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clonetrooperjournals · 2 months ago

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I hope you are having a great day today! 😊 I am so obsessed with your two fics about stuttering. You portray everything so well! I was wondering if I could request something similar with Tech and someone who struggles with putting sentences together and having smooth conversations. Thank you so much if you feel like it!

Summary : You're a field medic working with the bad batch. while working on your field guide of medicinal herbs and plants you catch the eyes of the batch's resident genius. Pairings : Tech x Fem!reader (Field medic) Warnings : reader has a stutter, fluff, slight angst, cutie tech, happy ending, pre-order 66 (before echo) Words : 1.6k masterlist here A/N : Thank you so much for this request! I was actually half way through writing this when you requested! I hope you love it these stutter reader fics are my favourite to write!

“C-Can you h-help m-me p-please?”

Tech looks up from his data pad to your burning cheeks and downward gaze with a small smile on his lips, “Of course.”

You lead him over to a large tree with high branches that had small yellow flowers gently blowing in the breeze, “I-I n-need the... the...,” you point to the flowers.

“The flowers. How many do you require?” he asks you gently.

You look up at the tree thinking, “Um... F-Five should b-b-be g-good.”

Tech throws his grappling hook over the thickest branch and then climbs up to grab a handful of the flowers. He'll never say it out loud, (but it is quite obvious to his brothers) that he enjoys helping you, and having you ask him for help. Even though you are very shy and have a rather hard stutter he finds it quite endearing and adorable.

At first when you got assigned to Clone force 99 as their field medic, he found your stutter to be quite annoying, believing that you just lacked the mental capacity to form coherent speech, and he told you so. The boys chewed him out for that one telling him that it wasn’t your fault that you talk the way you do and that if he paid close attention, he would see how incredibly intelligent you are. He did pay attention after that, and he did find that you were in fact, incredibly smart.

You were creating your own medicinal herb kit from the plants and flowers found on the planets they visited and writing a field book on all your findings and how to use them in an emergency. Tech then became intrigued by you and your work, apologizing for his first impression of you. You accepted his apology and told him that before you joined the GAR you were a herb healer on your home planet, and you wanted to expand and share your knowledge which is why you joined the army. It gave you the ability to treat people and being a field medic let you go to different planets and explore the flower and fauna for your medical research.

Most people thought you were really weird, walking around with your large toolbox you used to collect samples, flowers braided in your hair and your shy stuttering demeanor, you couldn’t really blame them. The batch thought you fit in really well with their crazy dynamic saying they needed a quiet one that wasn’t brooding or grumpy like Hunter and Crosshair.

The boys also noticed how since Tech has gotten closer to you, he has developed a crush on you. He's become more patient and understanding, always letting you speak without judging or would help you finish your thought. He helped you with your research and would seek you out for quiet company when his brothers were becoming too much. Hunter can sense that you two have feelings for each other and has tried to say this to Tech, but he doesn’t listen, saying it's impossible for someone as perfect as you to like him back.

“Here you go. Is there anything else in this region that you require for your research?” Tech asks you while giving you the flowers.

You shake your head, “N-no. J-Just these.”

He looks at the yellow flowers in your hand, “and what medicinal properties do these flowers have?”

“T-Thier called s-s-star f-flowers. W-When m-m-mashed into a p-p-paste, i-it can t-t-treat b-burns,” you explain with a smile.

“Time to go you two!” Hunter yells from the ship. You gather up all your supplies and the two of you head back to the marauder. Once back inside you head to your bunk and lay out all your stuff to make the paste while Tech pilots the ship.

Hunter and Crosshair sit in their bunks quietly watching you while you do your work. Your used to the boys coming and seeing what you're doing or offering to help. You put the flowers in a small bowl and grab your mashing tool, then mash the flowers until it looks like a bright yellow paste. You dip your finger in to make sure it’s the right consistency and then get up and walk over to Crosshair.

He raises a brow at you confused as you grab his wrist pulling his blacks back revealing the burn that he was trying to hide from you and gently rub the yellow paste over the burn then wrap it up. If anyone else would have touched Crosshair without his permission, they would have a broken nose, but Crosshair knew you, and knew you did everything with pure innocent intentions.

He scoffed avoiding your gaze, “no point trying to hide anything from you is there petals?”

You giggle at the nickname, “t-that's r-r-right.”

He shows you a rare smile and you pat his shoulder and head back to your bunk. You start to clean out your tool kit, reorganizing the mess you made while you were cataloging, while also sneakily peeking to see if Tech would come and join you. He usually found his way over to you eventually saying that he was the best person to assist you. You smile to yourself thinking about the adorable genius that you’ve come to love, sure he’s straightforward and brutally honest but you’ve come to admire those qualities in him, even if he offends you half the time you know he’s not doing on purpose, it’s just how his wonderful mind works.

Hunter sees you smiling to yourself and chuckles, “You ever gonna confess to him or do we have to continue watching the two of you pine over each other?”

Your eyes go wide and cheeks start to burn, “I-I d-don't know what... what y-y-ou're talking ab-bout.”

“Sure you don’t,” Crosshair crosses his arms looking between you and the cockpit, “apparently the two smartest people on the ship are really the dumbest.”

“Crosshair...” Hunter warns.

Tech leaves the cockpit to join the three of you, “Oh! Did you need any assistance with your cataloging? I am momentarily free...”

“S-Sure Tech.” Hunter grins at you heading to cockpit with Wrecker while Crosshair lies in his bunk looking at his bandaged wrist with a soft look.

...

Currently you and the batch were on Raydonia, a forested planet in the outer rim near Dathomir. Something was malfunctioning on the ship and Tech had to land so he could repair it before you all headed back to Kamino. You had heard about the trees on this planet that had blue glowing fruit, and you had to collect some. Tech and Wrecker were working on the ship while Hunter and Crosshair went to check out the settlement and you figured you could sneak away to collect some of the fruits before anyone realized you were gone. So, you grabbed your supplies and headed into the forest by the ship staying within view so you don't get lost.

You find a tall tree with large fruits that would be perfect for your studies. After trying to shake the fruits from the tree with no success you decided to climb it, thinking you could just slide down the tree afterwards. However, once you were in the tree with a handful of the fruits you realized that you couldn’t get down without dropping and squishing them and it was in this moment that Tech jogged over slightly frazzled.

“What have we told you about going off on your own?”

You blushed, “S-Sorry T-Tech... I w-was j-j-just...”

He sighed, “yes you were trying to collect the fruit but next time inform one of us so that we can assist you and more importantly keep you safe.”

“O-Okay.” You glanced down at Tech with a warm rosy cheeked smile, making his heart flutter.

“Can I assist you?” he asks gently.

You nod, “T-Take the... f-fruit p-p-please.” Then you throw the glowing fruit down, Tech catching them with ease. He puts them in your toolbox and turns back to you as you start to climb down the tree. Except what should be a simple slide down the tree doesn’t happen when instead, your foot gets caught on a lower branch and you fumble, falling hard and fast towards the ground. You close your eyes expecting a hard landing but instead you feel warm arms and hard plastoid envelope you as Tech catches you bridal style before you can hit the ground.

“That was close.” He says looking you over to make sure you were okay. You were frozen in his arms blushing uncontrollably as Tech admires how beautiful you are. The red of your cheeks, the small pink flowers you braided into your hair, and your favourite coveralls that you hand embroidered with colourful flowers, you looked like a walking garden, kriff he was so in love with you.

You put your feet down, but Tech doesn’t let you go still holding your arms, “T-Thank... you T-Tech.”

“Forgive me but I have to speak my mind about something I-,” he brushes a stray hair behind your ear, “I have developed feelings for you.”

Your eyes widen in surprise, “w-what!?”

“I-I’m quite in l-love with you...” he admits nervously, his cheeks just as bright as yours.

You smile at him giggling, “y-you’re s-stuttering.”

He laughs, “I-I am, aren’t I...”

You put a hand on his cheek feeling the burning blush under your fingers, “I-I love... you t-t-too.”

“May I... kiss you?” he asks timidly.

Leaning in you feel his breath mix with yours, “y-yes please.”

The kiss is gentle and shy just like the both of you, and as you pull away you see his eyes twinkle under his goggles.

“Finally! I thought we’d have to wait at least another 200 rotations before they said anything.”

Tech sighs, “Crosshair!”

You laugh and grab his hand, “L-Lets go... f-finish the sh-ship.”

He leans in and kisses your cheek, “Good idea my dear.”

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zoeykallus · 2 years ago

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Hello Zoey

First , I wanted to tell you again that I love the stories you gave us , thank you , really , you're one of the few who can make me forget time when I'm reading 👌❤️

It's my first request so I'm sorry if it's a bit clumsy 😅

I had an idea , imagine that after a mission the reader is so tired that they took the first bunk they saw but it's not their's , how would the batchers react ? x)

Aloha!

Very happy to read this! 😊 Thank you so much!

There is a first time for everything. Don't worry, there is nothing clumsy about it. I think I got it. So pre Relationship, but with already growing yet unspoken feelings? At least that would be my guess. Let me see, this could be fun 😁🤭

The Bad Batch x Reader HCs - Sleepy Mix-Ups

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Warnings: None I guess/SFW/Fluff

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

__________

Hunter

He almost threw his equipment at you. At the last moment, he sees you lying in his bunk and just manages to stop himself. Hunter is puzzled, raises his eyebrows questioningly and looks at you for a moment. A small smile twitches at the corners of his mouth. You look kind of cute lying there in his bunk. He sighs softly and looks around, his gaze falling on your actual bunk. He walks towards it, takes off his equipment, and even before he lies down in it, he smells it. The bedding and the pillow smell of your shampoo, your perfume, of you. A strange, warm shiver runs through his entire body. Hunter looks back over his shoulder to his own bunk, where you are slumbering blissfully. He knows the scent of you will keep him awake for a while, make him woozy. He feels a tingling restlessness under his skin, a silent longing for more of what reaches his nose, more of you. Hunter lies down anyway, the other bunks are occupied, and he doesn't want to wake you. He lies awake half the night and dreams of you await him in his sleep, some gentle, some wild. When he wakes up, his heart is beating fast, his pulse racing as if he has just experienced a pleasantly exciting adventure.

He grins a little stupidly to himself and flinches when he hears your voice. "Sorry, I must have gotten the wrong bunk last night because I was so tired." Hunter clears his throat, straightens up and says with a wink, "It's no problem" He looks nervous and a little shaky, you have no idea why, but as he leaves the room to use the refresher, you don't give it a second thought.

Echo

He stands in front of his bunk and looks down at you. He scratches his chin uncertainly with the scomp link. Echo doesn't really know what to do, he doesn't really want to wake you up, you look so peaceful and relaxed. The day has been hard and exhausting for all of you. He holds his hand over his mouth as he yawns. Tired, he rubs his eyes a moment later. His gaze wanders to your bunk and back again. Echo doesn't quite know whether he should just lie down. You've probably made a mistake out of tiredness, if he were to just lie down in your bed now, he would feel like an intruder. Even if the thought of lying on your pillow, which certainly smells like you, is incredibly tempting. Echo sighs softly, sits down on the floor next to his bunk where you are lying and leans against it. It's anything but cozy, but he's tired enough to fall asleep after a short time sitting up, his head resting halfway on the edge of the bunk. He wakes up when something brushes against his head. The blanket you covered yourself with. You move, it's early morning, you're still half asleep when you see Echo looking at you over the edge of the bunk.

You blink several times, a little startled. "Echo? What are you doing down there?" He straightens up a little awkwardly, his back aching a little from the position he's been sleeping in. He smirks wryly and says, "Well, you occupied my bed, so I had to improvise" You rub the sleep from your eyes and look around the bunk. Echo is right, this is not your bedding, not your bunk. Heat rises in your cheeks, and you stare at him. Others might be angry, but Echo just smiles at you. "Why didn't you just use my bunk?" you ask, confused. Echo shrugs, scratches the back of his head uncertainly and says, "Well, I don't know, I didn't want to just do it without being asked" You laugh softly. "But Echo, I climbed into your bed without being asked" Wrecker in the background, still half asleep himself, grins at you from his bunk, "Echo just wished you'd done it while he was in there"

Echo's eyes widen and his heart races. He feels he has been caught, but grumbles at his brother, "Would you please keep your comments to yourself?" When he looks at you again, you both smile shyly, barely able to meet each other's gaze.

Wrecker

He looks into his bunk, puzzled. Wrecker wasn't expecting this. A little unsettled, he scratches the back of his head and looks around. Everyone else is already asleep, or about to fall asleep. His huge figure stands bent over you next to the bunk you're lying in, his bunk. Normally you would probably have woken up just from the feeling of being watched, by his presence, but you're so wiped out today, probably not even a bomb would wake you up. Wrecker's bunk is bigger than the standardized bunks, because he himself is also bigger than the norm among soldiers, so you should have noticed that alone, but you didn't. He looks over to your bunk, the only one that is still empty and much smaller than he is used to. You mumble something in your sleep. A smile spreads across his face. He was actually toying with the idea of waking you up, but you look so cute, he can't bring himself to do it. Wrecker heads for your bunk, gets ready for bed, and squeezes himself in. When you wake up the next morning, it takes a moment, but you realize you're in the wrong bunk. "Oops," you mumble quietly, straighten up and look around. Everyone is still asleep.

Wrecker is lying in your bunk. He can't stretch out his legs, he's curled up like a fetus, his knees sticking out over the edge of the bunk. It looks uncomfortable, but also adorable. You slip out of bed and quietly walk over to him. You gently nudge him a few times until he opens his eyes. "Hey, big guy," you whisper to him. He blinks, finally grins at you and mumbles back, "Mornin' sweetheart" "Sorry about the bunk, I was so tired I didn't realize which bunk I was in," you say apologetically. Wrecker peels himself out of the too-small bunk and says with a shrug, "It's okay, it can happen" You are relieved that he takes it so lightly. He adds, "Your bunk is pretty tiny, but it smells damn good" You smile shyly and feel your cheeks heat up.

Tech

He almost sits down on you because he is so engrossed in his holopad. At the last moment, he realizes that his bunk is already occupied. Tech lowers the holopad and stares at you silently, as if he could wake you up with his gaze alone. His brow furrowed, he looks at his bunk and wonders how you could have mistaken it. The walls are scrawled with drawings and calculations he made at some point, it's hard to miss. Were you really that tired? He reaches out for you, but just above your arm, his hand stops, he holds it there uncertainly in the air for a while, undecided whether to wake you or not. Actually, this is his bunk, Tech thinks, you shouldn't sleep in it. But there's another thought, a feeling. Because you are sleeping in his bed, you are very close to him in a way. In the morning, his pillow will certainly smell of you. A part of him that he doesn't really understand at the moment, likes that, a lot. He stands there for a long time, the datapad in his hand, watching you. Echo whispers softly over the snoring of the others, "Why don't you go to their bunk, the staring is getting creepy" Tech blinks, startled, and turns to his brother.

He whispers back, "But this is my bunk" Echo sighs and says a little impatiently, "They were extremely tired, I'm sure it was an accident. Now just let them sleep and lie down in their bunk" Tech walks to your bunk, stares at it for a while, then finally lies down. It feels very different, strange, but somehow also pleasant. It smells good, although foreign, but at the same time familiar, because it smells like you. Lost in thought, he begins to paint the walls of the bunk with drawings and calculations. When he falls asleep, Tech still has the pen in his hand and your smell in his nose. It feels like he's falling asleep in your arms and all night long, Tech has a little smile on his lips. When he wakes up, it's still night, and you're already standing next to his bunk. "Sorry," you say quietly. Tech needs a moment to collect himself, the fog of sleep hasn't quite left him yet. "It's okay," he says just as softly, and peels himself out of bed to swap bunks back with you.

You lie down and look around in the semi-darkness. Tech has painted practically every free space. As you lie on your back, you look directly at the sketch of a podracer and a wild sequence of numbers that probably only he understands. You smile. Tech has slept in your bed and left something like his signature, somehow you are so happy about it that you want to kick your feet and squeak.

Crosshair

He is taking off his equipment, turns around and pauses in mid-motion. His brows draw together critically. There's someone lying in his bunk, you. He mutters quietly, "You're kidding me" He lets out an annoyed sigh and stares at you. The intensity of his gaze alone might even have woken you up under normal circumstances, but not today. His gaze finally moves to your bunk, which is empty at the moment, but then his eyes narrow to critical slits. Crosshair has no intention of being evicted from his bunk, accident or not. He grabs you and pushes you to the back of the bunk. Just as you open your eyes in shock and blink, trying to get your bearings, he joins you and takes part of the blanket, decently enough to keep you covered. Startled, you stare at him.

"But... what...?" He cocks a brow at you. "This is my bunk, if you want to sleep in it, fine, but I'm not swapping, so you better get used to me being close or crawl back into your own, kitten" he grumbles. Your heart is racing, you're confused and speechless, trying to untangle the situation in your mind. Just having him so close to you makes you nervous enough. But to be honest, you have no desire to go back to your own bunk. All you say is a quiet, "Okay" A smirk twitches briefly at the corner of his mouth, barely noticeable. Quietly and much more softly, in his smoky voice, he says as he closes his eyes, "Good night, Kitten"

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@andyoufollowyourheart @clone-whore-99

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aynavaano · 5 months ago

Text

The heat on Thyferra

Hunter x f!reader

Rating: Explicit/NSFW

Wordcount: 9k

Summary: You got assigned to Clone Force 99 as a medic but also to keep an eye on their methods. It did’t take long for you to fall for Hunter and you fell hard, but it seemed like he was totally unaware. It got more difficult to deal with your feelings by the minute until after a heated training session you decide to ask for a reasignment.

Notes: This takes place during the Clone Wars pre Echo joining the Batch. Ngl this is completely self indulgent porn with very little plot. Mutual pining, idiots to lovers kind of, yearning, masturbation, consensual voyeurism, oral f! and m! receving, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, porn with feelings aka “It’s always been you”, slight cum/breeding kink, yeah Hunter has a breeding kink, knife kink if you squint, also no beta, I don’t have enough horny friends to proofread this insanity

Getting assigned to Clone Force 99 wasn’t what you had expected when you joined the Republic's science and medical corps. The stories about them were legendary—whispers of impossible missions pulled off by a squad of “defective” clones with a 100 percent success rate. But those stories also included frequent mentions of damaged equipment, questionable methods, trouble to follow orders and complete lack of reports, the bane of any commanding officer's existence.

You’d been with the 104th battalion, the Wolfpack, before this assignment, and leaving them had been hard. The boys had been good to you, treating you like one of their own. Commander Wolffe had even gone so far as to personally request that you stay with them when word came down that you were being reassigned. It seemed everyone in the GAR knew about your reassignment before you did, and you’d heard the murmurs—Clone Force 99, the “Bad Batch,” was getting a natborn and they were apparently not happy. Despite the rumors, the transitions was smoother than anticipated and they’d been kind to you from the start, even if none of them were particularly keen on having someone outside their tight-knit group join their ranks.

Well, almost all of them.

Crosshair, with his sharp tongue and sharper aim, took some time to warm up to you. The sniper was standoffish, always seeming to watch you from the corner of his eye, as though waiting for you to prove you didn’t belong. His words were often cutting, laced with sarcasm that bit deeper than he intended, or maybe exactly as he intended. But over time, you learned to see the cracks in his armor, the subtle ways he showed he cared—an extra ration pack left for you when supplies ran low or a slight shift in position that put you in the safest part of the formation during firefights. You’d come to realize that beneath the layers of snark and cold professionalism was a fiercely loyal and caring brother, someone who would lay down his life for his squad and now, it seemed, for you.

But it wasn’t Crosshair who stole your breath and left you with sleepless nights. It was Hunter, the sergeant and leader of the squad. From the moment you patched him up after your first mission together, you were hooked. You couldn’t help but be drawn to the contrast between his deadly efficiency in the field and the quiet, almost gentle demeanor he had off it. Hunter was everything a soldier should be—strong, capable, and confident—but it was the way he looked at you with those intense, caring eyes that made your heart race.

His long, curly hair and that signature skull tattoo had caught your eye the first time you saw him, but it wasn’t until you had him on the med table, shirt off, his muscled chest exposed, that you realized just how breathtaking he really was. The tattoo that stretched down the whole left side of his body, bold and dark against his tan skin, left you speechless. You remember how your hands had trembled slightly as you cleaned the wounds on his side, pretending not to notice the way his muscles tensed under your touch or the heat that radiated from his body.

“Everything alright there, Doc?” he’d asked, his voice smooth and low, with a hint of amusement in his tone.

You’d nodded too quickly, turning to grab more bandages to cover your flustered state.

“Just making sure you don’t end up with a nasty scar,” you’d managed to say, trying to sound professional even as your mind raced with thoughts you had no business entertaining.

He’d chuckled softly, a sound that didn’t help the slightest but in fact sent shivers down your spine.

“Don’t worry, scars are part of the job.”

But it wasn’t just the physical attraction that pulled you to him. It was the way he carried the weight of his squad on his shoulders, the way he always put them first, and how he made sure you were safe and taken care of, even when you were the one patching them up. It was the quiet moments when he would sit beside you after a mission, asking how you were doing, his voice full of genuine concern. He was always professional, always in control, but sometimes it felt like there was something more there, something simmering just below the surface, but you convinced yourself it was just your nerves, getting the best of you.

Every time you thought about him, every time you remembered the way his tattoo snaked down his body, the way his eyes darkened when he looked at you, it took all your willpower not to let your thoughts wander into territory that was far from professional.

You knew you were falling for Hunter. Hard. And no matter how much you tried to push those feelings down, they kept bubbling up, threatening to spill over.

At first, it was easy to dismiss the way your heart would skip a beat when he was around, chalking it up to simple attraction.

How could you not be physically drawn to him? You had seen him training one morning, his toned body moving with a deadly grace that left you breathless. His caramel skin glistened with sweat, each muscle defined and rippling under the effort of his workout.

That image was seared into your mind, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't shake it.

But it was more than just the way he looked. The more time you spent with Clone Force 99, the more you saw the depth of Hunter's character. He wasn't just their leader; he was their protector, their confidant, their brother. The way he cared for his squad, always putting them first, always making sure they were safe and looked after, it made something inside you shift. Watching him interact with his brothers, seeing the soft side he showed them, the gentle way he handled their concerns, that was what truly made you fall for him.

And then, he decided you needed better training.

Despite your basic training and the fact that one of them was always by your side during missions, Hunter insisted on making sure you could take care of yourself. It was a logical decision, of course-ensuring that you were capable of defending yourself in the heat of battle. But it was also the beginning of your downfall.

You had managed to keep a professional distance up until then. Sure, you got close when you were patching him up, and the others had no problem with your occasional use of Wrecker as a giant pillow after a hard-fought battle. But training sessions were different. Having Hunter watch you during target practice with Crosshair, his eyes never leaving you, his voice low and encouraging, it was enough to make your pulse race. But it was the hand-to-hand combat training that really did you in.

His hands were on you constantly, guiding you through moves, showing you how to defend yourself, and it left you hot and bothered beyond reason. His touch, firm but careful, sent sparks through your body every time and left your skin burning. You could feel his breath on your neck when he got close, his scent surrounding you, making it impossible to focus on anything but him.

You'd leave those sessions flustered and on edge, your body aching for something more, something only he could give. Nights became torture. You'd wait until the others were asleep, until the sounds of their soft snores filled the ship, and Tech had retreated to the cockpit, closing the door for some peace and quiet. Only then would you allow yourself the release you so desperately needed. You'd slip a hand down your body, rubbing your pussy with feverish need, trying to imagine it was him. You'd fuck yourself on your fingers, your mind filled with thoughts of Hunter-his hands, his mouth, his cock.

You'd listen carefully, straining to make sure no one woke up, praying that your sounds were swallowed by the hum of the ship. Sometimes, you thought you heard a groan, something low and rough, but you convinced yourself it was just your nerves playing tricks on you. Your fingers would clutch the sheets, your teeth sinking into your pillow to muffle the moans and whimpers that threatened to escape. You didn't dare moan his name, didn't dare let anyone know how far gone you were.

But it was never enough. No matter how hard you tried, no matter how many times you brought yourself to the edge and over, it never satisfied you.

Because what you really wanted-what you craved-was Hunter. You wanted him buried deep inside you, wanted to feel his cock stretching you, filling you in a way your fingers never could. The need for him consumed you, until you knew without a doubt that you were damned.

He was in your thoughts constantly, day and night, and you prayed to the Maker that he would soon be satisfied with your training so you could get some distance. But it only seemed to get worse. Every day was a struggle, every touch, every look a reminder of what you couldn't have. And the worst part was, you didn't know how much longer you could hold out before you snapped, before you threw caution to the wind and let the hunger take over. Because the truth was, you were already in too deep, and there was no going back.

***

The oppressive humidity on Thyferra was like a suffocating blanket that wrapped itself around you, making every breath feel thick and heavy. You had been on this forsaken planet for far too long, monitoring a nearby military base that was suspected to cooperate with Separatists and waiting for new orders that never seemed to come. The air was stifling, clinging to your skin, and the temperature was wearing you all out. Tech and Crosshair were out, trying to scavenge supplies and something edible other than ration bars from the next settlement, leaving you with Hunter and Wrecker. Wrecker, with nothing better to do, was snoring loudly in the shade of a massive tree, blissfully unaware of the discomfort the rest of you were enduring.

Hunter, however, was determined to continue your training, despite the unbearable heat. He seemed unaffected by the temperature, his focus solely on sharpening your skills. But you weren’t so lucky. The humidity made it hard to concentrate, and the fact that Hunter had discarded his shirt halfway into the session only added to your distraction. His caramel skin glistened with sweat, each movement highlighting the toned muscles beneath, and it took all of your willpower to keep your eyes on the task at hand.

You tried to focus, determined to finish the session with dignity, even as your body screamed for relief from the weather and the heat burning in your core. You countered Hunter’s next attack brilliantly, moving swiftly and with precision, managing to get a good grip on his arm. But just when you thought you had the upper hand, your sweaty hands slipped. Hunter didn’t waste a second, using your falter to his advantage. In one fluid motion, he had you pinned to the ground, the impact knocking the air from your lungs.

For a moment, all you could do was gasp, struggling to regain your breath. The world spun slightly as you blinked your eyes open, only to be met with the intense gaze of Hunter staring down at you. His knife was pressed lightly against your throat—a reminder of how easily he could have taken you down in a real fight—but it wasn’t only the weapon that had your heart racing. It was him. The weight of his body on yours, the heat radiating off of him, the musky scent of his sweat. It was overwhelming, intoxicating, you felt heat pool low in your belly and your control slipping.

Your breath came in short, shallow pants, and you could see that Hunter was breathing heavily too, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Sweat dripped from his wet hair, landing on your skin and mixing with your own. You suddenly were hyper-aware of every inch of him pressing down on you, every muscle in his body coiled and tense as he kept you pinned beneath him. The proximity was too much, the physical contact too intimate, and you felt something inside you snap.

Without thinking, you balled your fist and punched him in the gut. It wasn’t hard enough to hurt him, but it was enough to surprise him, causing him to loosen his grip just enough for you to roll to the side and escape. You scrambled to your feet, your chest heaving, and you threw your knife to the ground in frustration.

“I’m done,” you spat out, your voice sharp with a mix of anger and something else you couldn’t quite name.

“It’s too hot for this.”

You are too hot for this - you added in your thoughts before you turned and stomped away, not waiting for his response, not wanting to see the confusion—or worse, the understanding—in his eyes.

You stormed back toward the ship, your emotions a chaotic swirl inside you. It seemed Hunter had no idea what he did to you, the pure torture of having him so close, the way your body ached with need every time he was near. And even if he did know, you were convinced he didn’t feel the same. If he had, surely he would have made a move by now, right?

The thought brought tears to your eyes, and you blinked them back angrily, determined not to let them fall. You needed to get to the fresher, needed to cool down and take care of the throbbing between your legs that had become a constant reminder of what you couldn’t have.

You forced yourself to breathe deeply, trying to regain some semblance of control. You couldn’t keep going like this, couldn’t keep torturing yourself with what you could never have.

You knew what you had to do. As soon as this mission was over and you were off this cursed planet, you were going to request a reassignment. Maybe you could go back to the Wolfpack, or find a spot with any other battalion. Anywhere, as long as it got you as far away from Hunter as possible. You liked being with the batch, you had grown to care about them all deeply, but staying would only lead to more suffering and you couldn’t keep acting like a little desperate tooka in heat, couldn’t risk that one day you’d get distracted on the battlefield and someone would get hurt.

The decision made, you felt a sense of resolve settle over you, though it did little to ease the ache in your heart. You’d do what you had to do, for your own sanity. But until then, you had to endure, had to find a way to keep your distance and survive this mission without letting your feelings get the best of you.

But you heard footsteps behind you already before you even reached the top of the ramp, your heart pounding in your chest.

When he called your name, you turned to face him, struggling to maintain your composure. Hunter's face was a mix of emotions, and you couldn’t quite decipher the expression in his eyes.

Was it concern? Frustration? Something else entirely? The turmoil boiling within you made it difficult to think clearly.

"I'm sorry if I pushed you too far," Hunter said, his voice low and sincere.

You let out a huff, trying to mask the storm raging inside you.

"It's just the climate," you answered, forcing a casual tone, "I need to calm down and take a shower."

But his gaze didn’t waver. It was intense, pinning you in place and making you squirm under its weight. For a split second, you thought he'll turn and leave, that this conversation would end with you retreating to the fresher to relieve the throbbing in your core and try to forget the way he made you feel. But then, he spoke again, and your brain short-circuited as you processed his words.

"Stop lying to me, I know where you’re going" he said, his tone firm but not unkind. "It's not the mission or the climate. It's me."

You stared at him, your heart hammering in your chest. You didn’t know how to respond. His words hung in the air between you, heavy and charged. For a moment, you half expected him to turn away, to say he doesn't want to put up with your drama any longer, to give you the reassignment you were wishing for just moments ago.

But when he spoke again, his voice was soft, laced with something you couldn’t quite place.

"I heard you," he admitted, his eyes searching yours.

"Do you know how much torture it was, listening to your sweet whimpers, your muffled moans of my name? How often you made me make a mess in my own bunk, unable to do anything about it because I didn't want to let you know I noticed and risk making you uncomfortable?"

His words left you speechless, your thoughts spinning. You thought you’d made sure they were all fast asleep, karking hell, Hunter and his heightened senses. You’d never imagined he knew, let alone that he might feel the same way. The realization hit you like a ton of bricks, and all the carefully constructed walls you've built to protect yourself came crumbling down in an instant. You felt exposed, vulnerable, but there was also a flicker of hope, a small spark of something that made you want to step forward, to close the distance between you.

You tried to speak, but your voice failed you, the words catching in your throat. All that came out was his name, a whisper, barely audible. Finally, you managed to choke out,

"I'm sorry."

Hunter's expression softened, and he stepped closer, his presence comforting despite the heat that threatened to consume you.

"Cyar’ika," he murmured, the endearment made your heart flutter.

"There’s nothing to be sorry about."

He paused, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch.

"But I can’t handle it anymore, one more night of listening to your sweet sounds, one more day on the ship, filled with the scent of your arousal without any relief and I will go crazy," he continued, his voice thick with a mix of desire and restraint.

"Please, just let me watch you. *Gedet’ye*."

The mando’a term send a flush straight to your cheeks, the vulnerability in his voice, the raw need—how could you possibly deny him when he’s looking at you like you’re the most precious thing in the galaxy?

"I won’t touch you if you don’t want it, just want to see you, want to see what I could only imagine all those nights listening" he said, his voice a little softer now, almost pleading.

"That’s enough for me."

It’s then you noticed the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, the faint tremor in his words. He was afraid—afraid that maybe he was just a fantasy for you, a secret desire you indulged in but never intended to bring into reality.

For a moment, the power dynamic shifted. The usually confident and composed sergeant seemed vulnerable, exposed in a way you’ve never seen him before. This side of him, this raw honesty, made you fall for him even more deeply, your heart aching with the need to give him everything.

You couldn’t find your voice, so you nodded, your body moving on instinct, your mind still reeling from the weight of the moment. You had no idea where this would lead, but you did know one thing—you wanted him completely. But if watching you is all he wanted, you’d give it to him, without hesitation.

Hunter took a quick glance outside to ensure Wrecker was still snoring away under the tree. Once he was satisfied that you were alone, he squeezed your hand gently and guided you into the cockpit. The door slid shut behind you with a soft hiss, sealing you both inside the dimly lit space.

He led you to the pilot's chair, and you couldn't help but think of Tech's reaction if he knew you were about to do something so... filthy in his sacred cockpit.

Hunter sensed your hesitation and hesitantly cupped your face, his touch warm and steady, anchoring you to the moment.

"It's just us, cyar'ika," he murmured, his voice a low, soothing rumble that sent a shiver down your spine.

"No one has to know what happens between us if you don’t want to."

He guided you to sit in the pilot's chair, his presence overwhelming in the small, enclosed space. You pulled him down with you, taking his hands in yours encouraging him to touch you. Your heart raced, pounding in your chest as he knelt down in front of you, his hands sliding up your thighs, urging them apart. You let out a shaky breath, your nerves and excitement tangling together in a heady mix.

Hunter's hands slid down your sides, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your pants. He searched your gaze for confirmation pulling slightly. You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest as you lifted your hips, allowing him to slide your pants and panties all together down your legs.

He inhaled deeply and when he looked back up at you, the golden brown in his eyes was almost gone, replaced by dark pupils blown with lust.

“Fuck”, he hissed through gritted teeth “so beautiful. Show me how you've been touching yourself, thinking about me. Let me see you fall apart for me."

Your heart raced as you slowly started to rub your clit, circling it with your fingers, your other hand sliding down to tease your entrance. You let out a shaky breath, your hips moving in time with your fingers, but it was not enough.

You whimpered, your fingers sliding over your slick folds, it just wasn't enough. Not now, when he was there, watching you with that intense gaze, his breath ghosting over your skin. Your fingers didn't satisfy you the way you needed; they never had.

You let out a pathetic whine, a sound that was part frustration, part desperate need.

"I want you to make yourself come for me”, Hunter said, his voice a low growl that sent a thrill through your entire body.

You shook your head, your breath hitching in your throat.

"I can't”, you whined, your voice breaking with the intensity of your longing.

"It's not enough, Hunter." the words slipped from your lips before you could stop them.

The plea hung between you, heavy and loaded with meaning. There was no going back now, not after this.

Whatever happened, you couldn't just walk away and pretend nothing had changed. You were too far gone, too wrapped up in him, in this moment.

"Please”, you begged, your voice trembling, as every last bit of your restraint left you.

"I need more. A kiss, your fingers-just something.”

Hunter's eyes darkened with desire, and a slow, knowing smile curved his lips. He stood and, with deliberate slowness, pulled down his shorts, revealing his rock hard cock. It was even more glorious than you had imagined - thick, long, with a slight curve that promised to hit all the right spots. The sight of precum beading at the tip made your mouth water.

You gasped, your eyes locked on him, taking in every detail, every inch of him. It was like a fantasy brought to life, and you could hardly believe this was really happening.

"If you really want me, cyar'ika”, he said, his voice rough with desire, "you have me and I’ll give you everything you want. But first..."

He stepped closer, his hand gently cupping your cheek, thumb brushing over your bottom lip.

"I want to see what I missed out on all those nights."

You swallowed hard, your heart racing as you nodded, your body trembling with anticipation.

"| want you," you breathed, the words spilling from your lips in a rush.

Hunter's smile widened, and he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered,

“Then you know what to do."

Your hand slid down between your legs again, fingers circling your clit as your eyes locked onto his. His gaze was dark, intense, and filled with a hunger that mirrored your own. You started to move your fingers, slow at first, building up the tension again, the pleasure, under his watchful eyes. His cock twitched, and you could see how hard he was holding himself back, waiting, watching, letting you take the lead. But you hoped, deep down, that he wouldn't be able to resist for long.

You continued to fuck yourself on your fingers, the sensation of your own touch heightened by the sight of Hunter in front of you. His cock was fully on display now, thick and hard, just as you'd imagined so many times. Your eyes were glued to it, watching as he wrapped his hand around the base and gave himself a few slow, deliberate pumps. The way he handled himself so confidently, so naturally, made your mouth water and your core clench with need.

All you could think about was how it would feel to have him inside you, stretching you, filling you completely. The thought alone made the coil in your core tighten deliciously, your body already teetering on the edge of release. Hunter seemed to sense how close you were. His eyes, dark with lust, locked onto yours, and his voice came out in a low, velvety command.

"Look at me, cyar'ika."

Your gaze snapped to his, and what you saw there was your undoing. His face was a mix of raw desire and something deeper, something almost tender. His cheeks were flushed, a warm color against his caramel skin, and his pupils were blown wide with lust, all of it for you. That look - hungry, wanting, and completely focused on you was all you needed to push yourself over the edge.

When the first wave of your orgasm hit, you let loose and moaned his name loudly, your body arching off the chair. The moment your release flooded through you, Hunter was there, his strong arms wrapping around you, pulling you into him. His lips found yours in a kiss that was both hungry and sweet, swallowing your moans as his hands roamed over your body, grounding you as you rode out your high.

His touch, his scent, the feel of his solid body pressed against yours - it was overwhelming, like floodgates had opened, and everything you'd been holding back rushed out all at once. You clung to him, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you gasped out the words that had been burning inside you for so long.

"I want you Hunter," you whispered, your voice trembling with need. "I want all of you."

Hunter's response was immediate, his voice a deep, soothing rumble against your ear. "You have me”, he said, his lips brushing against your skin. "you've always had me, cyar'ika. It's always been you."

His words wrapped around you like a warm embrace, and you couldn't help the tears that pricked at the corners of your eyes. It was too much - too intense, too perfect - and yet, it was everything you'd ever wanted. You nuzzled into his neck, breathing him in, letting the reality of his words slowly sink in.

"…thought.." you struggled to find the right words, your voice catching in your throat. "I thought maybe you didn't notice...me, or didn’t want me."

Hunter pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his expression softening.

"How could I not want you?" he said, his thumb brushing a tear from your cheek. "I noticed every look, every touch. I noticed how you made excuses to be near me, how you lingered in the room just a little longer after everyone else had gone. And then suddenly it felt like you were running away from me, avoiding me and it drove me crazy, because I didn’t know what to do."

You inhaled sharply, trying to steady your shaking hands.

"Hunter... I don't think you realize what it's like to watch you from a distance. You walk into a room, and every head turns. People flirt with you -boldly, shamelessly- and you don't even flinch. Meanwhile, I thought I was just... invisible to you. Just part of the team. And I couldn’t handle it anymore.”

You forced yourself to meet his gaze.

He chuckled softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips.

"You think I don’t see the way other women look at me and sometimes men too? All the attention in bars, in the markets?"

He shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "I noticed them all, but I didn't care. None of them were you. From the moment you were assigned to the squad, all I wanted was you."

His words hit you like a freight train, and you were left reeling from the intensity of his confession. You reached up, cupping his face in your hands, your thumb tracing the lines of his tattoo.

“You remember the Jedi general we had with us for two missions shortly after you’ve been assigned to us?” he said.

“Did you notice how she looked at you? I always thought it’s not the jedi way but she quickly sensed how I felt for you and she was jealous.”

"Hunter..."

He leaned into your touch, his eyes closing briefly as if savoring the feel of your hands on him. "I’m yours, cyar'ika," he murmured, opening his eyes to meet yours again. "And you can be mine. If thats what you want."

You pulled him into another kiss, your heart soaring at his words. It was everything you'd ever dreamed of and more. The man you'd been longing for, craving, was finally yours, and he wanted you just as badly. You deepened the kiss, pouring all your emotions into it, and you felt him respond equally, his hands roaming over your body with a hunger that matched your own.

When you finally broke the kiss, you were both breathless, your foreheads resting together as you shared a moment of quiet intimacy. It was a connection that went beyond just the physical - it was something deeper, something that had been building between you for so long. And now that it had finally been acknowledged, there was no turning back.

Hunter's hands slowly slid under your shirt, lifting it over your head.

"Let me see all of you”, he whispered, his voice rough with desire.

"Want to worship every inch of you."

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest as you helped him get off your training bra. You were bare before him now, exposed and vulnerable, your nipples instantly hard, but there was no fear - only anticipation, only need.

He reached up to cup your breasts, his thumb ghosting over your nipple and you leaned back in to kiss him again. His tongue pleaded for access and you let him in, let him explore your mouth, his taste sweet and intoxicating. One hand tangled in his hair you let the other snake down his chest until you reached his cock, giving him a few lazy pumps, earning a few groans from him in return.

But just when you were ready to lose yourself completely in him, Hunter broke the kiss, pulling back slightly.

He looked down at you, his breathing ragged, his dark eyes full of desire and something else - something deeper, more meaningful.

"Wa…want to do this right," he said, his voice low and husky.

You blinked up at him, dazed and trembling with need, but his words made your heart stutter in your chest. He wasn't just looking for a quick release; he wanted this to mean something, to be something you would both remember.

Before you could say anything, he glanced quickly out of the viewport, checking to make sure Wrecker was still peacefully snoring outside. Satisfied, he turned back to you, and with a few quick taps on the console, you heard the soft hiss of the ramp closing.

The ship was now sealed, offering you the privacy you desperately needed.

Without another word, Hunter scooped you up into his arms, holding you close against his chest as he carried you to the bunk area. There was a determination in his movements, a focused intensity that only made you want him more. He set you down gently, then quickly began to rearrange the bunks, pulling two mattresses together and throwing a few blankets and cushions onto the floor to create a cozy, makeshift bed.

"Perfect," he murmured, almost to himself, before turning back to you.

His hands were on you again in an instant, pulling you down onto the mattress with him.

“When we're out of here, I’m going to take you some place nice …but for now this is all I can offer you”

“Hunter…I don’t need anything else, just you.”

He kissed you everywhere - your lips, your neck, your collarbone, working his way down to your breasts. His tongue was hot and wet as he took one nipple into his mouth, sucking and nipping at the sensitive flesh, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core.

"Hunter," you gasped, your fingers tangling in his hair as he moved to your other breast, giving it the same attention. The way he touched you, the way he kissed you, it was like he was memorizing every inch of your body, committing it all to memory.

He let his head dip down between your legs, kissing and nibbling along your soft inner thighs until he reached your wet pussy and liked a long stripe from your entrance up to your clit. You felt him shudder and you let out a soft whimper when he flicked his tongue against your swollen bud, still sensitive from your first orgasm.

"I've wanted this for so long," he growled against your skin, his voice thick with need. "Wanted you for so long."

You could only moan in response, arching your back as he positioned himself above you.

His cock was heavy and hot against your thigh, and when he dragged the tip through your soaked folds, your whole body trembled with anticipation. You were so wet for him, so ready, and the sensation of his cock teasing you, brushing against your clit before dipping back down to your entrance, was almost too much to bear. He bit your neck, not hard enough to hurt but enough to leave a mark and to make you shiver with desire.

"Hunter, please," you whimpered, your hips bucking up, seeking more.

He reached up, his hand cupping the back of your head, his fingers threading through your hair. He held you like that, firm but gentle, and his eyes locked onto yours, intense and unyielding.

"Look at me," he whispered, his voice low and rough. "I want you to look at me when I take you”

You nodded, your breath hitching as he slowly began to push into you. The stretch was delicious, the feeling of him finally filling you was overwhelming. Your eyes never left his, the connection between you electric.

As he sank deeper into you, his eyes never wavered from yours, and you could see the raw emotion there - the desire, yes, but also something more, something that made your heart ache with its intensity.

"Maker" he groaned, his voice strained as he bottomed out inside you. "You feel so good, cyar’ika. Better than I ever imagined."

You clutched at his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as you tried to hold on, your body adjusting to the fullness of him, reveling in the feeling you had yearned for far too long.

"Hunter,” you breathed out, your voice trembling with the depth of your need for him.

"Move, please."

And then he did, pulling back slowly before thrusting back in, and it was like nothing you'd ever felt before.

The pleasure was overwhelming, all consuming, and you couldn't help the way your body arched up into his, seeking more, wanting more. You were intoxicated from a heady mix of chemicals and hormones your own body produced and you couldn’t get enough of.

He watched you the whole time, his gaze never leaving yours, and you could see the way he was fighting to keep control, to hold back from losing himself completely in you.

"Say you’re mine" he gasped.

You moaned, your hands clutching at him, needing to feel every inch of him, to be as close to him as possible. You angled your hips to allow him to reach deeper.

"I'm yours, Hunter. Always yours."

His pace quickened, his thrusts becoming more forceful, and you could feel yourself hurtling towards another orgasm, the coil in your core tightening with every movement of his hips. He reached down where your bodies were joined and began to circle your clit.

"Come for me," he demanded, his voice rough and commanding. "I want to feel you come around my cock."

And with those words, you were gone, your body shattering as your orgasm crashed over you, your walls desperately clenching around him. Hunter's thrusts became frantic as he neared his release, his breath ragged in your ear.

"Where do you want me?" he asked, his voice low and desperate, teetering on the edge. His eyes searched yours, filled with lust and need.

"Inside”, you whispered, breathless, and the moment the word left your lips, it was like something snapped within him.

His body reacted instantly, a guttural groan escaping his throat. He pushed as deep into you as he could, burying himself completely, ensuring he was filling you in the most intimate way possible.

The warmth of his release surged inside you, and you gasped at the overwhelming sensation. His cock pulsed, each wave of his cum shooting against your cervix, sending electric shivers through your entire being. You clung to him, trembling as your walls tightened around him, pulling him in further, savoring every last drop he spilled inside you.

"Fuck," he groaned, his hips stuttering as he emptied himself into you, holding you tight like he never wanted to let go. You felt utterly filled, connected, the sensation of his heat mixing with the deep satisfaction of having him this close. The world had narrowed down, leaving only the two of you.

Hunter's lips found yours again, soft and lingering, filled with a quiet happiness that made your heart swell. His forehead rested against yours for a moment, his breath mixing with yours in the peaceful aftermath. You smiled at him, your fingers tracing light patterns on his chest as he pressed a tender kiss to the tip of your nose.

His cock slowly softened and slipped out of you, leaving a tender warmth in its wake. The room was quiet, filled only with the sound of your shared breaths as you remained close, tangled together in the afterglow.

He glanced down between your bodies, his eyes darkening with satisfaction as he watched his cum begin to ooze out of you. Without a word, he gently took two fingers, gathering it and pushing it back into you with a quiet hum of appreciation.

You giggled at his playful possessiveness, your body shivering at the intimate sensation of his fingers moving inside you, even after everything you'd just shared. The sound of your laughter made his grin widen, a soft chuckle rumbling from his chest.

Hunter's hand gently cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing your skin as he whispered,

"I love you, cyar'ika. More than anything."

Your heart swelled at his words, and you leaned into his touch, your fingers tracing the lines of his jaw.

"I love you too, Hunter," you replied softly, your voice full of emotion.

He smiled, his forehead resting against yours.

"I'm never letting you go," he promised, his voice low and filled with tenderness.

"Come on," he whispered, leaning in to kiss your lips again before he stood and scooped you up effortlessly into his arms.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, resting your head against his shoulder as he carried you towards the fresher. He handled you with such care, his strong arms making you feel light as air.

"Let's get you cleaned up," he said, the warmth in his voice unmistakable.

You let out a contented sigh, feeling utterly safe in his embrace as he carried you into the fresher.

He carefully adjusted the water, making sure it was the perfect temperature before gently setting you into the warm stream.

"I'll clean up the ship real quickly," he said with a playful smirk, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "Don't want to deal with an angry Tech later. I'Il be back in a moment, cyar'ika."

You nodded, leaning back against the wall of the fresher, the warmth of the water soothing your body as you watched him leave. A soft smile crept onto your face, feeling content in the peaceful aftermath. It all still felt like a fever dream, something your mind had come up with to cope with the burning desire that had slowly driven you crazy. If it wasn’t for the faint rustling of bedsheets you heard you might have believed you had fallen victim to your own imagination.

But Hunter returned moments later, true to his word, stepping back into the fresher with you. He pulled you into his arms, and kissed you, the water running over both of you as you melted into the moment once more, feeling safe and cherished in his embrace.

As you pulled back from the kiss, Hunter rested his forehead against yours, his breath warm and steady. His eyes, filled with quiet intensity, searched yours.

"I'm sorry I didn't make a move earlier," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "I've wanted you for so long... but I was afraid, afraid that you wouldn’t want me and what it meant for the squad. I love you so much, cyar'ika. More than you know."

The sincerity in his words made your heart swell, and you gently cradled his face, your fingertips tracing the lines of his jaw.

"I love you too, Hunter," you whispered, your voice barely audible but heavy with meaning.

It was a confession you had been holding onto for so long, and now that it was finally spoken, it felt right-perfect. His lips curved into a small, tender smile, his gaze softening as he looked at you.

"I'll request your permanent assignment to the squad,” he said, his voice filled with quiet determination. "If that's what you want. I might even try to fill out a report here and there."

The thought made you chuckle but without hesitation, you nodded, your heart pounding in your chest.

"I want that... more than anything."

Hunter kissed you again, slow and deep, pouring all the love and longing you had both been holding back into the kiss. His hand slid down between your legs, fingers brushing gently over your sensitive skin. You gasped into his mouth, your body responding instantly to his touch, the intimacy of the moment wrapping around you both like a cocoon.

He pressed himself closer, and you could feel the hard length of him against your thigh, already ready for you again.

"I can't get enough of you, I’m sorry." he whispered, his voice husky with desire, his fingers teasing you, drawing out soft whimpers as your body burned with need for him all over again.

You sank slowly to your knees, your gaze never leaving his as your hands trailed down his body. Taking him into your mouth, you savored the feel of him - big, warm, heavy on your tongue and throbbing with need. His taste filled your senses, and the low, deep moan that escaped his lips sent a shiver through you. You traced the underside of his cock from the base to the tip, following a thick vein. He was incredibly hard, his tip already leaking and every contact made him twitch. Hunter's hand came to rest gently on the back of your head, his fingers threading through your hair as he groaned softly, the sound making your pulse quicken. But after a few moments, he gently tugged you back up to your feet, his hands firm on your shoulders.

"Come here," he whispered, his voice rough with desire.

He guided you toward the fresher wall, your back pressed against the cool durasteel, letting his hand trail lower, carefully stroking through your folds. You were very sensitive, his cum was still oozing out of you but your body betrayed you and you couldn’t stop the downright filthy moan from slipping from your lips.

“Tell me if it’s too much.” he rasped.

“N..no. Don’t stop…can’t get enough of you either.” you stammered as he dipped two fingers into your soaking wet pussy.

“P…please Hunter…fuck me again.”

His mouth found yours in a heated kiss as he lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping instinctively around his waist, his cock deliciously pressing against your core. He paused, eyes locking with yours for a brief, intimate moment before he buried himself inside you in one deep thrust. You gasped, your body still sensitive, clenching hard around him immediately. The sensation of being so full, so close to him, was still overwhelming.

Hunter groaned deeply, the sound vibrating against your lips as he began to move, slow at first but quickly building into something more intense. Your nails dug into his shoulders, your hips meeting his with each thrust as he fucked you, hard and steady. The room spun around you, all of your senses focused solely on him, on the way he filled you, the way he made you feel. The coil in your core tightened rapidly, your pleasure rising to a peak you couldn't hold back any longer.

"Hunter," you gasped, your voice trembling with need.

He groaned, lowering his forehead to yours as he picked up the pace.

"I feel you, mesh'la," he murmured, his words shaky but full of intent. "So close, aren't you? Let me take you there."

His teeth grazed your lower lip, his body driving you closer to the brink with every thrust.

You cried out, overwhelmed by the sheer intensity, your nails raking down his back as the pressure inside you reached its breaking point. The position allowed him to thrust deep and he did, pushing up against your most sensitive spot.

That was all it took. With a final, powerful snap of his hips, you shattered into a million pieces, your body trembling as your orgasm washed over you. Hot white pleasure surged through your veins, pulling the rug of reality from under your feet and sending you spinning. Your walls clenched around him, pulling him deeper as Hunter groaned your name, his release following yours. You felt him pulse inside you, his second release mixing with the first, filling you to the brim, as his head dropped to your shoulder, his breath ragged against your skin.

You stayed like this for a while, you held onto him tightly, both of you catching your breath, the connection between you deeper than ever. Your shallow pants and the falling water were the only sounds for a while. You nestled your head against his neck reveling in the warmth radiating from his body until his cock slowly softened and slipped out of you followed by a rush of his cum.

Hunter carefully set you down, your legs still trembling and unsteady beneath you. You giggled softly, leaning against the wall for support trying to come back to your senses.

"I think... I… we should probably give the ship back," you said, your voice a mix of exhaustion and amusement.

"The others are probably outside, waiting-and annoyed."

He chuckled, his hand brushing tenderly over your cheek.

"You're right. Shouldn’t keep the big guy waiting when he’s hungry," he teased, his eyes still full of warmth.

But then, his gaze softened, and he leaned in, capturing your lips in a deep, lingering kiss.

"One last moment," he murmured against your lips, his voice low and intimate, "just us.”

You melted into the kiss, your heart swelling with the closeness of the moment. Hunter's hands moved with careful precision as he lathered you both with soap and helped you clean up, his touch so gentle it made your chest ache with affection. Every small gesture spoke of his care for you, and you couldn't help but smile, feeling the love radiating between you.

After you both emerged from the refresher, Hunter grabbed a towel and gently dried you off, his hands lingering on your skin, pressing kisses here and there as if memorizing the feel of you. There was something tender in the way he handled you, a softness that made your heart swell. Once you were both dry, you reached for fresh clothes from the overhead compartments, dressing in a comfortable silence that was filled with glances, smiles, and the warmth of what you had just shared. Hunter gave you the softest, most loving kiss before he pressed the button to open the hatch.

You were immediately greeted by the sight of three familiar faces. Wrecker’s grin was as wide as ever, Tech looked slightly annoyed, and Crosshair... well, Crosshair had that usual smirk of his, but there was a glint of something else in his eyes too.

"Finally," Crosshair spat out, throwing the toothpick he had just dangled from the corner of his mouth to the floor, his voice dripping with his usual sarcasm.

Tech, ever the meticulous one, adjusted his goggles and said, "If what Crosshair suggested is true, I am pleased for the two of you, but I sincerely hope you cleaned up after yourselves."

He didn’t wait for an answer, instead he strode up the ramp to inspect to ship, his ship, as he had made clear more than enough times.

Wrecker’s grin widened even further when you stepped out of the ship. “Does this mean you’re stayin’ with us for good?” he asked, his eyes shining with hope.

You nodded, and before you could say another word, Wrecker scooped you up in a massive bear hug, whirling you around with such enthusiasm that you couldn’t help but laugh.

Tech reemerged from the ship, seemingly satisfied with the state you had left the cockpit in. “Good,” he said, his tone crisp and professional. “I’m glad to see you took care of that. We brought back better food, by the way.”

“Oh yeah, I’m starving” Wrecker said, setting you back down.

As they walked past you, Crosshair reached out to pat Hunter on the shoulder, his smirk turning into something more genuine.

"Don’t mess this up, Sarge," he said, his tone carrying a rare note of seriousness.

"Because if I have to hear her suffer again, listen to her desperate whimpers one more night... I’ll take care of it myself."

You couldn’t help but smile, knowing this was Crosshair's way of showing he cared. Beneath that tough exterior, there was a hint of concern and affection, even if it came out in his own twisted way. But as soon as the full meaning of what he’d just said found its way through your still foggy and cock drunken mind, you turned to Hunter with a question look, your cheeks hot and a perfect shade of pink.

Hunter just grinned.

“Nothing wakes Wrecker as soon as he’s snoring and Tech stays in the cockpit most nights, but yeah…Cross heard you.”

“More than once.”

You looked back into the ship where Crosshair had just disappeared. He gave you one of his signature smirks, clearly amused.

You groaned, your face burning as you turned and hid against Hunter’s chest, hoping the ground would swallow you whole.

Crosshair chuckled lowly, enjoying your reaction.

“You know, it’s not that embarrassing. At least you’ve got good taste, I’ll give you that.”

“Crosshair,” Hunter warned, but his hand moved to rub your back soothingly.

“What?” Crosshair smirked, his tone softening slightly. “At least Hunter finally did something about it, almost though he’d watch you leave. You’re good together. Just… maybe keep it private next time? For my sleeping schedule…and my sanity.”

You peeked out at him, mortified but catching the flicker of genuine affection in his gaze.

“You’re awful.”

“Maybe,” he replied, the corner of his mouth twitching. “But you’re lucky I like you, or I’d never let you live this down.”

You sighed.

As Hunter wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close, pressing you into his chest, you couldn’t help but feel that this was exactly where you were meant to be.

The easy camaraderie between the five of you made you feel like you were truly home.

#the bad batch #the bad batch smut #tbb smut #bad batch hunter #hunter bad batch #tbb hunter #sw tbb #tbb #star wars #bad batch #hunter x you #hunter x reader #hunter smut #the clone wars

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mandos-mind-trick · 2 years ago

Text

Kinktober Day 17 - Fivesome

Summary: You’re there for their pleasure. Who’s to say it’s not pleasurable for you too?

Pairing: Bad Batch x reader (no clonecest)

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, unprotected sex, group sex, blowjobs, bondage, brief degradation, no foreplay, creampies galore, sloppy seconds, and thirds, and fourths, pre-Echo, reader is a sort of barrack bunny for CF99, light aftercare.

A/N: This is a sequel to A Lesson In Obedience, though it can be read as a standalone.

MASTERLIST

Your eyes widen as the door slides open, but you’re unable to do anything but stare. Even Crosshair pauses, hand tangled in your hair. His cock is pressing against the back of your tongue, drool sliding down your chin from being forced open for so long. You hold your breath in an attempt not to gag, hands grasping Crosshair’s thigh plates as you kneel in front of him. Your breasts are on full display, your shirt gone and your breastband down around your waist.

“Got started without us?” Wrecker complains, stepping down into the barracks.

“She started it.” Crosshair says, pulling you off his cock. You take a deep breath in, filling your lungs. “Could hardly keep her off me.”

Crosshair lets go of your hair as Hunter grips your jaw, forcing your mouth open. “I don’t doubt that.” He says, stuffing two of his fingers into your mouth. His gloves taste like metal and blaster residue. “Needy little thing.”

You close your lips around Hunter’s fingers, swirling your tongue around the digits.

“What do you think?” He asks, turning to Tech.

Tech looks up from his datapad, watching you suck on Hunter’s fingers. “Plan 33 would suit best in this situation.”

You pause again, looking up between Hunter and Tech.

“I like Plan 33.” Wrecker says.

“You like every plan.” Crosshair says.

“Plan 33 it is.” Hunter says, pulling his fingers free of your mouth. He lifts you up off your knees, turning you and bending you over the table.

Tech is already there waiting, grabbing your wrists with one hand and tugging them towards the other side of the table, forcing you flat against it. He makes quick work with the rope, securing your wrists together before securing it under the table, keeping your arms outstretched. He slips a finger under the rope around your wrists, ensuring it’s not too tight before disappearing behind you.

The cool air of the barracks hits your damp pussy as your pants are tugged off and tossed somewhere off to the side. Hands grip your ass cheeks, pulling them apart to reveal your slick folds to the room.

“Already so wet and we haven’t even touched you yet.” Hunter says. “Our little whore.”

You let out a quiet whimper, shifting on your feet at the sound of codpieces hitting the floor.

“You’ve been a good girl lately.” Hunter says, dragging his fingers through your folds. “You can choose who goes first.”

You rest your cheek against the cool table, thinking. Wrecker is an immediate no. You’ve taken him first before, and though it’s bearable, you’d prefer some prep first. Crosshair would finish the fastest since you had already worked him up, but he’s the roughest. Hunter is your usual first choice in these situations.

“Tech.” You say, tugging lightly at the ropes. “I want Tech first.”

It’s quiet as bodies shift behind you. Long fingers grip your ass, thumbs pulling your lips apart. It’s Tech alright, you can tell by his touch. You could tell them apart with your eyes closed, by touch or by dick, hell even by lips.

The head of a cock drags through your pussy, gathering some of your wetness. You let out a quiet sound, body tingling in anticipation. You’ve been wet since Crosshair glanced your way, knowing what was coming. You had arrived not long ago, and had yet to celebrate your brief shore leave and another set of successful missions.

Your pussy burns a bit as Tech presses his cock into you, your body fighting the intrusion after getting no warm up, not even a finger. You breathe deeply, relaxing your body as he presses into your tight hole. His hands hold your hips, steadying you and himself as he sinks further into you, your body slowly opening to him.

He begins slowly rocking his hips, sinking his cock completely into you. Small moans leave your lips as he uses you, his grip tight on your hips. You can do nothing but lay there as he fucks you, taking what he wants from your body. The position offers you no relief, your hips just far enough from the table you can’t even get any pressure against your clit as Tech thrusts into you.

They did that on purpose.

The sound of his hips smacking against your ass is loud as he fucks you, his groans mixing with your moans like some symphony of pleasure. You squeeze around him, doing what little you can to help him along, and to also attempt to get yourself off. This isn’t about your pleasure, you know that. You’ll cum when they want you to. Anything other than that is a bonus for you.

Tech cums with a groan as you squeeze tight around him, spurting his release inside you. You groan at the feeling of his cock twitching inside you, tugging at your restraints but there’s no give to them.

Tech pulls out of you, stepping back. The others groan as his release begins to drip from your pussy, the warm seed sliding down your slit.

“Who’s next?” Crosshair asks.

“Hunter.” You say, shifting on your feet to try and alleviate the ache starting to blossom in your stomach where the edge of the table digs in.

You go still as the head of a cock drags through your messy folds, brushing over your neglected clit. Your eyes roll back as he sinks into you, still a stretch even after taking Tech’s cock. Hunter slides a hand down your back, fingers trailing your spine. Goosebumps form on your skin as he grips the back of your neck, bracing his other hand on the table at your side.

He draws his hips back just slightly before snapping them back against yours. You let out a yelp at the force of it, rougher than he usually is. He snaps his hips against yours repeatedly, your body jerking against the table with every movement. Your eyes roll back as he hits that spot deep within you with every thrust, your pussy clenching tight around him.

Your first orgasm hits you like a ton of bricks, a high pitched cry leaving your lips as you spasm around him. Hunter groans as he spills into you, his own orgasm washing over him. You moan at the sensation of being filled again, pussy clenching as he pulls himself free of you. The spasms from the aftershock of your orgasm forces his cum out of you, mixing it with Tech’s.

“Crosshair.” You gasp, pussy clenching in an attempt to hold it in.

You yelp as a hand smacks against your ass cheek, the sound cracking through the room. That’s going to hurt later. Crosshair maneuvers your body, propping one leg up on the table, spreading you open further for him. It forces you up onto your toes on the other leg, muscles already trembling.

He wastes no time slipping into you, pushing himself in to the hilt. You let out a groan, hands tugging at the restraints but they don’t give. His hands fall to your hips, gripping them so tightly you’ll likely have bruises there tomorrow. He sets a brutal pace, picking up where Hunter left off. His thrusts are short and sharp, forcing your body against the table as he uses you.

Despite his roughness you can already feel another orgasm building, the new angle allowing your clit to press against the edge of the table with every thrust. You shake as you get closer and closer to the edge, drawing him closer with every spasm of your walls. He was already worked up, his cock twitching inside you as he chases the high he was denied thanks to the arrival of the others.

He cums with a groan, hands squeezing your sides almost painfully as he spills into you. You tremble, close to your own orgasm but you’re denied it as he stops moving, yanking himself free as soon as he’s spent.

You gulp in anticipation, pussy throbbing as you wait for the inevitable. You’re well prepared, slick from your own juices and the releases of the others. You’ve been stretched open at least a little, prepared as much as you can be in this situation.

A big hand lowers your leg back onto the floor, taking the stress off the other. You’re still shaking and sore, but nowhere near where you’ll be once he’s finished. His fingers drag through your folds, collecting the cum seeping out of you before pressing it back into your pussy. You moan as his fingers stretch you open, pussy clenching around them in anticipation.

His hand is gentle on your back as he pulls his fingers free, the wide head of his cock pressing against your hole. You relax your body, breathing deeply as he presses inside, stretching you open. It still burns, even after taking three cocks before him.

Wrecker pushes his way into your pussy, forcing your body to stretch to accommodate his large size. You’re whining and moaning by the time he’s seated inside you, pussy already fluttering around him. He reaches so deep inside you, hitting every spot on the way. Your hands clench into fists as he rocks into you, movements slow and shallow as he fights your body’s attempts to clench around him.

You’re sweating, face sticking to the table as Wrecker fucks you, wrists getting sore from being held in such an awkward position for so long. You won’t last much longer, and you know Wrecker won’t either. He’s usually the fastest to cum, be it from your tight pussy or just from any stimulation.

His grip is gentle on you, always afraid of hurting you. He could crush your bones easily, but he holds you so delicately, even as he practically spears you open on his cock.

There’s no helping that.

You let out a high pitched cry as your orgasm suddenly hits you like a speeder, your legs shaking as you spasm around him. Wrecker groans, loud and deep, thrown into his own orgasm thanks to yours. He cums inside you, adding to the mess leaking out around his cock. You feel messy, full of their cum and coated in sweat.

You wouldn’t have it any other way.

Tech is suddenly there, releasing your wrists with a couple tugs of rope. Wrecker catches you from sliding off the table, lifting you into his arms easily. You’re shaking and trembling and leaking cum still as he holds you.

“Good girl.” Hunter says, stroking your damp hair from your forehead. “Always so good for us. How about a shower, huh? That sound good.”

You nod, a smile tugging at your lips. They never fail to take care of you, even after using you for their pleasure.

Ragu list:

@kaminocasey @rosechi @mxkyrie @bobaprint @star-trekker-0013 @padawancat97 @bamfahsoka @rain-on-kamino @thrawnspetgoose @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @wolffegirlsunite @dukeoftheblackstar @starrylothcat @sev-on-kamino @freesia-writes @anxiouspineapple99 @wings-and-beskar @dystopicjumpsuit @littlemissmanga @madameminor @eris-k @clio3kantarella @moonlightwarriorqueen @sleepingsun501 @originalcollectionartistry @maddiedrmr @idontgetanysleep @sinfulsalutations @clonemedickix @523rdrebel @deejadabbles @starqueensthings @multi-fan-dom-madness @wizardofrozz @mythical-illustrator @sunshinesdaydream @mooncommlink @lickylickylicky @sweetheartsnips @commanderblood @crosshairlovebot @ghostperson69 @captain_rexs_cyare @mssbridgerton @jediknightjana @jedi-hawkins @dalu-grantkylo @cw80831

#star wars #star wars fic #the bad batch #the bad batch fic #poly bad batch #bad batch x reader #clone force 99 x reader #x reader #clone thirsting #kinktober 2023

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vodika-vibes · 11 months ago

Note

Okay, silly ask and you can decline if you don’t do the pregnancy stuff! But I was thinking a Crosshair x reader where they were an item pre-O66, and then the Kaller and brainwashing happened and they went separate ways because, ya know, chip went: “yo kill your brothers those hoes ain’t loyal.” While they’re separated, reader finds out she’s pregnant, and Crosshair only finds out when he lures the rest of the batch back to Kamino and they’re in that training room.

(Bonus if the rest of the batch only found out semi-recently too because reader’s mentality was “okay, I’m pregnant, no biggie. I’ll tell them later when it actually becomes an issue” and Tech figured it out right away but never said anything either)

That's What Family Does

Summary: Being pregnant sucks. Being pregnant with the baby of a man who’s actively hunting the people keeping you safe is worse. The fact that you still love him is just the icing on the “bad year” cake. Still, you probably should have listened to Hunter when he told you to stay on the Marauder rather than risk Crosshair seeing you. Ah well, you’ve never been the best at listening.

Pairing: TBB Crosshair x F!Reader

Word Count: 1771

Warnings: Pregnancy and Childbirth, and complicated relationships

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly @kimiheartblade @mire-draws-things

A/N: So, I know next to nothing about childbirth, on account that I'm both childfree and infertile, so it's never been something that I had to worry about. So I did almost no research on this topic. Also, I've still never watched TBB, so I played around with...everything. But this has also been half-written for the better part of two weeks, and I just needed inspiration to strike me. Anyway, I hope you like it!

“You just had to come with us, didn’t you?” Hunter hisses as he shoves you behind Wrecker, “Why don’t you ever listen?”

“Because you’re not my mother,” You hiss right back at him, as you grab the over-large shirt that Echo’s been trying to shove over your head for the last five minutes and pull it on. It does…very little to hide your stomach. But then, the boys, and Omega, have only recently found out about your pregnancy. And only because you finally started showing and couldn’t hide it anymore.

Needless to say, Hunter and Echo weren’t thrilled about the sudden surprise. Wrecker was torn between excitement and dismay. And Omega…well, she’s been bubbling with excitement since she found out.

“Great, now we have to keep anyone from finding out that you are 8 months pregnant with a clone baby.” Hunter grouses, “Omega, stay with her.”

Omega nods rapidly, and wraps her arms around you, “I’ll bite anyone who tries to touch her.”

Absently, you pet Omega’s head and glare at Hunter, “Well, if you don’t say the words ‘clone’ and ‘baby’ next to each other, no one will ever know.”

“Yes, because your relationship with Crosshair was the best-kept secret on Kamino,” Hunter replies, deadpan, “there’s absolutely no way that anyone will ever figure out that you're pregnant with his baby.”

“Okay, tone down the sass, Mister. It’s not helping.”

Hunter grabs your shoulders, “You irk me. You’re irksome.”

“Hey! I’m pregnant, you can’t talk to me like that!”

For a moment, you think Hunter is going to shake you, but he stops when Tech taps his back, “He is here.”

Abruptly, you’re shoved back behind Wrecker and Echo, nearly tripping over Omega who’s still wrapped around you, and you only manage to catch a glimpse of Crosshair.

His face is pinched and angry-looking, and you see his hand twitching towards his blaster.

Oh, you really hope that this doesn’t turn into a firefight. You don’t want to have to explain to your baby how they don’t have a dad because he got himself killed.

That would be awkward.

The nice thing is you’ve sped through all five stages of grief, and have just accepted that Crosshair isn’t the man you thought he was. And here you thought you were going to need, like, so much therapy to come to terms with it.

“Hunter.” Crosshair’s voice is cold. Colder than you’ve ever heard before.

“Cross,” Hunter sounds tense, and you feel a pang of guilt. He wouldn’t be half as stressed if you and Omega just stayed on the ship. If you get out of this alive, and, you know, not a prisoner of the Empire, you should make him some apology cookies.

There’s a tense silence and Wrecker adjusts his weight slightly. You can tell by his body language, Echo’s too, that if this turns violent, the pair of them will remove you and Omega from the scene. Then again, that does tend to be their job most of the time.

“I assume you’re here to surrender.” Crosshair says. You know him better than anyone, you can tell he doesn’t believe a word coming out of his mouth.

Hesitantly, you peek around Wrecker and Crosshair sees you immediately. His sharp gaze lingers on you for a moment, and you see something like regret flicker across his face, though it vanishes as soon as Echo shoves you back behind Wrecker.

“You have to leave the doctor behind,” Crosshair says flatly.

“No,” Tech says immediately.

“She belongs to the Empire.”

“Technically, my contract is with the Republ—” You counter, indignently.

“Stop talking!” Hunter, Tech, and Echo say in unison and you close your mouth without finishing your thought.

Hunter glances at you, and then at Crosshair, “She’s not a slave, Crosshair. She can come and go as she pleases.”

You can hear the argument continuing in the background, but you’re not really listening anymore.

Something doesn’t feel right.

And then you’re slammed with a cramp so intense that your legs nearly buckle. Your hand lands heavily on Omega’s shoulder and you exhale sharply. “Are you okay?” The little girl whispers, doing her best to not draw too much attention to herself…or you.

“We need to get back to the Marauder.” You say though clenched teeth.

“That’s the plan, but—”

“Meg.” You interrupt her, “I’m pretty sure I’ve just gone into labor.” You keep your voice very, very calm, not wanting to scare her, but she stares at you with wide eyes.

“WHAT!?” The men stop arguing at Omega’s panicked shout and turn towards her. “You…you can’t! It’s too early! You’re only 8 months!” Omega continues, her voice pitching high in her panic.

You don’t answer her. Can’t answer her, really, because you’re too busy trying to breathe through the waves of pain that kind of make you want to cry, scream, and throw up all at the same time.

You’re pretty sure you’d sell all of the clones on Kamino for some pain medicine.

You’re also pretty sure that that’s the pain talking and you’ll feel bad for having that thought as soon as you’re no longer in labor.

The waves of pain fade enough for you to recognize that your boys are in the middle of panicking around you. Panicking and not helping you.

Great.

Lovely.

Super.

You reach out and grab Wrecker’s forearm, “I need to get to a bed, preferably on the Marauder, because if I have to give birth in a training room, I’m going to murder all of you.” You say through gritted teeth.

And then Crosshair is there, his gaze lingering on your stomach, and if you were feeling even remotely charitable you’d say that he looks guilty and hurt.

But, you’re in so much pain right now that you really couldn’t care less.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant?” He asks.

You grab him by the collar of his armor, “I am in the process of pushing a watermelon out a hole the size of a lemon. And it’s all your fault.” You snap, “I need to get to the Marauder.”

“...you know it takes two people to make a baby, kitten—”

The string of curses that fall from your lips after his comment, is enough that the boys push themselves into high gear and then rush you back to the ship.

24 hours of hard labor later, your babies are finally here.

And you finally know why you went into labor early.

Turns out you were pregnant with twins. Twin girls, to be specific.

Right now they’re sleeping in a cradle that Echo stole from Kamino, wrapped in a black and a red blanket specifically.

So far, Hunter, Echo, Wrecker, Tech, and Omega have come to meet the babies. But no Crosshair, though you know he’s still on the ship.

Hunter said that Crosshair refused to leave while you were still in labor. And now that they’re born, he wants to raise them with you.

It’s a nice thought, you suppose. Aside from the whole “wanting to kill his brothers” thing.

Plus, he still hasn’t come to meet the babies.

You tilt your head to the side as one of the babies yawns widely and then falls back to sleep. You hear the door slide open and then shut again. When you look up, you see Crosshair standing, awkwardly, at the door.

He’s dressed in his blacks and isn’t armed.

Hunter probably told him no weapons in the medbay. He’s a good brother-in-law, you’re lucky to have him.

“They’re cute.” Crosshair says as he walks over to the babies and peers down at them.

“They look like wrinkly potatoes.” You correct.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to say that?”

“I just spent 24 hours pushing them out of my vagina. If I want to call them potatoes, then I’m going to call them potatoes.”

“Ah,” He’s quiet for a moment, “Are you…okay? There was a lot of blood, Tech said.”

“Yeah, well…he had a bunch of my blood stored up for this scenario. Just in case.” You admit with a shrug, “I’ll recover. I’m going to be weak for a while though.”

“What are you naming them?”

“...I dunno. I was only expecting one baby, not two.” You pull your blanket up higher, “You’re such an overachiever.”

“...I’m sorry?”

“Whatever. I’m too tired to be properly angry.” You pause, “We are going to have to talk, Crosshair.”

He rubs the back of his head, “Yeah. I know.”

“You walked away.”

“I know.”

“And it was easy for you to do. How could it be so easy for you to walk away?”

He sighs, “I’m sorry.”

“Would you have even come with us if I didn’t go into labor?” You ask.

Crosshair shakes his head, “I don’t know.” He pauses, “You’re mad.”

“I think I have good cause to be mad, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I guess.” He’s quiet for a moment, “A condition of me staying with you and the twins is getting the chip out. And no weapons until they’re sure that I’m not going to try to hurt anyone.”

“Let me guess…Hunter?”

Crosshair nods, “He’s very…protective.”

“He always has been. But Hunter was the one who let me cry on his shoulder when you walked away. He might be a bit angrier at you than anyone else.”

“I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

You shrug, “Well, you did.”

The pair of you fall into a, slightly, awkward silence, and then you sigh, “Luna.”

“Sorry?”

“The twin with the silver hair, I’m going to call her Luna, I think.” Crosshair blinks at you, and then glances at the babies, finally noticing that one of the babies has his coloring, while the other one has yours.

“And what about her sister?”

“Don’t you want to name one?”

He looks momentarily surprised, and then he glances at the baby who looks like you, “Willow. I want to name her Willow.”

You tilt your head curiously.

Crosshair doesn’t acknowledge your silent question for a moment, and then a small smile lifts the corner of his lips, “The first date we went on was a picnic under a willow tree.”

“...I’m surprised you remembered that.”

“It’s important.”

You watch him for a moment, and then laugh softly, “Alright. Luna and Willow, then.” You allow your gaze to linger on Crosshair as he looks over the twins, and your smile widens.

The both of you aren’t okay. There are a lot of wrongs that need to be righted. But…well, he’s here. And you can’t help but think that that’s a step in the right direction.

#star wars #tbb #tbb crosshair x reader #crosshair x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #f!reader fic #answered asks #tw: pregnancy #tw: childbirth

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thegreymarveljedi · 12 days ago

Text

Get Well Soon!

The Bad Batch x Reader

Soooooo…. This was inspired by me dealing with this god awful sickness for like, 2 months back in March. It’s taken me a while to write this just because I’ve been so busy. I graduated from University, I’ve been working two jobs almost non stop for the past 3 months, my birthday was a few days ago etc. so I apologize for taking so long to write these stories.

Pre-Echo Era! And just a cute little sick fic!

Warnings: FLUFFF, sick reader, needles (medication purposes), the batch being really fluffy and cute, things work how I need them too!

Words: 2.1K

A sneeze rang out through the hull of the Marauder, followed closely by a series of barking coughs that sounded so painful even from the cockpit. Tech turned to look at Hunter whose eyes were focused instead on the closed door to the cockpit, and waiting to see if someone would enter.

“I didn’t realize Jedi were so susceptible to sickness,” Hunter mumbled as another fit of coughs rang out, the sergeant wincing at how painful they sounded. He could even hear the scratching against her throat with his heightened senses.

“They are not like clones. We are genetically engineered not to be prone to sickness but the Jedi are naturally born and therefore are more likely to suffer,” Tech replied quietly, knowing that what he was saying was common knowledge to his brothers but needing to say something to keep himself from worrying to much about (Y/N), which was impossible.

Hunter only nodded at Tech’s words, hearing the sound of running water from the fresher sink. He could hear the laboured breathing coming from (Y/N)’s mouth, struggling to breathe through the fit. He could hear her heart beating erratically, the sound rapid and concerning.

“Is there anything we could do to help her?” Wrecker asked, looking to Hunter for any sort of resolution. He hated seeing their Jedi in such a state, the amount of pain she must have been feeling just from those coughs was enough to make the demolition expert wince. Crosshair had remained silent the whole time, cleaning his Firepuncher while listening to his brothers speak and the background sounds of their jetii gagging in the fresher.

It wasn’t that he didn’t care; he cared a great deal about her just like his brothers, but there was nothing he could do to help her right now. They were flying through hyperspace, on their way to another mission which they unfortunately couldn’t delay even for their sick general. Crosshair was listening intently for other signs of discomfort or distress, wanting to be aware of (Y/N)’s body movements incase something else happened.

Before Hunter could respond to Wrecker’s question, the cockpit door slid open to reveal (Y/N), hair and robes disheveled, eyes red and unshed tears prickling at her waterline. The batch looked on in slight horror seeing their Jedi in such a state of unkept, worried for her health. They had seen her in many states of dress and undress, health and injury but this was by far the most concerning.

It had started out small, a small cough and slight congestion a few days prior which they all thought nothing of. (Y/N) had chopped it up to being stress related and had brushed off whatever she felt, telling the boys, “it’ll go away in a couple days”. That was 4 days ago now and everyday, the sickness got worse and worse.

(Y/N) moved to sit in the copilots seat, her movements unsteady and uncoordinated, which was very unlike her. Hunter Immediately gave up his seat, guiding (Y/N) to sit comfortably while he tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.

“How’re you feeling cyare?” Hunter asked quietly, placing a comforting hand on (Y/N)’s back. She shivered at the contact, shying away from the touch that now made her skin tingle uncontrollably. Hunter removed his hand quickly, not wanting to cause her any more discomfort. She met his eyes and nodded gratefully, not trusting her words in this situation.

“Like I was trampled by a bantha then force thrown through a durasteel wall,” she said as a response to Hunter’s question, pulling her robes tighter around her body as she shuddered. Her nose tickled before a loud sneeze rang out through the cockpit, a chain of sneezes following until (Y/N)’s eyes were watery. Crosshair handed her a box of tissues that they kept around for random reasons, allowing (Y/N) to wipe her nose. She gave Crosshair a greatful smile and took the tissues without so much as a complaint.

“Technically durasteel is too-“ Tech began but was wracked on the back of the head by Crosshair with the scope of his Firepuncher.

“Ow!” Tech yelped and held the back of his head where Crosshair had hit him, turning to glare at his twin for the unnecessary violence. Crosshair in turn glared right back, tucking his rifle back where it belonged.

“Not now Tech,” Crosshair said and pointed to their jetii who look miserable enough without Tech needing to go into a long winded explanation about how her logic was wrong. Tech’s gaze fell to (Y/N) before he sighed and turned to fully face her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Apologies, general. I did not mean to make you feel as though you could not express how you were feeling,” Tech said gently, giving her shoulder a comforting squeeze as Hunter gave a little nod from behind him. He knew his brother struggled with the concept of sarcasm or metaphors and they were trying to teach him social cues as well, but he was please that it seemed to be working.

“You have nothing to apologize for Tech. I know it doesn’t make logical sen-“ (Y/N) began but was cut off by Wrecker’s soft voice, one he only seemed to use with her.

“Oh mesh’la,” he said, carefully moving behind her and smoothing out her hair carefully, aware that it was in a state of disarray. (Y/N) shuddered at the feeling, though made no move to stop the gentle giant as Crosshair pulled a brush from who knows where and passed it to his brother.

“Don’t- mesh’la me. I look hideous,” (Y/N) said and curled in on herself more, bringing her knees up to her chest with a sigh, only to start coughing again. It was a vicious cycle that she wished would just end.

“Enough of that. You look beautiful even if you don’t feel beautiful,” Hunter said as he watched Wrecker brush her hair, being gentle and mindful of some of the bigger knots and tangles. He went slow and careful, feeling (Y/N) relax under the ministrations. It was something that the batch knew was a big display of trust for her, her hair being something she was very particular about.

“Yeah. We still think you look like the most beautiful woman in the galaxy,” Wrecker said softly, slowly working through the rest of her hair before moving to French braid it. This is something that had touched (Y/N) even more what learning that Wrecker, who had a very short attention span for most things, took the time to ask Tech and learn from him how to braid hair so that he could do it for her.

“Thanks Wrecker,” (Y/N) said softly, feeling herself melt under his display of love. Wrecker smiled from behind her, placing a lingering kiss to her neck before pulling back and finishing the braid.

“Wrecker is speaking the truth love. Even while ill you are the most attractive woman ever,” Tech said, with a slight blush, watching as their jetti smiled shyly at all the compliments. Wrecker finished the braid and tied it off with a hair tie Crosshair provided for him before carefully lifting (Y/N) into his arms.

“Let’s get you to your bunk cyar’ika,” Wrecker said as Hunter and Crosshair made a path for their brother to bring their sick General to her bunk. It was made more comfortable by an extra mattress and many blanket and pillows as souvenirs from different missions the batch had completed. (Y/N) had also made sure the batch had extra blankets for themselves, the GAR issued mattresses and blankets doing nothing to help them rest well at night.

“But what about-“ (Y/N) cut herself off as a coughing fit tore through her body, making her perch in Wreckers hold, “what about the mission?” She finished, her voice hoarse and shaky. She carefully met the eyes of the others who gave her a very unimpressed, “really” look.

“The mission can wait. You can barely walk straight,” Hunter said soothingly as he and the rest of the boys followed Wrecker to the bunk room.

“And can barely speak a full sentence without coughing,” Tech said as he dimmed the lights of the marauder to mitigate the headache he knew (Y/N) was suffering with from coughing so much.

“That’s not tr-“ she started but was cut off again as another fit of coughs wracked her body. She stopped trying to speak for a moment to compose herself once the coughing ceased, looking up at Wrecker with an apologetic expression.

“Okay,” she said, finally giving in to the fact that she was, in fact, not really for this mission and was too sick to argue with the Batch. Wrecker gave her a gentle smile before moving into the bunk room fully and carefully setting (Y/N) down.

“Easy Wrecker,” Crosshair chimed in, watching as his hulking brother laid their general down. Once she was laid in bed, Crosshair joined Wrecker in getting (Y/N) comfortable. Fluffing her pillow, making sure the blankets were covering her body and giving her as much comfort as possible.

“Okay. Now, you are going to wait on the ship and rest while we finish this mission. After that, we’ll head to Coruscant so you can rest,” Hunter said as Wrecker and Crosshair stepped away, kneeling down next to (Y/N)’s bunk and placing a comforting hand on her cheek.

“Are you sure?” She asked shyly, though turned away quickly as a series of sneezes forced their way out of her. She laid back and started sheepishly at Hunter before her eyes swept over the rest of the Batch. They all had knowing smiles, even Crosshair who was looking at her so fondly, as if she had just told him the funniest joke in the world.

“(Y/N),” Hunter started, calmly yet firmly, his eyes portraying love and adoration but also concern, “You’re in no position to join us. We can handle this okay,” he said and placed his hand back on her cheek. She nuzzled into the comfort of his big hands, feeling their rough, war hardened exterior yet somehow they felt like soft pillows against her skin.

Tech had disappeared from the bunk room without anyone’s knowledge, moving through the ship pick up everything he figured their cyar’ika would need while they were completing their mission.

“Here darling, I have brought you water, nourishment, an extra blanket-“ Tech started as he came back into the room but was cut off by Wrecker who moved in behind him with-

“And here’s Lula!” Wrecker exclaimed happily, making sure to tuck the stuffed Tooka into (Y/N)’s hold, careful not to disturb the rest of the comfortable cocoon they had assembled for her. Tech glared at Wrecker momentarily before he pushed his way past, resting himself on the edge of (Y/N)’s bunk before he finished the sentence that Wrecker interrupted.

“-and here is a dose of medicine. It should help to clear your nasal cavity in order for you to rest while we are gone,” He said kindly, nodding at Hunter who helped (Y/N) tilt her head in order for Tech to give her the injection.

“Thank you Tech,” (Y/N) said tensing for a second as the needle breeched her skin before relaxing, feeling the medicine begin to work almost immediately. She took a deep breath and sighed in relief at being able to breathe normally. Mouthing a thank you to Tech who smiled sheepishly, leaving down to place a kiss to her forehead.

“Get some rest cyare,” Tech whisper in her ear, giving her one more lingering kiss to her cheek before stepping back to let Crosshair through.

“We’ll be back before you know it,” the sniper said, placing a hand on her shoulder before pulling the blanket back up under (Y/N)’s chin, kissing her forehead before moving to join Tech by the door.

“We love you cyar’ika,” Wrecker said as he stepped up and knelt down next to the bunk, grinning with a fondness that only he could display, “you take good care of her Lula.” Wreckers words to his stuffed Tooka prompted giggle from (Y/N) before she yawned, her eyes fluttering as she tried to stay awake just a little longer.

Hunter nodded to Wrecker as the demolitions expert got up to join Crosshair and Tech. Hunter faced (Y/N) with a fondness expression, watching as she tried to fight the medication but was loosing.

“Rest mesh’la,” Hunter said quietly before placing a kiss to her head, watching as she finally gave in to sleep, the love of her boys surrounding her, their care and gentleness lulling her into a peaceful slumber.

Thank you for support! Let me know what you think of this Fic and what you would like to see next! Next story to come is a Wrecker x Reader requested by an Anon!

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queenariesofnarnia · 1 year ago

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physical touch 2

the bad batch (pre-echo) x f!medic reader

18+ content! MDNI!

wc: 1,559

part 1

warnings: smut with little plot, unprotected piv, oral f!receiving , tech is recording of course, a little knife use from hunter, and i think that is all

Touch increased on the Marauder after that night, in minor ways. Wrecker enjoys pulling you into his lap while you read in your down time. He’ll rest his head on top of yours as he chats with his vod. If you are ever sitting alone in your bed, Hunter comes to sit with you, taking it upon himself to place his head in your lap. You’ll begin to absentmindedly run your fingers through his soft curls. Crosshair’s hand rests on your lower back whenever you stand near him. When you went to the market his slender fingers made their way around your waist not letting you stray too far. Tech will hold your hand if what he’s working on requires one hand, or when he sits next to you his hand will rest on your thigh causing you to melt into his touch. Everything was going smoothly until the day you chose to test their resolve. The boys decided they were going out for drinks but tonight you chose to stay home. When it was time for them to head out for the night you wished them a goodnight standing in the entrance of the ship in a shirt you took from Wrecker.

This was the first part of your plan, underneath the shirt was a custom lingerie set you ordered in their armor color. A tiny skull gem resting at the center of your cleavage, next one of your latest tattoos that you’ve hidden since your last leave. Their initials resting along the top curve of your breast, the other being the signature 99 located at the bottom of your spine. The moment they make you aware that they’ve made it to 79’s you’ll start on phase 2 of the plan, you’re going to send them each a picture, with a risky message attached, then get comfortable in your bed before phase 3 can spring into action, hoping it’s them devouring you. Approximately fifteen minutes pass, you have discarded the large shirt and took the raunchy pictures, when you get a message from Tech letting you know that they have made it. Time for your plan to be put into motion. Sending the first picture to Hunter.

*attachment: 1 image*

You can cut this off when you get back

then it’s Wrecker’s turn

*attachment: 1 image*

Waiting for you to wreck me tonight

then Tech

*attachment: 1 image*

I hope I’m the prettiest thing you get to record

and lastly Crosshair

*attachment: 1 image*

I have something else you can put in your mouth

Making yourself comfortable in your nest of blankets turning on a cheesy holofilm. Knowing that you won’t be watching this for long. Thunderous footsteps made their way up the ramp, you’ve been ignoring their messages, trying to hide the smile on your face as your door swooshed open. You don’t break contact with you screen, only waving at them. The sound of Hunter clearing his throat didn’t even make you look up. Though any other occasion it would have. Crosshair took two long strides, snatching the datapad from your view and tossing it to Tech.

“Looks like you can pay attention now kitten” his coarse voice holding a demeaning tone. Finally looking up at them, taking in each of their reactions. Hunter’s jaw was clenched, his eyes darkened as they graze over your body. Stopping at the tattoo on your breast that was peaking above the lace. Wrecker looked like he just stumbled upon the best meal in the world, rubbing his large hands together as he admired you. Tech has started recording the moment they stepped foot on the ship. His gaze hungry, as he made sure to get every inch of you in the frame for later. If looks could kill, Crosshair’s stare would have you in an early grave.

“Come here mesh’la” Hunter orders patting the edge of your bed. You crawl to the edge, the sniper getting a look at the other tattoo you have been hiding from their view. “Do you want this? Because there’s no going back once you let us get a taste of you” the sergeant’s gravelly voice burning with desire.

“I don’t care if I’m screaming, crying, or begging you to slow down. Shut me up and keep going” your voice airy. Heartbeat accelerating, at the closeness and the situation you have put yourself in. Each of them let out a pleased noise. Grabbing your chin between his thumb and forefinger making you look at him, he leans down capturing your lips in a steamy kiss. Back arching as you release a moan into his mouth before he pulls away.

“Such a shame you’re letting me cut this off” he tuts grabbing his knife.

“I have more” you admit shyly, gaze focused on his blade.

“Lay down and eyes on me” the comes out quickly and firm. Your back hit your soft blankets, Hunter nudging your legs wider as he slots himself between them. The cool blade of the knife sends jolts through your heated skin. Slowly running it up your body until it’s under the band of your bra a quick and careful flick of his wrist your breast spill out the cup. Trailing the blade back down your body he contemplates his next move, does he want to cut off your panties or rip them off. He cuts a slit at the top of them before putting his knife away then tearing the thin material in half. Exposing your soaked cunt to the cool air of the room. Before you could clench your thighs together he keeps them spread.

“Cross I believe she promised you a taste” Hunter moves to your right side, instructing Wrecker to get behind you. Crosshair waits for his large brother to get into his position. The large clone quickly slots himself behind you pulling your back against his chest.

Positioning himself between your thighs he leans forward wrapping his fingers around your throat squeezing lightly pulling you in for a dominating kiss. His other hand acquaints itself with your soaked cunt, his thumb ghosting over your clit as he traces the lips teasingly. Eliciting a gasp from you as he trailed kisses down your body. Stopping with his lips hovering over your clit that was begging for attention. His hands now gripping your soft thighs. He teasingly laps at your folds without breaking eye contact, enjoying every moment your hips bucked towards his mouth. His teeth lightly graze your clit, pulling an almost breathless moan from you.

“You look pretty falling apart for me little tooka” Crosshair praised as he pulls away from your needy cunt. Your body reacts to the praise a new flow of arousal runs through you, Cross notices lapping it up letting his tongue explore your cunt, Wreckers calloused fingers begin to toy with your nipples adding to the pleasure you were receiving. Your moans gradually getting louder as your first orgasm of the night nears. He takes his right hand from your thigh to slip two fingers into you curling them to hit your g-spot. His attack on your clit not slowing down.

“I know you’re close. Go ahead cum on my fingers and give Tech a show” Crosshair’s words were all it took for you to fall apart. Almost screaming his name in pleasure. His fingers continuing to work you through your orgasm before he pulls them out bringing them to your lips. “Go on and taste yourself” he commands. Without breaking eye contact you lick his fingers before taking them in your mouth sucking your juices off them. He gives you another kiss calling you a good girl before he steps to the side.

“My turn” Wrecker booms with laughter easily flipping you over pulling you into his lap. Your arms wrap around his neck.

“You gonna wreck me big guy?” your voice is soft yet sultry. Still recovering from your orgasm, yet you’re ready to take Wrecker. You grind down on his erection while placing kisses along his jaw. With one hand he lifts you up while the other lines himself up with your entrance slipping the head of his cock in with ease. He slowly slid you down his length watching your face contort in pleasure before his lips hungrily attacked yours. His hands stayed on your hips as you begin to ride his cock. Your hands gripping his shoulders, teeth clashing as you kissed. He began thrusting up into you matching your rhythm. Each thrust had echoed in the room, the sound of skin slapping together mixed with the sounds of your arousal. Burying his face in your neck to muffle the sounds of his groans. His thrust began to falter as your walls gripped him tight.

“Mesh’la I’m not going to last much longer” Wrecker grunts out in your ear.

“Fill me up big guy” your words were enough for him, a few more thrusts from him and his cum coated your walls. Triggering you to orgasm over his cock before slumping against his body. “Thank you big guy” you whisper kissing his shoulder. He held you close giving you some time to rest, before slowly slipping out, laying you on your bed.

“Give me 20 minutes” you mumble into your pillow.

“You can have two” Hunter says going to grab warm cloth to clean you up.

Tags: @huntershoe @ooostarwarsfandom501st @techscyarikaa @aynavaano

#wrecker x reader #the bad batch x reader #tech x reader #the bad batch #xreader #tbb crosshair x reader #tbb tech #tbb hunter x reader #crosshair x reader #hunter x reader #tbb hunter #sergeant hunter #tbb wrecker #tbb wrecker x reader #tbb smut #queenariesofnarniawritings

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orangez3st · 2 months ago

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In Some Other Lifetime - Chapter 1

No games, no war

Clone Commando Scorch × F!Reader

Next Chapter ↦

✧ Chapter Summary: Tantiss prison is insultingly boring that you no longer struggle and fight against it. However, you—quite stubbornly and unyieldingly—hold your true cause close to your chest.

✧ General Tags & Warnings: reader is a jedi turned bounty hunter, soulmate au, clone commando scorch fix-it-verse, the bad batch season 3 canon, rescue mission, prison break, other tags will be added

✧ Word Count: 3.3k

Story Index ✧ Join Taglist ✧ Other Clone x Reader

A/N: If you've been here before, then yeah this is a repost! And you're still here, appreciate it lovelies 💛

Present Day

“Nice seeing you again, Six-Two.”

The Imperial Commando barely tilts his bucket at your taunt as he strolls by. ICWS readily grasped, his gloved hands seemingly loose but you've always known they're always a change of stance, a switch, and a pull of a trigger away to actually incapacitate someone. And for the thousandth time during your imprisonment in Tantiss, you feel your heart plunge to your stomach at their ruthless and unquestioning capability to hurt someone.

Slowly, the echo of his boots against durasteel fades away. Rhythmically swallowed by silence the further he puts distance between your detention cell and wherever his end post is.

Having nothing to do, your ears have sharpened—you count. You count everything.

Every drip of water in the sink per minute that you'd notice there has to be something wrong with the water source if it drips too early or too late.

You count meal intervals. You aren't granted the luxury of having a chronometer that you use them as your chronometer. Three meals a day. Never too late. Nor too early. The droid arrives precisely when it means to.

Guard shifts. Their footfalls and how long it takes until it completely fades as they turn around the corner. How long is the corridor? You know. You do the math too. Your cell is located just right in the middle of a T. Gray walls, gray walls, gray walls. Lights. Gray walls.

Scorch's patrol.

The Imperial Commando does his rounds, passing by your cell, twice a day. A while after your lunch, and a long while after the supposed curfew that must be 2200 on the dot. You bet on 1300 and 0100—twelve-hour intervals. Tantiss is big. Every inch of it, every chatter, every hustle and bustle – all spells neverending chores, serving for the glory of their own hell.

Hemlock's lapdog. Sworn to secrecy, treated as nothing but an object they've always seen the clones as. Guard duties. Exhaustion is absent, not even through his footfalls that always sound tireless and steady. Always at the ready. His helmet—his buy’ce, he taught the word to you once—marshals every kind of expression. That man never sleeps. Your heart sinks again if that actually is the truth. You wonder if he swallows stim every damn day to forgo exhaustion. How many cups of caf does he have? Does he ever drink caf at all? You wonder too if he'd ever stripped out of his katarn-class armor for more than ten-minute-regulation shower.

His armor. Too clean. Makes you wonder whether he took a new set and discarded the decorated one. But he kept the paint; gunmetal grey and yellow streaks. His identity. Former identity, pre-Empire. What for? As far as you're concerned, he is not the man he once was. Now he's an Imperial puppet like many others. So why keep the paint that surely reminds him of his old armor?

No speck of dust and grime dotted across every inch of surface. You've always liked them dirty and dented and scratched. It spoke of experience. Battlefield is the other home to them. When talking about Scorch, them follows. Followed. Delta Squad is no more. Sev had been MIA. Last time you heard, their training sergeant headed to Kashyyyk. You never got the chance to hear what came next. The rest of the squad is nowhere to be found—not even in the ranks of the army. Dead. Or in hiding. Or living in a farm somewhere milking nerfs and butchering nunas and bounty hunting for a living. You throw your thanks to the Force either way.

Because they don't deserve to live like this.

You think about Scorch again.

Their brother is still within the grasp of the Empire. Controlled. Puppeteered. Existing as the absolute role model of a clone, 100% alike to what they've always imagined clones to be. Never questioning orders. Submissive. Obedient.

Your heart sinks again, this time burrowing impossibly deeper into your chest. It's almost painful.

You can't remember what ticking time should feel like. How long the interval is supposed to be between one second to another. Even with the silent option, you always had your chronometers ticking in your small apartment somewhere on Coruscant. If there wasn't any, you relied on the sun's trajectory. Easy to answer every what time is it? thrown at you when you were travelling. Now? No. Gray walls. Gray walls.

Now, is hopefully an hour has passed. You've finished your meal, the tray picked up by you're sure the same droid. After they take your blood sample in the morning right after you and the other prisoners wake, they leave you to your own. Not even given a hole in the wall to peer outside. You don't even know what outside looks like. Is it rocky terrain? Endless sand dunes? Damp rainforests? Is it even breathable, that the foul bowels of Tantiss had to be fueled by oxygen tanks?

It's not like you're able to do anything, anyway.

So you meditate.

You were shit at meditating. You were famous for it. Even Qui-Gon Jinn himself, in his amusement, came down to teach you, a tough crecheling, the art of patience. Rest his spirit. And the others that had fallen during the Purge, too.

It hadn't always been like this.

The Temple was warm. It was home. You knew where your homeworld was—your parents believed in your destiny when they willingly trusted the Order to train you in the ways of the Force. Master Plo Koon was the one who found you (Force, you don't even know what happened to him. You hope he survives.) and showed you space travel for the first time. You were so young, you barely remember anything.

The ways of the Force taught you of life. Peace. Everything that is good, an image of what the galaxy is supposed to be. (If only not for that damned Chosen One prophecy. Look where you are all at now.) Unfortunately—that's your own branding to the matter and certainly not the other masters’—the way of the Jedi taught you not to relent to your soulmate mark, since it is by all means attachment, which they strictly forbid.

Your focus breaks like glass.

Seated on your bed, your back is against the wall. The source of light in your cell above your head smacks you in the eye as soon as you open them. Gray and boring durasteel insults you back, its blank and dull panels looking down upon your pathetic fate.

Or is it?

You stifle an annoyed groan as you will your body to sway to the side and your head to hit the excuse of a pillow. It gets thinner by a quarter inch every other day. You try to fluff them up, but it's the kind of comfort meant for inmates.

You snuggle into it, your head playing tricks for you into smelling a scent that wasn't there.

You wonder if he still smells the same. You'd only hugged him once, but you committed his scents to memory. Hot night summer air. Gunpowder. Fresh explosives. Firecracker. They all still hold fast, branded into your brain and bottled and displayed and ready for you to take a sniff any time. Soon you associated him with other things too that weren't relevant at all, but they strangely do all the same. Buttery breakfast waffles. Three sets of 15 push ups. Fun fairs. Honey. Forehead kisses. Bolts being screwed in. The joy that one gets after being gifted with homemade handicrafts. A crackle in a helmet’s voice modulator.

You wonder if it's one of the ways of the Force. You don't know. They didn't exactly teach you this in the Temple. The bottles never break, its content safely contained, the scent never fades, just like the mark etched along the inside of the ring finger of your left hand like a permanent inkwork.

As soon as you earned your mark the moment your age turned ripe, you were sent into a spiral of clashing ideals. You looked up the holonet to find that this happened to people too, and that it was a normalcy. You felt betrayed. A little. But you were so closed off. The outside world enticed you, or perhaps was it the prospect of romance? Of living with a partner that loves you and you only? A promise of happily ever after, without a threat of losing them to anybody else because the Soul Mark is for eternity. A certain ‘till death do us apart’ with no risk, no fear. A promise of love. A promise of easy things.

Disgustingly easy.

No.

Not with the mark on your skin being 1262 and the owner of that name will do his other patrol in approximately eleven hours. The same man who submitted to a corrupt order—to his thoughts that's not his own. Never his own.

And you're here to set him free.

Confidence burns bright in the beginning. Yet like fire, it smolders down into embers. It's only a matter of time where you'd regret for ever enlisting in Project War Mantle at all with the disguised noble cause—only a matter of time where the embers would eventually die and leave everything surrounding it in utter darkness.

You're teetering along the edge. The sounds of his boots are your only savior. Reminding you that he's still here, not lost to you yet even though he's lost to his own mind. Giving you hope to continue your true cause. Your true intention behind putting on a show to bow down to the Empire and following every single order and task given to you and the rest of the first Elite Squad.

Then you hope you could've gotten to some of the clones that rebelled against the chips. Gaining their testimonials. How did it feel? Were their own thoughts screaming and begging them to stop from shooting at their own traitorous brothers, or was it an on-off switch that wouldn't budge to the other way once flicked on all along?

You hold out your hope that it's not the latter.

Hope gives you nothing new behind the cell bars of Tantiss. Metal bars. Old school. Not even a ray shield. It's clever. It's mechanical. Hard to budge, impossible to slice within seconds. They don't need to deactivate something to kill someone inside. They only need to push the barrel of their blaster through the gaps. A tilt, a pew, a thud.

You continue to meditate. As always, the Force never answers to you. It gives you pain instead. Physically painful to reach out and latch onto what once used to be a set of comforting tendrils, the ones like a winter coat draped over your shoulder. It's as if the Force mocks you in the face. Yeah, you can't blame it. You sever your connection abruptly like a partner caught cheating and the argument erupts in the middle of a pavement—a public breakup that's full of betrayal.

You ignored them. You never reached back. You were annoyed how they tried to warn you before you could react, until they stopped altogether. You betrayed them. You scolded the young cocky bounty hunter that had been you.

Your meditations nowadays no longer seek for enlightenment. You’re bored and you have nothing to do to pass the time. Gray walls. You're certain to fall asleep somewhere in the hour. You wake up. Gray walls. You try to look for peace. For consolation. Solutions.

Nightfall arrives when you open your eyes. Still the same gray walls, though. Mourning the absence of enlightenment you used to gain, you were definitely sleeping. You have an inkling the droid would come soon to slide the tray of tasteless meal through the gap at the bottom of the door—dinner.

You hum. You turn the tap on to drink. Wash your face. Taking number 1 and 2 in the same room, flushing the stink before it could waft up and around the corridor and let it be sucked through the exhaust fan above you. You wash your hands. You lie down again. You sleep properly this time. Early. It's not even curfew yet, but you have your own intentions.

In your sleep, you used to always dream about him. You knew from the start he was a clone. The numbers made sense—those are his serial numbers. Where people have a name, you have numbers. Your soulmate is a clone. Once you found out, you didn't mind. You never do. You were intrigued, curious to see how this would go.

Hearing his voice, his snickers and his jokes and the laughter that followed. He was such a ray of sunshine. The heart and soul of his team. The brightest—like the world seems to be for a moment once his explosive handiworks detonate. He captivated you easily. It only took you three nights that those weren't mere dreams—the dreamspace is a means of two-way communication. You looked up the holonet again to find that it's true. He was projecting his daily situation. Maybe unconsciously.

Guess what. No.

“I did all that for you!” the wisps of his boyish voice said, behind which you could hear an elated grin. “Thought maybe you'd love to see what I'm doing during the day.”

You finally found peace in his sweet thoughtfulness. The dream allowed you to see nothing more than projections. He was clever for figuring it out first before telling you the gist of it. They don't allow you to take form in the dreamspace. Just bodiless voices, and it's whispery, like faint streaks of clouds, like a comm without holo.

You woke up feeling well rested, as if you weren't awake all night talking with him. He couldn't promise to always be there for you because of his deployment, but he'd kept his word that he'd return home for you. You remembered imagining his shocked facial expression when you told him you were a bounty hunter. And again when he vocalized such a disbelief for the hundredth time—when you and him met face-to-face for the first time.

His footfalls from the end of the corridor awaken you.

Blame him for your kriffed up circadian rhythm. The lights in your cell all turned off during curfew, the ones in the corridor taking the turn to be the source. It's bright enough. Your berth is tucked to the side and away from the door, so you still have a little privacy. It's a rare luxury these days. Your toilet is in another corner of your cell.

You crawl out of your inmate berth, patting down your inmate suit, slipping your inmate footwear on. They give no sound when you take a careful step, and so you do, until you rest your shoulder against the wall by the door.

It takes you a little bit of courage and reassurance that this man is not the same as the one you used to… supposed to love.

“Fancy seeing you again, Commando.”

He was handsome. Raven black hair styled in fringe-up—the hair gel he used was shared with his brother. Warm amber eyes and beautiful bronze skin like any other clone. Explosion scar from a miscalculation and sloppy accident that threw him off his feet and claimed the skin of his chin and the bottom half of his face. Scorch was handsome. So beautiful, your eyes were practically sparkling when studying every single inch of him. Shame it was only one time. His schedule was tight. Managing a bagel and caf date was a miracle. And it was perfect.

“What are you doing, ES-08? It's curfew.”

Katarn with blue HUD glares down at you. ICWS in hand—the only time he's shown how threatening he is with the bigger gun. It doesn't hurt you. What hurts you is his armor paint. Gunmetal gray and yellow. The same colors, the same pattern, when he used to be a Delta—and yet the man behind them is not the same.

This is not your Scorch. Never your Scorch.

“I'm not bailing out of here, am I?” you try to relax, your voice lowered, “Shouldn't I be the least of your worries?”

The commando merely stares at you. Seemingly unimpressed. You can't tell. You stopped dreaming a while ago. You couldn't match his stance and whatever he's thinking right now to your dreams where your Scorch used to live.

Then he pivots on his heels and walks away.

Your heart jumps. Losing him out of your sight is a constant fear that grips your heart. Before you can even stop it, your mouth is already spilling, “Did you ever take off your gloves, Commander?”

He stops.

Six-Two. Delta. Commando. Scorch. These were the names he used to answer to. You always call him by his name—the one he earned after that ordnance accident he'd always have quite a joy telling you about, the one that he took with pride (and a little fear because his training sergeant was everything but soft). A fool's hope to use them in his face. Commander. You sneer. It tastes foul in your tongue. So wrong.

Every time you take off your left glove should be a reminder of why I'm here, you want to say.

You can't. You'd get a bolt to the chest.

“I don't see answering to you necessary, ES-08.” Force, even his voice sounds so wrong. Still the same old Scorch's boyishness during the glory of the Republic, but the ice cold hostility behind it now sounds so, so wrong. “Back to your cell.”

“Already in it,” you say, glaring down his blue HUD, “Not so easy to get rid of me, Scorch.” You swallow. There. You used it. As an emphasis, you raise your left hand where the Soul Mark is and wiggle your fingers his way. “As if you wanted to, anyway.”

That has to speak lengths because the Imperial Commando, Hemlock's beloved mind-controlled lapdog, goes silent.

“Oohh, contradictory body language against your thoughts? Against what they want you to think and do?” You smirk. “I can hear your brain clunking like a set of gears.” No you don't. But one thing after roaming free in the wilderness outside the dogma of the Jedi, is that you're helplessly in love taunting people. “Or maybe some of those dets you love assembling and juggling in the air back in the day?”

A click in his rifle. The barrel? No longer aimed at the wall. At you.

Is it a safety switch? A stun switch? Was it on stun all the time, that now he’s just switched it to live lethal rounds?

“Return to your berth now, ES-08,” he unwaveringly says, “And to your routine in the morning.”

You let out a breath. Blasters don't scare you. You were a hunter, after all. But finding yourself at the wrong side of the barrel? Your chest grows tight, your next taunt disintegrating from your tongue.

He nears your cell in slow, calculated steps. With raised hands against his weapon, you step backward, the back of your knees meeting your berth. The moment you plop down onto the mattress, you try to draw drowsiness to your person, the same moment where you dare the devil in the face. Fearing that he'd step away from the door at any moment, you take the chance.

“I've always been here for you,” you mumble, knowing his enhanced audio receptor would catch it. “And I won't stop. For you.”

You bite back cyare. You don't wanna be shot down. You don't know what kind of a man he is now.

The second he steps away and continues his duty, you gather all your spirit to ignore the pain in your chest. It's excruciating. Enough to put you down in a strike of fever perhaps, but you wouldn't let it. You let the hurt in, though. You let your tears fall and absorbed into the inmate pillow. Your eyes are closed with the hope of another dream.

And of course, like any other day since the fall of the Republic; none comes.

Next Chapter ↦

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