casually obsessed with the idea of silco emptying out your bag to desperately stop you from leaving and then frenziedly trying to propose to you when he doesn’t know to deal with his emotions 💁‍♀️

Silco: You anger me so quickly. It’s remarkable.

Y/N: ????

Y/N: i literally said like two words to you

Silco: And yet here I am, boiling with rage.

Oh thank you :] I didn't realise they changed it sorry.

Hunter: I hate you with every inch of my body

Crosshair: …not many inches…

Hunter's 5'11", Crosshair and Tech are 6'4", Echo is 6'1" and Wrecker is 6'6"

Hunter: I hate you with every inch of my body

Crosshair: …not many inches…

Hunter's canonically 5'11" and Crosshair and Tech are 6'4"... Also Wrecker is 6'6"

Hunter: I hate you with every inch of my body

Crosshair: …not many inches…

Hey I was wondering if you could write a crosshair x reader where they have a lazy morning maybe with batcher too.

Lazy Morning

Summary: You decide to sleep in on your day off. It leads to a very relaxing day with the love of your life.

Pairing: TBB Crosshair x F!Reader

Word Count: 1087

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: I started writing this ages ago and then put it on pause, before continuing it today and I have no idea where I was originally going with the story, so I'm sorry if the vibes changes midstory. The only problem now is that I want to lounge by the pool. Alas, there is no pool.

It’s early, though not so early that the sun isn’t high in the sky, and you groan in annoyance when the bright morning sun hits your face, waking you from your very nice sleep.

Wait.

You’re fairly certain that you shut the curtain before you fell asleep last night.

You crack open a singular eye just as something large and heavy lands on the bed, and then you yelp as the solid mass of muscle flops next to you. “Batcher-?”

The lurca hound releases a happy little noise and buries her head under your pillows and blankets. 

You groan and roll onto your back, flinging your arm over your eyes, “Crosshair? Why is your dog in my bed?”

“I’m fairly certain it’s our bed, angel.” Crosshair replies from somewhere on the other side of the room, near the door. He’s probably the one who opened the curtain too.

“You don’t live here, leech.” You counter without any heat in your voice.

“Rude, and I went through all of the trouble of making caf and breakfast for you. But, since you aren’t interested-”

“I hate you. What did you make?” You ask as you slowly sit up and squint at the man leaning against the door frame, “And how’d you get in anyway?”

“I made a quiche-” You shoot him a look, and he rolls his eyes, “Believe it or not, I am capable of following instructions from a recipe.”

“Yeah, but normally people start with, like, pancakes. They don’t tend to jump to quiches.” You reply as you swing your legs off the bed and stretch your arms over your head, “And you didn’t answer how you got in the house.”

“I picked the lock.”

“Cross!”

“Hey, you don’t want me to pick the lock, then give me a key.”

“Ugh, I haven’t had a copy made yet. I’m working on it.” You pad over to him, yawning widely, and then you thump your head against his chest, “Why’re you and Batcher over here anyway.”

“My brothers are annoying.” Crosshair replies as he sets his hand between your shoulder blades, “I needed some quiet.”

“Mm,” You slide your arms around his waist, “And you decided to make breakfast for me while enjoying the quiet?”

You feel him shrug, “You deserve to be spoiled. Maybe.” He says, his hand sliding up to rest lightly at the back of your neck. 

“Maybe?” You ask with a laugh.

“I do have a reputation, kitten.”

“Yeah, yeah. I remember.” You rub your nose against his chest, allowing the sharp scent of Crosshair to fill your lungs, and then you pull back slightly, “Thank you for making breakfast, I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome,” He lightly rubs the back of your neck with his thumb, a small, slightly crooked, smile on his lips. “It still needs to cook for a bit, so you have time enough to shower and wake up.”

You hum thoughtfully, “Yeah, I might do that.” You lean in to brush your lips against his jaw, only to giggle as he ducks his head to kiss you properly. You lightly trail your fingers against his jawline, “Good morning, Crosshair.”

“Mm, it is a good morning now,” He murmurs, before he drops one more kiss against your lips, “Go take your shower, I’m going back to the kitchen. Batcher, off!” The dog whines but jumps off your bed, dragging your comforter with her.

You sigh, and Crosshair chuckles, “I’ll handle it, kitten. I’m planning on spending the day lounging by your pool, so maybe grab a swimsuit.”

“You just want to watch me parade around for you in a bikini.”

“Yeah, of course.”

You huff, though there’s no heat, and you lightly kiss him one more time before you meander over to your dresser to dig out your swimsuit, “Why do you want to use the pool when we live on an island?”

“Uh, there are people at the beach, and there aren’t people here. Besides, you’re the one who owns a pool in spite of living on a tropical island.”

You scowl at him as you pull out your bathing suit, “I didn’t build the pool, the house came with it.”

“You still bought it.”

“Inherited it.”

“Same difference.” He walks over to you and tugs your bikini out of your hands, before pulling a different one out of your dresser, “Wear this one.”

“...this is white.”

“I know what I’m about, kitten.”

“You’re such a man sometimes,” You take the bikini though and turn towards the bathroom, “I’ll be down shortly.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

Fifteen minutes later, you step into the kitchen, clad in the white bikini and a sarong hung low around your hips. Crosshair offers you an appreciative whistle, before he tosses a ball out the back door for Batcher to chase.

“Prettier than a sunset,” He praises, a small smirk on his lips.

“Only because I’m wearing this thing,” You counter as you walk over to him and lightly pluck his toothpick out of his mouth.

“You could take it off, I won’t complain.” He drawls with an appreciative drag of his eyes down your body.

You point at him with his toothpick, “Pervert.”

“Guilty as charged.” He pushes your hand away and stands so he’s able to catch your lips in a kiss, “I opened the umbrella and put your breakfast on the table outside already. I also put out towels for us, as well as the sunblock.”

“Well, you have everything in hand, don’t you?”

“All that’s left to finish the perfect morning, is you sprawled out in the sun.” Crosshair replies.

You laugh softly, “Well then, who am I to deny you?” His arms snake around your waist and he tugs at the knot holding the sarong in place.

“You’re not going to need this, kitten. It’ll just get dirty.”

“And I’m sure it has nothing to do with wanting to see my legs.”

“Of course not.”

“Uh-huh.” You slide your hands up his chest and then wrap your arms around his neck, “It’s a good thing that I actually like your attention.”

“Oh, how much do you like my attention?” Crosshair asks as he bumps his forehead against yours.

“Enough that I’m considering inviting you to spend the night.”

He chuckles, “Well then, I’d better behave so you don’t change your mind.”

And you laugh one more time, before you pull him down into a kiss, leaning your weight against him. He’s right about one thing, this is definitely the perfect morning.

Some of my favorite Crosshair screencaps just because I really feel like showcasing his beauty:

All these screenshots were taken by me. ✨Crosshair is my prince uwu ✨

The idea of Crosshair having a S/O is so funny to me because the boys genuinely can’t believe that somebody likes Crosshair and it’s like

*about Crosshair’s lady*

Tech: Why would she like you???

Crosshair: Oh, well, I guess she somehow overlooked my terrible personality and hideous face.

Crosshair: We need more help. Maybe I should call my friends.

Hunter: ... Your what?

Crosshair: My friends.

Tech: Are they saying “friends”?

Echo: I think they're being sarcastic.

Wrecker: No, no, no, this is delirium, they've cracked from being awake all night. Hey, Crosshair! All of your friends are in this room.

Crosshair: I have other friends! You asked me to make new friends, I made new friends!

I thought good soldiers follow orders

This is the ending i want

Crosshair. play nice. 🙄🤦

This is the ending i want

i need him in every way possible

Crosshair: My darling, My love, The light of my life, My moon and stars, My- Y/N: Just tell me what you broke. Crosshair: ... Crosshair: Okay, but please don't be mad...

Thank you, if it's classified then I won't push for information.

You might have already been asked this but are your goggles prescription or just eye protection?

This is classified information due to the risk of it falling into the wrong hands. However, I can share that they are highly useful and enhance my visual abilities significantly, thus my helmet being built around them.

Mornings on Kamino

Summary: Crosshair’s two moods are: bastard, and needy. But his needy side only seems to come out in the mornings. Pairing: Crosshair x Reader Reader Description: Reader is gender-neutral. This fic does not include any descriptions of their appearance. Word count: 610 Tags: Established relationship, Cuddling, Fluff.

Notes: Bless @schlorbe​ for getting me hooked on what Crosshair’s morning voice would sound like ;-; I just had to write a little something for it hehe

Keep reading

Alright, I have a weird request. So one time when I was younger, my dad tried to wake me up for school my grabbing my shoulder and shaking it. Unfortunately, he grabbed my boob instead. We were both traumatized. I was thinking about it today and laughing and started thinking about how that sounds like something the batchers would do, and how would they react. Especially if you weren’t in a relationship with them already. (I promise my dad isn’t a creep by the way, I think it traumatized him more than me.)

I just cackled like an idiot. Well, things like that can happen to anyone. Sorry for your trauma, but I think this might be a fun little HC

The Bad Batch x Fem!Reader HC's - This Is Awkward...

Warning: Accidental boob-grab?

__________

Summary: You slept in, and the batcher wants to wake you up, accidentally grabbing for your boob instead of your shoulder.

Pre Relationship.

__________

Hunter

The very first moment, you both freeze. You look up at Hunter, and he looks down into your face, his hand still where it actually has no business.

"Looking for something?", you ask dryly.

"Uhm", he utters, letting go of your boob hastily.

He clears his throat before he says, "You slept in again, time to get up"

He's leaving the room faster than ever before. Hunter might have thought about touching you there, but certainly not like this.

Echo

It's a little different with him. He wanted to softly poke at your shoulder with his scomp link, like he always does when you sleep in. But this time he accidentally pokes your boob.

"Ouch! What the hell, Echo?"

"Oh maker! I'm so sorry, I was aiming for your shoulder", he stammers, his cheeks and ears turning red.

"You missed", you snarl.

"I'm very sorry!", he blurts out and hurries out of the room.

It'll take a while for him to look you in the eyes again, and he won't be the one waking you up in the mornings anymore.

Wrecker

He's frozen, staring at you out of big eyes. His huge hand is still on your boob. You stare right back at Wrecker, suddenly very much awake.

Wrecker says a little shaky, "Uh, you slept in. Hunter asked me to wake you"

"Would you please let go of my boob?", you ask him dryly.

He does let go hastily and chuckles nervously, "Oh yeah, sorry, didn't mean to do that, really! I was aiming for your shoulder, it was hard to figure out through the blanket"

He keeps stammering apologies and explanations, walking backwards out of your room.

Tech

He's plenty confused. Instead of letting go, he feels your boob, testing.

"That's odd. That's not what your shoulder should feel like, it's too soft"

"You don't say", you grumble, blinking at him, turning a bit.

You can see in Tech's face, it's the moment he realizes he's not grabbing your shoulder.

"Oh", he utters, slowly letting go "Well, you are awake, that was the goal"

Tech clears his throat, fixes his goggles with a shove of his finger.

"Hunter want's to see you at the Marauder, ASAP", he says, walking out of your room, strangely stiffly, with red neck and ears.

Crosshair

As you turn around, and he grabs you, you both freeze for a short moment. He blinks and so do you. You are even more confused as Crosshair grabs the other boob too. You stare at him.

"What the-"

"Both still there", he says, letting go, "Good for you. By the way, Hunter asked for you, you need to get up"

He turns around and leaves you puzzled.

"What the hell just happened?"

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

@rintheemolion

@andyoufollowyourheart @clone-whore-99

@brynhildrmimi @kaliel2310

@misogirl828 @tech-deck

@meshla-madalene

@chxpsi

@thebahdbitch

@nahoney22 @ladykatakuri

@darkangel4121

@ttzamara

@arctrooper69

@padawancat97

@agenteliix

@puppetswithteeth

@palliateclaws

@either-madness-or-brilliance

@ortizshinkaroff

@andy-solo1

@hunterssecretrecipe

@heyitsaloy

Y/N: Get out of my room, Wreck!

Wrecker: *being a little shit and standing outside the doorframe* I’m not in your room!

Y/N: HUNTER-

Wrecker: Hey! No fair! You can’t just call Hunter every time you want to get your way!

Y/N: Fine.

Y/N:

Y/N: CROSSHAIR-

Wrecker: *immediately running away* That’s so much worse and you know it!

Fine I'll watch rebels again to feed myself rex content

Okay I admit I got a crush on you and your brothers what can I say a girl has her taste in men.

Also - DO NOT DIE ON ME

It's a mighty fine taste, to be sure.

I can't promise anythin' but I mean... I look good with a beard.