Webslinger-Holland’s MASTERLIST

I’m going to be making a taglist for my works? If you want to be on it, feel free to comment below or message me about it!

Hii! Omg I JUst saw that you’re back 🥺🥺 what happened? I remember one day always coming to your blog and then your vlog poofed out of existence 🥺 I’m sooo happy you’re back hope you are doing well🥺💕

I know. I just woke up one day and being my stupid moody teenager self...deleted my account. To this day, it was my biggest regret in life. But I’m back now. I’m trying to make things right again by writing my stories.

Just A Bartender | Kaz Brekker

Summary: There was nothing special about the head bartender at the Crow Club. For Kaz Brekker, he could list off thirty people who were more valuable assets or investments to him. But there is something about the bartender that ignites a desire to protect her at all costs.

Warning: alcoholic beverages, mentions of gambling, slightly demeaning behavior

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x Fem!Reader

Type: Oneshot

Word Count: 4k

The Crow Club had such an enticing ambience filled to the brim with thoughtless pigeons. The Ketterdam tourists didn’t know any better than to visit one of the most well-known clubs in the Barrel. A place where they could put down a couple wages, drink until their hearts content, and get tricked into spending more money than they realize.

It was the perfect trap set by Kaz Brekker himself. The tables and dealers weren’t rigged, but a gambling hall is still a gambling hall. People lose their money at the tables and invest in a couple drinks. Before they know it, all their money is gone and it has all goes right into his pocket.

The Crow Club was never not busy, besides when it was closed in the early hours of the morning. It was Friday, which only meant that it was going to be a busy night and the start of the weekend. The tables were filled with some bystanders even standing on the sidelines awaiting their turn. 

The bouncers guarded the door to monitor the people coming in and out of the club. The waitresses whisked around tables, carrying tray after tray of various alcoholic drinks. All of which were provided and stocked by the head bartender. 

Near the back of the club, Y/N was standing behind the bar counter. She had a pint in her hands and was filling the pint to the brim with rich golden beer. She placed the pint onto a tray that was almost full of other drinks. She quickly pushed the tray into the hands of a waitress, sending the orders out. 

On busy nights like these, Y/N barely had a moment to think to herself. Instead, she opted to bury herself in the work in front of her because she knew how well it paid. She wiped her hands clear of beer on the apron tied around her waist before grabbing a nearby rag to clean the countertop. 

In that given moment, Wylan had returned to the bar with an empty tray in his hands. He slipped behind the bar and began helping by drying some cups with a rag himself. 

Over the past couple weeks, Y/N had been training Wylan in the art of bartending. She had seen firsthand how well he performed when mixing different chemicals to create his signature bombs. She wondered if he would take an interest in bartending since it was somewhat similar. And he most certainly did.

Wylan was a quick learner. Despite still not knowing how to read, Wylan was able to memorize which bottles of alcohol where which by the shape, size, color, and even smell. He always measured out the correct amount for each drink, since precision was insanely important when it comes to pyrotechnics. In no time, Wylan had become well knowledge in how to make certain drinks.

To have a second bartender was very helpful, especially on busy nights like these ones. For the past week, Wylan also doubled as another waiter since one of the girls had called out sick on short notice. He would take orders, return to the bar, create them himself, and then deliver them to the pigeons. 

With Wylan often at the bar, this meant that Jesper spent even less time at the tables. For the majority of the night, Jesper would find himself perched on one of the barstools at the bar; his head perched in the palm of his hand as he stared longingly at the young bartender. This distraction was one that Wylan, Y/N, and Kaz were most thankful for as they knew how bad his gambling problem really was.

“Might I have another refill?” Jesper wondered as he lowered his now empty glass onto the bar counter. He winced at the burning in the back of his throat.

“I think you’ve had enough tonight,” Y/N said warringly as she took his glass away. “Don't want to develop a drinking problem on top of a gambling problem.”

Jesper snorted in response, but nodded his head in agreement. She sent him a warm smile and cheeky wink. He went to push the barstool back, standing to his feet. He stretched his arms over his head.

“Well, then I might head to the tables.” Jesper began. She went to protest, but Wylan beat her to it.

“We’ve talked about this,” Wylan quickly came to stand beside him and took his arm as if to stop him.

“Don’t worry about me. I won’t spend more than an hour at the table,” Jesper claimed. He leaned forward to press a soft kiss to his forehead, burying his nose in the ruff of hair. He quickly pulled away and slipped into the crowd to find an empty table.

Left at the bar, Wylan slumped down in the empty barstool left by Jesper. He breathed a long sigh of defeat. His gaze drifted down to the wet rag in his hands, finding a loose string and pulling on it without thought.

“I’ll send Inej to make sure he leaves the tables after an hour,” Y/N tried to cheer him up. He looked over his shoulder to send her a weak smile, mentally appreciating the effort. He redirected his line of attention to the crowd, spotting his lover situated at one of the tables. 

From across the room, Y/N’s eyes had landed on the dark and looming figure of her boss walking the floor. He was currently being trailed by one of his informants; a pesky man who honestly didn’t know when to stop talking. 

The bartender just knew by the look in his eyes that his patience was already warring thin. His jaw was locked in place and his pace quickened despite the use of his cane. He also had that clear look of annoyance in his eyes. 

In that moment, Y/N began to prepare his usual order, which was a glass of the finest whiskey in Ketterdam. She knew he was gonna need it after that conversation. Sure enough, Kaz spun around on the heels of his feet and said one thing to his informant. Without another word, the short and stout man scurried past him to leave the club. 

Now, Kaz headed straight to the far side of the bar. He stood with his eyes facing the shelf full of the alcoholic beverages. The head bartender placed his usual on the countertop before sending it sliding down the long length of the counter. Without looking, Kaz caught the small glass of whiskey with his leather black glove. He raised the glass to his lips, taking a long sip of the rich liquid and relishing in the burning sensation felt near the back of his throat.

When Y/N turned her head away, Kaz shifted his gaze to stare at her discreetly unbeknownst to her. He remembered the day he hired her, which was only a few days before the club opened. He hired her for one reason and one reason only: if she agreed to not to ask any questions. And she had kept her end of the bargain ever since.

He knew this would be a difficult task for anyone. There was always the mystery behind the black leather gloves he wore and the limp accompanied by the crow cane. The origins of where Kaz Brekker came from. Why he was so ruthless and heartless even as a twenty year old now. But she wasn’t allowed to ask questions.

When Kaz would come back to the Slat bloodied and bruised because he had gotten into a fistfight with a local gang, Y/N couldn’t even ask what happened or who did that to him. She simply sit silently while tending to his cuts with a damp rag.  She never pestered and she never pried.

She wasn’t anything special herself. She wasn’t part of the Six Crows. She didn’t participate in the heist. She didn’t wield any foreign knives, have the heartrending ability, or have a sharpshooter’s eye. She was just simply the bartender. 

She wasn’t part of the fight. She didn’t attend meetings. She brought very little to the table, besides the occasional alcoholic drinks as per requested. 

She played no role. She had no importance. She didn’t have a name for herself. She most certainly was expendable. If she disappeared, nobody would know her or even remember her. Her job could easily be filled by the next person who walked into the room or even Wylan if that was an option. 

She had little value and she knew this.

“Hey lady,” Y/N was pulled from her thoughts by a customer sitting at a table nearby. He raised his empty glass. “Be a sweetheart and get me a refill,” the man grinned wickedly.

Now Kaz’s gaze shifted from the customer to the bartender. He watched carefully. She grabbed a clean empty glass, choosing to fill up the pint without saying anything. She went to hand the glass to Wylan, but the customer stopped her by calling out again.

“Bring it to me yourself, lady.” He almost groaned. He sent a cheeky wink to the other men around the table. They chuckled deeply to themselves. 

With some hesitation, Y/N made her way around the side of the counter with the pint of beer in her hands. She went to approach the table, carefully placing the glass down for the customer. She began taking a single step back, but was stopped when the man gripped her wrist.

Out of instinct, Y/N let out a small gasp of surprise. She clenched her fist tightly and attempted to pull herself out of his tight grasp. She tried to contain herself, in attempts of hiding the clear fear and discomfort she felt. Because she knew that if she showed even an ounce of fear, that they will feed off of that and tear her to pieces. She held her ground.

“Kindly let go,” Y/N demanded firmly but quietly.

“What you gonna do about it, pretty girl?” The man said with a deep chuckle. The beer drenched his long orange beer, dripping onto his fine waistcoat. His breath stank of alcohol and tobacco.

All of the sudden, a loud click of a cane came in contact with the wooden floorboards. The table went silent. Everyone’s heads turned to the source of the sound; their gazes falling on the one who ran the club. 

In all his glory, Kaz Brekker stood facing the table of pigeons. His two gloved hands rested on top of the crow head cane. He said nothing to them, simply staring them down with a hard look in his eyes. 

A little click of a gun caused the men at the table to turn their heads once again. On the other side of the room, Jesper stood with one of his precious pearly guns in his hand. It was already cocked and ready for a fight. He narrowed his eyes at them as if challenging them. Wylan shallowed heavily in fear of the worst happening.

The sound of a knife being pulled out of its sheath could be heard much to everyone’s surprise. They turned their heads one final time to see a dark cloaked figure standing on the other side of the room. She drawn knives glistened in a yellow light of the club. Her face covered by a thin blue cloth. It was the Wraith.

“I’d chose your next step very carefully if I were you,” Kaz threatened darkly.

With little hesitation, the man released his tight grip on the bartender’s wrist. She took a couple steps back in retreat. She pulled her wrist to her chest, rubbing the tingling pain away with her other hand. She wondered if it would bruise tomorrow.

Kaz didn’t say anything. He tipped his head to Jesper as if to say ‘escort this man and his pals out of the place.’ He nodded knowingly before calling over the bouncers. They acted quickly by escorting the whole table out of the club despite their protests that their money was good and they didn’t do anything wrong. 

The owner of the club went to stand in front of his bartender. He kept his eyes on the door of the club as the men were forcefully pushed out of the club. She looked at him expectedly. She half expected him to ask if she was alright, but she should have known better because all he said was:

“My office after work.”

Her shoulders slouched at her sides in defeat. She stared at him with a hint of sadness in her eyes. The pain in her wrist was starting to become more prominent with each passing second. It was bound to bruise at this point. 

“Yes boss,” Y/N accepted. 

With her head hung low, Y/N returned to her rightful place behind the bar to finish out the rest of her shift. She dreaded the conversation that she was expected to have at the end of the night, left expectant in the dark about what their topic would pertain to.

Many hours later, the Crow Club was finally closed. The tables had been cleared. The dealers and bouncers had all gone back to their quarters at the Slat. Even Jesper, Wylan, and Inej had made their way back to the place they called home. All that was left was the bartender.

For starters, Y/N had to walk around the club in order to collect all of the glasses and pints. Many of them were left empty, but some of them still had liquid leftover. She returned to the bar to wash the dishes and dry them with her spare rag. She placed the rest of them upside down on the counter to dry overnight.

Next, Y/N made her way to each table to clean the table tops. She then proceeded to stack the chairs on top of table. This took quite some time as they were a lot of tables in the club. But once the tables and chairs were taken care of, Y/N was able to get out a broom and dustpan.

The pigeons often brought in heaps of dust and dirt from the road, which made the naturally brown floorboards this disgusting black color. It took close to an hour of sweeping the place before she was able to move onto the mopping portion of her tasks. 

By this point, it was close to the early hours of the morning. While the sun wasn’t peeking over the horizon, it was bound to in an hours time. Rather sluggishly, Y/N returned to her place behind the bar. She opened a hidden cupboard to retrieve a single pristine teacup. She filled the teacup with a rich black coffee before placing the cup on a silver tray.

Carefully, so not to spill the cup of coffee, Y/N made her way upstairs to the upper level of the club. She cautiously went to approach the door to her boss’s office. She raised her hand to knock twice.

Even though she heard nothing in response, Y/N was able to open the door and make her way inside. She saw her boss sitting behind his desk, working through some of the books. She strode over to his desk to lower the silver tray on top of it. 

As per request, Kaz liked to have a cup of coffee while working on the books every night before leaving the club. He never took any creamer or sugar with his coffee, opting to drink it straight black. Almost fitting to his persona.

Black gloves. Black coffee. Black soul.

Without taking his eyes away from his work, Kaz’s devilishly long fingers curled round the handle of the teacup. He brought the cup to the seam of his lips, tipping the cup slightly upwards to get a taste of its bitter and strong flavor. 

In the three years of working for Kaz Brekker, Y/N always brought him a cup of coffee at the end of the night. She’d watch him drink his coffee, waiting for her next orders. Sometimes Kaz would ask her to restock the new shipment of vodka that had come in from the harbor. Other times, Kaz would ask her to look over the books for him to make sure he didn’t miss anything.

The longest wait had been over an hour long of her just standing in front of his desk, waiting for a verbal dismissal from him. It was always how she ended her night at the club. Sometimes her dismissal came in the form of a short nod. On rare occasions, Kaz would say something like ‘you may go.’ 

Tonight would be different. A fight had almost broke out in the club. A gun could have been fired by Jesper had his patience run out a minute earlier. Blood could have been shed over a mere bartender.

A few moments passed in utter silence. The only sound was coming from Kaz flipping through some papers and when he lowered his drink back down onto the silver tray.

“I’d like to apologize for tonight--,” Y/N began but was quickly interrupted.

“What for?” Kaz said without drawing his gaze away from his work. She paused for a moment.

“There was almost a fight,” Y/N replied blankly.

“Happens from time to time,” Kaz claimed. He wasn’t wrong. “I just prefer to keep my floors clean of blood.”

She knew this better than anyone. He’d always get so frustrated if someone shot a gun off in his club or if someone ended up dead on his floor. Unbeknownst to her, it was solely because she was the one who always had to clean up the mess. He hated seeing her on her hands and knees, scrubbing the blood out of the floorboards. 

He knew that she’d wake up the next day with sore knees and splinters in her hand. An ache in her back that wouldn’t go away for another week. Her hands stained pink from the blood she washed away with a scrubber and bucket. Her eyes tired from having to stay later.

Kaz Brekker knew well of pain. He was old buddies with him. The effects of firepox had caused an unbearable pain when he was much younger. However, the worst pain that Kaz ever endured was when he was fourteen years old. In which, he jumped off the roof of a bank and broke his right leg. That pain failed to leave his side and still resides with him to his day, hint the cane. 

Kaz Brekker knew well of the pain of others. Often times, Kaz found a somewhat sense of joy upon seeing the look of pain in others faces, particularly other members of rivalry gangs. To see a man writhing in pain due to being shot in the leg or being witness to a solid left hook to a jaw. It was often satisfying to say the least.

However, Kaz Brekker concealed behind all his hard armor, could not stand to see one particular person in pain. It shouldn’t have been an issue, but it had been for the past three years. His bartender of all people was the one person on his mind.

He always knew that he liked to take care of his investments, particularly his crows in which he had invested a lot of his money and time into. His bartender was not much of an investment. He had paid off Inej’s indenture years ago and she worked for him as a spy in disguise. He gave Jesper a line of credit in which he quickly became his right hand man. Even Wylan, whom Kaz had taken under his wing, was part of the crew and was a much more valuable asset than any bartender could be. After all, she was just a bartender.

She brought nothing to the table. No intel. No skill. No muscle. Just the ability to make one hell of a cocktail and the strong sense to not ask any questions.

The investment in her was not one for the books. It wasn’t one of the best choices he’d ever made. She made drinks and kept the place tidy. That was it. She was dispensable.

And yet, for some reason, Kaz protected her. He always protects his investments, but especially the ones he truly cares about. He protects his crows as they are the closest thing he has to a family now. He protects the other members of the Dregs as they are what holds his empire together. And he protects his bartender because...

Kaz lifted his head to finally meet her soft gaze. She offered him a small smile that went away as quickly as it appeared. He found himself standing to his feet with the help of his cane, shifting around the side of his desk. He stood in front of her.

He very slowly lowered himself to perch on the edge of his desk, studying her figure with a blank look on his face. She faltered under his strict gaze, dropped her line of sight to stare at the ground instead. She closed her eyes to calm herself.

Suddenly, Y/N felt the soft pads of two leather fingers touch the underside of her chin. Her head was lifted by those fingers until her gaze met those of her boss’s. She held her breathe as she stared directly into the eyes of the bastard of the barrel. 

He took the time to admire all of her features. Her skin was illuminated by the soft golden glow of the fireplace beside them. Her hair smelt of alcohol from the drinks she had been pouring all night. Her lips so perfect because they had never been tempted once to ask a single question.

“Your wrist...” Kaz said softly. 

His other hand made contact with the wrist that had been clutched tightly that night. He brought her hand up to view himself. He went to push away the sleeve of her blouse, settling his gaze on the small purple bruise that had begun to form around her wrist.

“It’ll heal,” Y/N claimed with a shrug of the shoulders. He cast a glance to her.

“They won’t come near you again. That I can promise,” Kaz gave a nod.

“B-But they bring in money. They meant no harm--,” Y/N tried to reason with him.

“They meant harm,” Kaz said curtly. He lifted his head to stare at her hard, unwavering in his opinion on the matter. He examined her wrist once more. “Those kind always do.”

“It’s only a bruise. Not a break or even a sprain,” Y/N replied. She tried to recapture his attention by lowering her head to insert herself into his line of vision. “I am fine. You don’t have to worry about me,” she claimed.

In that moment, Kaz Brekker could feel the walls around his mind and heart begin to fall away at her words. His mind wasn’t plagued with the fear that someone might overhear their conversation. He always believed attachment meant weakness, but just for a moment, he forgot all about his beliefs.

“I do worry,” Kaz said in a soft whisper. He stared into the depths of her eyes, now taking notice of their proximity to one another. That he was able to feel the soft fanning of her breath against his face. “All the time,” Kaz added.

“W-Why’s that?” Y/N replied, almost baffled by his answer.

“Because...” Kaz couldn’t find the words. He was reminded that if he spoke his mind or showed any sense of vulnerability, that he would be deemed weak in his own eyes. So he changed his answer. “You’re an investment. And I like to protect my investments,” Kaz lied under his tongue.

“I can take care of myself,” Y/N chuckled at his response. She wanted to take a step back and turn away from him entirely, but she was too drawn to him.

“The thing is...you don’t have to,” Kaz responded. He dropped his voice to a low whisper so that they couldn’t be heard by anyone other than themselves. His lips curved into a michevious grin. He was up to something. “I can take care of you for the rest of our lives.”

“How?” Y/N narrowed her eyes at him, knowing this was far beyond a (what she thought was) simple confessor of feelings.

“Found myself another job,” Kaz replied. He smirked at her wickedly. “One that will make us rich beyond our wildest dreams.”

Author’s Note:

IT’S BEEN A WHILE, HASN’T IT? I AM HAPPY TO ANNOUNCE MY RETURN.

I loved part 2 of the fake dating! Not to rush you or anything but I'd love a 3 I'd like to see the other shenanigans they get into and maybe see Jason get brutally put in his place. You're a wonderful writer and I really love how you write Eddie's character!

Oh wow! Thank you so much! I’m glad you enjoyed it. I never even thought to make it a series. I’d need some help coming with ideas for what else they could do, but it’s definitely a possibility

Hi, pariposy has reposted at least one of your fics on Wattpad without crediting you. I’m trying to track down all of the authors whose work got stolen but there are 245 fics so it’s a lot of work. I’d really appreciate it if you or your followers could take a moment to look through their books in case you recognize more of your own works or someone else’s

https://www.wattpad.com/1254862936?utm_source=ios&utm_medium=link&utm_content=share_reading&wp_page=reading_part_end&wp_uname=Damspel&wp_originator=EJUc5IeBQ2pbN9OuxhxYDrtjStGIYL8vFzQa%2BqG6rAr46oFNisCqq55CdCWsJor0Ws43eEhYQTbEj00L88SomS0QicunGO0sFm%2FLJEaWpWAdtcZgJV%2FWcoz0w8yRA5Z3

Yes! This is the second or third person to tell me about this. I went ahead and messaged them on Wattpad, kindly asking them to either take it down or at least give the writers credit. I really appreciate all my followers who have brought this to my attention because I honestly had no idea. Thank you so much! Love you guys ❤️

Diana and for Halloween she could dress up as Wonder Woman since the comic came out in 1940. You know one of the Hellfire guys is gonna connect the two

Just a thought!

Love this idea!!!

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Forgiveness | Crosshair from The Bad Batch

Summary: When Crosshair reunites with his old squad, there are some unresolved tension between you.

Warning: spoilers from episode four, slightly jealous Hunter, recalling imprisonment with the empire, some angsty feelings

Pairing: Crosshair x Fem!Reader

Type: Oneshot

Word Count: 2.1k words

Note: Just had this one shot on my mind for a while and wanted to get it fully written. Let me know your thoughts down below!

The past several months had been incredibly difficult for the team. Having just lost Tech and Omega, they didn't quite know what to do or where to go from there. They spent months chasing down leads, desperately searching for any sign that would tell them where the Empire was keeping Omega. But every mission only resulted in another dead end with no usable intel.

It felt like they'd fallen into the same repeating cycle. They'd hear a whisper of something, follow that whisper, and find nothing that could aid them in their search. They refused to give up, especially their leader who was more determined than ever to bring her back home.

After many long tiresome months, their search was finally over. In the end, Omega was the one who had managed to escape from confinement and send a coded message to rendezvous somewhere safe. Now, Omega stood directly in front of them with big tears in her eyes. They'd never felt a stronger sense of relief than having her back safe and sound.

"I had help," Omega told them.

Turning around to face the ship that she'd arrived in, their eyes seemed to follow her line of sight. A figure emerged from the ship's gangplank, descending the ramp slowly. When the infamous sniper came into view, Hunter and Wrecker felt slightly unnerved. They still didn't trust him, watching his movements with extreme caution.

However, as soon as you'd seen him, it almost felt like your heart had dropped to the lowest point in your stomach. Your breath hitched in the back of your throat and you fought the tears that threatened to release. You couldn't believe your eyes.

Sensing your sudden swelling of emotions, Hunter spun around on the heels of his feet to face you. He took a single step forward and reached out to you as if to comfort you, calling your name very so gently.

But you just couldn't look away from Crosshair. Your Crosshair.

The one who had betrayed his family to join the Empire's forces. The one whose chip had activated during the order and changed who he was as a person. The one who hunted you. The one who was finally offered the second chance he wanted so badly by his squad, but refused them in the end. The one who left you and vowed he didn't love you as you had loved him. That Crosshair.

After the Fall of Kamino, Hunter was left to comfort you during one of your lowest times having since been rejected from his younger brother on that platform. He lost count of how many nights you cried yourself to sleep in his arms. You never talked about it, but he knew somehow. That maybe there was still apart of you that cared deeply for him, which was why it hurt all the more.

Now, coming back to your reality, you truly didn't know how to feel. You never thought you'd see him again or if you had expected to see him again, it wouldn't have been in this current situation. He just stood there looking directly at you.

His face was blank. He showed no emotion whatsoever.

Finally, having gathered your courage, you started walking towards him without taking your eyes off him. Hunter had tried to stop you once again, roughly grabbing your forearm to halt your movements.

"Y/n. Wait," Hunter's voice came out rather gruff and harsh.

He was warning you. He didn't know what else to say, but it didn't matter because you quickly tore your hand out of his grasp. And you continued your approach across the space between.

Finally, you came to a halt in front of him. His eyes never looked away from yours and he continued to remain unreadable with his emotions. He waited expectantly.

He didn't know how you'd respond to seeing him again because the last time he had seen you, you confessed your true feelings for him and he chose the empire over you. He'd seen the hurt flash in your eyes when he said he didn't love you, how you fought the tears from falling at his words.

Months later, you were standing in front of him once again. He half-expected you to lash out in anger at him. He wondered what you'd say to him, thinking of how your voice would sound when you tell him: "How dare you show your face again?" He'd even take a couple hits from you if you were angry enough. He wouldn't care, because he deserved all the hate you had for him.

The very last thing that Crosshair expected was to hear a choked sob escape past your lips as your walls came crashing down around you. You closed the distance between the two of you, wrapping your arms tightly around his torso and burrowing your head into his chest. You clung to him so desperately as if you were afraid he'd slip through your fingers again. The tears began to fall down your cheeks as you held him close.

At first, Crosshair didn't know what to do with himself. He stood in your arms stiffly and awkwardly. It took a while before his shoulders finally eased up and he shakily raised his arms to wrap around you. He propped his chin onto the top of your head, relishing in the sweet feeling of your embrace. He closed his eyes slowly.

In the distance, Hunter's gaze hardened. He felt his fists clench at his sides instinctively. A newfound sense of anger began to arise in the pit of his stomach.

"I don't care about the things you've said or the things you've done," you spoke softly. This confession confused him even further. "What matters to me is that you're back."

After another moment, you reluctantly pulled yourself out of his grasp. You flashed him a brief smile, quickly wiping away the tears that stained your cheeks. You created a little distance by taking a step back, wanting to respect his boundaries. He watched you silently because he was honestly too shocked to say anything.

Leaving the rendezvous point in the Marauder, the now reunited members set a course to return to the safe haven planet known as Pabu. The Marauder was traveling through hyperspace, enveloping the entire ship in a tunnel of blue and white flashing stars. The little gonk droid waddled into the cockpit happily.

In the sleeping quarters, Wrecker and Omega had long since fallen asleep in each other's arms. They held Lula between the two of them. If you looked closely, you'd be able to see the faint smiles on their faces while they slept, knowing that they were both so happy to be reunited with one another.

Meanwhile, Hunter tried to busy himself at the control center. He typed on his brother's old data pad, figuring out what their next steps were going to be. If he was being honest with himself, his mind wasn't entirely focused on the task at hand. He often found himself glancing towards the cockpit upon knowing that was were his brother currently resided.

Brushing right past him, you walked directly into the entrance of the cockpit. He watched your retreating figure, which went unnoticed by you. An overwhelming sense of sadness filling his senses as he remembered the longing feeling you felt towards his brother and not him.

When you came into the cockpit, Crosshair was sitting in the copilots chair with his back turned to you. He was chewing on a toothpick, mulling his thoughts over. You were slow to make your presence known to him, gingerly stepping forward in your place.

"I made up your old cot for you," you told him with a hint of hope in your voice. "Thought it would be a good idea for you to get some rest."

He hummed. "And where will you sleep?"

"I--I don't know what you mean," you stumbled over your words, laughing awkwardly to cover it up.

"You used to sleep in my cot during my leave of absence," Crosshair recalled this piece of information because Omega had once told him about it during their time of confinement. "So where will you sleep?" Crosshair repeated himself.

"There's always that extra cot," you said rather sorrowfully. Your gaze fell to the floor when you remembered the notable absence of your squad member.

Hearing your response only made Crosshair close his eyes. It was all still new to him: the fact that he lost one of his brothers. He wasn't used to the feeling of him not being there because he'd always been there. He never imagined what life without Tech would look like. And now, he had to live that reality.

Since Tech died, you hadn't been able to bring yourself to cleaning up his personal space. His old workbench was left exactly how he'd left it with tools and gadgets scattered randomly. His cot was a whole other ordeal. There were wires coming out of places there shouldn't be wires and greasy parts had stained the sheets. Every time you looked at it, it was almost like he was still there living among you. So you never touched it.

That was until now when the need for another sleeping place arose.

"He's been watching you like a hawk," Crosshair's voice was quick to pull you away from your thoughts as he quickly changed the subject. You furrowed your eyebrows in slight confusion.

"Who?" You asked.

"Hunter," Crosshair rolled his eyes. His tone almost hinted: who else would it be?

"Oh," you replied softly, not really knowing how to respond to that.

"He worries about you, you know that right?" Crosshair added. He kept his back to you.

"Well, I--I never..." you threw a brief glance over your shoulder, but you were still at a loss for words.

"He'd be better for you," Crosshair confessed. He dropped his gaze down to his hands which shook ever so slightly in his lap. He clasped them together to stop the shaking. "He's cared about you for a long time and he's been able to take care of you. That's more than I can say."

"Crosshair," you breathed steadily. You called out for him and tried to peer around the chair. "What's this all about?"

Contemplating his next words carefully, Crosshair remained silent for a moment. He closed his eyes and turned his head away as if he wanted to run away from all of his thoughts and feelings. But he knew he couldn't do that.

"I---I care about you," Crosshair confessed, but he still refused to look you in the eyes.

Shoulders depleting at his confession, you felt your own breath escape your throat and your heart clenched tightly in your chest. You struggled to find the words to respond, opening and closing your mouth like a fish out of water.

"B-But I thought..." your voice trailed off as you took a single step forward. You recalled the conversation on Kamino.

"I know what I said!" Crosshair yelled back a little louder than he expected initially. You weakly took a step backwards in retreat, feeling him pushing you away again.

"What changed?" You inquired curiously.

"When I was...in confinement...I had a hard time sleeping," Crosshair began to explain. He kept his gaze locked on his hands as he relived the painful memories. "Every time I managed to fall asleep, I'd think of you. And it made me realize how much I missed you."

There was only silence that followed.

"I've made mistakes; done things that I'm not proud of. But one of my biggest regrets was pushing you away," Crosshair was speaking from the heart.

Before Crosshair knew what was happening, he felt a warm hand come in contact with his cheek. The hand urged him to turn his head and look up directly into your soft and kind eyes. You observed him silently, gazing deeply into the depths of his eyes to look for any deceit or falseness.

But all you could find was a truly broken soul. He had never looked at you like that before with such a tone of pain and hurt behind those eyes. He raised his shaky and unstable hand to grasp your wrist and hold your hand against his cheek. He seemed to lean into your touch, relishing the feeling of your skin against his own.

His hand tremors didn't go unnoticed by you. It was something he carried with him now. And he'd have to find a way to work through that struggle.

There was a part of him that wondered if this was all just another one of his dreams of you. That he'd only imagined escaping prison with Omega, fighting for his life, reuniting with his brothers, and finally confessing his feelings towards you. He closed his eyes and expected to wake up from this horrible dream at any moment. But instead: Crosshair only heard you say.

"I forgive you."

about the emperor of magic series, lets say in the future she and kaz have something going on, can she help him with his fear of touch?? like if she can control someone's mind and thoughts, do you think its possible, idk if it makes sense, but i dont how to explain it

Theoretically, you are correct. She could help him overcome his fear, but I don’t think he wants her getting that close to him and in his mind😏

@webslinger-holland IS BACK EVERYBODY 😭 am I the only one overly blown away by this 😂 like wHaT?? This made my day y’all 💕omg she’s back 😭💕