#bad batch enemies to lovers

[zoeykallus]

Hey, I really enjoy your writing and what you do! Would you mind doing an enemies to lovers hc for TBB?

Aloha!

This topic is so loved in this house. Let's get some glimpses... Let's gooo!

PS: I think more detailed One-Shots would have been probably better, but I did the best I could with these HCs 😅

The Bad Batch x Reader HCs - Enemies To Lovers

Warnings: Partly Suggestive/Cat And Mouse Games/Slightly Angsty

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

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>Master List<

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Hunter

You may be opponents, but the tension between you is not just hostile, that's for sure.

He is an excellent opponent. Hunter is fast, he is skilled, his only weakness is that he tries not to hurt you every time. If he were more ruthless, he would have defeated you long ago. The encounters with him are exciting, they are like a kind of intoxication you can't resist.

You almost can't imagine to not let this cat and mouse game between you take place anymore. You could have taken him out from a distance more than once, and he could probably do the same the other way around. But something keeps you both from putting an end to it.

Sometimes it's unclear who's actually the hunter and who's the hunted, but that doesn't matter, both are exciting, you enjoy each of these encounters.

Hunter's senses have long perceived that your cat and mouse game does not leave you untouched, and your rapid pulse has nothing to do with fear. Even if this confuses him at first, he feels this magnetism as well. With every encounter, every chase, it's there again, his senses pick up everything, your pulse, your excitement, your hormones. Of course, he teases you with it, and you react to it defiantly at first, as expected. He's mocking you, "You're really excited. Are you excited to see me again?" You growl, "Keep dreaming, clone." Hunter has an unflinching gleam in his eye, you always feel like he knows exactly what's going on inside you. You want to resist, but you quickly realize that this resistance is beginning to crumble. "You can't hide from me". You jump out of your cover and shout, "Then I'll attack." Of course, he already knew where you were, fending off your attack with ease and pinning you between himself and a wall of a house. You squirm in his grip, but the heat between you only increases, your pulse quickens even more.

"Gotcha," he says in a deep voice with a triumphant smile. Part of you wants to kick the smile off his face, another wants to kiss those lips. He takes the decision from you quite unexpectedly. The kiss is wild, and the next moment you are tugging at each other's clothes, not in a fight, but to get even closer to the other.

Echo

He's probably the fairest opponent you've ever had, but he's also smart. As long as you stay fair in the fight, so is Echo. "I really don't want to hurt you if I don't have to," he says seriously when he has you deadlocked. "Don't worry, I won't make it that easy for you," you snort, getting ready to fight. He eyes you and you him, both of you tense. It's not the first time you've screwed up his game, beating him to the punch and snatching information or important items from under his nose. But this time, you don't seem to be getting away from him so easily. "Dead end," Echo says dryly. You stare at him angrily. "Captain Obvious," you grumble. He sighs and says, "I can't let you escape this time, I need those files you stole." "Let me get away? You've never let me escape before, I've escaped you."

Echo rolls his eyes. "Sure." Outraged, you clench your hands into fists. Echo suddenly smirks. "You look cute when you're angry". "Thanks...wait what?- I know, I mean.... Shut up!" Echo raises his brows in amusement, very slowly he moves closer. You consider backing away, but you're far too intrigued by that expression on his face. He seems so different than he usually does, not as grim. As he stands in front of you, he finally asks, "If you don't want to give me the files, how about a date?" You catch yourself actually thinking about it, feeling flattered. But then your eyes narrow. "That's an honest question," Echo says when he sees your reaction. "Really?" He nods with a small smile and puts his blaster away. "Neutral territory, truce?" he asks. Uncertain, you say, "Um, okay." The corner of his mouth twitches up again as he says, "You won't regret it."

Wrecker

Even as an opponent, he's playful, but he's also damn strong, and you have to be pretty damn careful. One blow can knock you out or even break your skull, even if he doesn't necessarily mean to. But in the heat of battle, that can happen. You're faster than him, that's your advantage. But he's smarter than you think at first. Every now and again, you narrowly escape your encounters. "Hey, you want to play hide and seek again?" the giant rumbles with a laugh. You sigh and shake your head. "Not today, big guy," you say, throwing him a kissy hand and deftly dodging as he tries to reach for you. "Oh come on, don't be a killjoy!" You laugh and hastily climb onto a low little house nearby. You look down and see him standing there, down in the alley. Wrecker looks up at you, disappointed yet expectant.

You want to make a cool exit and wink at him with a casual salute, but as you turn around, something breaks loose from the edge of the roof you're standing on. From one second to the next, you suddenly find yourself in free fall. Your heart skips a beat, you expect to land hard on the ground at any moment. But that doesn't happen. Wrecker catches you. He looks at you with concern, you in turn look up at his face in complete surprise, still lying in his arms. "Are you all right? Did you hurt yourself?" he asks quietly. Just as quietly, you reply, "Just got a fright." For a long time you just stare at each other, your eyes wandering back and forth, sometimes meeting, only to dodge again. At some point, however, you say quietly, "You do realize that we're actually enemies?" Wrecker snorts softly, then shrugs his shoulder and carefully eases you to your feet. "Nobody has to know that we don't actually kill each other. I don't like us being enemies, but I do like our cat and mouse games," he finally says with a smirk. You laugh softly and ask, "Should I hide again?" His smirk turns into a grin.

Tech

You've met many times before. But never has he seen your face, or much of you for that matter, you usually attack from cover, from the shadows. Today is no different. He's ahead of you at the finish line, ahead of you at the computer with the important data. He doesn't hear you coming. When you pull his legs away, he makes a surprised, startled sound, has to drop the holopad he's using to download the data to catch himself and not land on his face. He lost his helmet on the way when you shot at him from cover. He hasn't really laid eyes on you yet and is already impressed and annoyed by you, to the same degree. You deftly tied his legs together in a prepared sling with one quick move and jump over him, grabbing the holopad as you go. Somehow he's cute, the lanky, tall guy with the goggles. "Hey! That's mine!" he indignantly says, reaching for you but narrowly missing. You take off your helmet briefly to give him a cheeky wink, at which moment he seems to freeze for a second, staring at you as if he's seen a ghost or some other kind of special phenomenon.

„What's wrong? Having a stroke?“

For the first time in his life, Tech probably speaks without thinking as he says, "I didn't expect you to be pretty". When he realizes what he said, and you do too, you stare at each other, blinking. You sigh softly, crouching down at a safe distance from him, he's still on the ground, propped up on his forearms, looking at you, part critical, part curious, part confused. "And I thought you were smarter," you say dryly. He frowns, indignation clear in his expression. "I'm probably the smartest person you'll ever meet". You smirk at his reaction and say, "Then I guess we define that word in different ways." A noise distracts you, just a very brief moment, but obviously long enough for Tech to get the upper hand. He has freed himself from the sling and leaps forward, at the same moment that you look in his direction, startled. He rams you backwards from your crouch onto your back and is upon you. Your heart is beating up to your throat, but you calmly say, "Okay, handsome, looks like I underestimated you."

Tech blinks several times, having to classify and digest the word 'handsome'. "I'll take the holopad back from you". "You're welcome to try," you say with a smile. "And then I will go my way" You sigh softly, you know you should fight, not shy away from hurting him. But something inside you resists. Tech's gaze wanders down your face, again and again. "But I'd like to see you again." That is new. You say softly, "We're opposites, enemies, actually." "Do we have to be?" he asks back promptly. You blink, unsure, is it that easy? Is it that simple? "We have different clients," you note.

"So? We could go from enemies to a friendly rivalry after all. That would give us room to do other things." You laugh softly, still beneath him, pinned to the ground by him. "Other things?" you ask, amused. Tech's ears and cheeks flush as he says, "Well, maybe romance". You laugh and feel yourself getting all warm. He realizes that this approach is probably far too direct and awkward, but why waste time. "A romance? Well you have big plans" He shrugs and stays serious, ears and cheeks still flushed, "Why not, life is short, let's make the best of it" You blink in surprise and after another breath you say softly, "Okay. I'd be willing to give it a try" The smile on his face is undeniably adorable.

Crosshair

You already know that he is an excellent shooter and tends to use live ammunition rather than stun ammunition. So the first thing you do is concentrate on stealing his gun or making it useless in some way. You hear him swear as you grab his Firepunsher from your position in the vent and pull it off his back. He turns around so fast and jumps up, almost getting a grip on the weapon, you have to hastily throw yourself backwards, back into the ventilation shaft. You let out a startled curse as suddenly his hands grab the edge of the vent. You know you should react quickly, strike at his fingers, but you hesitate, and you don't really know why yourself at the moment. He pulls himself up and shortly after you see his Angry Face appear in the opening of the ventilation shaft. "You lousy little womprat," he growls as he pulls himself into the shaft. You want to aim at him, but the Firepunsher is far too long to turn it around in the shaft.

He grabs your ankle and pulls you out of the shaft with a jerk as he drops back out. You fall out of the shaft with your weapon and land hard on the floor in the hallway below. Your helmet slides off your head and rolls to the side. "Fuck!" you curse, snarling, and go to stand up, but there's the barrel of the Firepunsher in front of your nose. You curse again, much quieter this time, "Fuck..." You look past the barrel, up into the Sniper's angry face. You wonder why he hasn't pulled the trigger yet. You hold still, even trying to breathe shallowly, as if you fear any movement on your part might tempt his trigger finger. "That's the last time you mess up a mission for me," he says cuttingly. You don't quite know what to do or say, so you keep silent and stare at him as he stares back. This is the first time you've been able to get a good look at his face. Striking, masculine, serious, there is something bold in his golden brown eyes. Too bad you're playing on different sides, he's a looker.

After what feels like an eternity, you open your mouth. "Okay. So where do we go from here?" He seems to take a deep breath, as he answers he sounds annoyed, "Haven't decided yet." You try a little smirk and ask, "So what's the choice?" Crosshair clicks his tongue and says, "I kill you here and now and finish the mission and never be bothered by you again. Or I take away all your weapons, tie you up, finish the mission, and take the risk that you'll get on my nerves again someday." You ask perkily, "No third option?" His head tilts to the side barely noticeably, then he asks, "What do you have in mind?" You cautiously venture up on your elbows and look at him slyly, "I saw you staring at my lips. You're wondering how they feel, how they taste." He blinks several times. "You're full of shit," he growls.

You smile unperturbed. But when he suddenly holsters the gun and pulls you to your feet by your collar, you make a startled sound that is smothered by his lips. At first, you are far too surprised to react, but only for the length of a heartbeat or two. Then you return the kiss. It's heated, wild, sloppy all at once, and undeniably glorious. When he suddenly lets go of you, you stumble backward, nearly falling, your knees unexpectedly weak. He looks at you, a smug smirk on his face. "Not too bad," he says dryly. "Well," you say a little beside yourself, "Right back at you." After another moment of silence, he asks, "You're still going to try and screw up this mission for me, aren't you?" In response, you merely grin. He sighs and finally says with a barely noticeable smile, "Go on, I'll even give you a little headstart, but when I get my hands on you again, I want more than a kiss. Deal?" You get hot and almost swallow your tongue, but you grin back and nod. "Deal."

@rintheemolion

@andyoufollowyourheart @clone-whore-99

@brynhildrmimi @kaliel2310

@misogirl828 @tech-deck

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@hated-by-me

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@projectdreamwalker

@1vlouds

[crosshairs-dumb-pimp-gf]

Alright fine I had to. Consequences of THIS. I gave him a tie for more drama.

Point Hunter.

Welcome to the Disgrace comic universe where everyone is as immature as possible. For Hunter this means taking his clothes off at the slightest provocation like a toddler. No, not in a sexy way. Like. A. Toddler.

NPT: @feral-ferrule (u did this. *shakes fist*) @eobe

[oceansssblue]

OK SO. RAREPAIR. MY GOAT. Ventress x Hunter!! I love this ship so much he spread his legs to her

If possible, can you make it t4t? Trans woman Asajj and Trans man Hunter? 👉👈

Can be smut! They are so hot together hehe

Soooo... let the rare pairings begin ✨

Hope it was what u wanted!

"NOT WHAT I WAS EXPECTING"

– ASAJJ VENTRESS/HUNTER 🔥

WARNINGS: TRANS ASAJJ, TRANS HUNTER, EXPLICIT SEX (DIRTY TALK, BIG DICK)

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"This is not what I was expecting when you agreed to come with me" Ventress retorts, voice full of sarcasm, while Hunter tries to catch his breath in front of her.

The leader of Clone Force 99 had been worried sick about the ex-sith's revelation about Omega. She had offered to train her; just enough to grasp a sliver of control of the Force. Just enough to hide herself, to remain unnoticed. Not that the Empire would stop looking after her –not when they already knew the truth–; but at least, her life sign wouldn't be screaming "force sensitive" for those physically around the girl. Hunter had inmediately shot down the idea unless he was allowed to tag along; and Asajj had reluctantly accepted.

Why did she want to help the girl? Well, Ventress knew everything about people wanting to take advantange of a helpless child; about being an expensable pawn in another's game, about families ripped apart. Plus, the Empire would find her someday too, no matter how hard she had been working to blend with the shadows. And for the Empire to be destroyed, there had to be enough force-sensitives –ex-siths, ex-jedis, new force users, it didn't really matter– alive. Asajj doubted the Empire could be defeated without them.

That didn't mean Ventress was chirpy about it. Hapiness just didn't seem to be in her vocabulary; in her range of emotions. Amused, entertained, not sad neither angry? Yes. But never plainly happy. It was just her personality; shaped after a whole life of teachings on dark arts and sith stories.

Surprisignly, her two new companions hadn't been as irritating as she had expected them to be. The kid's bubbly excitement could be tiring after a whole day of social interactions; and Hunter's initial side glances of waryness had gotten on her nerves at first. But the girl had learned when to give her space –it wasn't a difficult task, considering Asajj's sharp tongue– and Hunter... Ah, Hunter had been a very curious development.

Ventress had grown to... Well, perhaps like was too strong of a word, but it admitedly went further than tolerate. The clone was loyal and brave –but not the silly kind of bravery–; measured, always aware of his surroundings, perceptive and plainly hot. That definitely helped. There was a sort of primal, raw and masculine attraction going on for Hunter; and yet he was still surprisignly pretty. Perhaps it was the long hair or the sweet brown eyes; perhaps that narrow waist Asajj had eyed more than once.

No matter how curiously attracted she felt for him, though, Ventress never thought it would end like this; that he would be the one to grow a pair and kiss her. And oh, what a heated kiss it had been. Hunter was still panting in front of her, eyes flickering over her face while he tried to catch up his breath. Ventress had heard him moan low in his throat; felt the shiver spreading through his body when she had all but cuped his ass and grounded against him, letting him feel her bulge. The wide-eyed, confused but excited look on the clone's face had been nothing short of precious.

Ventress walked backwards –eyes never leaving Hunter's– and layed down on the matress of her ship; posture relaxed and tempting. Hunter seemed to be devouring her from his spot against the wall.

"I'm not complaining, though" she finally continued, making a tiny gesture with her head while she added in a sultry voice "Come here and take a sit on my lap, little clone".

Hunter's cheeks flushed a deep red. He hadn't seen this happening either. But he couldn't deny the way his heartbeat sped up when Ventress stepped close to him; or when she hissed a few words as an answer. Because that's how the woman spoke; in sharp hisses and confident whispers. Everything in Asajj screamed power; and that made Hunter's knees weak.

Hunter has always been a confident person himself; used to leading his squad and carrying the weight of decisions and responsabilities. He doesn't really understand then, why he gets so damn shy around Ventress; why his feet shuffle as if he's unsure to move forward. He wants to. He wants her. Why then does he feel so... afraid?

The woman observes him from the bed. It makes Hunter more nervous, but the arch of her eyebrow finally pushes him into action, and Hunter quickly jumps into the matress, one knee going over Ventress's hips and settling almost stubbornly on top of her. He's a sargeant. He has led his team into battle more times than he can count and survived to tell the story. It's just sex with... Ventress.

Ventress, who has a very well-endowed cock by the feeling of it and chuckles at Hunter's obvious reaction; a small whimper escaping his lips while he nervously adjusts on top of her.

The woman's long nails take hold of Hunter's own hips; keeping him in place.

Once again, she smirks.

"Like what you feel?" She asks, though it's nothing more than an observation at this point, really.

Hunter blushes and glances off to the side. Ventress chuckles and grabs his chin; forcing him to look at her.

"For a sargeant, you're surprisingly shy in bed" she points out, smile wide as a lothcat's. "Don't worry, little clone, we can just stick to kissing for a bit".

There's a sort of sarcasm to her voice; but Hunter seizes the oportunity to do something he wants and escape the weight of her stare and dips down to press his lips on hers. Asajj makes a tiny surprised sound, body tensing and coiling like a snake; then chuckles low in her throat and tugs him forward, deepening the kiss. She's rough, teeth nipping his lower lip, all-consuming; and Hunter quickly gets lost in it. His body heatens up; warmth climbing onto his cheeks. He's getting wet, now; and he can feel Ventress's bulge growing hard underneath him, and the knowledge drives him crazy.

He humps forward, unconsciously trying to grind on it; and Ventress groans, lips parting, head falling back to rest against the thin pillow. She studies him with hooded eyes. The clone looks delicious; long hair encasing his flushed face, eyes closed, lips parted while he moves against her. Ventress tugs that gorgeous hair of his back with a pull of her hand; Hunter's spine curving in response. A small moan echoes in the walls of her ship.

"Getting a little desperate, aren't why?" She asks, amused but oh, so turned on, dark eyes heavy fixed on his. "You want that inside of you, mm?"

Hunter's whole body trembles at the dirty words coming of her mouth. A rush of slick slips into his underware. His core pulses almost with it's own heartbeat.

Fuck, yes. He wants that. He needs that. He's so empty, he needs her cock to stretch him, needs to be filled and pounded and...

Hunter whines, and Asajj gives him a wide, dangerous smile.

"Not that I'm trying, little clone, but your thoughts are awfully loud in the force".

Hunter blushes; though it doesn't make much difference in his already redenned cheeks. He looks at her as if he were a lost puppy; needing guidance. Ventress smirks.

"Why don't you take it out, then, if you want it so badly?" She suggests, playing with him, but dead-serious at the same time.

Hunter knows she won't let it slip; and it's less humiliating to admit to his desires directly –instead of trying to resist–. So he swallows his embarassment and shyness down, and his hands nervously tug her leggins and underware down; exposing her erection to him for the first time. It tears out a very audible moan from his throat.

"It's so big" he thinks to himself, but speaks out loud.

It's the biggest dick he's ever seen. Warm and heavy, it rests against the woman's pelvis; almost reaching her belly button. There's a few drops of precum that tempts Hunter to take a taste.

Asajj's laugh break him out of his reverie.

"Take a photo, little clone. It'll last longer".

Hunter tries to be nochalant about it.

"I was just curious. You know, with you being a woman and..." he looks down at her cock again, and Ventress gives him a confident, one sided smile.

"Ah. Well, it can't be that much of a surprise... Considering how you're keeping a very similar secret. Aren't you, little clone?"

Hunter squirms. He glances off to the side, but Ventress "tsks" and he redirects his eyes back to her. He doesn't like talking about this. Hell, he doesn't have a lot of sexual experience because he hadn't wanted to face other's reactions; hadn't known how to explain it. What to do or say. But Jedi magic, right? Or well... Well, perhaps his grinding had made his lack of package obvious. Either way, it's not easy admiting it out loud.

"Why don't you show me?" she continues, encourging him upon his silence.

Hunter hesitates for a few seconds; then he shifts his ways on his knees and slowly divests himself. His shirt is thrown to the floor first; his slightly more rounded chest coming into view. They're not really breasts, at least not a full pair; but they're not completely flat and muscular either. There's some softness in them; and his nipples had always been particularly sensitive.

Surprisingly, Ventress waits patiently as he moves on onto the lower part of his outfit. Hunter is finally completely naked in front of her; and the woman eats him up with her eyes while Hunter squirms in place. Insecurity swims inside of him, and some part of him wants nothing more than to dress up again, but... But Ventress smirks in satisfaction and carefully and very slowly swipes two fingers through his wet folds. Hunter clenches around nothing and moans.

"Look at that" she smiles, desire clear in her eyes. "Who would have thought a clone commander would look so pretty with perky nipples and a pussy crying to be filled. Because that's what you truly want, isn't it?"

"Y-yes" Hunter manages to answer, swallowing his embarassment down.

"Well, well, little clone. We must prepare you for that" Ventress taunts, her hand reaching down to gently stroke her cock twice. "I'm not sure I can make all this fit inside of you. I bet you're tight".

Hunter's mind is swimming in desire. He nods, fingers flying down to his clit inmediately. He does a circular motion one, twice; he's so wet and turned on it feels spectacular already.

"Ah, ah. You're going to cum in my cock and only by what my cock gives you" she stops him, making him whimper and look at her in desperation. "If you're so eager, you can start preparing yourself for my cock".

Hunter throws all caution through the window and dips his middle finger inside of him; the movement eased by his wetness. It's one single finger; and yet he feels so full already. Ventress is right; he is tight. It doesn't help his pussy is clenching onto anything that is given to him.

"Just like that, little clone. Go on. You're a big boy, you can take another one".

Hunter whimpers and obbeys; and soon he's pushing two fingers, then three, in and out of him. They become from being too much to being too little; and he whines gripping the woman's hip with his free hand, asking for more.

Ventress, who has been slowly stroking herself while watching his little show, smirks knowingly.

"Yes, Hunter?"

He bites his lip and squirms. He knows she wants him to ask.

"P-please..." he whispers, the urgency clear in his voice.

Ventress smiles wider.

"Please what? I'm not giving you anything until you beg for it".

Hunter moans and tries to hide behind the courtin of his hair momentarily. The woman grabs his chin and forces him to face her. Her eyes demand an answer. Hunter needs to beg.

"Please, Asajj" he surprises himself with how soft his pleading voice sounds. "I want your big cock inside of me".

Ventress groans, kissing him as a reward and swiftly adjusting their positions; tugging him towards her so that his entrance is hovering over her erection. Ventress holds both of his hips with her hands; gesturing down with her head, eyes locked on his.

"Take what you want, little clone. Sit on it". She orders, the last few words coming out in almost a hiss.

It sends electrifying pleasure up his spine; a tremble that is only replicated when he holds her cock in place with one hand and begins to slowly sit on it.

"A-ah" he whines, the stretch of her massive cock too much for his tight entrance to easily adjust. "V-ventress..."

She hums in delight and holds his hips steady; leading him to backtrack a little before taking more of her length inside of him.

"You should see yourself, Hunter" her voice is temptation on itself. "Looking so pretty trying to take my hard cock in your tiny pussy".

Hunter whimpers and stubbornly pushes down the rest of the way; the stretch so abrupt it burns. He makes a second wounded noise in his throat when he involuntarily clenches on her; and Ventress releases her first pure unadulterated, uncontrolled moan of the night. This is affecting her as well; as much as she's good at hiding it.

"S-so big" he repeats, almost as if he needs her to soothe him, to confirm it.

Asajj nods, answer a little raspy.

"Yeah. I can almost see the outline poking in your belly".

Hunter clenches on her again and looks at her desperately; breath already coming out in agitated pantings.

She reads the overwhelming desire in him.

"Move, little clone. I want to see you bouncing up and down on my cock".

Hunter loses himself on Asajj's hard-on. Though at first it's difficult to mantain a rhythim, the feeling too much, his endless desire and wetness soon makes it easier; and encouraged by her dirty words and strong hands, he moves faster and harder, slamming his own hips down on hers until he can almost feel her pushing against his cervix. Is an alarming situation and a incredibly pleassurable once at the same time.

Ventress let's him enjoy himself for some minutes; delighted to watch his pleasure and listen to his curses and moans, eyes tracking the way his body bounces and how his spine arches, how flushed his face looks. The need to fuck him harder, faster, arrives not too long after, though; and she inverts their positions so fast that Hunter is left to stare at her in shock, weeping cock still inside of him.

"You've had your fun, little clone. Now I get to take what I want, and you're just gonna hold on and cope with it".

It's a warning; a promiss. And Hunter soon discovers Ventress has no intention on breaking it.

She tilts his hips upwards; bends his legs open, and pounds in him so hard and deep a broken moan cries into the silence of the night. She doesn't give him respite, though; she's persistent, set on a goal, hips moving confidently over his and feeding her cock into his pussy one time after the other one. He's so wet the sound is almost embarassing; and yet it still turns him on. Ventress's cock feels imposibly good inside of him; so big, stretching him so wide, reaching so deep, branding him inside, carving her shape out of his pussy, one time after the other one and the other one and the other one...

"Please... please..." hunter cries, real tears in his eyes.

It feels so good it's overwhelming. He needs to cum. He needs to explode and release and please, god, this is so fucking good his brain is going to...

"There, there, little clone. Just take. What I. Give you" she hisses back, punching each word with a snap of her hips.

Hunter feels the orgasm impossibly close. He feels tingly already. He can almost graze it with his fingertips. It feels so good, he's so full, she's so big and...

"I-I'm gonna' cum!" He warns her, eyes shutting down inmediately, mouth dropping in an opent pant.

Ventress groans and pounds harder. She places a firm –and carefull– hand on Hunter's throat.

The man whines. The stars explode.

"I-I'm cum-ing!" He cries out, every single muscle on his body clenching harshly, squeezing the woman's cock.

Tingling spreads from his pussy to every single nerve ending on his body; shivering uncontrollably.

Ventress opens up on the Force; swallowing his pleasure down, making it part of her own.

"F-fuck!" She groans, almost tasting her own orgasm too. "D-drop to your knees, Hunter. Now".

It's not a question. It's an order. It's urgent. Necessary.

A dazzed Hunter rolls over and kneels on the floor; sleepy, satisfied eyes looking up at the woman's figure in ecstasy. Ventress takes a stand right in front of him. She grabs his hair with one hand, tilting his face upwards; desperately strokes her cock with the other one.

"Want to fucking paint your face" she growls, managing to send a last shiver of pleasure through Hunter's nerves. "Want to see your pretty face drenched in my warm cum, little clone..."

Hunter hums and obediently sticks his tongue out; and the sight of it, of the clone voluntarily offering his mouth to her, is what does it. Ventress moans and cums; white ropes of her warm seed painting Hunter's flushed face and dripping down. Ventress caresses the tip against his cheek; then against his lips. Hunter hums and gives her a kittle lick in complete contempt and relaxation. It's Ventress's time to shiver.

"Good boy" she murmurs, energy dropping, falling down to sit on the edge of the bed.

Hunter hums and follows; drops forward, head coming to rest to one of her thighs. He's growing sleepy as well; and Ventress chuckles in what can only be... Well, not happiness, but fond amusement, maybe.

THE END.

[screamingforjuice]

The Art of Hate

This is also posted on AO3!@screamingforjuice

Story line is Crosshair/Jedi! Reader with a smidge of Rex/Jedi! Reader

Gonna try to keep it under 10 parts but that usually doesn’t happen 🧍‍♀️

That classic enemies to lovers (lemme cook) 🕺

There is also some warnings including: Violence, Language, and Explicit content (18+)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter One- A Quell of Hate

In any scenario, this would never have been what you expected. Where the galaxy was once peaceful, ranging from trade federations and civil duties, a General was not a title you expected to have bestowed. War was ugly, in any situation. It took and took until there was nothing left to take, drowning out anything worth gazing upon with a gentle eye. It festered, like a plague, feeding people fear and anger. How was war not considered hypocrisy? If you pledged yourself a peacekeeper, would that not mean that you should be uninvolved? That you too would be a hypocrite of a broken system?

Or, did that mean you should be, no matter the cost? If you're told to keep the peace, would that mean putting down your morals for the greater good of the galaxy? The greater good of the people? Innocents, men, women and children, dying at the hand of tyrants for political gain. Would that not be justifiable in the use of necessary force? Hate was a strong word, one you'd never use if you couldn't help it. But hating what your life had become was a valid excuse for using the word. You could hate what you had to do, what was expected of you, but never another. No, hate could not be bore on another life, for that was inexcusable.

All beings should be suited for forgiveness, no matter the cost of their actions. Even if it tore you up from the inside out, personal vendetta's were sin. To sin against the Order would mean personal treason; it would mean forsaking the oath you took. But hate was powerful, even if it led you down a damaged path. We were all heading down a path we should not follow, but who would admit to that? Who had the power to say it was right or wrong? We were no Gods, no creators that placed the life in droplets to the galaxy.

No. We were keepers of the peace. A peace that's time was up.

•~~•~~•

The cold and gleaming walls of the Venator seemed so fascinating at one point. Now, they only reminded those who walked among them that they were anything but that. I never much cared for the lavish expenditures the Senate tried to force onto the Jedi, I was merely doing my duty the Order placed me into. Commanding such a vast ship with so many men that were willing to fight and die for the Republic was never an easy thought to get past. Death and destruction was avoidable, it always was, but we chose this, didn't we.

The sound of the turbo lift reaching the corridor I stood in rang in my ears, the gentle whirring coming to a stop as the door slid open with a 'hiss'. My boots thudded gently against the durasteel floor as I took my place inside of the turbo lift, my gloved hands folding behind my back. I only assumed there were more issues for me to attend to, issues only 'I' could right. Commander Jax met me on the bridge, saluting me as I passed by, giving him a soft dip of my chin in turn, "General. The blockade was weakened, but we still haven't broken through. Your orders?" Jax spoke, falling into step with me as we neared the holotable.

The holo table lit up with said blockade over the planet of Jarium, little pin points and dashes drawing out where the blockade was weakened or still stood. I crossed my arms over my chest, my head tilting slightly as I squinted at the picture. Half of the time, I had no idea how to create a battle plan or mark our formations, I was a Jedi, not a war hero. I pointed to the eastern point of the blockade, "And what of the round about? Instead of head on, we come up from under them?" Jax looked at me, and then to where my finger pointed to. He was very opinionated, he would put me in my place ten times over if he had to.

In his three years under my command, challenged me more times than he actually just listened and followed orders. "With all due respect, General, we simply do not have the man power to elicit such an attack. We'd be going in blind," He countered, shaking his head gently. This was one of those instances where I didn't really have any better plan of action, other than to confer with the Council. "What option do we have, Jax? This blockade needs to be broken through within the next rotation or we lose the planet," I argued, my hands resting on my hips as I turned to face him.

He gave me a look, and then uncounted silence. I couldn't help but worry, he never had nothing to say, never didn't have an argument on the tip of his tongue. I realized his silence wasn't because of not knowing, but because he had a plan I would not like. My brows furrowed as I watched him turn towards the holo again, his lips setting into a firm line. I wished the misconceptions about Jedi being able to read minds was true, because I would've done so to Jax a million times already. I disliked his silence, he was always stewing inside of his constantly working brain.

Finally, he let out a breath before looking to me, "You know who we should be calling in, General.." I frowned, yes, I knew immediately who he was referring to. Not that I had an issue with the group whatsoever, just one of them in particular. The question was, did I want to be undermined by a group of hotheaded defective Clones? I couldn't refuse, I knew we were in trouble, and our best bet was an inside mission, and my men were not suited for such. I waved a hand at him, a silent begrudging approval. Jax didn't seem to be so pleased with his own idea, but him and I both knew it was our best bet.

I stood silently as I looked out the view port, down at Jarium as we hovered over the planet. I was sure we would be successful with our called in help, but my pride would be severely wounded. It was only an hour or so before a proximity alarm rang out, a modified Omicron-class attack shuttle puffing out of the endless void from hyperspace, hissing down towards the planet below. The group of misfits had arrived.

•~~•~~•

Orders. How was it so hard to follow simple orders. The mission was completed, and swiftly, but at the cost of more resources than I intended using. Jax stood beside me in the hangar bay, a bead of sweat forming on his lip. Jarium was recovered, and while the Senate and Council were pleased, I was not. Jax was aware of that, and begged me not to blow my lid. How could I not? They blew a whole through half of the city, damaging a city I was in charge to ensure safe keeping. The worst part was, I knew exactly who was responsible for this fiasco.

He always found a way in getting under my skin, undermining my authority, and showing the utmost disrespect to me. My jaw tensed further upon watching the five men step down the ramp, walking towards Jax and I. I had to remember that I was only enraged at one of them, not all of them, even though they all had gone off script. I actually was quite fond of the group when they were actually using common sense, but even that seemed to elude the sharpshooter. He met my glare, his helmet tucked under his arm loosely, a lazy smirk attached to his lips.

I never used the word 'hate', but for him, I could make an exception despite my oath. I hated Crosshair, loathed him with every fiber in my being. Hunter had told me long ago to not let him get under my skin, but time and time again he never failed to royally piss me off. Wrecker beamed at me, waving excitedly to greet me to which I couldn't help but let my lips twitch at. I sighed in silent defeat, turning my attention away from the sharpshooter to the rest of the squad, "Looks like you guys saved the day. Once again," I spoke, crossing my arms loosely as I brought my attention to Hunter. He gave me a soft shrug of his shoulders, his lips quirking up slightly, "Just doing our duty, General."

"Any excuse to blow things up!" Wrecker cut in, causing Hunter to let out a sigh. Tech looked up from his data pad briefly, "'Blowing things up' was not part of the mission, Wrecker. We were explicitly told not to—" "Why does it matter?" Crosshair growled out, stepping towards us. He still gave me that condescending look, as if challenging me to bite back, "We completed the mission, as the General asked us to." My finger nails dug into the palms of my hands, my body growing hot with rage once again. Jax cleared his throat from beside me, trying to break up the inevitable argument from ensuing.

I huffed, squinting up at Crosshair through my glare, "You completed it on your own volition," He let out a grunt of annoyance, his lips curling into a sneer, but Echo pushed him back, shaking his head. Hunter gave me a look, to which it meant a silent plea to not feed into his argumentative behavior. I turned my gaze to Hunter, "And you blew a hole through the city. I asked for a quiet infiltration of the blockade, not bombs." I finished, crossing my arms over my chest in disappointment. Hunter merely scratched the back of his neck, "Sorry about that, General. Things got a bit out of hand and we got carried away."

"Carried away?" I blurted, giving him an incredulous look, "There are civilians down there with no homes now!" "Then why call us in if you wanted it done differently?" Crosshair snapped, shoving past Echo, "We got it done. Why complain about how it was completed," I gritted my teeth together, shoving my finger in his chest, "Complain?! I gave you orders. It would do you well to learn how to follow them." He swatted my hand away, as if he was offended that I even got remotely close to touching him. Tension was high between the squad and I, which wasn't necessarily a rare occurrence. I don't know what I expected, I should've known better.

"Maybe you should get out on the frontlines for once instead of picking everyone else to fight your battles, Jedi," He bit back, his tone dripping with venom. There was the disrespect to my authority. If he called me by my rank, it was out of sarcasm, but most of the time, he only ever referred to me as what I was. Hunter came between us, pushing Crosshair back from me while Jax grabbed hold of my bicep, tugging me back from him, "General.. Let's just get the debriefing over with," Jax muttered to me quietly, to which I pulled my arm from his grasp and turned on my heel, leaving the hangar bay.

No one was happier than me to see the Batch Crosshair leave. I was frustrated beyond belief from that stunt they pulled, but couldn't help but blame myself partly. I had given the approval to allow Clone Force 99 into the mission, which I never should have in all honestly. While I cared for the group of clones, I simply could not handle my temper with the sharpshooter. I forgot how our silent shared hatred for one another even started, but I knew I had every reason to feel the way I did. I was generally a pretty carefree, unorthodox and overall easygoing person. Where this unexplainable rage came from when I was around him was unlike me.

Maybe if he had been more compliant, I wouldn't have to yell at him every time I saw him. Of course, he would never allow himself to 'bow down at my feet' as he so says. He respected everyone else, but me. Even Anakin, and Anakin had more of a temper when things weren't going his way. I had thought for a long time that he acted the way he did because he hated being told what to do by a woman, but that wasn't the case either. In fact, he was a gentleman to every other woman except me.

I did face repercussions despite the win on Jarium due to what had happened with the city. I see now that if I wanted something done, I should just do it myself. But time passes slowly when you're in the depths of endless space with nothing to do other than look over the bridge. Recent talks of the war coming to a close had been getting louder, which had only ensued more chaos. I didn't think the rumors were true, no, they couldn't be when I was standing in a war vessel traveling through hyperspace to yet another Separatist inhabited planet.

•~~•~~•

The gala hall was incredibly packed, the bodies of elegant jewels and drinks was an endless sea. I stood out from their flashy colors of silk and tulle, my bland black robes a woolen material. I didn't care much for the clothing, nor what I looked like. No one cares who you are when you're merely there to oversee the security for an event. Anakin and Rex were floating around somewhere, which is why I was sent as well to actually keep my eyes open. If Padmè Amidala was in the room, Anakin was right beside her. And wherever Anakin was, Obi-Wan wasn't far behind. Jax was at the forefront of the hall, checking for weapons as anyone entered.

For Clone Force 99's stunt on Jarium two months ago, I had them assigned to guard duty. Wrecker complained about not being able to blow anything up, Tech didn't really seem to care, in which he never does. Hunter and Echo simply did as they were told, a mission was a mission regardless. The sharpshooter, however, wasn't in sight. I expected that, of course, he liked to keep a distance from everything, his enhanced eye sight giving him the ability to do so. I was fine with him being out of my sight and as far away as possible, an argument would only ensue.

My fingers crinkled within my gloves, the warmth of the hall creating a light sweat on my heavily covered body. I preferred sweating only if I was actually doing something, not standing around. A security detail was not the best use of my skills in anyway, except for in Crosshair's words, 'I only ever stood around and did nothing anyway'. I almost scoffed aloud at my thoughts, my gaze once again flickering over the crowd of rich people and Senators. I lost track of how long I'd actually been standing there, the hours seeming to tick by so slowly.

"You're looking a little wary, General," A gravelly voice broke out over the comm link on my left forearm. My jaw tensed, my clasped hands only growing tighter. He was watching me instead of surveying the area, like he was told. I don't even know why I bothered trying to tell him what to do, it wasn't like he would listen anyway. I unfolded my hands, turning slightly before I tapped my finger to the channel button, "Use your eyes for something useful, would you?" I didn't hear anything for a moment, probably because he was basking in knowing I couldn't see him.

"So angry already? I haven't even done anything yet," He replied, a hint of condescension in his tone. He was willing to enrage me in any scenario, and why? Probably some deranged part of his brain that likes being an asshole for fun. "It makes me uncomfortable, stop looking at me," I muttered, my gaze slowly traveling around to pinpoint his location. Again, Jedi misconceptions foretold that we could also find anyone, anywhere. Lie, I could feel him, but only because we were in the same vicinity. Nothing again for a moment again, but I could practically feel his stewing going on.

It almost seemed like he didn't have a response for me, which surprised me. I was woefully wrong. "Uncomfortable? Then I will continue to do so, General," He responded after the pregnant silence, his tone deep and raspy, almost as if he were to be obeying an order. The warmth of the hall didn't help with his response, my face heating out of annoyance and discomfort. Why was it that he couldn't leave me be? I didn't understand how his mind worked in any way. He either teased me, argued with me, or gave me a simple glare. I tried not to feed into it, like Hunter suggested, but Crosshair was a force to be challenged.

"Piss off," I hissed out quietly, leaving my spot on the wall to make a round around the hall. He was enjoying this, only further proving that he was the most defective one in his squad. To be fair, our 'game' was quite childish, but he started it. Just like he was starting it now. "That language doesn't belong on your lips, Jedi," He growled out. I ignored that comment, silently making my rounds. My gaze landed on Rex, and I gave him a silent dip on my chin, acknowledging him.

Besides Jax, Rex was probably one of my favorite troopers. He was respectful, a gentleman, and attentive. There was no boredom where Rex was concerned, regardless of his professionalism. "General," He greeted, giving me a quick salute. I smiled softly, "Rex. Fun night, hm? I hope you're not too bored without all the blaster fire." He chuckled softly in response and I stepped in to stand at his side. "It's nothing like the field, Sir.. A change of pace is nice every so often," He spoke, glancing over to me. I nodded, looking around before leaning in to speak quietly, "I think these events are bantha dung. Too many politicians in one place."

Rex shrugged and glanced sideways at me with a slight smirk, "Not much for parties, General?" I shook my head, "Absolutely not. And this seems to be a terrible combination." Politicians and parties were a great way to get a quick headache, unless you were me and had a snappy sharpshooter to worry about. Rex and I chatted for the better part of the rest of the hour before I moved on, ignoring the burning gaze in the back of my head. "Have a good chat?" He snapped, and I cupped my hand over the comm. I steered around a column, putting it up to my mouth, "Seriously? What is your deal?"

Silence, a long silence actually. I didn't make the same mistake as last time and doubt a response from him. "Apologies, General, you stated that we couldn't get distracted. I was just reminding you," He replied smugly. I shut my eyes and let out a slow breath through my nose, trying to decide on whether or not I wanted to respond to this imbecile. "You do understand a comm link is meant for communicating about the mission, right?" I replied, choosing not to indulge in his nonsense.

"I can use it how I please. If that means riling you up, that's how i'll use it," He responded. Seriously? I scoffed to myself, "Do you usually have a stick up your ass, or were you born with it?" I was done playing his petty back and forth games. If he wanted fire, I would burn him ten times over. "Your mouth is dirty tonight, Jedi. Perhaps it would be better suited for something else," His tone was dark. I could feel the venom in each syllable, but that wasn't what bothered me. His implication was crude in every sense, making my hands sweat more so than they already were.

How was I even supposed to respond, other than with silence? Silence from me would mean backing down, and even if it meant that I was being childish, I didn't care. "You'd be better suited for Gundark food you imbecile," I spat. I didn't hear anything from him after that, and I don't think it was because of my response. I finished out the rest of the long, draining night, idly standing by until the last guests had left. I bid my goodbyes to Anakin and Obi-Wan, Rex as well before I joined back with Jax, leaving to our transport.

The Batch was waiting for us when we arrived, and I avoided eye contact with the sharpshooter. "I hope you all had fun doing nothing," I spoke, folding my hands in front of me. Hunter gave me a small smirk, "It won't happen again, General." I hummed, glancing at the squad as I began to turn away, "Yes.. but I don't believe that," I replied, casting one last glare at the sharpshooter before turning my attention to my transport, Jax and I loading on without further word. I sat quietly as we travelled back to my cruiser, Crosshair's words cycling through my head nonstop. I knew one thing from the entire experience.

I hated him, plain and simple.

•~~•~~•

"Cover me!" A explosion ripped out from beside me just ten meters away, causing me to lose my footing, stumbling a few feet before my stride lengthened. Nothing could ever just be clean cut, not with Clone Force 99 around. I dodged another blaster bolt, swinging my left saber around in a circle. Lintham was cold and unforgiving, the winds causing blaster fire to wipe across the battlefield astray. The 501st and 287th hustled around the field, pushing the blockade. So much for me just standing around and doing nothing, right?

My blades cut through the dusty air, swiping blaster fire away as I continued onward. I remember being told once that I was 'too expensive' to be put on the frontlines, I bet you could guess who said that. My time was precious and more often than not, I spent it in meetings or on the bridge of my cruiser. While I wasn't a negotiator like Obi-Wan, I demanded respect in my composure. I drove my right blade up through the center of a B1 battle droid, swinging it outward as I pulled it away.

It felt good to be out on the field after so long, I didn't get much action anymore. While I didn't mind not being shot at, I didn't appreciate feeling like I was being set aside while everyone else got to do the hard work. Clone Force 99 wasn't in sight, which was okay for me. I didn't need another headache from the unconventional approach to battle. Though, a blue blaster bolt whizzed past my head, hitting a B1 directly in the head, sending it to the ground. I felt my irritation rise, knowing whose shot that was.

It didn't matter than he was the best shot in the Republic, he did that to let me know he was here, watching. I dove forward to avoid another missile, ducking down into a roll. I rolled to a crouching position, surveying my surroundings. "Did you miss me?" A voice crackled over the comm. I rolled my eyes, standing to my feet and tapping the comm button, opening my end of the channel, "No, not really." I spun my blades around once more, deflecting more awry blaster fire. I turned around, sensing another approaching B1, but it was sniped in the side of the head, its head jerking sharply to the right.

"How touching," He responded. I rolled my eyes, "Quit it. I don't need your help." I swung my blades again. "We wouldn't want anything to happen to you, right, princess?" He spoke, his tone sarcastic. I gritted my teeth hard, spinning into a barrel flip, my blades cutting around, severing the head off of another B1. "Must you always be so unprofessional?" I growled out. All I heard was a soft sound of his minimal laughter, further fueling my irritation. He was distracting me when I needed my full focus. It was like he was trying to get me shot— ah, jinxed it.

I let out a pained grunt as a shot grazed the back of my arm, causing me to stumble forward. I didn't bother to check it, swinging my right blade around to deflect more blaster fire. Thankfully, he had nothing to say about it, but one of my men from the 287th came to ensure my health was still well. It was brief but I brushed him off, ignoring the feeling of singed skin. While Crosshair's silence was unexpected, his aid to me didn't cease. He took out the B1 that had hit me. Good, I hoped he felt bad for distracting me in a lethal environment.

The fighting waged on for hours more, but we came out victorious. Our losses weren't too high, and the blockade was wiped. I met with Jax, who pestered me about my wound. I'd get it checked later, I wasn't a high priority, not when there were men who needed serious aid. I sent Jax off to help get our injured off the field, silently making my way to my transport. Among the mess, the Marauder touched down, dust flying up from the ion engines power. I strayed from my path to go and get a word with Hunter.

He met me at the end of the ramp, the others offloading after him. We just exchanged a few words before they decided to set off, but not before asking if I needed a ride back up to my cruiser. I obliged, entering the Marauder whilst everyone got situated in the cockpit. I sat down at the work bench, pulling my left arm across my chest to try and examine my wound. "Looks painful," A voice spoke, causing me to turn my gaze to the source. I sighed, looking away from him and back to my wound, flicking the singed fabric from the sleeve of my robes out of the way.

He didn't seem to bristle at my nonverbal response, shuffling around with something before approaching me. He came to my side, grabbing hold of my shoulder. I narrowed my eyes up at him, "Hey, what—" but a cooling sensation washed over my wound, the burn fading away into a dull ache. He was spraying it with bacta, he was.. being generous? I let him finish, my gaze following him as he walked away to put the spray back into the kit. I frowned, looking away from him. Now, the right thing to do would be to say thank you, for multiple things.

‘Thank you for covering me, thank you for the bacta, but also fuck you for yapping at me in the middle of a shoot out’. I decided against it, silently brooding to myself for not having a response to give. He sat down and silently started pulling apart his sniper, assumably to clean it. I tried to keep myself from watching, but he'd never been so silent before. It was unnerving in a way, how he didn't have something to complain about. It was even more odd that I didn't hate being in the same vicinity as him. I cleared my throat, "Thanks," I spoke weakly.

That gave him pause, but his eyes didn't lift more than the floor. He grunted in response, continuing his task. He was hard to read, always had been. He had this wall put up in his mind that I wouldn't dare knocking on. I could, if I truly wanted to, but I wasn't invasive. I wouldn't go poking around where I didn't belong if I didn't have to. That didn't mean that I wasn't curious, though. What was going through his mind? Why was he the way he was? I knew I'd never know, and that made me anxious.

"How does it feel?" He spoke suddenly. I paused, looking up at him. He didn't look at me, just continued working on his rifle. How did what feel? My wound? My pride? Was he asking a condescending question or was he being genuine? He scoffed, shaking his head, "Never mind." My brows furrowed, he was being genuine. "It's fine. Feels great," I responded. His gaze lifted slightly, his brow quirking at my answer. 'Feels great' probably wasn't a very good answer, but it fell out of my mouth before I could think.

"You distracted me," I spoke once more, pulling my arm over my chest to look at my wound once more. "I know," He responded. No, 'Sorry, General. I know I was being an inconsiderate asshole'? I chose to bite my tongue, dropping my arm. My hands folded in my lap, my fingers curling inside of my gloves. The silence was unsettling, I hated sitting in silence. I think I might've preferred arguing with him instead of this. This felt too docile, too.. domestic. This was unlike him.

Under his cold, nonchalant demeanor, there was a trace of guilt. Did he feel guilty for what happened? It was merely a scratch, even if I was pissed at him for it. I'm a Jedi, I should've been more attentive instead of letting petty words pull be from my objective. He looked anxious despite his focus on the weapon, why? The ship rumbled as it touched down, and I immediately stood, brushing down my robes. Hunter walked back out, opening the ramp for me. I gave him a slight dip of my chin, exiting down the ramp.

I didn't get far before I felt his gaze on me, causing me to stop in my tracks. I didn't turn, simply waiting for whatever snarky comment he'd leave me off with. But he hesitated, and I started to turn. "Get it looked at," He spoke, approaching me slowly. As I fully faced him, his hand came up to move the fabric out of the wound once more. My eyes stared at him in shock, wide in confusion. I didn't have anything to say, which was fine because he spoke for me.

"Until next time, General," He spoke quietly, his gaze flicking up to meet mine before he turned away, loading back onto the Marauder. I stood there in silence as I watched the ships ramp fold up, the ship lift off and out of the hangar bay. He wasn't being sarcastic. He was being genuine.

I didn't know if that concerned me, or enraged me.

•~~•~~•

[nahoney22]

this site makes me stresssssssssed.

but anyway I’m writing a very filthy echo fic (sorry anon it’s for female readers and those who are comfortable reading female works because it’s indulgent AF) and it’s bomb I ain’t gonna lie

[bbgoffic]

Get to know you tag game:

79's Edition

Shamelessly stolen from the lovely @aynavaano who got it else where who got i-

//Rules// copy this post and answer the questions below + tag people you would like to see at 79's!

What to wear: probably my usual silloette, off the shoulder long sleeve bodcon dress with leggings. Black on black. Slip on wedges (6"+ never less) Black pearl choker with a gold medallion. Make up like this pic, hair like this one.

What to Order: the equivalent to red bull or a hard cider.

What to do: I'd be perched at the bar where the tender can keep an eye on me. If it's not busy we'll probably be chatting if it is I'm likely to pull out a book like I usually do.

Who to Woo: Interesting question, I wouldn't be setting out to woo any one usually just out for the noise and always on the hunt for novel places to take in the scenery.

Fives would probably approach me first, it's always the obnoxious over confident one first. Then poor Wrecker might ask me why I look so down leading to an awkward explanation that... That's just my face.

"But Nix," you say, " Aren't you gaga for Crosshair?"

Based on external knowledge my friends. Also there would be no approaching there. He would be the reason I look up from my book every few minutes sure as hell I'm being watched. Garunteeeed to piss me off should I catch him which... Does get him closer to sleeping with me so kudos.

I tag @here-comes-the-moose, @vimse, @hshfsjzjsgj, @cloneflo99 if you see this, haha guess what loser. (You're coming to the bar with me.) ((Please just do it the tag system is atrocious and I know some new faces be abound))

[wild-karrde]

Guarded - Part 1

Master List | Next Chapter

A/N: HI HELLO HOWDY! Alright, so a while back, I decided I would rework "Guarded" and "Reunion" a bit, so THIS IS THE START OF THAT EFFORT. This rework will not be as extensive as what's happening with "In Command", but this fic will be getting upgraded to an Explicit rating (with the M option still available on AO3). So if you're new to this fic, I HOPE YOU ENJOY IT, and if you've already read it and decide to revisit it, I HOPE YOU LOVE IT AS MUCH AS I ALWAYS HAVE. And for this go around, I WILL HAVE MY OUTSTANDING BETA READER HELPING FOR THE WHOLE TIME (TJ came on halfway through this fic last time), so THANK YOU as always to @teletraan-meets-jarvis for her stupendous support and beta-reading!

Chapter Rating: T (entire work is rated E, but M-rated version can be found on AO3)

Warnings: canon-typical violence, character death

Word Count: 3.4k words

She could feel it, something in the darkness, just out of reach, creeping towards her.

Not another dream.

The presence shifted, and with it, her certainty that she was in fact imagining it.

DANGER.

The word flashed in her mind like a siren. She rocketed to a sitting position, her hair sticking to her face and neck with sweat that was pouring from her brow. A dark figure loomed in the corner of her room, body half in her window. Their eyes met and his widened at the understanding that his quarry had detected him.

Oh, Maker.

Diving out of her bed, she rolled behind one of the ornately carved nightstands as a blaster bolt ricocheted off the light that stood on it. She coughed from the smoke as she yanked open the drawer on the front of it, pulling her blaster from its hiding place. Her assailant advanced, firing at her as she ducked further behind the nightstand. She heard him chuckle darkly as he stepped up onto her bed to get a higher vantage point.

She was exposed.

Without thinking, she launched herself from her crouched position, tackling the intruder. Her shoulder slammed into his ribcage, and she heard him grunt as her momentum carried them both to the ground, his helmeted head smacking hard against the floor.

He’s dazed at best. Got to keep moving.

She somehow still had her blaster in her hand and tucked it against the attacker’s exposed throat.

“Make a move and I will kill you without hesitation,” she panted.

She heard the same low chuckle again.

Suddenly, his wrist wrapped around hers as he tried to roll on top of her, but he had underestimated her strength. She squeezed the trigger once, twice, and the bolts hit him in the clavicle and throat. He gasped and wheezed, rolling off of her. She stood, her hair hanging in her face as she leveled the blaster at him again, ignoring the metallic smell of blood and charred flesh.

“Who sent you?” she demanded.

“It doesn’t matter…more…will…come…” he wheezed before falling silent.

She knelt down next to him, feeling for a pulse that no longer beat, and she cursed silently as there was a sudden banging on her door. She stood, tucking her hair behind her ear as her security protocols were overridden and her door burst open, the room immediately filling with guards. The captain stood next to her, gently taking her arm to turn her towards him.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, attempting to hide the fear in his voice.

“No, I’m fine. Can’t say the same for our friend here.”

The captain’s brow furrowed. He snapped out a few orders to the guards, and they all rushed to comply.

“They’re growing bolder. This is no longer safe, and you know it,” he whispered quietly.

“Gregar, we can’t let them win.”

“If you die, they win, and they came close tonight.”

“You don’t give me enough credit.”

“Oh, I think I give you plenty. But I’m making the call.”

---

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Three chimes echoed throughout the darkened ship. Only one of the clones was awake, and he didn’t move in his bunk, hoping one of his brothers would get it.

Beep. Beep. Beep. The comm panel was insistent.

Peering over the edge of the bunk, Hunter could see Tech was asleep at the comm station, his feet propped up on the console and his neck tipped back over the chair at a perilous angle.

How does he even sleep like that? No wonder his posture is terrible.

He could see the flashing indicator trying to tell them they had a new message, but Tech’s snores continued uninterrupted.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Hunter sighed in frustration.

He’s clearly not getting up.

He looked around in the bunk for something to throw at his sleeping brother but was unsuccessful. Groaning one more time as he stretched his shoulders above his head, he rolled out of the bunk taking care not to step on Wrecker in the bunk below him and made his way over to answer the message. He could see Echo asleep in the copilot seat in the cockpit and Crosshair was stretched out on the floor in the back of the ship. Hunter wasn’t sure how long it would take him to re-integrate with the team, but it seemed like the sniper was determined to keep his distance for the foreseeable future, even when he was sleeping. He sighed before moving over to the comm console.

Hunter shoved Tech’s feet off the console, jolting him awake.

“Hmmm…what is it?” Tech asked, readjusting his goggles, which were askew across his face. It never failed to amaze Hunter how alert his brother could be after being woken from a dead sleep. It almost unnerved him at times.

“We’ve got a message.”

Hunter punched a few keys and a hologram illuminated in front of them in the form of Senator Bail Organa.

“Greetings, Clone Force 99. I hope this message finds you safe. I have received a request for protection from one of our closest allies. I have been asked not to disclose the name over this channel for security purposes, but I am transmitting coordinates for your rendezvous with their representative. While this may seem unusual, the situation is…complex, and requires special attention, which is why I’m asking you specifically to take this. The contact has stressed that it is imperative that your presence there remains a secret, so please take the necessary precautions. Send a confirmation once you get this message and are on your way.”

The hologram dimmed and Hunter leaned against the wall, rubbing his hands over his face as he attempted to ingest all of the information.

“Well that was…ominous and vague,” Tech muttered.

“Whereabouts do the coordinates put us?” Hunter asked.

Tech punched a few buttons on the console, and a blue and green planet popped up on the display. “Naboo. Looks like we’ll be putting down well away from any major cities. Theed will be the closest one.”

“What do we know about what’s going on there?”

“So far, minimal Imperial presence. Currently ruled by Queen Kestia Nodala, who seems very anti-occupation and has thus far been successful in keeping large forces away. There’s been some rumored tension between her and the Empire recently, but nothing confirmed.”

“Over what?”

“Resources, allegedly.”

Hunter grunted as he ran the information over in his mind.

“Alright, well, let’s get heading that way. Set a course for Naboo and send Organa a confirmation and an ETA that he can provide his contact with. Also, let Omega know we’ll be unreachable for a while so she doesn’t worry if she tries to contact us.”

Tech nodded wordlessly, standing up and stretching his limbs and cracking his neck before heading to the cockpit to lay in the coordinates.

---

The green of Naboo’s forests glowed like a cut and polished emerald below them as Tech brought the Marauder in to land in a small clearing. They’d been met with no suspicion, and that was enough for Hunter’s nerves to be strained.

Nothing is ever this easy.

Quickly, the five clones exited the ship, armored and armed.

“Heads on a swivel for the contact,” Hunter’s voice buzzed from underneath his helmet.

“Do we even know who we’re looking for?” Echo grumbled, scanning the treeline.

“Me,” a voice said from behind them. A tall, dark complected man sporting an eye patch stepped from the shadows, hands raised to show he wasn’t a threat. “I’m your contact.”

The clones whirled on him, raising their blasters.

“And who are you?” Tech asked.

“Gregar Typho.”

Tech’s head cocked in recognition at the name.

Wrecker noticed. “You know him, Tech?”

“I know of him. He was the personal guard for Senator Padmé Amidala prior to her death, and he now currently works as head of the Royal Naboo Security Forces.”

Hunter stared at Typho. “The Royal Naboo Security Forces?”

The captain’s expression didn’t alter beyond a slightly raised eyebrow. “If you’ll come with me, I’ll explain on the way, but we need to get moving. We’re too conspicuous out here.”

“What about the ship?” Wrecker grunted.

“It’ll be fine. Step this way please.”

They walked to the edge of the clearing and Typho punched a few buttons on his vambrace. The ground underneath them rumbled as the Havoc Marauder slowly sunk beneath the grass, being lowered into large hexagonal opening below them. They peered down into what appeared to be a large hidden hangar below the surface. As soon as the ship was completely submerged underground, two grass-coated plates snapped shut seamlessly, and the clearing was again empty and seemingly undisturbed.

“The very precise coordinates make more sense now,” Tech stated.

“Impressive,” Hunter muttered.

“You’ll get it back,” Typho reassured him with a hint of a smirk. “Now come, my speeder is this way.”

The five clones and the captain piled into the speeder that Typho had hidden beneath the trees, and without another word, they were zooming along under the treeline, mostly obscured from view. Hunter noticed that once again, Crosshair had been largely silent since exiting the ship. In fact, he wasn’t sure if his brother had said anything since learning of their mission. When he’d given them the briefing, Crosshair had been leaning back against the hull of the ship, quietly working on yet another of his toothpicks. All he’d given was a nod of acknowledgement before starting to gear up. Now, he was sitting in the back of the speeder, his rifle tucked next to him while he stared out into the trees.

Just give him time. He needs time.

Hunter turned back to their newfound companion in the seat next to him.

“If you don’t mind me asking, Captain, can we possibly get an idea of what we’re doing here?”

Typho gave him a look out of the corner of his eye before sighing.

“You are persistent.”

“I prefer to know what I’m getting my team into. We trust our mutual friend that set this up, but faith will only get you so far.”

The captain nodded. “You’ll get more details once we reach our destination, but for now, the person I represent –“

“The queen?” Echo asked.

“The person I represent” Typho insisted, giving him a glare, “is in grave danger, and I have been assured that your skillsets are best-suited to protect them.”

“Better suited than your own?” Hunter pressed.

“There are… limitations to what my guards and I can do. Naboo is not a planet of warriors, and we believe in peace at all costs, even if those costs are sometimes great. A military force is not something we possess or something we welcome.”

“And yet you hired us,” Tech said.

“Yes, I did. Please understand the desperation of the situation for me to do so, and the risk that comes with it.” He glanced at their armor. “We’ll have to get you changed once we arrive. You’ll stand out too much with your clone armor.”

Wrecker groaned from the back of the speeder. “Ugh. Nothing ever fits me.”

Typho gave him a once over. “I’m sure we’ll find… something.”

They rode in silence for the remainder of the trip, the wind whistling by their helmets as Typho piloted the speeder through the forest. They could see the city of Theed rushing into view on the cliffs above, but the captain never turned the speeder towards the main entrances, instead steering for the bottom of the bluffs. Echo shot Tech a look, and he shrugged as they pulled into a large cavern. A few hundred meters into the cave, there was suddenly dim lighting along the floors and walls, and Typho expertly piloted through the tunnels.

“Where are we?” Wrecker shouted above the roaring winds.

“These tunnels run alongside the catacombs under the city. Best way to get in and out without being seen,” the captain replied.

Wrecker shuddered at his reply. “I don’t like dead bodies.”

Echo looked at him, tilting his head. “You see dead bodies all the time.”

“It’s different when I’ve killed ‘em.”

Echo started to ask another question but appeared to accept Wrecker’s logic as Tech shook his head, still typing away on his datapad. Crosshair didn’t budge, continuing to stare into the tunnel ahead of them, the dim lighting gleaming off of his visor.

After seemingly several klicks, Typho pulled the speeder to a stop in a tunnel that led to a staircase cut into the rocky walls. He pulled his helmet from under his seat, tucking it under his arm as the clones assembled in front of him. Making sure he had their attention, he spoke.

“From here on out, it’s imperative that you not be spotted by anyone outside of the small group of people that are aware of this plan. You must do exactly as I say, is that understood?”

The rest of the clones turned to Hunter, who nodded. “We understand, Captain Typho. We’ll follow your lead.”

The captain dipped his head slightly in acknowledgement, placing his helmet on his head, but Hunter could sense his continued unease. He turned and began climbing the stairs, and they followed. As they neared the top, Typho reached into his pocket to pull out a commlink, raising it to his lips. “Iden, do you read?”

A female voice responded. “Loud and clear, Captain.”

“Is she ready to receive her private appointment?”

There was a brief pause on the other end. “Affirmative. You have a clear shot all the way. I’ll lock down the entrances and have guards posted outside.”

“Excellent.” Turning back to them, Typho sighed. “Alright, let’s go. Try and stay away from windows if you can.”

They all nodded in acknowledgement. Typho keyed in the door’s code and they stepped through into a well-lit passageway with marble flooring and stained glass windows lining the hall. The corridor was empty, and they moved quickly to keep up with Typho’s pace. Echo had to keep elbowing Wrecker to hurry as he turned, taking in the architecture around them, slowing his strides to stare at the colorful windows.

“You’ll have time to be a tourist later. We’ve got to keep moving.”

Wrecker grunted but obliged, picking up the pace to keep up with the captain.

Typho led them up several flights of stairs and down several corridors before pausing outside a large set of closed double doors. “Iden, confirming we are clear?”

“All clear. Come on in, Captain.”

The doors swung open, and Typho motioned for them to follow him. The room they walked into had massive pillars encircling a seating area that was arranged around an ornate wooden desk. There were guards stationed around the room along with six women in matching dark robes, their hoods pulled low. A large window illuminated the room and the woman staring out of it. She turned to face them as they entered, clasping her hands in front of her.

Queen Kestia Nodala stood taller than most, her dark hair braided elaborately into the headpiece she wore, a silver diadem with dark blue stones that hung low on her forehead. Her gown billowed out, making her appear wider and more imposing with sharp shoulders and wide sleeves that hid most of her hands, only her white thumbnails poking out from the cuffs. Matching silver ornamentation lined the bodice of her gown, fanning out to the hem of the skirts, which flowed towards the floor. The queen wore the traditional white and red makeup of Naboo royalty, the red dots on her cheeks giving her face symmetry while a red line divided her lower lip in two, the Scar of Remembrance. Her green eyes glowed in the sunlight as she stepped forward to meet them.

Typho strode to her, removing his helmet again to tuck it under one arm as he bowed. The clones took their cue from him, removing their helmets as well.

“Queen Nodala, may I introduce Clone Force 99,” he gestured at them to step forward.

Hunter led the group, bowing stiffly. The queen watched him unwaveringly as he straightened, meeting her eyes.

“Your highness,” he said quietly.

His brothers bowed awkwardly behind him, doing their best to show respect even though they were all well out of their depth. There hadn’t been much time to meet politicians of any level during the war, much less any that were considered elected royalty.

The queen stared Hunter down for a few more moments before turning to Captain Typho. “I see my wish to handle this internally has been disregarded then,” her voice boomed with a slow, deliberate tone that made Wrecker shift uneasily on his feet. Her eyes snapped to him, and he quit moving, instead opting to stare at the floor.

“M’lady, we’ve discussed this,” Typho said quietly, his voice strained. “I do believe your safety warrants this measure.” Leaning closer and speaking so softly even Hunter could barely hear him. “And this was a compromise in my book, if we’re being honest.”

She watched him carefully for a few moments before letting her sharp eyes return to the clones, roving over each of them in turn. “Very well. As it appears my captain has decided you are necessary for my safety, I will accept his judgement. For now.” She swept forward, extending a hand to Hunter.

The rest of the clones watched as their sergeant fumbled with how to best greet the royalty before him. Finally, after several awkward moments, he clasped her hand, bowing again. He saw Tech nod slightly out of the corner of his eye and internally breathed a sigh of relief at somehow managing to get that right.

“Hunter, your highness.”

“M’lady,” Tech coughed behind him less than subtly.

Hunter shot him a glare before correcting himself. “M’lady.”

I guess I should be happy he at least tried to be sly about it.

As Hunter lifted his head, he could have sworn a smile tugged at the corner of the queen’s lips as he released her hand. Tech moved in next to make sure his brothers could see the appropriate protocol.

“Tech, m’lady,” he said, dipping his head as he clasped her hand gently. Hunter noted the muscles in her forearm flexing as she gently squeezed Tech’s hand before he released her fingers, raising his eyes to meet hers. Despite her initially stoic demeanor, the queen seemed slightly amused by Tech, her eyes sparkling and her mouth quirking upwards at his bespectacled brother.

Her reaction surprised Hunter, but then again, if she found Tech somewhat entertaining as a first impression, he wasn’t about to shatter that illusion.

We’ll see if she’s as tickled once he starts correcting her every move, he thought with a smirk.

Not everyone had the patience for Tech, and this queen seemed at least somewhat impatient based on her interactions with Typho. The captain was behaving as though he’d been anticipating a fight ever since they stepped into the throne room, and while one hadn’t materialized, Hunter could still see he was tensed in the way his spine was ramrod straight and the way his jaw was clenched, watching her carefully.

Once they’d all been introduced, the queen turned back to Captain Typho. “I suppose we should get these men into clothing that’s less conspicuous.”

He nodded. “Yes, m’lady. I had planned on disguising them as security officers.”

She raised an eyebrow. “What exactly will differentiate them, then?”

“They’ll be stationed right next door to your quarters and at least one of them will be with you at all times.”

Her mouth tightened into a thin line, and they could all see she was half a second from arguing with him again before another guard strode into the room. She was short with her hair pulled back into a slick plait. She appraised the clones for a moment before addressing the queen.

“Apologies for the intrusion, m’lady, but your next appointment is here.” Hunter recognized the woman as the Iden that they’d heard speaking with Typho during their walk to the throne room.

The queen narrowed her eyes at Typho in annoyance as she turned to acknowledge the information. “Thank you, Lieutenant. I shall receive them once Captain Typho and our guests have departed.”

With that, Typho bowed stiffly before turning on his heel and leading the clones out of the throne room the way they’d come, the massive double doors swinging shut behind them with a dull thud.

*Tag List: @seriowan @partoftheeternalsoul @rosmariner @misogirl828 @ellichonkasaurusrex @zoeykallus @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @staycalmandhugaclone @readheadgirl @fordo-kixed-rex @wizardofrozz @ariadnes-red-thread @justanothersadperson93 @leftealeaf @kaminocasey @echos-girlfriend @lucyysthings @obihiddlenox @merkitty49 @littlemissmanga @clonecyaree @baba-fett @sleepingsun501 @rexxdjarin @samspenandsword @babygirlrex0504 @ladytano420 @fxlsealarm @runforrestr @djarrex @corrieguards @the-cantina @witchklng @wolffegirlsunite @fives-lover @rain-on-kamino @ladykatakuri @arctrooper69 @hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall

*If you do not wish to be tagged in this rewrite, please let me know (same goes for Reunion)

[mh073099]

"I'll Find you" Part 4

This is a fluffly piece, no trigger warnings on this one. Just be aware that there have been and will be in the future. I just wanted something light to break things up.

Madrid, Spain 04/13/2068 08:41

The sunlight littered in through white curtains softly blowing in the wind. The tall windows were open, letting the sounds of the market below in to fill the silence of the morning. I lay in my soft bed thinking of the past year, and how the hell it was I got here.

Over the last year I had been making moves for the separatist organizations and feeding information to Rex. I still am confused about him, about how I feel I can trust him when I know deep in my bones that trust doesn’t exist. It’s been beaten out of me. Which conflicts me on turning on them in the first place. However, I remember my home before all this started. Sure, the extracurricular activities my mom introduced me to at that time were weird and totally in preparation for this lifestyle. But I remember the Christmas and the Halloweens. Family dinners and target shopping trips. Camping and School. What normal felt like. I just want that again.

Talking with Rex was surprisingly easy, knowing how to get information out when I am so close to everything. I know where people aren’t looking. His letters to me are love letters. Words telling me how strong I am, How when this is all over he will take me away from this world, and things will be safe a quiet. I want to believe him. My letters are plans, tips, straight to business with no name. He never talks about work in his letters though. I have grown fond of him.

It had been surprisingly easy to gain the trust and favor of the Count and My mother. I was confused at the time, but that horrible late May night meant I was one of them now. Because I didn’t break.

Then I realized that we are far less organized than I was trained to believe. Sloppy. Hiding in plain sight. So obvious that it’s hidden from the naked eye. The corruption that has slowly weaved its way into the world is so visible, if only one knew where to look.

And because I had proven myself, and making sure everything I had been doing was never a failure while sabotaging Maul and Dooku secretly, no suspicion was on me.

I’d plant incriminating evidence against a low life senator, Mauls murder plans for a General in the Jedi Special Forces of the GRA were spoiled by tip offs. It goes back and forth.

Sidious has been on a hunt for a mole and punishing Maul for his inability to get the job done. I wish I could say I was sorry for him. However, Maul has been a whole new problem in my life. He haunts my steps. Grabby in dark corners. I know he wants me. While I know I could use that to my advantage the thought itself disgusts me.

And with all this going on, these have started to settle. I am gearing up for the job Sidious has given me, meaning I am to begin a new life. Long term.

I am to be a translator for a senator from the far south, removed from most civilization and that is part of our cause. He is now starting negotiations with the Republic to join their cause, or so they think. It’s an in the senator is giving us.

Life gets boring these days. I love it. I wake up, make myself tea and take ace on a walk. Then the ever-loyal dog and I make our way to the embassy, a plus that I get to bring him to work. Boring meetings, translating for the Senator Po Nudo, listening to the office drama. It’s peaceful, and I almost started believing this is my life.

Well, boring until today.

Madrid Spain 04/13/2068 14:45

I was sitting at my desk, just outside the senator Po Nudo’s Office. Ace sitting in his dog bed by the desk, a silent sentinel as ever. And in they walk.

“Hello, I have a meeting with Senator Nudo,” says a soft voice. I look up and there is standing Senator Amidala, and Rex. His eyes go wide while it takes everything in me not to make a reaction.

“Of course, Senator, we’ve been expecting you. The Senator is awaiting you in his office. Please, may I get you any refreshments for you and your guest? Tea, water?” I say as I walk around the desk to open the office door for her.

“I am fine, thank you for the kind offer. Rex might want something though while he waits for me,” She gestures.

“Thank you ma’am, but I am fine.” His lips purse in a small smile. She walks in and I closed the door. I turn and take him in. I must play this smart, but he looks good. Dark suit, earpiece. Armed. His eyes shine with knowing, and he smiles at me.

“I’m El. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I assume with the work the senators are about to prepare for, you and I will see a lot of each other.” I extend my hand out to him, giving him a fake name. His hand is warm in mine.

“I’m Captain Rex of the 501st, and personal protector of the Amidala family. It’s a pleasure.” He voice is like sin and he pulls me in close by the hand. “Hello princess.” I shiver and step away.

“Can I get you any tea sir?” I offer. Ace is alert behind me, looking at Rex.

“No I am fine. Good looking dog there.” He sits down at the chair in front of my desk, crossing his legs. His thighs look like they will burst from the seams of his dark pants.

I shake the thought from my head. “His name is Ace, Here!” and I pat my thigh. Ever obedient, he heals to my side and at attention waiting the next command. “Say hello to the Captain Ace.”

The black Doberman woofs softly, and sniffs at Rex’s outstretched hand. “You trained him well. I have a dog, a German Shepard, Ally. She seems to have a brain of her own though.”

“Smart lady,” I laugh. The conversation breaks the ice, and he and I spend the meeting talking about the dogs.

We start to hear the senators rapping up, and I am briefly reminded that Rex knows what I do, getting tips from me here and there. This being so close to each other, its dangerous. Fror me and my dog. But Rex seems to read my mind. He looks into my eyes, and I into his honey gaze. “I trust you.” He whispers. I cannot fathom why. He shouldn’t.

“Can I see you again? Maybe...dinner?” I ask hesitantly. I could say it’s for the job if I was asked about my intentions from my …handler. I refuse to call her mother.

The smile on Rex’s face is dazzling. “like a date?” I blush. I haven’t blushed in ages.

“Yes, exactly like a date. Tonight? 7? I know a quite spot.” He offers standing up. Very close to where I am leaning on my desk. I can smell his spearmint tooth paste.

“O-Okay. Sounds like a date.” I say looking down. He lifts his hand, pulling my chin up into his eyes.

“Chin up princess,” he smiles.

Just then Senator Amidala walks out of the office and pauses. I slide away from rex, eyes wide. He has the decency to look bashful, and she gives him a knowing smile.

“Have a beautiful day Miss.” She offers and walks out. I give a nod and look at Rex. He just smiles and turns, looking giddy.

Senator Nudo calls for me and I snap out of it. Back to work.

But I can’t help the butterflies in my stomach. I am excited for tonight.

[anstarwar]

Have you ever thought about CrossRex as a ship 👀

Hello anonymous friend! I have been sitting on this because I must admit I wasn't sure how to answer XD

I personally have not thought about these two as a ship! It could possibly work, I think, as a long/slow burn enemies to lovers situation, but I think Crosshair would have to apologize profusely and in many ways regarding his comment about Echo. To both Rex *and* Echo, ha. I think Rex is a forgiving person, but Cross, being an excellent marksman as we know, zeroed-in on what would hurt Rex the most in that moment, took his shot, and blasted away any possibility that Rex would respect him or possibly even forgive him. But that is often a key element of Enemies to Lovers, innit? One or both parties have to apologize and/or forgive in order to move on with their lives (and their love).

That being said, though, I think it's wonderful that people can see them as a ship! That's what I love about fandom and what I love about Rare Pairs in general. The fun is figuring out how to mesh two (or multiple) characters with each other even if they've only been awful to each other or have hardly had any "screen time" together at all. Makes you think about who they are and what events go on in their lives that bring them together and that then creates more stories to play around in.

Thanks for sending in your question/thoughts, it definitely gave me something to chew on for a bit!

[imabeautifulbutterfly]

Ohhhhh sooo good

Enemies to Lovers: Tech

A/N: Sorry it took so long! If you want to be tagged in this or any of my other stuff, feel free to shoot me a message!

@zoeykallus @ttzamara @nahoney22

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

Warning: Brief mentions of broken bones and injury. Typical canon violence.

Chapter 5: Meet the Family

_________________________________________

Tech’s pov

Tech carefully watched the woman on the ground beside him as she slept. Y/N looked peaceful despite the fact that just minutes ago she’d gone white as a sheet when Tech examined her broken leg and then promptly passed out when he’d set it. She hadn’t made much of a fuss though, and for that Tech was very glad. He was certain he could physically keep Y/N still if he had to but he would rather not deal with all the drama. Dealing with emotions was something Hunter was naturally good at. He knew the right things to say while Tech always seemed to say the wrong thing. It was annoying. After all, wasn’t it only simple psychology? Tech frowned as his thoughts drifted to his brothers. He hadn’t heard from them since the explosion cut off their exit. He tried his comlink again and was met with a cold silence.

Jammed. Or the signal was lost when the ceiling caved in.

Y/N mumbled something in her sleep and he glanced over at her. With the anger and fear gone from her eyes, she looked younger.

Peaceful

It was such a stark contrast to her earlier attitude. Tech brushed a stray hair from her face. Y/n smiled and moved to nestle her face into his hand. He froze and almost wished she’d wake up and be repulsed by him - or even angry with him. Anything to get rid of this feeling that invaded his senses. It made him feel weak and Tech could not afford to be weak.

Not here.

Not with the empire breathing down our neck.

No, it was simply a reflex. She was cold and his hand was warm. It was only natural that the human body reacted in such a way to seek warmth.

Self preservation.

He nodded to himself, convinced now that there were no unexplained feelings. Just chemical reactions. He had let his imagination get the better of him, something he’d not done for a very long time. He must have hit his head in the explosion. Yet another reason to do a scan once they returned to the Marauder. Tech frowned in concentration as he turned back to the broken comlink. If only he could get somewhere higher to boost the signal.

The console.

That could work.

Carefully taking the wires from the bottom, he hooked one to the left of the com and the other on the right. With a few more tweaks, the comlink crackled to life.

Not perfect, but workable.

“Tech…respond...out…ship…signal” Hunter’s came through the static in pieces. Hopefully the connection would be better on their side. “Tech here,” he began. Best to keep communications short and simple. “Trapped in the console room. Heavy fire has blocked the exit.” His message was met with more screaming static. He was beginning to think the signal had dropped again when Hunter’s voice cut through again. It was much clearer this time.

Thank the Maker.

“…loud and clear, vod.” He could hear Wrecker whoop in the background.

“Good. However, the information has been compromised.” He replied steadily.

“That’s less than ideal but we’re gonna get you out of there. Hang on tight and get away from the door.”

“Understood.” Tech quickly backed away from the entrance just as a loud bang resounded, shaking the walls. The rubble blocking them in burst apart. Tech ducked to avoid being hit by the debris. Light from a headlamp streamed through enough to see Wrecker’s frame burst through the opening.

“See,” he shouted behind him, “I told you it wouldn’t collapse on ‘im!”

“I’d just like to get out before the whole kriffing thing explodes,” grunted Crosshair, annoyed that Wrecker was right. But at the same time, he was glad that his brother was safe.

“Crosshair was worried about ya, Tech.” teased Wrecker.

“Was not. I knew you were smart enough to not get yourself killed even with Mr Blow-It-All-To-Hell over here” Crosshair snarked back.

“Of course I’m smart enough to keep myself alive,” Tech rolled his eyes.

“Guys, enough,” said Hunter coming from behind his two brothers. He glanced at Tech, “Glad you’re ok, but Crosshair is right. We need to get out of here before the whole thing blows.” As if on cue another tremor shook the room. He looked past Tech to the unconscious figure behind him and frowned. “Who’s that?”

Tech glanced at y/n, “She was decoding the information when I arrived. She’s injured.”

“I say leave her,” Crosshair glanced over and then back into the hallway, narrowing his eyes.

“We’re not leaving her.” Tech said harshly. Hunter sighed and nodded at Wrecker who lifted the woman in his arms and began carrying her out the door.

“She could have useful information.” He motioned to Crosshair who slung his rifle over his shoulder and took the rear. Another explosion rocked the ship as the console burst into flames. “We need to leave. Now”

**********************************************

“…Y/n…”

“….empire….could be a threat…”

“…have some questions…”

Voices faded in and out. Tech was there…with some others.

His brothers.

He’d mentioned something about his brothers before. The room was cold. I shivered and opened my eyes.

Too bright.

I groaned and shut them again.

“She’s awake,” a low voice stated. I opened my eyes again, squinting at the brightness until my eyes slowly adjusted. A tall, gray-haired man with a toothpick in his mouth leaned against the door frame across the room, arms crossed. He had a tattoo of a blaster scope’s crosshairs on his scowling face.

Interesting choice.

He was wearing armor similar to Tech’s.

He doesn’t look too happy.

Nervously, I went to reach for my blaster but was stopped short by the binders securing my wrists to each side of the bed.

Shit. Not good. Very not good.

I gulped, my throat was dry and I felt suffocated.

Pull yourself together!

Breathe.

Don’t panic.

Taking a deep breath, I pulled at the restraints, testing them, trying to free myself.

“Hey, calm down.” Another voice drifted through the room. A man made his way over to me. He had longer hair and the side of his face was heavily tattooed. He didn’t sound threatening, but he didn’t sound calming either. It was more like a command. “We’re not going to hurt you, y/n” he said.

“Yet,” growled the taller man by the doorway.

“Crosshair,” the long haired man warned, giving him a sharp look. Crosshair shrugged and spat out his toothpick before walking out of the room. The long haired man looked back to me and crossed his arms.

“How…” I began. My voice was hoarse and dry. I coughed, swallowing thickly. “How do you know my name?”

“Tech told me,”

“Tech’s here?”

“Yes.”

I looked down at my leg. It didn’t hurt much anymore. Someone had affixed a bone mender to it. He followed my gaze. “Your leg should be healed in a few hours.”

“Thanks?” I spoke cautiously. “Am...am I free to leave?” I pulled at the binders again. He shook his head,

“You’re not going anywhere right now. Not until you answer some questions.” Tendrils of panic gripped again at my lungs, threatening to cut off my air supply. I took a deep breath, trying to will away the suffocating fear.

“And if I don’t?” I narrowed my eyes at him, hoping I didn’t sound as strangled as I felt. My heart pounded.

Torture

Pain

Death

Mutilation

I was sure nothing good was awaiting me with his answer, but he only shrugged,

“Then I guess you’re stuck here.” I huffed in annoyance.

“Hunter?” Tech rounded the corner looking intently at a datapad. “I think we…” he stopped and lowered the datapad. “Oh, you’re awake.”

[starrysan]

killin it

masterlist

pairing: biker!wooyoung x baker! fem!reader

warnings/prerequisites: enemies to lovers, swearing, yn almost gets killed by wooyoung's bike??, yeosang, mingi, and jun cameo, not proofread 😓

a/n: this idea came to me after consistently almost getting hit by bikes that don't obey any traffic laws..! title is a p1harmony ref

[2.3k words]

3rd person pov

after a long shift at her horribly paying bakery job, y/n was waiting at the crosswalk for the light to change, a batch of cupcakes in hand. as it changes to the walk signal she starts to walk she had just gotten yelled at by her boss and was already having a bad day when she hears a motorcycle revving up and quickly turns to the side.

before she knew it a bike was about to hit her. "holy shit!" she exclaims as the bike comes to a stop. "watch where you're going" the mystery person says behind his helmet.

"watch where im going?! watch where you're going!" y/n yells back. the cyclist takes his helmet off to reveal the guy she had been arguing with. "if you were paying attention this wouldn't have happened" wooyoung tries passing the blame which of course failed miserably.

"me? can you not see its a red light for you?" y/n practically yells. "pfft who looks at those anyway?" wooyoung chuckles. "you're unbelievable." y/n says angrily crossing the street and continuing on with her day.

she walks into her apartment frustrated on the phone with her best friend yeosang. "he almost fucking hit me then tried to blame me" she groans into the phone. a faint 'that's horrible' from yeosang comes through the phone as she goes to press the elevator button and who was waiting for it as well. "..sangie let me call you back" she says, hanging up the phone before yeosang could say goodbye. "talking about me so soon?" wooyoung says almost cockily.

why does he live here? since when does he live here? y/n thought to herself but wooyoung breaks her out of her thoughts first. "what? you've really never seen me around?" wooyoung rolls his eyes. "no?" y/n scoffs. "why would I want to know that a killer lives in our building?" she replies. "a killer?" wooyoung looks at her dumbfounded. "my bike didn't even touch you"

"yeah because I yelled at you" y/n says exasperated. "yeah well-" wooyoung starts. "can you two argue some place else?" jun, the building's doorman asks a bit annoyed. "sorry jun" the two say in unison. they get into the elevator standing in opposite corners. y/n goes to press her floor, wooyoung going at the same time and their hands graze each other as the two practically jump backwards.

y/n presses the 10th floor as wooyoung presses the eleventh. "great you live right above me" y/n sighs, getting off the elevator. she quickly walks to her apartment not wanting to engage with him anymore.

it was a quarter past midnight and y/n was trying out a new recipe when all she could hear was this loud banging and music from upstairs. she groans throwing her apron on the couch and heading upstairs as she pounds on the door. her upstairs neighbor mingi opens the door.

"mingi can you keep it down? its late and I can hear you through the walls" y/n asks softly. "oh shoot sorry y/n" mingi says genuinely apologetically, the two having known each other for a while just through being floor neighbors.

"thanks" she says, as she's about to walk away, she spots a familiar face in the crowd. "mingi how do you know that guy?" y/n asks right before mingi closed his door. "oh him? he's my new roommate he just moved in last week name's wooyoung." mingi replies before telling someone to lower the music. "ah" was all y/n said before wooyoung spots her and comes to the door.

"oh perfect, y/n this is-" mingi starts. "don't worry mingi.. we've met" y/n sighs. "y/n? nice to put a name to the face" wooyoung says. "yeah I think this is my cue to leave. goodnight mingi" y/n waves heading to the elevator.

"what about me?" wooyoung questions. "why would I say goodbye to a killer?" y/n asks not even turning to face wooyoung. "I didn't-" before wooyoung could say anything y/n enters the elevator closing the door behind her.

"what was that about?" mingi asked, closing his apartment door and heading back inside to the ruckus (as y/n called it) he called a party. "this morning I might've.. almost hit her with my bike?" wooyoung confesses.

"and you apologized right?" mingi questions but asks again from the lack of response from wooyoung. "..right woo..?" he asks. "okay so what if I said no.." in a matter of seconds mingi sent wooyoung down to y/n's door because according to him "it was easier to apologize than have y/n as your enemy"

he knocks quietly on the door hoping she'd be asleep and as he started to walk away the door swings open to reveal a man who was certainly not y/n. "can I help you?" the man asks. "..is y/n home" he asks almost nervously. "y/n!" he calls from inside the apartment. "some guys here to see you" he says stepping a bit to the side. "come in? I guess?"

"who is it sangie.. oh" y/n stops dead in her tracks. "what?" she sighs. she had an apron on with cats all over it, flour on her face and getting in her hair. "uh.. mingi told me to come apologize so-" he gets cut off. "mingi told you to apologize? so you're not actually here to apologize you're just here because your roommate told you to" she raises an eyebrow.

"I mean when you put it that way-" before he knew it he was standing outside as y/n shut the door on his face. "so much for that" he says before walking back upstairs. "how'd it go?" mingi asked, the party over now as he picked up plastic cups from the floor. "she slammed the door in my face" wooyoung sighed.

"yeesh yeah she's tough to get through but once you do she's really sweet." mingi says, getting a bag of garbage together. "are you sure that's not just her nice twin that you talked to or something?" wooyoung sighs. "does she bake? I saw her wearing an apron."

"yeah she works at the bakery down the street" mingi replies finishing up the last of the clean up. "what am I supposed to do?" wooyoung asks. "to get y/n to like you?" to which wooyoung nods. "get lucky?" mingi says honestly. "how'd you get her to like you? you cant be her favorite with these loud parties."

"oh I bribed her." mingi says nonchalantly. "did you see the baby blue kitchen aid mixer in her room? I bought that for her for Christmas. I know my parties are loud and I know she likes baking and that her job dosent pay well so I got her the mixer and now she's chill about the parties." mingi continues. "after that we would say hi to each other in the halls and now we're friends. she comes over to coffee every once and a while and she brings me dessert" mingi nods with a smile. "I see.." wooyoung says finally.

the next day wooyoung was hard at work in the kitchen there were boxes of cake mix on the counter as well as all the mixing bowls they owned. he worked hard trying to make the best cake to win y/n's forgiveness. he finished the cake off by adding pink icing and using the piping bag to write 'sorry' sloppily on the cake.

the next evening he heads to y/n's apartment knocking on her door. y/n on the other end looks through the peephole. "yes?" she says through the door. "i.. bear cake?" wooyoung says, to which y/n bursts out laughing and opens the door. "sorry.. for almost killing you? then being an asshole about it after" wooyoung says holding out the cake.

"I accept your apology.. wanna come in?" y/n offers, opening the door. wooyoung steps inside taking his shoes off and hanging y/n the cake. the two sit at the table and eat the cake. "cake is great your decorating could use some work" y/n hums, a fork in hand.

"I tried my best with what I had" wooyoung sulks. "mingi dosent have a kitchen aid like the one he got you he just has a whisk I whisked this whole thing by hand" he continues with a frown. "then I guess its alright" y/n giggles.

the two talk till it gets to dinner time. "want to stay? yeosang is bringing Chinese food I can ask him to get more. invite mingi too" y/n hums scrolling on her phone. "I don't want to intrude" wooyoung says. "you're not intruding we're neighbors aren't we?" y/n smiles.

yeosang arrives with the food, mingi arriving short after and the four eat together. "so you two made up?" yeosang asks, eating his orange chicken to which y/n nods her mouth full of noodles. "he apologized with a cake" y/n points to the cake left sitting on the table. "I see" yeosang laughs in response.

after a while mingi and wooyoung go back to their room. "so.. are yeosang and y/n dating? what's up with them" wooyoung asks for no reason (lies). "them? not that im aware of they're friends" mingi replies. "why?" mingi asks with a brow raised. "just curious" wooyoung hums. "alright.." mingi says suspiciously.

after a while, wooyoung and y/n had gotten closer. the four would have dinner together when they could, y/n brings over desserts when there was extra at the bakery. "if the bakery pays so bad why do you still work there?" wooyoung asked as the four had sat down to have their monthly movie night.

"it pays shit but it pays" y/n replies grabbing the bag of popcorn from the microwave and pouring it into a bowl. "then what do you want to do?" wooyoung questions. y/n thinks for a bit. "I want to open my own bakery" she says finally. "y/n's sweets? that's probably what I'd call it" she nods. "why don't you?" wooyoung asks "with what money? my $12 an hour?" wooyoung hums and looks like he's thinking as yeosang starts the movie.

wooyoung, y/n, and yeosang were hanging out in y/n and yeosang's place while mingi was at work when y/n excused herself to the bathroom. "you like her don't you?" yeosang asks as the bathroom door clicks shut. "what're you talking about" wooyoung says not at all convincing. "we all know" yeosang hums snacking on the cupcakes y/n had made.

"maybe I do.. but I doubt she likes me bac-" yeosang interrupts him. "you two are so dense. its like we all know but you two. she talks about you all the time I was starting to get sick of it if im being honest" yeosang sighs. "really?" wooyoung asks in disbelief. "even the first day you guys met she was talking about how hot you were." yeosang says thinking about the phone call they had.

flashback to a month ago: "he's so hot its a shame he almost fucking hit me then tried to blame me" y/n groans into the phone. a faint 'that's horrible' from yeosang comes through the phone.

"she said that?" wooyoung says in almost shock. "yes" yeosang says exasperated as the bathroom door swings open and the two immediately shut up. "why're you two acting suspicious?" y/n says. "no we're not" the two say in sync y/n decides to let it go.

wooyoung and y/n were alone now, yeosang "having some fashion emergency and leaving the apartment". "so what were you two talking about?" y/n asks slightly cuddling into wooyoung's arm. "nothi-" y/n sighs loudly. "I know it wasn't nothing" y/n argues. "if I tell you, you have to promise not to make fun of me" wooyoung says. "why would I-"

"I like you y/n" wooyoung blurts out. "you.. wait really?" she says in surprise. "yeosang was just telling me that he knows and mingi knows" as he finishes his sentence y/n leans over to him pressing her lips onto wooyoungs as he gasps. "shit sorry" y/n says pulling back quickly, but before she could get too far, wooyoung pulls her back into another kiss. "thank god" y/n mutters into the kiss. "for what?" wooyoung hums. "that you also like me back duh" y/n sasses which gets a laugh out of wooyoung.

some time later wooyoung was leading y/n to.. somewhere. y/n didn't know she had a blindfold on. "woo are we there yet?" y/n says impatiently. "almosttt" wooyoung smiles. "okay ready?" wooyoung says taking y/n's blindfold off. "open your eyes!" as y/n blinks her eyes open she witnesses what wooyoung had been tirelessly working on for the past couple months. it was a building decorated with the prettiest things. the sign read 'y/n's sweets' y/n gasps.

"you didn't.." she says in disbelief. "I did" wooyoung smiles. "you're unbelievable how'd you pull this off?" y/n says still in awe at the building infront of her. "I think I might die of shock" y/n says. "don't die who will I kiss if you do?" y/n rolls her eyes, pecking him on the lips as he hands her the keys. "shall we head inside?" wooyoung asks to which y/n nods.

"help me bake?" y/n asks as she starts up the ovens. "am I getting promoted to baker" wooyoung grins. "as long as you learn how to ice cake properly then yes" y/n giggles. wooyoung starts icing the cake. "how am I doing.."

"you're killin it" y/n replies kissing his cheek.

tysm for reading! if you have any requests pls send them my way!!

if you enjoy my writing and would like to be tagged for future things please fill out this taglist form!

permanent written fics taglist: @yvnhoos @linearities @kattarrynnka @dalsuwaha @coffeewwithdrawlheadaches @wonderz-real @xh01bri @sparda1234 @crownj1min @spenceatiny18

[areyoufuckingcrazy]

You’re writing is amazing! I had two things

1: What is a trope you love writing?

2: Can there be a Bad batch x reader, where she’s loves to cook. When she joins them she cooks for them and they love her cooking (once they get used to having something other than ration bars). Maybe she even sends them with packed lunches for when they go off.

Thank you x

I don’t have a trope in particular I like writing, but I’m a sucker for a good enemies to lovers or anything angsty or tragic

⸻

“Seconds”

The Bad Batch x Fem!Reader

⸻

They weren’t sure what to make of you at first.

A civilian-turned-ally. Handy in a fight, steady under pressure, and weirdly good at organizing their storage crates. But most of all, you cooked. Like, really cooked.

No one had expected it—not after surviving off ration bars, battlefield meals, and the occasional mystery stew Crosshair pretended didn’t come from a can. But then you’d shown up with a patched-together portable burner and the stubborn attitude of someone determined to make something edible from nothing. And you did.

The first time you cooked, it had stunned them into silence.

The scent of simmering broth wafted through the corridors of the Marauder, followed by spices and roasted meat and something buttery that made Wrecker’s eyes water.

Tech was the first to speak, nose twitching. “That is not protein paste.”

“Unless someone’s finally weaponized it,” Echo said, cautiously hopeful.

Hunter didn’t say anything at first. Just leaned in the doorway of the galley with arms crossed, watching the way you moved—calm, focused, humming to yourself as you stirred a bubbling pot. There was something disarming about the scene. Domestic. Gentle. Strange.

Crosshair gave a low whistle from where he lounged. “Are we keeping this one?”

No one answered. But no one said no.

⸻

It became tradition fast.

You cooked whenever there was downtime, wherever there were ingredients. You scavenged herbs on jungle moons, traded for spices in backwater towns, stretched every credit and crumb into something warm. Something human. You’d hand them plates and bowls and containers like they were weapons before a battle—only these made them feel… grounded.

Every day you could. Breakfasts on quiet mornings. Late dinners after brutal missions. You adapted what ingredients you had, learned what they each liked—Tech hated onions but loved citrus, Crosshair liked spicy food that burned the tongue, Echo had a sweet tooth he tried to hide, and Hunter… Hunter liked comfort food. He’d never say it out loud, but you caught the softness in his expression whenever you made something simple and warm. Like home.

They never asked you to. But they stopped saying no.

Eventually, you started packing lunches for them. Personalized. Thoughtful.

Crosshair’s were spicy and wrapped with a snarky note.

Wrecker’s came with double servings and a warning label.

Tech’s included clean utensils and clear labels, because of course they did.

Echo’s always had a little dessert tucked in the side

Hunter’s would just have little doodle/picture you’d drawn

⸻

They’d left you behind this time. Not because you couldn’t handle yourself, but because someone had to stay with Omega. She wasn’t ready for this mission, and neither were you—still recovering from the last one, a blaster graze healing at your ribs.

The ship was quiet. Omega wandered in around dinner time, drawn by the smell of whatever you were cooking.

She climbed up onto the counter like it was the most natural thing in the world, chin resting on her hands as she watched you slice vegetables and stir broth.

“That smells better than anything I’ve ever had on Kamino,” she said dreamily.

You smiled. “I’ll take that as the highest of compliments.”

She watched you for a while, head tilting. “You always look really happy when you cook.”

“I am.”

“Why?”

You thought about it as you stirred. “Because food makes people feel safe. Even in the middle of a war, a good meal can remind you what it’s like to be human.”

Omega was quiet for a beat. Then: “You make them feel safe.”

You didn’t answer right away.

She squinted up at you. “You really care about them, huh?”

You nodded. “They’ve been through hell. They deserve someone to care.”

She grinned slowly. “You’ve got a crush on one of them.”

You almost dropped the spoon.

“Excuse me?”

She giggled. “I knew it!”

You tried (and failed) to play it cool. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, come on,” she said, sliding off the counter. “You pack lunches. You make special snacks. You stitched Wrecker’s sleeve when it ripped, even though he didn’t ask. You added hot sauce to Crosshair’s meal because he once said it tasted better. You kept Tech’s favorite tea even though no one else drinks it. And you stayed up all night once just to make sure Echo’s respirator didn’t fail after that dust storm.”

She paused, smirking. “One of those meant more.”

You turned back to the pot. “You are way too observant.”

She laughed. “So, who is it? Wrecker?”

“No.”

“Tech?”

“Definitely not.”

“Echo?”

“Closer.”

“Crosshair?”

You gave her a look.

She grinned wide. “Fine, fine. I won’t guess. For now.”

You stirred the pot again and said, softly, “It doesn’t matter.”

Omega’s voice was gentler. “Why not?”

You shrugged. “Because maybe it’s safer this way. Just being part of this… this crew. This little found family. It’s enough.”

She looked at you for a long moment. Then she slid onto a nearby stool and rested her chin in her hand again.

“They’ll be back soon,” she said. “You gonna tell them dinner’s ready?”

You smiled quietly, not looking up. “They’ll smell it.”

[rarepairdumpster]

Mando/Jedi AU

(A/N: IT'S STAR WARS WEEK!!!! Woods and Arch met a few years ago in the Rebels/Kalluzeb fandom and started writing/collaborating with Bad Batch. We both fell in love with Arcane and Vilco and the rest is history however, we love to go play with our roots sometimes. Tag for this week will be #Star Wars AU Week.)

Pairing: Viktor/Silco (Arcane) Rating: M C/W: GFFA Universe, Republic Era, Mandalorian Silco, Jedi Viktor, Forbidden/Secret Relationship, Jinx Appearance, Jayce Appearance, We're inviting you all into our other sandbox so come play

Republic Era where Silco is a Mandalorian that follows the Creed and Viktor is a Jedi.

Open antagonism.

Illicit attraction.

Viktor having fantasies of seeing the face beneath the helmet.

Silco having fantasies of slamming Viktor up against a wall and ripping the saber out of Viktor's hand.

Silco using a vibroshiv to slice Viktor's robes open when Silco does eventually slam him against the wall.

Viktor making a jibe about thinking the Jedi were Silco's enemies.

And Silco purring through his helmet that perhaps he wants to see Viktor suffer.

Silco fucking Viktor up against the wall, still wearing all of his armour aside from his codpiece.

Viktor moaning at how deep Silco's breaths sound because of the helmet.

Viktor gasping that he wants to see his face, fingers reaching for the helmet automatically.

Silco grabbing his wrists, snarling, and pinning to them to the wall.

Bites out that an enemy will never see his face.

Silco craves to bite and lick and kiss Viktor's porcelain skin. A completely feral need going unquenched.

Eventually, he gives in, only lifting it enough to taste Viktor.

Viktor's throat, so Viktor's eyes never see his skin.

Viktor tries hard to feel what he can like the scratchiness of being unshaven for a couple days and how it's only half of his chin because the rest is scarred.

The scratchiness makes Viktor's cock throb and his eyes roll up.

Silco can't help but bite a little hard, for pain and to mark the Jedi as his.

Enemy or lover doesn't matter. Just that Viktor is his.

Viktor being covered in bruises from the rough contact with Silco's armour.

His whole body aches when Silco finishes with him

Jayce thinking something terrible happened, because of the bruises and the sliced-open clothes, and Viktor having to assure him that it wasn't anything he didn't want or deserve .

"They were well earned, I promise you"

Viktor would look so smug saying it too

Silco and Jinx being a clan of 2. Silco was the last of his line, before he took her in

Jinx asking Silco why he keeps messing with that Jedi. Why not just kill him and be done with it.

Silco's signet is a Dianoga.

Whoever in Silco's line had earned the signet had faced more than one.

Viktor running his fingers over Silco's signet like he's caressing skin, while looking at Silco through his long lashes.

Silco eventually moving past the "Jedi Are Enemies" thing, and pressing a ring with his signet on into Viktor's palm. And Viktor realizing this is the equivalent of a marriage.

That night is also the first time Silco has removed his helmet for anyone before.

Viktor thinking Silco's the most striking and handsome man he's ever seen. And also feeling shame for tempting Silco to break his creed. 

Because he knows now that the helmet isn't supposed to come off in front of any living being.

Silco is embarrassed at first because he's never found himself attractive, especially not after his scarring.

Silco not quite looking at Viktor after he takes the helmet off.

But then gentle fingers are running over the jagged scars.

And it feels...strange. Not uncomfortable...but not quite pleasant

Viktor murmuring that Silco captivates him completely, but that he shouldn't have shown Viktor his face.

And Silco saying softly, "You wanted to see."

"I did. But I shouldn't have asked you to break a vow."

Silco swallowing tightly, reaching out to cup Viktor's face. Says "I can be redeemed in the living waters beneath the mines of Mandalore."

Viktor asks to come with him.

He knows he definitely can't go publicly, but he's able to stick to the shadows and nooks in the caverns.

Viktor feeling conflicted between his ever-deepening attachment to Silco and his position in the Jedi Order. Knows he can never wear Silco's signet in public, if he wishes to remain in the Order.

He wears the ring on a chain under his robes

Touches it when he feels alone or is about to go on a mission for the Order.

Viktor coming back from a mission to find Jinx in his quarters, building a weapon on the floor.

Jinx piping up "I wanted to see what sort of secret stash a Jedi might have, but this place is the most depressing room I've ever been in. So I made you a paint bomb, so something interesting will be in here for once."

Viktor pinching the bridge of his nose.

"You can't be here, Jinx."

"I'm a Mandalorian. I do what I want."

Jinx having to keep her hair shorter 'cause her jetpack burnt through her braids.

She eventually learns how to wrap them in her helmet.

Viktor telling Jinx she should go home.

"Dad gave you his signet. This is home."

Viktor feeling affectionate warmth in his chest while also blushing crimson. He didn't know Jinx knew about the signet...but he should have realised. Its her family too.

"I'm part of your clan now, of course. Now, I don't know if--"

"No, I'm not calling you dad."

Jinx making a comment about how Viktor can't be much of a Jedi, if he accepted the signet. Jedi aren't supposed to love.

Viktor frowning.

"That's not true. We are encouraged to love, but....on a grander scale. We're meant to forgoe personal attachments so that we may be more compassionate as a whole."

"So you don't love my Dad the way he loves you."

"Its...complicated."

"What's complicated about it. He'd destroy a city to save you. But you wouldn't do the same for him?"

"Avoiding a high death toll is one difference"

Viktor resting a hand over his hidden ring 'cause he can't help himself. The thought of such a death toll makes him queasy, but the thought of Silco being in such a high level of danger fills him with dread.

Jayce walking in to welcome Viktor home from his mission, only to find Viktor and some Mandalorian teenager sitting on the floor, while a bomb is very visibly sitting on the floor between them.

Jinx activating the paint bomb and launching herself out the window.

Moments later, Viktor, Jayce, and the entire room are covered in an explosion of colour.

Jayce is freaking out and Viktor just sighs.

"We have to alert the council!"

"No it's fine she's not dangerous."

"What? How can you be sure?"

"I know her."

"YOU KNOW HER???"

"She's...a friend. Sort of. The paint bomb was supposed to be a gift. If you had noticed my closed door and knocked like a normal person, we would not be in this predicament."

"Is she a spy? Did she tell you any information?"

"Jayce. Please clean yourself up. We'll discuss it later"

Viktor calling a droid to clean his room...but asks that the walls be left alone.

Viktor being grateful for sonic showers. Otherwise, he'd need like 4 of them to get all the paint off

Viktor receiving a worried comm from Silco later that night, the Mandalorian concerned that Jinx had put Viktor in a difficult position

"How did she even get in here undetected?"

"I have asked myself the same question for 10 years."

Mando Silco and Viktor travelling on the same commercial fight.

And Silco has to check in all his weapons.

A min later Viktor serenely uses a mind trick to avoid checking his lightsaber.

And Silco gives him an unimpressed look through his helmet.

Viktor smiles innocently back at him.

"Don't worry, Silco. I'll protect you on this hazardous flight" is what Viktor says to him on his way past.

Viktor slipping the signet ring onto his finger on the rare nights that Viktor has a chance to slip away, sneak past the sentries at the edge of the Mandalorian encampment, and slip into Silco's quarters. 

So he's wearing it when Silco makes love to him. 

Viktor wearing the ring for the first time as he kneels between Silco's thighs.

Silco purring "It looks good on you" before seizing a fistful of Viktor's hair and pulling him closer to his very hard, very exposed cock.

Silco relishing how Viktor's pale cheekbones burn scarlet from his words/actions

Viktor pressing an obedient kiss to the tip before parting his lips. Lashes fluttering as the head of Silco's cock slides over his tongue. Viktor letting out a pleased little noise as his mouth is soon filled

Silco taking his sweet time in fucking Viktor's mouth, watching Viktor's lips drag over his cock. Watching him drool. Watching him get hard from being used

Arch + Woods

[sweetercalypso]

New Gods ✩ Abby Anderson

Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: The first time Abby meets seraphite!reader, she shows her mercy. The second time they meet, reader repays her kindness

Notes: minors dni; fingering and oral (Abby rec.), semi-public sex, afab reader, dom!Abby, mean!Abby, mentions of guns, brief violence, religious references, enemies to lovers

When Abby hears that she’s being put on a patrol headed for the abandoned side of town, she thinks it’s a joke.

Surely this was some form of punishment, or a test of her loyalty to Isaac’s command. Two weeks in an unoccupied base with a batch of new recruits – it has to be a mistake.

It’s not until the transport truck pulls away from the stadium that Abby accepts the reality of the situation, groaning into her hands to hide her indignation.

The only good thing about this patrol, she thinks, is that absolutely nothing can go wrong.

Abby and her entourage of WLF recruits arrive at their assigned base late in the evening, the sun already sinking low behind Seattle’s derelict skyline.

The city is silent beyond the hum of the armored truck rolling to a stop in front of an old office building. Years ago, the area had been a thriving hub of WLF activity, but the threat of Seraphite armies had shifted attention elsewhere, leaving the bases to sit empty and collecting dust.

Abby swallows her complaints as the truck’s engine shuts off, leaving a jarring silence that prompts her fellow gunmen to turn their collective attention towards her.

Her expertise is better suited to combat than to training, and the thought of being in charge of four wide-eyed rookies makes her question the sanity of whoever put this team together.

She briefly explains the patrol assignment before dolling out tasks to each of the recruits, leaving herself the duty of surveying the perimeter.

Early WLF soldiers had cleared most of the infected while the area was still active, and with the lack of excitement in the streets, Abby returns to the base with the verdict that this patrol will be entirely uneventful.

While the others are setting up camp on the second floor – five cots lined against a wall with a radio station by the windows and supply crates littered around the room – Abby keeps herself busy with watching the thick, heavy clouds rolling in the distance.

She imagines what she might be doing if she had been placed on a different patrol and she crosses her arms over her chest with a bitter sigh.

 Anything has to be more exciting than this.

 –

Abby awakens while the sky is still dark, the remaining light of dusk swallowed by the inky black threat of storm clouds overhead.

Thunder cracks viciously in the air, rumbling the dusty room and promising to crumble the building’s frame already bowing under years of neglect.

The sound of her distress is barely audible over the harsh rain beating against the windows and, for a moment, Abby can’t remember where she is.

Her mouth feels dry, and it takes an effort to slow her labored breaths. She runs a hand over her face, wiping away her momentary confusion before checking that the other patrollers are still asleep, slipping off her cot and stumbling blindly through the darkened room.

Her weapons and her pack are still resting against a nearby crate, exactly where she’d left them. She slips the strap of her backpack between her fingers, hoping that the familiar worn canvas will distract from the deafening thunder crackling in her ears.

She holds her breath and counts the seconds between the streaks of lightning and claps of thunder – a trick her dad had taught her when she was young.

Somewhere between flash and bang, the sound of footsteps overhead catches Abby’s attention. Her head jerks up towards the source of the noise and she quickly forgets about the looming urgency of bad weather.

The door to the stairwell is propped open, and although Abby knows it was left ajar to air out the stuffy office space, she can’t help but imagine something sinister looming beyond the doorway.

She grabs the closest gun and makes her way to the stairs, listening for the sounds of movement overhead.

All the floors had been checked for infected and all the windows had been secured, but Abby still couldn’t shake the thought of someone invading their base in the dead of night.

She treads up the stairs and pushes the door open, only to be met with the sight of a lonely silhouette moving through the darkness. Abby jumps into action just as she’d been taught, heart thumping wildly as she raises her weapon and aims.

“Get on the ground – now!”

She spits out the stern command, harsh but still quiet enough that it barely fills the room. Despite the anger twisting in her chest, she’s rational enough to know better than to alert the other patrollers sleeping downstairs.

From the looks of it, the intruder was here alone, unarmed. It seemed better to deal with the situation on her own than to cause unwarranted panic the first night in to a new assignment.

The sound of her voice must’ve caught you by surprise because you stop dead in your tracks, not even moving to lunge for cover from the stranger gunning you down.

Illuminated by only the sharp flashes of lightning cutting through the shadows, it takes a moment for Abby to piece together the scene before her.

You’re soaked to the bone, cloaked in brown cloth and shivering from the rain clinging to your skin.

At first, she thought you might’ve been a soldier from another patrol, separated from your group and seeking shelter in an expectedly empty outpost. Or maybe you could’ve been a straggler roaming the city in search of supplies left behind by its former inhabitants.

But when a crack of lightning catches your features at the right angle, Abby recognizes the mark stretching across your cheek, and realization washes over her.

“Fucking Scars.”

She keeps her gun steady, though her fingers flex against the heavy, steel grip.  

With eyes trained diligently on your figure, she closes the distance between the two of you in a few short steps, scowling when she’s close enough to discern the look of confusion on your face.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” She doesn’t wait for a reply, shoving the muzzle of her gun roughly into your shoulder and spitting out a sharp “answer me”.

Her boot hits the back of your leg and you crumble into the floor with swallowed discontent.

“I’m not- I didn’t know you would be here.” You scramble to explain yourself, chancing a look at Abby standing behind you. She pushes her gun further into your shoulder, silently instructing your gaze back to the floor.

“This building’s supposed to be empty. It says so on the map.”

“You’re spying on our bases?” Her voice rises with every word, no longer concerned with who might hear. “Planning a fucking ambush?”

“No! Nothing like that. I’m not a soldier, I was supposed to collect supplies from the city, but I got caught in the rain.”

She laughs and rolls her shoulders reflexively.

“I don’t care why you’re here – Scars don’t get second chances.”

Thunder rattles the thin-paned windows lining the room. Abby’s heartbeat fills her ears. Prayer tumbles from your lips like the nervous chatter of teeth – uneasy, repetitive, instinctive.

Abby had never given much thought to prayer before, especially not that of a Scar. It’s always the same routine pleading that’ll never be answered. But it doesn’t sound like you’re begging for salvation, it sounds like you’re making peace.

Something about the situation doesn’t seem fair. You’re completely helpless, caught in a trap you couldn’t see laid out in front of you. Your people must’ve known something like this could happen, yet they sent you into the wolves’ den, anyway – a sacrificial lamb led to the slaughter.

A foreign pang of uncertainty resonates through Abby’s chest, and she lowers her gun with a shake of her head.

“Just- just go.”

A beat passes before you look back at Abby in disbelief. You gape blankly at her for a moment before mouthing a small “what?”.

She huffs impatiently and grabs you by the arm, hauling you up from your position on the floor. If anyone came in and found the two of you standing this close, you’d both be dead before you could part.

“Leave. Now. If the others find you here, they won’t be so nice.”

Her eyes flit over your face, searching for confirmation that she was doing the right thing. She expected to find fear etched into your features, maybe gratefulness, or even shock. But she’s met with only curiosity in your wide, unblinking eyes.

She pushes you away and turns to leave before she can change her mind, shutting the door behind her with a soft thud.

Abby knows what the other patrollers would’ve done if they had found you first. She knows what she would’ve done if the circumstances had been different.

You should be dead – or worse. It hadn’t been that long since she’d assisted in the interrogations that happened to Scars who’d been captured and strung up in cells for the rest of their days.

When Abby thinks about those people now, only one face stares back at her.

–

The next morning, Abby is forced to bite her tongue when someone finds the upstairs window open, raindrops clinging to the wood frame serving as the only evidence of your intrusion.

She blames it on one of the other patrollers, suggesting that they didn’t do a thorough enough sweep the night before, but not everyone is convinced.  

They search the building anyway but come up empty-handed, and the situation is defused and entirely forgotten by midday.

For the remainder of their two-week patrol, Abby wonders if you had really been there at all, or if you were a product of some underlying guilt she had stored in the back of her mind. She would stay up through night and listen for the sound of footsteps, not sure if she should feel relief or disappointment when the mornings arrived without any sign of you.

When the familiar rumble of the armored truck rolls in to collect Abby and the recruits, she returns to the stadium and does her best to keep you off her mind.

She volunteers for extra shifts; she monitors the communications radio; she listens to stories of other patrollers and wonders if they’re describing you in their encounters with unnamed and faceless Scars.

When she hears about another group headed for the abandoned side of the city, she jumps at the opportunity to join their patrol. Anything for some peace of mind, she tells herself.

They’re dropped off in front of a different building, a couple blocks west of where her last patrol had been located. Abby’s chest deflates when she realizes the absurdity of her desire to find you again.

It’d been weeks since she’d let you go, and surely you’d learned your lesson about venturing near WLF bases alone. Maybe you hadn’t, and someone else had found you before Abby had the chance.

She shivers at the thought and moves to catch up with the rest of her team, abandoning her concern for something more practical.

She offers to check the upper floors while the others bring in supplies, and no one objects to avoiding the endless flights of stairs and dusty rooms waiting for her.

Four floors up, Abby stops to inspect a window that had been broken some time ago. Shards of glass and a handful of dead leaves lay at her feet, and when stoops down to look for anything out of the ordinary, the door to the stairwell creaks shut behind her.

“It’s you.”

Her head whips around at the sound of your voice, familiar but different now that you’re no longer at her will.

From where she stands, Abby can see the way your chest rises and falls with anticipation, the way your hands twist at your sides. She waits for you to speak again, but the room falls silent.

“What’re you doing here?” she hisses, praying that the others were too busy to come check on her progress.

“I heard the truck – I knew you were coming.”

Abby frowns and moves a step closer. “Are you trying to get yourself killed? Do you know how many of those soldiers downstairs would like to get their hands on you?”

You cock your head to the side, as if you didn’t understand.

“You saved my life once already. I wouldn’t have come if I thought I’d be in danger.”

She scoffs at the presumption that she would betray her people again, but a small voice reminds her that’s exactly what she’d planned to do.

She moves past you to leave but you stop her with a hand laid over her arm. Abby’s jaw tenses at the contact, but when her resentful gaze flickers up to meet yours, she’s met with the same unabashed interest you’d worn before.

“I owe you, wolf. The Prophet commands us to repay those who show mercy.”

You pause before continuing. “Anything you want, it’s yours.”

Abby takes a moment to consider. What does she want?

She wants your leader’s head at her feet; she wants to make her friends proud; she wants to understand why she had let you go that night in the storm.

Her eyes trail down to your lips, to the mottled scar etched into your cheek. She wonders what you’d look like without its crooked ridges marring your skin. She wonders how it would feel under her hands.

It catches you both off guard when her parted lips press against yours, teeth clacking together from the fervency of her kiss.

Her hand comes up to cup the back of your neck, though she’s not sure if she wants to pull you closer or push you away. She grunts into your mouth and slides her other hand around your waist. An unfamiliar heat licks at the base of your spine.

“I want you to thank me for letting you go,” she declares.

Seraphite leaders had spoken on end about the corrupt morals of ‘new world’ adherents, but this was not the danger you’d learned to fear. Abby was unique, addicting, and you wanted more.

You fall to your knees at her feet, almost a mirror image of the night you’d met. This time, however, you’re the one in control.

She hums and rubs the pad of her thumb over her swollen bottom lip, still wet with your spit. “That’s a good start.”

Nimble fingers work open the button of her jeans, shimmying the dark denim down her toned, freckled thighs. Her black boxers follow suit, revealing a smattering of blonde hair trailing down from her naval.

Your hands smooth over her heated skin, palming at her hips in an attempt to pull her closer. She concedes and shuffles forward until her cunt presses to your awaiting mouth and your tongue dips out to taste her.

It’s like nothing either of you have experienced – the guilt of betraying your own people, the trust that comes from such inconceivable circumstances. It’s all too much to comprehend, so you choose to ignore it for the time being.

Abby’s head tips back with a sigh, little breaths and chirps of pleasure pushed from her lungs as your tongue flattens over her clit.

It almost looks like you’re praying, Abby decides. Kneeling in front of your altar, eyes screwed shut, searching for a sign from some divine being. She cards her fingers through your hair and tugs at the roots, pulling you impossibly closer.

It’s messy, greedy, downright sinful the way you press your mouth to her. Slick coats your chin and your cheeks, glistening in the dim light streaming through the windows.

You’re spurred on by the way she tilts her hips, the wet squelch of her cunt against your mouth. Her thighs flex against the sides of your face, smothering your cheeks in her arousal.

“Ah- just like that.”

In addition to your tongue roaming everywhere you can reach, your thumb comes up to rub firm circles against her clit. After a moment, you switch positions, dragging your fingers through her slick and dipping two digits inside her.

She gasps at the intrusion and bucks her hips harshly, urging you to move faster. Your fingers curl inside her, driving into that gummy spot at the top of her walls while you suction her clit into your mouth.

“Fuck,” she pants, grinding down on your mouth. “M’gonna come.”

It’s not long before she’s shuddering through her release, choking back a poorly suppressed moan while she fights to keep her eyes open. You continue to work over her mound until she releases your hair from her grip and takes half a step back on shaky legs.

Remembering her earlier request for gratitude, you lean back on your heels and lick the remnants of her slick from your lips.

“Thank you, wolf.”

She looks down as if she’d only just remembered you were there and her eyes sparkle with renewed interest. A lazy smirk tugs at the corners of her mouth.

“You gonna stay so I can return the favor?”

[sinisterexaggerator]

Star-crossed

Imperial!Hunter xF!Reader

Summary: You are a lowly spy living on Akiva. Your mission is to gather intel for a growing resistance led by Bail Organa of Alderaan. You want to keep hope alive for people across the galaxy—but it won't do you any good should you die trying.

Enter the Imperial Headhunter—you've slipped up. Will you be captured and taken in, or will you get a second chance?

Warnings: NSFW/ 18+ for: Elements of predator/ prey, cat and mouse, brat-taming, enemies to lovers, knife play, cunnilingus, heavy kissing and petting, PiV sex, foul-language, and explicit sexual content. Mild dubious consent. There is use of pet names. Reader has hair of indeterminate length.

Word count: 6.2K

Notes: I've decided to write an Imperial Bad Batch series of fics and started with Hunter! Shoutout to @imperial-tracker and the memeforce crew, as they are an inspiration! I love the idea of an Imperial version of the Batch and couldn't help myself. I am choosing not to discuss the activation of his chip to let that be open-ended or ambiguous. No timeline for when I will write the rest, but I hope you guys enjoy this!

P.S.: I've been playing a lot of Star Wars: Outlaws, thus I chose the jungle planet of Akiva to be the setting for this story.

Ao3 link.

Fat droplets of rain pelted your face as you ran like wildfire through the jungles of Akiva, your pursuer hot on your trail. Overgrown vegetation, along with the fragrant blossoms and gnarled vines of Jarwal trees, provided cover as you leapt over a steep incline made of rock and landed hard on the ground.

You hoped desperately to avoid the Venga, an opportunistic creature that thrived during the rainy season, though now, the rain poured without relent. Still, it would be better than if he caught you—the headhunter sent by none other than the first Galactic Empire.

You had information���intel. You kept track of the small number of Imperial forces on this planet, relaying anything and everything of even minute importance to Senator Bail Organa of Alderaan. You were a part of a growing resistance—a small band of people spread thin across the galaxy—your sole mission to keep hope alive for all who needed it, though you were but a cog in the machine.

You needed to tell your contact that more people were willing to fight, that more of the Empire’s forces were arriving on Akiva by the day, and that soon they would take over the Stormhollow sector. Already, they were covertly building a military base just outside Pyke territory.

Ultimately, you were worried about your planet’s future.

Unfortunately, you had been caught snooping at an imperial construction site.

This soldier who was giving chase wasn’t like the others. Out of breath, you made it to a network of labyrinthine tunnels, catacombs that rested beneath Myrra, stretching far beyond the city—they were a series of twisting pathways that spiraled off into various tracts like that of an anthill, one specifically leading you back toward your longtime home in the mountains.

You lived east of the capital; you hoped to lose him somewhere along the way, knowing this planet like the back of your hand. Surely, he would be unable to find you if you could shake him in the foothills—little did you know he was built for this.

You pulled your cloak tighter, your hood closer, darkness momentarily prevailing upon your entrance to the catacombs, torches fueled by dilarium oil greeting you a few feet down. The Uugteen lived here, out of sight, but you knew how to avoid them, going the way of the old Separatist droid foundry, its machinery left derelict and in disrepair.

You desperately wished you hadn’t ditched your speeder once you realized you were being followed; a noise off to your right caused you to startle. You flashed your glowlamp toward the vicinity of the sound to spot a fengla scuttling off beneath refuse, having disconnected it from your belt. It was a small, hairless vermin with green eyes; you would rather meet a horde of them alone than to face your adversary head-on.

You sighed and moved onward, the creaking of expanding and contracting building materials and the smell of stale air your only company—or so you thought. Your human senses were incapable of detecting the commando who watched you, biding his time like a predator stalking its prey.

Brown eyes surveyed your every move from beneath a visor tinted black; the enhanced clone assessed your threat level, finding you to be no more harmful than a mouse. Hunter thought that to track you down was almost beneath him, though he had been given a direct order—not that he always followed through per his discretion.

“What do we have here …” the clone asked quietly enough, his voice echoing throughout the otherwise desolate space; it bounced off the walls in every direction so that you could not pinpoint its exact origin.

You gasped as you turned around, your eyes wild like that of an animal as you searched him out—that Imp you knew was in here with you—horrified to find that he stood mere feet away, blending into the metallic backdrop of the factory.

“A little bird,” — the black clad sergeant stepped forward, his pace languid, almost as if teasing you — “one that chirps a little too much, and a little too loudly.”

You bolted like a skittish fathier, kicking up dirt and grim as you fled down the nearest corridor, your heartbeat raging in your ears as you traveled what felt like miles, never once looking back.

And that voice was strangely familiar, as if you’d heard it somewhere before but couldn’t place it. It was smooth and sultry, unhurried—the auditory embodiment of patience, and more than a bit unnerving.

You broke free of the tunnels, escaping through an exit dug out from the earth to dash across a lush field of green grass. Nearby was a dilapidated temple, leftover from a bygone era, built by the Ahia-Ko; you would take shelter in its crumbling remains.

The mausim had worsened since you had ventured underground, thunder crashing above your head as your heart continued to thunder in your chest. You crawled beneath an outcrop of carved stone, decorated in ancient markings no one knew the meaning of, doing your utmost to hide.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you whispered to yourself, whipping your head to the left and right, knowing that just ahead was a steep drop-off you would need a grappling hook to handle, though you had stupidly left yours behind.

The only way out was to your right, though you heard footsteps, the crunching of twigs underfoot. This man wasn’t doing anything to conceal himself, knowing that he was somewhere up above you, the only thing shielding you from his sight, that bit of stonework hanging above your head.

“Hmm … where could she have gone?” the imperial commando asked aloud; you prayed to the stars above that he wasn’t being facetious in humoring himself, knowing full well that you lurked just beneath his boots, cornered like a dog on a dead-end street—perhaps he expected you to bite.

“Come out, little bird. I know you’re there,” came that purring lilt, the microscopic hairs on your arms standing at attention as you held your breath, daring not to make a peep like the little bird he thought you to be. You could feel yourself trembling, as much from the weather and the unrelenting rain as from fear, finding that instinct had led your hand to your blaster, ready to use force even though you felt you were no match for him.

“All right, then. We’ll do this the hard way, hm?”

You sucked in a ragged breath as the dark clad soldier landed roughly on the ground before you, having jumped from at least six feet down. You were trapped—literally—between a rock and a hard place, knowing that you would have to stand and fight.

“Kark you, imperial shit!” you screeched, pulling your pistol; the clone shot it straight out of your hand so that you screamed in pain, the bolt having singed your skin as you found yourself disarmed.

“Now, now. That’s no way to—”                             

Before the man could finish his sentence, you sprang to your feet and lunged. Despite facing off against a hardened soldier and you being a woman, you pinned him down, knocking the blaster out of his grip. But once you were both sprawled across the remnants of the temple floor, you did not know what to do next. It was obvious you had not thought this through, and your enemy could tell.

“What a compromising position,” he quipped, taking hold of both your wrists. You made to knee him in the groin but felt a wellspring of pain radiate up through your leg. He was well-protected from head to foot.

“Let me go!” you demanded, thrashing against him. He endeavored to hook your leg with his own, using his body weight to flip you over onto your back. You squirmed like a fish out of water, determined not to go down so easily.

Just then, your hood fell off. The clone hesitated, looking down upon you. You seized the opportunity to free one wrist, snatching off the bastard’s helmet so that your fist could land a clean shot to his jaw.

Then, you did much the same thing as he was, gazing up with a dumbfounded look on your face. It was the handsome clone from The Alcazar—the one you had fucked back in some cheap motel room.

“Hu-Hunter?” you asked breathlessly, staring into his doe brown eyes, even as a steady downpour of rain wetted your cheeks, your hair all but plastered to your forehead—you knew there had been something recognizable about his voice.

“Hmm,” he hummed, a low vibration in the back of his throat, your one-night stand tilting his head to the side. “I thought I smelled something … familiar,” he slyly returned; your eyes narrowed as you came back to your senses.

“You’re imperial?” you asked through gritted teeth, having met this clone when he was dressed in civilian clothing. You supposed he had been off duty then, stationed on Akiva for Force knows what, and you just happened to be a sucker for a pretty face, not to mention halfway to wasted.

“And it would seem that you’re a naughty girl,” he replied silkily.

You silently cursed yourself as you felt your loins stir, thinking your body ridiculous for behaving in such a manner, though you had no control over your own hormones. You threshed against him once more, taking a swipe at his hair, aiming to rip off that stupid bandana he wore marked by the symbol of the empire. If only he had been wearing it when you first met.

The commando was too fast for you, dodging by shifting his neck one inch to the left. He smirked, snatching that roaming hand back up to affix both your wrists to either side of your ears, pegging your arms to the ground.

“What am I to do with you?” he asked rhetorically, Hunter’s chestnut locks dangling limply over his eyes, soaked to the roots by the rain.

You were quiet, so taken in by his beauty; no man should be this pretty, you thought, attempting to shake yourself free of his spell.

You briefly came back to yourself. “You’re on the wrong side,” you hissed, “and I have done nothing wrong.”

“No? And just where is that camera you’re hiding?”

You stiffened, knowing he meant the one you had used to take visual images of the partially constructed imperial facility back in Stormhollow, having concealed it in the pouch hanging from your belt. It was small and compact; you had planned to share the photos with Bail Organa, though not all was going according to plan.

“None of your business,” you seethed.

Fuck, he was hot. You hated yourself increasingly with every passing second, feeling your blood warm beneath the surface of your skin despite the cool temperature of the surrounding air. Most of the time, Akiva was hot and muggy, but this was the wet season—suddenly, in more ways than one.

“Oh, but it is my business,” Hunter said, his butter smooth tone doing a number on you twice now. “Don’t make me have to search you by hand, little bird.”

“Don’t touch me,” you growled, though it lacked conviction. You weren’t sure you could even convince yourself you did not want him to, much less the clone on top of you.

“Come now, you didn’t seem to mind before,” Hunter teased, lifting both your arms higher, cinching your wrists in one hand, mashing them together. His other hand gingerly explored your clothes, starting at your shoulders before moving toward your middle, giving you a pat down in small increments.

“That was before I knew you were an Imp.” You wriggled beneath him, trying to move away from his soft touch, though you felt bothered in a different way, remembering the night you had spent together all too vividly.

“So, now what’s your excuse?” Finally, his open palm rested along your waist. He had a simper tugging at the corner of his mouth. It was infuriating, but also incredibly attractive. You kicked your legs one more time for good measure, but Hunter did not budge.

“Piss off,” you grated.

“Do you know how I found you so easily, sweetheart?” He was clearly amused, and that further angered you.

You glared at him, not answering, finding it peculiar, though you did not want to readily admit it. Akiva was your home—it had been since your birth. You knew this planet like the back of your hand, yet still he was able to find you when other troopers had failed. They had always lost your trail; you had always outsmarted them, yet Hunter was the only one who had come this far.

“I’m a tracker, little bird. An experimental soldier—” he bent down low, nearly brushing his nose against yours, your eyes scanning his tattooed face as you feigned not wanting to kiss him. “I pick up on things—smells, sounds—the scent of sex, lust, desire.”

Hunter’s free hand slid down, his knuckles caressing the side of your face, his leather glove smooth against your skin. “And you’re nothing if not an open book.”

Your whole body stiffened; you felt like a mouse caught in the claws of a nexu, yet you would be lying if you told him he was wrong. You sucked in a breath, uncertain of your escape, notwithstanding that you were comfortable right where you were, and rightfully so—the clone nestled securely on your lap, apparently uninclined to move.

As fate would have it, the headhunter’s superhuman senses caught wind of something else, just as that something came crashing down with an ear-piercing screech. All of Akiva was a jungle; you had no doubt about what thatsomethingwas, though Hunter was caught off guard for one split second—it was enough time for you to initiate a new sequence of events.

You wrenched one arm free from his grasp just as a fussy little Kowakian monkey-lizard tumbled into sight. It was angry, as the branch it had been seated on had snapped under pressure, causing the reptilian creature to take a rather nasty fall. Surprised to see you both, it threw a rock in your direction; Hunter swatted it away, not expecting you to reach up toward his face.

He reclaimed your wrist, but it was too late; you were cradling his cheek in your palm. It was the best plan you could produce—hopefully, he wouldn’t see through it straightaway.

You curled your fingers, then drew him in, whispering, “kiss me, then.”

Hunter gazed at you with a furrowed brow; he studied the look in your eyes before consciously agreeing, even if against his better judgment.

The clone dipped down low, scooping up the back of your head. Truth be told, he was happy to indulge you. There was no reason he could not have his cake and eat it, too. Although he would have to turn you over for detention, he might as well give you pleasant memories for those cold, lonely nights you would spend in a cell.

Your lips parted as Hunter’s pressed against yours; you searched out his tongue, lapping eagerly at the inside of his mouth. With a moan, you clawed into his damp curls, bringing him closer as your breathing intensified and became uneven.

You made a move to coax him to release you all together, wiggling your other arm. After a moment’s hesitation, he let you loose; you used the opportunity to wrap it around his neck as your kiss went deeper and slowed down—it was all a part of your poorly thought-out plan.

“Hunter,” you enunciated between broken breaths, your hips lurching upward. You had to commit to the bit, or otherwise you would lose your focus, finding it hard to concentrate on anything but the taste of him, or the feeling of his body cozied up to yours.

But why not just go with it? What harm could it do? It was tempting to ignore everything and simply give in to the moment, but your mission far outweighed any pleasure you might receive, or at least that’s what you had to tell yourself to carry on.

“What a shame I have to turn you in,” Hunter said in that deceptively erotic tone; it would drive you wild if you allowed it, your hand slipping down, down, gripping Hunter’s black spaulder before inching toward his rerebrace, ever closer to your goal.

“You could always let me go,” you whispered, digging into his armor with your fingers as if you could touch his bicep beneath it, skirting the underside of his blacks.

The sergeant chuckled against your lips; you could feel his codpiece grinding into you, knowing what he kept beneath it, how it felt inside you. “I don’t think so, kitten.”

“Too bad,” you muttered, wrapping your tongue under and then across his in a swirl. Your cheeks hollowed to suck, distracting the commando the best you could as you finally had the guts to try your luck.

You snatched Hunter’s knife loose from its sheath on his vambrace, then broke away from the kiss; it hummed to life as you held the blade to the clone’s bare throat. His dark eyes flashed; he bore a mischievous smile, though your expression had turned serious. He seemed unbothered, though his voice was stern. “Is that the best you can do?”

It took milliseconds for him to latch on to your forearm; he twisted it in such a manner that it caused your fingers to loosen. You screamed, then aimed to drive your other palm into his nose, but Hunter was too quick.

You found yourself once more bound by your wrists. You bucked violently beneath him, then thrust all your weight to one side. You both rolled toward the edge of the ledge—the one you would have needed your grappling hook to conquer.

“Wait!” you shrieked, one arm dangling over the side of a precipice that was a drop of at least one hundred feet. The clone snatched you backward to where you now rested on top of him, having nearly tossed yourselves over the brink.

You both breathed heavily, staring into each other’s eyes. After a moment, Hunter latched onto your shoulders and forced you to roll the other way, collecting dirt and leaves all over your clothes—though by the end, you found yourself pinned once more, only inches from the actuated blade.

Hunter snatched it up, twirling the weapon once between adept, gloved fingers. This time, he held it to your throat—his breathing finally settled, though you were still all wound up.

“Do you know why they call this a vibroknife, sweetheart?” he asked, his expression stoic and unreadable. You gazed up at him like a dugar dugar caught in the headlight of a speeder, swallowing down your excess spit.

Instead of elaborating, he trailed its vibrating pommel between your breastbone, zigzagging it for effect. Hunter slipped its handle all the way down your chest toward your belly before he ended at your lap, pressing the butt squarely against your groin. He would push it into the soft fabric of your tights, then lean in close.

“I’ll give you one guess,” he said cockily.

The faint buzz of the blade on your tights silenced you, the sensation delightfully climbing upwards. It was clear he knew what he was doing; your breathing would not calm but deepen.

“Tooka got your tongue?” he asked, smiling subtly down at you, though he held within his gaze something mildly sinister. “Well, then. It’s best I show you.”

Hunter pushed the butt of the vibroknife more succinctly between your thighs. Even though you were clothed, you felt every tremor, every oscillation of the pommel. Your tights were thin, made for easy maneuverability, just like his armor. You gasped as the clone angled it against your clit, the quiver of the knife so intense your eyes rolled toward the back of your head, able to feel everything as if he were touching bare skin.

“H-Hunter!” you breathed his name once more, trying to hold on to your dignity. The commando canted his head, a few strands of sodden hair following suit as he stared down at you, forcing the knife’s handle against you just a little harder.

“Hm?” he asked with a kind of arrogant nonchalance, Hunter watching the way your facial muscles twitched as the continued vibrations drove you closer to the edge of an orgasm. You felt as if you couldn’t catch a breath, one of your knees lifting as you gyrated gently against the ground, both your hands finding the clone’s shoulders as you held on tight.

“Fuck,” you muttered, finally giving in to a moan. Your hips arched upward without your permission, the whirring of the blade seeming to increase in its intensity. Then, fireworks erupted before your eyes; you did not consciously know what was happening, losing sight of your surroundings as your vision blurred. You stared straight up at the canopy of trees above your head as your heart fluttered rapidly, your body seconds from succumbing to his game against your will.

“That’s right, sweetheart, give into it. It will make things all the easier,” Hunter purred, his other hand rising to cradle your face in the bowl of his hand. He brushed back a droplet of rain clinging to your cheek with his thumb, as if it were a fallen tear, then leaned down to kiss you, even as you writhed like a common whore, unable to stop yourself from coming.

You had no idea what he had meant—easier to capture? Easier to control?

You rode out your orgasm to its completion, knowing why the Twi’lek called it “the little death,” feeling as if you had transcended to another realm entirely as you came down, though now feeling wholly insatiable, wanting the man all to yourself—no matter who or what he was.

“Fuck me,” you spoke between jagged gasps for oxygen; Hunter had not yet pulled the blade away. You could feel another orgasm building, your chest heaving with every new breath you sought.

“And will you be good for me?” he asked, beginning to swirl the butt of the blade in micro circles. Your hips rotated in unison as you attempted to speak your mind.

“A-asshole,” you managed between fractured pants for air. Hunter chuckled wryly at your struggle.

“Wrong answer,” he stated coolly, able to sense your pleasure mounting. He waited until the time was right, then took his vibrating blade away; you clenched your thighs in protest, letting out a whine.

You were so distraught that you barely noticed him hoisting you up to sit by your gathered wrists, having easily sheathed that accursed knife. He dragged you back, the seat of your pants dusting the ground as he positioned your spine against a tumbledown pillar once belonging to the Ahia-Ko. The remains of this temple were a feat of architectural engineering; perhaps he would have taken the time to admire it, but for now he had other things to occupy his mind.

“What-what are you doing?” you asked with a soft exhalation, Hunter keeping you still as one hand disappeared behind himself. He unclipped a set of binders from his belt, then brought them around.

“Stand up,” he laconically demanded.

You were tempted to disobey, but you drew your knees up to place your feet flat on the ground. You pushed up with your thighs. Hunter remained silent for as long as it took him to anchor you in place, then inched backward to study his work.

“Can’t have you trying anything funny, now can we?” he asked in a deep, enchanting drawl.

Curse him and the starship he flew in on.

“What are you on about?” you dared, though your chest felt tight, having been tortured by pleasure, unsure if you were glad that it was over. But you found you missed the taste of his kiss, pining for it; all you could do was lamely rattle the binders that barred you from touching him.

Hunter did not answer you; he dropped to his knees and pulled the waistband of your tights and underwear down along with him in one fell swoop, revealing your sex to the open air of the jungle. To say that you felt a breeze was an understatement, though no other coherent thoughts filled your mind; Hunter buried his tongue between the folds of your labia without warning, its flat, broad surface lapping a line from the cusp of your cunt to the top of your clit, stopping to thoroughly suck your throbbing bud between his puckered lips.

“Fuck—” you could only repeat yourself from earlier, hardly able to stand up straight as Hunter switched to gingerly flicking his tongue’s tip across your nub. You were practically sopping wet from before; you could feel your own slick dripping down your inner thighs.

Hunter did not shy away, slipping one arm under your ass to help keep you aloft as he spread your lips apart for better access between his fore and middle fingers. You felt as if you could melt; become one with the forest floor.

“Don’t-don’t stop,” you begged. Hunter moaned his appreciation into your mound as his nose brushed against soft flesh; he ate and ate. His strokes became longer and more languid; he pressed his face more firmly against you, his cock standing erect behind his codpiece. Once he felt you were stable, he released his hold, then steeped two gloved digits inside you, the creak of leather accompanying the act of him curling his fingers, playing you like some Zeltronian lute.

“Too much,” you whispered, though it was just right, knowing you were seconds away from coming for the second time. The pressure against your anterior wall was perfect; the glide of the leather itself was an indescribable turn-on, though you were far past that.

“Kiss me,” you entreated once more, though instead he went back to a diligent suck, the undulation of his tongue’s tip rolling against your clit as he pushed against the deep seat of your core.

It was a triad of sensations; your body trembled against the moss-covered pillar propping you up. You knew you had your work cut out for you if you were to escape the headhunter’s clutches once and for all, but you were not sure you even cared to do so by this point.

Within the sleeve of your cloak was a tool designed for picking locks; you slipped your fingers across and inside, even as you fucked Hunter’s face, gently riding the curve of his nose as he continued to titillate you, the warmth in your bowels rising to a head, your body already so sensitive.

“Yes,” you praised him, biting down on your lower lip. Hunter’s eyes trailed up your form to land on your face; you were cognizant enough to halt the movement of your hands. He wanted to witness your expression as he led you to the point of no return.

Within seconds, you obliged him with one of ecstasy, whether or not meaning to. You rode the fingers still immersed within you, gliding back and forth, over and across them. Hunter matched your pace until you were practically limp, the clone retreating from your insides to wipe his fingers off on his thigh before he stood up to his full height.

You teetered, though you kept hold of that tiny tool that would allow you to pick at your cuffs; it was nothing larger than a hairpin. Hunter pressed his body against yours, overcome with the animal instinct to bury himself in your hair, smelling deeply of your natural fragrance before he released a low, predatory sound.

Then, he cut a piece off.

You gasped as he twirled his vibroknife, sliding it back inside its sheath. He had been so quick to do so; it boggled your mind. The commando gazed at you with heavy-lidded, brooding eyes before stowing the bit of hair into a pouch on his belt. “Just in case,” he smirked, knowing now that he would never be one to lose your trail should you escape.

You blinked, unsure of what had just occurred. The clone pushed his belt up and unhooked his crotch and skid plate; they fell to the ground with a clatter. You stared up at him, panting for breath as if you had just run a marathon. Hunter hovered close, the smell of you still on him, taking hold of your chin.

“Ready for me, little bird?” he asked.

You shook your head; Hunter kissed you, prying apart the magnetic fasteners of his body glove at the groin. His prick was swollen with his blood, thick and girthy, with pre-cum leaking from its head. You knew what it looked like from days previous, your eyes closing as your tongue joined in with his, tasting yourself as he pressed his cock against your eager sex.

You lifted one leg; Hunter hoisted it up, guiding it to wrap around his waist. Though you were bound, you pulled him closer by the crook of your knee, your other foot still flat on the ground.

“Come on, then,” you taunted, sinking your teeth into his bottom lip. Hunter gave you a dark, sensual look that sent shivers down your spine. He guided himself in—you were wet ten times over, ready, and willing to take every inch.

“You are a brat,” he remarked. You fit him like a glove, the clone commando groaning throatily as he sunk deep into the core of your being, your walls snug and warm, Hunter having to force himself not to release his seed too soon.

“Let’s see if I can make you sing, bird,” he spoke softly into your ear, twisting his fingers into your hair as he pulled you tightly to his body. You found yourself flush against his cuirass, never imagining yourself to be in this position, yet so drawn to him it was nearly inexplicable.

Hunter palmed the shape of your breast, tilting his hips forward; slowly his hand trailed down, locking onto the dip in your waist while the other kept hold of the back of your head. He used your own body as leverage; you met him in the middle every time, counter-thrusting when Hunter did, gliding smoothly over his cock with ease.

“But you’ve caged me,” you whispered, appealing to whatever goodness might be inside him. Even so, you were hungry for him, peppering kisses at the corner of his mouth, across his lips, seeking his tongue time and time again.

“You’ve done that to yourself,” Hunter replied, moving to squeeze your bare ass. You gave a chirrup in response, flexing your walls around him. Hunter groaned from the added pressure, slowing the roll of his hips lest he burst.

“What a funny way to look at things,” you hissed, taking the lead. Hunter concealed himself in the bend of your neck, the other hand joining his left, each now tightly groping one half of your shapely buttocks.

“I have my orders.”

You laughed a dry, vicious laugh. “What a good little soldier you are.”

Something snapped within him, the commando activating his powerful quads to drive his cock into you at a speed that was more pronounced. He snatched you around the throat, forcing you to look him in the eye, the other hand moving to pinch your clit between two fingers.

“I am what I am,” the clone growled as you gasped, his pinching turning toward a frictional rub, adding to the pleasurable prodding of your erogenous zone.

You felt the fire in your belly building up, slipping down, sending you toward climax as Hunter fucked you open, arms clinging, mouth wide as you gazed at the sky; the rain still fell, clouding your eyes.

You were nearing overstimulation; you rocked with him in a steady rhythm, disregarding everything but the feeling of him inside you. Then, Hunter lifted your shirt, your nipple sucked into his ardent mouth. You struggled to maintain your balance, kissing his ear, neck, nipping and biting, moaning his name. “Hunter.”

His left hand stayed between you both; his thumb running circles over your thrumming bud. You couldn’t hold back any longer—it was too much. You vocalized to the heavens, the entire jungle, coming for a third time, praising his name over and over like a mantra.

His voice purred into your ear, telling you how good you felt, bouncing you over his cock until you were begging him to stop. It was your pleading that drove him over the edge; you sang for him like the little bird you were.

Hunter thrust into you twice more, already aware that you were protected, coating your walls with his ejaculate as he groaned your name, his blunt teeth grazing your lip as he smashed his mouth onto yours, both of you once more joining tongues.

You timed it exactly right; you unlocked your binders as Hunter soared high, though you made no moves to dislodge them from your wrists. Instead, you stood there, letting the man rest his head, letting him lie against you, his chest rising and falling as he breathed in lungfuls of air.

Then, the commando’s comlink bleeped at him; someone on the other end wanted his attention—his superior, no doubt, or perhaps a colleague.

The clone pulled back to stare into your eyes. You held his gaze for as long as he stood transfixed. Something silent passed between you, Hunter gradually sliding out of your plush loins, wanting to stay there a moment longer, but knowing that you both were now at a crossroads, and him with a final decision to make.

“CT-9901, reporting.”

You did not bother to strain your ears as he walked away; Hunter tucked himself back into his blacks with his other hand. You watched quietly from your position against the pillar, finally slipping the first cuff from off your wrist.

You saw a pause in his step—had he heard you? If he had, the clone gave no outward sign, so you continued.

“I am aware, general,” you heard him say as you gathered the waistband of your tights and panties, shimmying them back up your waist and hips. With the clone’s back turned, you took a chance, bending down low to creep along the ground.

Hunter seemed distracted with his conversation. That, and the fact he had stooped down to scoop up his helmet, not seeming to notice you picking up first your own blaster, then his; they had long been discarded after your first altercation more than half an hour ago.

“This planet has a habit of washing away evidence,” Hunter said, his inflection denoting his annoyance, “this thing the locals call a mausim doesn’t seem to be letting up.”

As you stepped backward, you felt a small rock roll underfoot; it bounced lightly across the temple floor, clinking against a piece of Hunter’s discarded armor, the commando having taken the call without reattaching his crotch or skid plates.

Hunter had been pacing, though he jerked to a halt. He kept his back to you, not bothering to investigate. The clone had recognized from the get-go you would attempt to run from the moment he had placed his face between your legs. His heightened senses were keen enough to notice the slight movement of your fingers, though he had chosen to ignore it.

“Affirmative. Understood.”

You had inched farther away by the time he disconnected the comm, both blasters poised and at the ready, aimed at Hunter’s back. He placed his helmet back over his head, securing it in place, then spun around to face you.

“Are you going to shoot me?” he asked point-blank.

“Are you going to turn me in?” you returned, wondering if he had changed his mind.

“I won’t be going far without my codpiece,” he replied, walking back toward the pillar where he had left them on the ground. “The least I can do is give you a head start.”

You stared at him, unable to read his face through the bucket on his head, gazing into the black visor that hid his beautiful brown eyes; he began to clip the pieces back to his waist. You hesitated, not wanting to leave, but not wanting to stay—Hunter made sure to give you a bit more of a wake-up call.

“I’d get a move on; this won’t take long.”

You felt like crying, yelling, kicking, punching—but you wouldn’t let your feelings get in the way. Not now. Not when you had a second chance, however small. You still had the camera, the photos, the intel. You had your mission, and Hunter had his—you were star-crossed, doomed from the start.

“Isn’t there some other way?” you pleaded, voice cracking with emotion.

There was a lengthy pause.

“No.”

You nodded, taking one last, long look.

Finally, you departed, propelling yourself forward through the wind and rain, determined to lose him if that was what must be done. You would scent yourself with the blooms of the Asuka tree, cake yourself in mud—anything to throw him off your trail.

Hunter sighed and watched after you. What a waste it would be to throw you in a cell, though it was, after all, his duty.

His voice did not reach you as you vanished into bramble and vine—“Beat wing, little bird,” he whispered.

[skellymom]

HOT!

Hello lovely !! Take your time with the requests and keep yourself mentally stable,, remember you shouldn’t feel pressured to do anything , especially since you are so kind to write works for FREE

Anyways… i was wondering if you could possibly do a Hunter x fem! Reader and the 1 bed trope… possibly enemies (not necessarily enemies but they aren’t exactly friends) to lovers where the two just chat in bed and it might lead to something more ..? (smut maybe but not needed)

Again take your time and we love your dedication !!!

Living the Unknown Dream***

Hunter X F!Reader

word count: 4k

Stuck in a scenario with just one bed, you and Hunter spend the night together and alone but neither of you expected for the events that were about to unfold.

warnings: NSFW 18+ only please. Share a bed trope (my fave), enemies(?) to lovers. Slight angst due to bickering, p in v sex, cream pie , swearing. Kinda twisted it up a little but I hope you enjoy it regardless.

authors note: Thank you so much 🥺🤍 enjoy your request lovely.

Masterlist 🤍

“Can you stop staring at me?”

The room was thick with tension and you were doing everything in your power to stay cool, calm and collected. But, as a pair of glowering eyes could be felt burning into the back of your neck, it was a hard task.

"I ain't staring at you. Believe it or not, there's not much else to look at in this room," he grunted dismissively, shifting his gaze but making no attempt to break the awkward silence.

Ignoring his response, you continued cleaning your weapons with unnecessary precision, desperate to pass the time with the man you found so difficult to get along with.

"There's a perfectly good wall to look at," you retorted, the bitterness in your voice evident as you finished cleaning the already spotless firearms. This bitter feud with Hunter had seemingly sprung out of nowhere, catching you off guard. When you first joined the group, you believed you all got along, but Hunter had a different opinion altogether. He wasn't welcoming, disregarding any advice you offered, and instead, he seemed to derive pleasure from observing your every move with judgmental eyes.

In fact, he was always watching you with a face like a slapped-

"If you're going to clean your weapons, you should at least have a clean rag," Hunter mocked, repeating a dig he had taken at you numerous times over the past six months.

Frustration and exhaustion made you snap. Turning to face him with narrowed eyes, you shot back, "If I knew we'd be staying here, I would have been prepared. But no, Tech had other ideas."

What should have been a simple supply drop ended in a surprise stay over in a remote yet civilised planet. Not surprisingly, the others had claimed the rooms which had left you and Hunter in the dark. You had a strong feeling they did it to see if maybe, just maybe, the pair of you could get along.

“We’re fighting in a war, you should always be prepared. I don’t know how many times I have to say this to you.”

You did your best to not roll your eyes but this was something that had been echoed into your ears. “Hunter, it’s a cloth. Not a blaster, or food or water.”

Hunter stands this time, moving in front of you and you curse silently as he practically envelopes you. He was so tall and broad that it was like looking at a wall… sometimes even like talking to one as well.

You feel his gaze on you and you slowly look up at him once he speaks your name, “I don’t want to have this recurring discussion with you. No matter where we go, you need everything. What happens if we’re in a fight and your balster gets jammed because you used a dirty cloth? You could put-.”

“You at risk, I get it.” Your tone was moody, which is usually whenever Hunter had to lecture you.

“No,” he finalised, eyes glaring at little that you would think he was talking just about himself, “I was going to say ‘yourself at risk’.”

You tear your eyes away from his glaring ones and sigh. “Right, whatever.”

This time he sighed, deep and annoyed. He was half-tempted to just turn around and get some sleep to get the whole night to go faster but he had enough. Had enough with your attitude, the constant bickering and so he had to make his feelings known.

“What is your problem?”

You’re moving across the room as he speaks, pausing once his demanding question strikes you in the back and making you turn to face him. “Excuse me?”

“You heard.”

“You’re right I did, I’m giving you time to think of a different thing to say.” You retort, folding your arms over your chest.

Hunter shifts, not even hesitating to move closer to you. “You have a sincere issue when it comes to listening to me. You don’t follow orders properly, you just…” he trails off, agitated.

“Just what?” You prompt him, scoffing.

“Why don’t you let me care for you?” Comes his reply and you couldn’t help but notice that it sounded… sullen?

Your body tenses at his question and the thought of him caring, genuinely caring for you made your stomach churn. You had never seen it like this, never seen him like this. His face was red but not out of anger, it was indescribable but if you could point out any emotion from it: it was hurt.

The silence was filled when he spoke up again, not gauging your reaction at all. “Is it a crime for me to care? To show that I have feelings-.”

This time your mouth dropped a little and so did his at the accidental confession. There was silence. Tension. The only thing that could be heard was the way your breathing sharpened and he could feel the vibrations of your heart pounding against your chest. Or maybe it was his chest - he was not too sure at this point.

With enough courage, you’re about to usher his name but he cuts you off and announces that he’s leaving, that he needs to clear his mind with some fresh air.

Mouth snapping back shut, you lose your voice again as you wanted him to stay, to talk this through but he was gone the moment the words left his mouth.

An hour passes. Then another. At this point, you weren’t sure how many. You were sat on the end of the bed for a majority of the time, staring at your commlink. A part of you felt you needed to reach out to him, to hear his voice.

It is weird isn’t it? Someone who has been in your life for so long, someone who grinds your gears and stresses over every little thing you do suddenly disappears and you find yourself missing them. Missing Hunter. But you’re stubborn, he’s the one who left.

Besides, he’s the leader of the group. A strong force, a cunning warrior and a smart man. He could take care of himself.

Your eyelids were starting to get heavy and every so often you would jerk up as your body orders you to rest. You sigh and begin to strip, pulling off your body glove and swapping it for your sleeping shorts and a top. Sliding under the duvet, a luxury that the Marauder didn’t gift you, you laid awake for maybe ten minutes until you finally drifted off to sleep.

Unsure how much time passed, you finally hear the sound of some beeping followed by the sound of the room door swishing open and closing. It was him and you knew it was but you didn’t dare open your eyes. How could you face him? He had, more or less, confessed… What did he really confess? He didn’t finish off what he was saying but you found yourself wanting, needing, him to say that he had feelings for you. The silent part of longing for him came resurfacing like you had the first time you met.

Still, you stay silent and your eyes remain shut but you heard his silent steps and could almost feel his contemplation.

Minutes pass at this point and you hold your breath as the other side of the bed shifts. After some shuffling, you knew Hunter got under the covers with you, keeping a lengthy distance between the two.

Softly, he speaks. “Are you awake?”

You remain silent, hoping he may just drift off to sleep. Hunter glances down at your ‘sleeping’ body. Your legs were bent comfortably it seems, one arm propped under the pillow and the other laid peacefully against the mattress. Your eyes were closed but you had chills running up and down your arms once he spoke.

“Don’t pretend,” he says after a moment of watching you, your laboured breaths ringing in his ears, “I know you’re awake.”

“I’m not,” your reply is cranky with tiredness but mixed in with sadness.

From then, he wasn’t so sure what to say. He tossed every possible conversation starter around in his mind but was pulling blanks. Then, you shuddered.

“Cold?”

Finally, you turn your head, looking over at Hunter to see his back straight against the headboard. His arms were crossed over his chest, not surprised he’s still wearing his blacks and you were half tempted to climb back into yours for extra warmth. “A little.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah.”

You turned away from him again, sensing nothing but awkwardness. Painful awkwardness. Hunter chewed on the inside of his cheek. If he could he would do anything to make you warm again but for now, he stayed as he was.

It wasn’t long until you drifted off to sleep, Hunter following soon after hearing your gentle snores and just waiting to sleep the night away.

Hunter awakes and he’s warm, wonderfully warm for that matter. His eyes slowly open, adjusting to the darkness of the room and he almost gasps out loud when he realised what had happened. He’s spooning you and he is, well, awake with a raging hard on.

The Sergeant tenses. The arms wrapped around your shoulders stiffen and he does his best to wiggle away from you without stirring you awake. He’s blushing furiously, the what from his cheeks travelling down to his stomach and creating butterflies since he had been cuddling you for who knows how long.

He was surprised to feel the cold when he seeped away from your body, his cock softening as he guiltily rolled onto his back, wiping the nervous sweat away from his forehead with the back of his hand.

“Hey,” your sleepy voice comes out in a hoarse whisper, head tilting a little back with closed eyes, “come back. I’m cold.”

Hunter looks at you, mouth agape. You wanted him to cuddle you? After so much arguing from you? “I…uh…” the Clone trails off, feeling his cock that was once softening harden once more. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He gulps, inhaling a little but that’s when he smells you, not intentionally, but it was hard not to. You had been shivering so much that you had sweated a little, the natural scent of you wafting his nostrils and you smelt beautiful to him. If any other person had his senses, there was no way they could control themselves.

His voice was gentle as he spoke and that’s when your eyes opened to peer at him through the dark. “I don’t care, Hunter. I’m cold. You’re warm. Come back.” Your words were short of commanding and that erupted something in him. That fire you had inside always made him crazy. Little did he know that it was also a massive turn on of his.

So, he does. He slides back into the slot of your back and tucks one arm under your neck and drapes his other over your stomach. He doesn’t pull you flush to his chest, the fear of you noticing his boner stirred him a little but if it’s warmth you want then it’s warmth he shall provide.

You feel how tense he was at this gesture and you

regret forcing him to cuddle you just so you could be selfishly warm. After all, what were you thinking? He tells you he has feelings for you and now you want to be cuddled up in his arms. There was no denying how handsome he was and how his muscular arms almost engulf you fully. “You don’t have to do this.” You speak gently, hardly above a whisper.

To answer you, he relaxes and his arm curls more into you, your back now against his chest and you make the sweetest noise possible.

It’s a mix between a soft sigh and a moan and his cock, if possible, hardens even more.

Hunter curses inwardly and judging by your sudden sharp breath, he knows you noticed. After all, he had pulled you in tighter so that his crotch was centered with your rear.

Your sharpened breath quickens and he ever so gently moves his arm from your stomach up towards your chest, gentle fingers pressing against the skin and feels how your heartbeat has also quickened considerably.

Deep down, he wanted to hear that noise you made again but he knew he would be pushing his luck. You wanted warmth and that’s what he wants to give you. Nothing more.

“I’m sorry,” he rasps unsteadily. He was not even planning on apologising but it just slipped out.

The hairs on the back of your neck bristle against your skin, the feeling of Hunter's warm breath tickles at you. You begin to feel him recoil back again until-

“Don’t,” you reply, voice just as unsteady as his was. Hunter stills and hears the fluttering of your lashes followed by a shuddering breath. He works his way back to you silently and ever so slightly lifts his hips, pressing against the curve of your arse.

He utters your name so beautifully that your lead lols back, finding home in the crook of his neck.

You’re beautiful. Absolutely gorgeous and you wanted this. Whatever this is. His hands find refuge on your sides, hands ever so gently seducing along your sides until his fingers find their way under your shirt. He waits, waiting for you to push him away but instead, you melt into him. You’re responsive to his touch, coaxing him to touch you more and more.

He’s straining against his blacks and he could feel his blood running hot everywhere as his hand comes towards the side of your breast, ever so gently caressing it to gauge your reaction. He’s trying so hard not to rock against you and into the warmth of you.

Then, he heard a soft groan of pure longing as his finger traces over your stiffening nipple. “Mesh’la…” he growls, low and guttural, watching in awe as your back arches into him just by his touch alone.

You begin to writhe, needing any form of friction between your legs at this point as you become severely undone. You were hot, flustered and so fucking horny. The lower half of his blacks are damp and he didn’t need to feel if your shorts were wet because he could smell it; smell your dripping cunt and it was just all for him.

He shuddered, the touch of your hand began to drag over his aching bulge and shortly after, you twisted your body to face his. He’s half-hunched over you, glorious honey coloured eyes staring down into your wanting hues.

Slowly, the hand that was palming over his blacks traced towards his hip, ever so gently tugging on the fabric as a subtle hint and hoping the clone understood what you wanted.

As wanted, he pulls away from you and very swiftly, eagerly, he pulls his blacks away from his body. Starting with his upper half, your eyes widen in delightful surprise as his toned body comes into view. Your mouth salivates a little and your eyes go down towards his crotch, still covered but wanting to breathe.

Again, you trace your fingers over his hips until they trace and tease at the lower half and so Hunter obliges to your want, shuffling out with a jerk of his hips and you see his cock spring free. And what a sight he was to behold.

He sees you look down at him, chest heaving from under your night shirt and watches your tongue lick your lower lip and almost choke on the word fuck. Hunter positions himself back to you, chest to your back once again and he grunts as he feels your leg come back and wraps around his waist.

You don’t say anything, your voice is absolutely non existent at what was happening. Your Sergeant, your leader was naked and pressed against you. You let out a little whine, feeling the way his cock slips between your thighs and nudging against your clothed sex. Ever so gently, he rocks his hips forward, just to get a better feel of his cock between your thighs.

“Your skins so soft, so…” he trails off, mouth watering as his hand comes to hold your waist and keeping you in position as he grinds against you. His cock was learning the shape of you and he closed his eyes, sensing how wet you were which he was so eager to slick up his cock with.

You had your own type of sense; knowing how much he wanted to fuck you and how much you know you were willing to let him pound you into the bed. You grab the fabric of your shorts, pulling them to the side and revealing your glistening folds.

“Fuuuuck, beautiful,” he looks between your thighs in awe, his hand coming down to stroke his cock out of instinct. Ever so gently, he slides the tip between your folds, focusing on everything. Your heartbeat, the sharp choke of your breath as his cock comes into contact with your pussy. You’re trembling, full of an aching need.

He’s breathing down your ear until his lips attack at your neck, teeth grazing and tongue licking against your skin that releases a refined moan from your throat. “You’re so wet. So needy, aren’t you?” His tone makes you twitch and pant, forehead sweating as you crane your neck, wanting him to love you more.

Hunter slowly rolls his hips again, the friction between your pussy and his cock was having him tremble and you swore he whined out a silent ‘please’.

He was begging for entrance at this point and you were more than willing to give. “Hunter…”

“Yes beautiful?” He pauses all movements, lips gently kissing at your cheek. “Is this what you want? Do you want to stop?”

A soft smile forms on your lips and you tilt your head back, eyes locking in the dark. “I want you… I really want you.” You whispered, not helping as your eyes locked to his lips and then back up to his eyes.

Hunter noticed and did the most logical thing, leaning down and placing the sweetest, delicate kiss to your lips. You melt into him and as he pulls away, it leaves you wanting more.

It was more sacred to stay silent than speak at this point, Hunter not once taking his eyes off you as he lined himself up with your entrance and slowly pushed himself in.

You're wetter than what he had thought and gloriously warm. You’re also so tight and he goes as gentle as he can. Eyes fluttering closed, your head lolled forward again, face smushing against your pillow as Hunter began to rock his hips against you, clasping onto your hips for support.

By the third roll of his hips he almost bottoms out already, hips grinding against your perfect arse as you lift your hips as an invitation to take him all. There was no rhythm between the two of you, both taking whatever the other is willing to give.

A greedy groan slips out of Hunter's mouth from his chest once he feels you tighten around him; walls flutter around him as if you’re trying to draw him in more. In the end, he ends up rolling on top of you, clasping your hips to bring you to your knees whilst your face buries into the nest of warmth you both created as he takes you from behind.

You’re mewling for him now, hands gripping onto the sweat ridden sheets as you feel him stretch you open with every thrust. The force of him fucking your ripples through your body and you’re chanting his name, eagerly begging him for more and more.

“Hunter, Hunter,” you’re a moaning mess and you were already at the peak of a climax but you just couldn’t get there and so you begged for release. “I need more, p-please.”

He cooes your name softly, hand leaving your hip to gently cup a breast from under your shirt. “That’s it cyare. Not long now. I’ll get you there, I’ll make you cum princess.”

“I could-ugh-fuck-get used to you calling me that.” You pant, lifting your head and smile coyly at the Sergeant who only smirks as he masks in glory at how beautiful you looked.

“Good girl.” He utters through gritted teeth as he cock slips out of you messily, repositioning himself before wrapping his arms around you and pulling you upright and flushed to him, back to his chest and tilting your head to the side so he can kiss you.

Your mouths lock awkwardly together but it’s so sweet at the same time. He pushes back into you with a hefty sigh and despite the awkward angle of the kiss, you could feel the heat and longing it emitted. “You need to cum.”

His clever fingers trails down the front of your body, seeping in past through the band of your shorts that you still sported. “Oh,” you whimper once you feel his hands run over your precious bud and gives you more than you felt you deserved.

Moaning at the touch of his hand, he swallows your little whimpers of pleasure gloriously and he sensed you were about to fall apart at any given second. With enough pressure on your clit followed by the resounding pace of him fucking you, he pushes you to the age you were teetering on.

You come and it’s beautiful. You’re practically quivering against him, jaw slack and eyes rolling into the back of your head as stars blur your vision.

He slowed his pace and held you somewhat protectively. “I’ve got you.” Hunter whispers into your hair as you slump a little forward, feeling him kiss the back of your head. “Kriff you’ve came all over my cock, cyare. Such a good, good girl.”

With your high sloshing all over his cock, Hunter began to feel that tension and his knees began to shake. It’s too much and that’s when he pours his seed deep inside of you and filling you in deep only moments after you come.

His vision is dazed just as yours and he slowly pulls out and lays you down on the bed.

Your eyes are closed, legs twitching and so he does the sensible think of going to the refresher and getting some tissue for you both.

After you’re done with all that, he crawls into the space beside you and gnaws nervously on his cheek because you hadn’t said anything. Then again, neither had he.

“Was it okay of me to… you know?”

“O-oh yeah, I’m protected.” Comes your reply, soft spoken and almost shy.

With some hesitance despite just fucking you into the bed, he drapes an arm over your shoulder and you willingly fall into his chest. You sigh softly and he quirks a brow.

“Are you okay cyare?”

You look up at him through your lashes and nod. “I’m good, just a little surprised with what just happened.”

The clone rubs the back of his neck, still coated in sweat but he nods in agreement. “Me too but I enjoyed it. I just ain’t good with these types of things.”

You urged him to continue what he was saying and in the meantime began to trace your fingers softly over his skin, watching him get goosebumps as a result.

“I know I’ve been hard on you but like I said, it’s because I have feelings for you. Strong feelings. I’m a soldier and since the Republic fell I never had to think about…” he trails off and you feel him take in a strong breath before he says, “loving somebody. I’m sorry if I came overbearing but I can’t tell you how much it makes me sick seeing you in any form of danger.”

You stare at him with doe-like eyes and your heart almost melts into a puddle at his confession. It showed you how blind you were at first; not realising his bossiness was just a sign of care; of love.

“I can’t, just can’t lose you.”

More Hunter Works

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