#is it better than clone armor?

[omaano]

Are you still doing the trio prompts? If so, I humbly submit Rex/Obi/Cody for I1, or all of the "assigned baby by fandom" clones (Tup, Wooley and Comet) as K1

I'm still doing the trio prompts, and I'm finally about halfway done with them too! Thank you for the prompts, Anon, I could hardly pick (so in the end I didn't - but I'm posting them separately). I especially loved working on the "assigned baby by fandom" boys, thank you for picking such a lovely thing for them ❤️

Credit where credit is due: I've only ever seen Wooley as shiny-new in the show with no paint of his own, so I ended up using @yukipri's wonderful paint design for him (since I'm pretty sure that if Comet and Tup have their paint then Wooley should definitely has his worn in as well)

Polyamorous/platonic poses for sketching

and the other drawings I’ve made for them

[terra-tortoise]

how it started vs how its going (:

(outfit inspired by this post)

[stardusthuntress]

So I finally watched the 2D clone wars show, and I gotta say, it’s PHENOMENAL!!!

I now adore every second of it, in all of its sassy, oversimplified, primitively scripted, 2D glory!!!

I LOVE how Kenobi spends practically the whole time 100% done with everything, Anakin really is a disaster at heart, half the time the animators zoom in on something, just to start at a picture of a droids face while it talks - with zero motion whatsoever, Windu’s rocket punches, Yoda’s dramatic expressions, PADME and the marriage drama, the bazooka ARC (that guy had tired Rex energy, I LOVED it), a very different perspective of the moments right before Kenobi and Skywalker enter the battle of Coruscant, and it clearly was so inspirational for so many other SW shows!!! Not to mention how it flushes out so many things I’ve always wondered about!

And this is where the tradition of warning Anakin of his fate begins! And he still doesn’t get it! AND he’s 100% dramatic ALL THE TIME!!!

It’s amazing!!!

But it does bother me how many of the clones are truly treated as disposable! It’s like the only ones that make it out of the conflicts are the Jedi and the Sith! They just got mowed down left, right, and center!!! It was so cruel to them!!! And they mostly avoided giving ANY of them names!!! Cody was in it, and 1 other named guy but I couldn’t figure out what his name was. The Commander in red who led the ARCs! They were the only clones that (mostly) survived!!! It was so sad to watch them all just get disposed of so quickly and easily! They didn’t have to do that!!!

[jetii-mando]

Hi, not abandoning this! School has just been kicking my butt lately, but hopefully with summer coming soon I’ll finally be able to actually sit down and do more than just day dream of this AU.

Anyway, here is some more wholesome Fox and Anakin content :D

[Transcript of what is written (cuz my handwriting might not be the easiest to read): *Fox, wondering how in the world his work is already done*, *Anakin, who worked all night cuz he wanted to spend a day with Fox*]

[mommymothma]

Patiently waiting for Speak Now (TV) to drop so I get new writing inspiration

[ominouspuff]

No Man Left Behind / Something Worth Dying For

REQUESTS / BLOG EVENT

Request from @razzbberry - Palette #1 - Alpha-17, Cody - Death of the Cynic in Me

Notes and close-ups beneath the cut!

Notes: I think Seventeen would, both subconsciously and consciously, keep his cynicism as long as possible. It’s how he thinks the world works, but it’s also a survival tool. It’d be a very, very slow death.

It’s put to the test with Cody — not because Cody is special among his fellow clones, but because he’s one of the first that bothers to fight Seventeen on his own terms. The argument is always the same. Cody wants to talk about what he hopes to be, someday, after he is a soldier. Seventeen thinks he’s stupid to think that’s possible, or that he’d be capable. Cody knows it, and he, might not be. Seventeen thinks it’s even more stupid, in that case; what a waste of energy.

It develops. When they’re older, and in the thick of war, one day Cody risks his life for the chance to save a brother that was going to die anyway. Seventeen yells at him for fifteen minutes once he’s conscious about luck and stupidity and the trouble it’s causing Seventeen and the false hope it’s engendering in others. Cody says he can disagree all he likes, but he doesn’t give a fig, respectfully. Seventeen thinks Cody can go try to get blown up again, if he thinks so.

There’s no point fighting for a better tomorrow; they’re bought and paid for to fight for something else, FOR someone else. Seventeen is prepared for being fodder, as a result. He’s prepared for unfairness and the bleak life that they’re living. Instead he watches as Cody defeats odds time and time again, somehow managing to balance being an exceptional military leader with a secondary war to live for something more, running himself ragged and — inexplicably — gaining ground. Each of those little victories are a little death for Seventeen’s cynicism; a chipping away. A little seed of Cody’s brand of hope takes root, awkward and begrudging, fond and tentative.

Then Order 66 happens. Cody’s efforts for a better life are in vain, and Cody himself-

Cody may never know that Seventeen was right abut just how helpless they were. Now he only knows that Seventeen is a traitor, apparently, because Seventeen — for once in his life — was the lucky one and his chip malfunctioned.

And Seventeen could say ‘I told you so’. He could rest, vindicated and resigned, in the fact that every dream Cody built up and everything he thought was worth dying for is pointless, now — as he always suspected it would be.

But it isn’t fair, even by Seventeen’s standards.

“What are you doing,” Rex will rasp, caught in a strange role reversal as Seventeen paints an armor set with Cody’s golden colors. “He’s not coming back, Seventeen. He can’t. It’s pointless to keep going after him, you need to stop.”

“No,” Seventeen will answer, unbothered, “I don’t think I will.”

“We can’t — we can’t keep hoping,” Rex says, because he means he will probably have a breakdown if he imagines there is even a pitiful possibility he could save his brothers and then have to turn away from that scrappy chance for the greater good and Rebellion, and all that. “We’ve got to move on.”

“Go on.” Seventeen will invite sincerely, one brow raised because he knows Rex better than that.

“Do you want him to shoot you?” Rex will finally yell, all knotted up at the thought of losing Seventeen too, even though it’s funny because Seventeen was never kind to Rex.

“He can try,” Seventeen will say, touching up the last of the paint. He will stand, wiping his fingers, and pick up his pack. “See you when we get back, then.”

Alt version:

[frostbitebakery]

Loud.

Part one two three four

“Yes.”

Cody crosses his arms, one of the cameras in his visor rotating as if in a huff. He’s standing casually but securely. Casual enough that he’s probably ready to sprint, dodge, roll, jump, dive at a microscopic moment’s notice.

“I apologize,” Obi-Wan signs, perhaps widening his eyes into an innocent expression very slightly. “I did not mean to offend.”

“You didn’t offend me,” Cody says, his lovely voice distorted with the vocoder. “You asked if all the antennas were truly necessary. I replied.”

Replied with a long, static silence followed by a single word.

Obi-Wan struggles not to smile. He inclines his head. “Very well.”

.

“Each of them serves a purpose.”

Obi-Wan nods sagely.

.

“Having one signal receptor isolated from the main system makes it possible my suit can scan for hostile or foreign frequencies without the threat of corruption a pointed hack through this antenna could provide.”

Possibly the longest sentence Cody has ever spoken in Obi-Wan’s presence.

Obi-Wan slowly swallows the nutrition gruel the mess has provided for him. The artificial trachea and esophagus need replacing soon, he can feel it.

“Also,” Cody continues, drinking his soup and eating the accompanying sandwich.

Obi-Wan attentively listens to explanations going in depth how Cody theorized a web of communication arrays and double-back-up frequencies, and the best slicers and techs across the clones made it a reality. “Better than I could have ever imagined,” he adds, pride making his eyes shine and soft. “The parameters they took into consideration…”

Cody’s voice washes over Obi-Wan like a gentle tide, carrying him to the shore, the ebb and flow.

.

“It’s crucial I remain in contact with my troops even in a planet-wide attack or defense operation.”

Obi-Wan nods to that, head pillowed on Cody’s chest.

“Sleep,” he taps but he’s asleep before he can make it to the last tap.

.

“The strongest short-range comm in the whole GAR. Every Commander has one of these now.”

It’s a little robust antenna, hidden in a pauldron compartment.

“It has saved our lives a tremendous amount of times,” Mace nods, letting the steam of the tea wash over his face in visible bliss.

Now that Mace is obviously in on reprimanding Obi-Wan and his innocent if amusement-fueled question, Obi-Wan possibly has to apologize again.

.

“It’s less about signals but a bundling of wireless energy to support the tech in a worst case scenario,” Cody explains.

Obi-Wan’s legs dangle in the air, Cody’s hands - secure gentle Force-loving inescapable - holding him up against the wall.

Obi-Wan nods with a weak smile behind the mask and swallows.

The helmet tips down. Up. “You like that.”

It’s Obi-Wan’s turn to be miffed. Cody sounds too disbelieving. “I like being held,” he signs with a shrug and raised brows.

He slings his legs around Cody’s waist and hauls him and, subsequently, the massive clone armor close. Kit and his rigorous pilates only deserve the highest of praise.

“I can hold you for hours,” Cody says over his blush giving his cheeks a rosy hue. It’s too earnest to be a flirt, too drenched in a careful offering.

.

“I can hold you for hours,” Cody gasps, their sweat mingling. “But I know to let you go.”

.

“Let go,” Obi-Wan signs, struggles against the grip, struggles to catch his breath even with the mask. He circles his flat hand over his chest again. Countless times, not that it has made a difference. “Please.”

The fight has weakened him. Sparring with Cody has let him glimpse what lies behind the softened blows, the possibilities of destruction of Cody not holding back. It’s worse than he could have ever imagined.

“Please.”

“Good soldiers follow orders,” the vocoder grates out, the blank wide eye dripping blood staring at him from the destroyed visor claws a shiver down Obi-Wan’s back.

Cody rips off his mask.

[kaminocasey]

A Great View

WARNINGS: TBB S3 SPOILERS. 18+ MINORS DNI; Smut, fresher sex, possessive/jealous Crosshair, fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex between partners (Wrap it up friends), p in v, maybe slight angst?

Summary: Crosshair gets jealous when Howzer flirts with you.

Pairing: Tbb s3!Crosshair x f!reader

WC: 2k

A/N: How GOOD were episodes 6 & 7?! SO GOOD right? I've missed this man so so so much. So excited for next week. When Cross said "Oh, I'm much worse." I couldn't BREATHE. And not to mention, seeing him in his old armor again???? Forever crying over him.

“Did you like the attention Howzer gave you?” Crosshair’s smoky voice is in your ear as he pushes you up against the fresher sink on the way back to Pabu so he can tend to your wounds. 

Normally, this would be your job, tending to the batch’s wounds. And normally, if you had any wounds yourself, Tech would-

“No.” You shake your head.

He lets out a noncommittal grunt, his hand traveling up into your hair to move it out of the way so he can help clean the blood off your forehead. “Is that so?”

Crosshair was right earlier. He is worse than Hunter. But that’s what you love about him. Kriff, you’ve missed him so much…You flinch when he dabs at the cut. 

He pulls his face back some and looks down at you with a raised eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. You’re telling the truth, though.

You tell him, firmly. “I just…”

“What is it? Tell me princess.” He hums, tilting your chin up toward him so he can search your eyes.

You can feel the other clones’ eyes on you as you sit with Omega, Wrecker, and Batcher at your feet. Howzer passes by, smirking. You look up at Crosshair, who’s suddenly more tense, and then look back down at your datapad. A few moments later, Howzer brings you a drink and you thank him. 

“No problem. If you need… anything else… don’t hesitate to come find me.” He winks. 

Oh. Uh oh. 

You look up at Crosshair again, just knowing his eyes are on you at all times. He’s shooting Howzer a glare so hard you think it could usually break a normal person in half. Crosshair walks over to you, leaning against the table, next to you and then tilts your chin up toward him and kisses you so deeply, it makes your insides go warm and fuzzy with need. 

You and Crosshair had been apart for so long, he wasn’t about to let anything get in his way again. When he pulls away, you feel slightly breathless, both yours and Crosshair’s pupils are blown and you think you may need to sneak away. Except Rex breaks up the moment, needing him and Hunter for something. 

Howzer throws Crosshair his own glare and joins them, leaving you warm in the face, thinking about what you’re going to do to him tonight. Wrecker’s laugh snaps you back to reality, so you ignore him, going back to your datapad. 

You look up at Crosshair, the burning need for him returning low in your stomach. 

“I like when you’re jealous. It’s hot.” You smirk up at him as he puts a small bandage over the cut on your forehead.

Crosshair lets out a low chuckle, smirking. “I would say it’s more protective than anything.” 

“Call it what you want, it was hot.” You shrug, running your hands across his stomach, landing on his waist, gripping his shirt. 

He leans in close, his warm breath ghosting over your ear. “Yeah? You like when I let people know what’s mine?” 

You nod. “Yes.”

He hums, kissing your neck and you let out a soft moan at the feel. He lifts you up, sitting you on the sink. This sink is bigger than the one on the Marauder, so there’s more room for him to stand between your legs without feeling cramped. Not that you mind the cramped feeling. 

“You want me to take you right here? Remind you who you belong to?” Crosshair murmurs, squeezing your thighs. 

“Yes, please.” You look up at him, eyes wide with need. 

Crosshair crushes his lips to yours, finally, hands traveling to cup your neck so he can reach you better. A soft moan escapes your lips, traveling right to his, making him smirk. 

The two of you had been together the entire war and then when he chose the Empire over the batch, over you, your heart shattered and you thought you’d never love again. 

And then he got off that freighter with Omega and your heart soared. You belong to him, and he belongs to you. It’s the only thing that’s ever made sense in these dark times. 

You and Crosshair have snuck away every chance you’ve gotten since he’s come home to you, making love, desperately and passionately. So this would come as a surprise to no one, being locked away in the fresher on Echo’s ship. 

He pulls away to help you down off the sink and spins you so you’re facing the mirror. His lips turn up in a soft smirk. 

“I look rough.” You notice.

Your hair is a mess, you’re caked in blood and dirt and desperately need a shower. 

“Doesn’t matter.” He leans down and kisses your shoulder. “You’re still beautiful.”

You roll your eyes with a teasing smile. “If you say so.”

He starts to ease your pants down until they hit the floor, taking your underwear with them. “I do say so.”

And then he places a swift smack to your left cheek, causing you to let out a sharp gasp. 

“Go on. Say it.” His smoky voice fills your ears and you close your eyes, savoring the sound of it as he rubs the spot on your cheek that he smacked.

“I’m beautiful even when I look like I had the shit beat out of me?” You tease.

He chuckles. “Brat.” 

“You love me.” You open your eyes only to meet his own in the mirror.

“I do.” He nods.

It’s a promise.

He lifts your shirt up over your head, unsnapping your binder next, with slightly shaky fingers. You notice when he looks down, frustrated at his hand, so to distract him, you back up against his hardened length, making him groan softly. His hands fly to your hips, pushing you down over the sink. 

“Tell me how bad you want it, princess. Go on.” He urges you, smirking down at your naked form. 

You don’t think there are words to describe how badly you need him to fuck you right now. 

“Fuck…” You whisper. “Please… I need it.” 

“Didn’t tell you to beg. Told you to tell me how bad you want it.” He purrs, sliding two fingers through your already soaked folds. 

“I- I need it.” You whimper. “So bad. Please Cross… I c- I can’t tell you how bad.” 

His fingers find your clit and your back arches up as you moan and his grip on your hip tightens. 

“What would you do if I just got down on my knees instead of fucking you?” He teases.

All you can do is whine. 

“You really want me to fill your pussy that bad, huh?” You can hear him drop to his knees and you whine again.

“Hush.” He whispers. “Let me make you cum and then I promise I’ll fuck you as hard as you want me to. Deal?” 

He knows that his voice alone is enough to make you fold. You’ve never been able to tell the man no. Not to anything. 

“Deal…” You sigh. 

“Thank you.” He places a quick kiss to your rear cheek. 

The moment that you feel his hot tongue against your warmth, you have to put your hand over your mouth so that no one will hear you come apart above your partner. He licks stripe after stripe over your folds, getting you nice and wet for him. Your shaky breaths only spur him on.

Crosshair’s arms snake around your thighs, giving you extra security to keep you held up and you silently thank him. Unable to help yourself, though, you push back against his face, the stubble against his cheeks causing a delicious friction against your inner thighs. 

Having Crosshair on his knees like this reminds you of the first night he was home. The two of you snuck away to the beach almost immediately. Hunter hadn’t been happy about it, but it was worth it. Cross had pushed you up against a rock, kissed you until both of you couldn’t breathe and then he dropped to his knees and ate your pussy for over an hour. You lost track of the amount of times he made you cum that night. 

There hadn’t even been any apologies until after. The need for each other just… outweighed the bad. 

And now, here he is, a couple weeks later and you have a lot of lost time to make up for. 

“Fuck, right there.” You whisper.

He hums against your cunt and then sucks your sensitive clit between his teeth before latching his lips against it, making you smack your free hand against the mirror. He chuckles and pushes a finger into your tight warmth, making you groan against your palm. 

“Yeah? You gonna cum on my face, cyar’ika?” He encourages you, thrusting his finger in and out of you. 

You both know it’s not as good as his cock, but his long slender fingers have always been able to reach into you so perfectly.

“Mmhmmm.” You whine as he curls his finger against the spongy part inside of you, making that familiar warm feeling start to take over. “So good.”

The blinding white hot feeling rips through your body like a volcano, sending you over the edge, dripping down Crosshair’s face. 

He stands up, gripping your hair and pulling back so that you’re forced to watch as he pushes his cock roughly into you, making both of you moan so loudly that he has to place his free hand over your mouth so you’ll be quieter. You don’t mind though because it brings you physically both closer. You make eye contact again in the mirror and he kisses your bare shoulder, thrusting roughly into you.

“Mm.” He sighs. “You know you’re mine, don’t you?”

You nod, mumbling around his hand, answering him.

“And you don’t mind if I make everyone else aware that you’re mine?” He whispers.

You shake your head.

“Good. Fuck… So good to me.” His thrusts become sharper, more purposeful as you clench around his cock.

You know you’re going to feel it later. But it’s alright because you know he’ll take care of you later. 

“Where do you want my cum?” He grits between his teeth.

“Inside.” You mumble through his fingers. 

He buries his face in your neck, biting back a growl the best he can as he empties himself inside of you, painting your walls with himself, just how you love it. Deep and rough. You’re sure to have bruises in the shape of long slender fingers on your hip in the morning, but you don’t mind.

“Shower.” You whisper.

“Shower.” He agrees. “But first…”

He spins you around to face him and kisses you again. This time, more gently, cupping your face so carefully, he almost seems afraid that you could break. His tongue slips past your lips, dancing along yours and you cling to him, wrapping your arms around him. 

When he pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours. “Thank you.”

“For what?” You look up into amber brown eyes, confused.

“For taking me back, even when I didn’t deserve it.” He whispers.

You pull away, staring up into his eyes, your favorite eyes, holding his face so that he looks at you. “Listen to me, Cross… Everything you did… all the mistakes you made… they don’t define you. You have to let go of the past so that we can build our future. Okay?”

You’ve seen how much he’s changed. You see the way he is with Omega. How affectionate he is with Batcher. And more importantly, how he’s apologized to you and promised to be better. You believe him. You believe in him. 

He nods, tears nearing the brim of his eyes, so you kiss him again. 

“Speaking of our future…” You murmur softly, smiling against his lips. “A couple days ago, Shep showed me a house I thought could be perfect for us.” 

“Oh yeah?” He guides you into the shower, starting the water.

“It’s got a great view.” You wiggle your eyebrows.

“Doesn’t every house on Pabu have a ‘great view’?” He raises a dark eyebrow.

“Yeah, but not every house in Pabu has you.” You shrug. For the first time, you think since before he left, he lets out a genuine laugh. It reaches your soul and you know you’ll do anything to hear that laugh for the rest of your life.

TAGS: @rebel-finn @rexandechosandwich @madameminor @dumfanting @corona-one @tecker @ladykatakuri @brynhildrmimi @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @zoeykallus @maulslittlemeowmeow @littlemousedroid @arctrooper69 @rexxdjarin @padawancat97 @hated-by-me @sleepingsun501 @idledreams @redheadgirl @themcuwriter @ashotofspotchka @sunshinesdaydream @crosshairsimp73 @ariadnes-red-thread @rosmariner @heyitsaloy @starstofillmydream @high-ct5555 @echos-girlfriend @sleepywych @nekotaetae @justanothersadperson93 @aconstructofamind @book-of-baba-fett @chopper-base @palliateclaw @501st-rexster @dead-poolz @nahoney22 @where-is-my-mind-tho @jediknightjana @erishimoon @witching3 @queen-of-many-fandoms @wizardofrozz  @burningfieldof-clover @rebelsriley

[forcemeanakin]

Make you feel better.

•WARNINGS: SMUT.  Vaginal sex (female top), unprotected sex, blowjob, handjob, degradation kink, spanking, dirty talk. Explicit mentions of injuries.

Pairing: TCW!Anakin Skywalker x female reader.

Summary: You are a nurse in the 501st squad and General Skywalker needs some assistance. Only you could help him feel better.

Word count: 4.8K. This started as a blurb, but I’m incapable of shutting up. I haven’t stood up from my chair since 10am, so enjoy.

A/N: I’m so so so so in love with this man, it’s sickening. Scenario inspired by Ahsoka ep.5!. NOT PROOFREAD!!, english is my second language, so please be gentle. If there are any mistakes, pls let me know in private so I can correct them, thanks :) Also I have a serious issue between differentiating “in” and “on” situations, so bare with me lmao

Also first one shot since like forever????

____________________________________________

As a war nurse, you are used to treating the nastiest of wounds, the bloodiest of cuts, the vilest of injuries. 

You have chosen your profession out of love and vocation. As cliche as it might be, the true desire of your heart was to help people feel better: The plan was to specialize as a pediatric nurse, even becoming a doctor one day. Working at a hospital, maybe have a private practice with that medic husband of yours you often dreamed about. 

All of that was erased the moment war erupted. 

Fresh out of nursing school, every single one of your classmates, including yourself, were drafted to report to duty as nurses on the frontlines. The assignment of troops was random, but as if fate had decided, you were put at the service of the 501st. Little did you know, the job was harder than you had ever imagined it would be; and the constant bombing and deceased people you had to observe had nothing to do with it.

It was the general of the squad that made your job more complicated than it had to be.

General Skywalker. 

Well, it wasn’t exactly him, but the persistent crush you had on him. 

Needless to say, it was extremely unprofessional to be daydreaming of the person who was technically your boss. Even more unethical to be full-on fantasizing about his dick size when you were supposed to be suturing injured clones. But dammit, was it hard. So hard to be so close to his pulling presence and yet so far from achieving anything real with the man. Not that you had tried. Public rejection would be even more embarrassing than crushing on him. 

Anakin Skywalker hardly recognized your existence. Between his duty as leader on the field, his responsibilities as Jedi off-hours and the reduced sleep time he could squeeze in between battles, he didn’t have time to remember the name of one of the nurses of his legion. Especially when he never went to the tents himself; the god of a man was indestructible. 

Fuck, was he hot.

Just watching him scream: “Forward!” every day, as he ran directly to conflict with bravery was enough to have you dripping. His whole General image was your own personal definition of lust; his armor, the tone in which he would deliver orders, the frown he would wear until he had defeated each and every single one of his enemies. The smile he would flash whenever they won over a battle. Luckily, it was often.

But you had this idea that, out all of the medical staff, you were his least favorite. Maybe it had something to do with how social you were: always distracting his soldiers with jokes as you cleaned their cuts so they wouldn’t think of the sting. Or maybe it had something to do with how emotional you could get during your shifts: always fighting with your colleagues so they would treat the troopers as people, not numbers. Even if he had created a culture of trust among his peers, you weren’t sure if he appreciated that you caused so much trouble within the medical wing. 

You had endured a year of stolen glances, salivating at the sight of him from afar and lonely nights with just your hand. Cheeks would blush so fast whenever he would catch you checking him out, and maybe you were drunk on the smell of medical alcohol, but you swore that you caught him checking you out too once.

But that was long forgotten the next day, when he came back to being his same old cold persona. You forgave that aspect of him: the atrocities he had committed in the name of the Republic weighed heavy on his shoulders, slouching his proud figure whenever he had to face the reality of his situation. 

The same you had to face everyday.

“Who’s available?!” Yelling was the official way of communicating over here. You were finishing up a bandage on a trooper that had lost his left leg, meaning that you had to answer the call of duty.

The Ryloth takeover was more hectic than the squad had ever anticipated. Soldiers falling left and right, some didn’t even make it to the medical bay, just straight to the pseudo-morgue that was built to then give them a final resting place. 

“I’m almost ready to take the next one!” You screamed over the noise from the ships flying over.

“Ms. Dana.” Someone called you by your last name from outside the medical tent. “General Skywalker’s tent in 5.”

That made you drop the jar of gauze.

No one has ever been there, you thought. 

Outside of his skippy padawan and uptight master, Anakin’s tent had always been off limits to the public. His sacred place to unwind in peace. The ways he must unwind after a long day of battle…

“Ms. Dana!” That woke you up from a very explicit image of Anakin jerking off the stress away. 

“C-coming!” You choked. Grabbing your personal kit, you ran to the destination that had your clit throbbing with anticipation. 

You would see the sheets he slept on, the place where he storaged all of his robes, the shower that saw him naked every day. Jealousy of an inanimate object took over you as quickly as it left, making you feel stupid for getting angry at a room.

You almost didn’t notice that the battle was over, the only remnants of it were the people being moved in gurneys, the clouds of dust and the beaten up ships. Your outfit was probably not the best to endure the hardness of the Ryloth landscape: a tight, white buttoned up dress with a stupid little hat on top of your head. You hated the son of a bitch, it was ridiculous as fuck, but necessary for recognition among all of the personnel working in camps.

Anakin will think it’s stupid too. 

He will think you are stupid. 

The self-degradation stopped once you reached the entrance of his tent. Gulping exaggeratedly, you were unsure if to knock, announce yourself or wait until he was annoyed enough to come out and see you standing there like an idiot. 

“Come in.” It was his voice who cruelly cut the silence, growling. 

With shaking legs, the green fabric that formed his personal chamber was removed from your eyesight and you were hit by the delicious smell of him. So manly, so musty. It smelled like his cologne all over and you wished you bottle that up to spray it on your own sheets. 

It was less rewarding to see him sitting on the edge of his bed with an exasperated stare, analyzing your figure with obnoxiousness. You even cut short your eye-fucking tour of his body when you met his tired eyes.  Have you taken too long to get here?

“So they sent you.” He sighed, deviating his gaze. The evident disgust at your presence made you slouch timidly. You were a good nurse. The best one in the camp, if you dare to say. “I told Rex I’m fine. I don’t need assistance, it’s just a bruise.” His tone was harder than his words, surprisingly. 

“Well, now that I’m here, might as well take a look at that, huh?” Fighting through the devastating embarrassment, you proceeded to walk over his bed to place your kit. Biting your lip, you feared to ask the next question. “Shall we get started?”

He was one step away from rolling his eyes. “Fine. Just do it quickly.”

“Got it, sir.” Weird. There was no chilly breeze, however, Anakin had just flinched. “Care to show me where the bruise is?” 

He hesitated for a bit, closing his eyes with frustration. You were about to ask again when he exhaled with annoyance. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“I would like to confirm that. Please, sir, the faster we do this, the faster I’m on my merry way.” You hated that he was desperate to kick you out, but apparently your compelling argument helped to accelerate the process. 

After seeing that he still felt fuzzy about checking the bruise, you decided to start somewhere else. “Let me get started with this cut over here. Looks pretty nasty.” 

You doubted if to take a seat, scared that it would be too close to him, but you needed the space to maneuver. Giving up to your internal fight, you sat down next to him and began by cleaning up the wound that escaped the fabric of his burgundy robe. 

“That’s nothing.” He mumbled under his breath, still not looking at you. 

Ignoring his attempt to diminish your work, you decided to also ignore your basic instinct to start a conversation to ease up the process. The internal alarms of survival were yelling at you not too. However, there was a moment where the alarms shut down, basically because every part of your brain shut down simultaneously and it was when you had to grip his bicep to make it stand still. Your fingers dug into the hard muscle, feeling how every little bit flexed under your fingertips, proving first-hand just how strong he was. 

“Done. Now I’m gonna clean the ones in your face.” You poured some alcohol into another cotton ball and turned to face him. 

Being face to face with Anakin Skywalker had been the most intimidating experience of your life and that hot as hell scar and mean frown didn’t make it easier. In fact, it had you clenching around nothing. You cleared your throat before slowly reaching out for his chin, pulling him to give you a better look of his dirty and exhausted aspect. 

He gasped the second the puffy ball made contact with a cut on his left cheekbone. You took that opportunity to bring him some comfort, despite your irregular breathing and overall tenseness. Rubbing your thumb along his jaw, you saw his pain decreased until the sting was gone. You moved to another cut on his forehead, repeating the process until you had treated most of them gone. When you swapped your current cotton ball with a new one so caught him looking down on your body. 

It’s this stupid uniform.

He sensed your eyes on him and quickly deviated them to focus on your irises. You gulped before continuing your beeline around his face, this time close to the scar you often fantasize about in bed.

“That one 's old. No need to worry about it.” He joked.

He joked.

Unable to form a coherent comeback, you limited yourself to give him a nasal laugh, demonstarting that you got it. 

“Thought you wouldn't be this silent. You’re more chatty with the clones.” He said, slightly tilting his head.

“I didn’t know you wanted me to talk.” You replied, this time with a little smile as a peace offering.

“What did you think I wanted?” He frowned, interrupting your cleaning.

“I thought you wanted me out as quickly as possible.” You stopped momentarily to accommodate his face once more into a position you could work with.

He let out a dry laugh. “It’s nothing personal. I just want to come back to work.” 

“You just came back from battle and want to keep working? Do you ever stop?” You joked back, feeling how the atmosphere inside the tent had changed. Feeling more comfortable, you switched your body a little, now your chests were aligned, just inches apart. 

“Hardly.” He clicked his tongue, gaze slightly dropping to give a quick sweep of your lips. 

“Well, you should rest. Relax. That’s an important part of recovery.” You advised him, finishing up the last cut. You took a cloth of your kit and used it to clean some of the dry blood and dirt off him. 

“Can’t stay still.” He shook his head.

“There are other ways to relax.” You shrugged your shoulders, taking that little pause to admire his beautiful demeanor. Those blue eyes could spell you into saying yes to basically anything. 

“Like?” He pushed, licking his lips as his intense gaze focused on making you feel smaller and smaller.

“Like…” You dirty minded bitch, think about something other than sex! 

Almost like he could hear your inner dialogue, he chuckled. 

“Like taking a walk or reading a book.” You finally came up with a pg-13 alternative to relaxing. 

“Could be.” He snickered. After his beautiful giggle dialed down, you felt the tension switching. Thicker. More intense. “More of a physical guy myself.”

Feeling the pull to his plump lips, you rushed to get out of the trouble zone. “Ready for me to see this world-famous bruise?” 

Your brain short circuited when he snapped his shoulder armor in one swift move and threw it on the floor. The next thing had you mentally panting and physically in shock: Anakin was removing his robes to expose his naked and bruised torso. The skin of his middle part would dip perfectly into breathtaking abs, not to mention the flexing of his arms became more evident to you without the stupid robe in your way. 

The reddened-purplish spot expanded all the way from the right side of his lower abdomen, all the way down the waistband of his pants. The silent gawking didn’t go unnoticed by him, a little smirk coming to greet your widened eyes. That woke you up enough to get moving.

“H-how-“ You took a moment to regain some composure. “How did this happen?”

“A droideka fell on me.” He muttered shortly, almost as if the portion of information brought shame to him.

“Alright, I’m gonna need to palpate the area to know if there’s any further damage.” You announced with more nerves than a medical professional should speak to their patients.

Because he was now standing up, sitting down didn’t give you the best height to disinfect some of the minor cuts that tainted his perfect tanned skin. 

“Sir, I’m going to need you to lay down for me, please.” Formalities came back as soon as you felt threatened by his overpowering presence again. 

“No.” He spat, furrowing his eyebrows. “I’d prefer to stand, if it’s possible. Please.”

“Sure.” After all, it was your job to make the process easier for him. On the other hand, that meant having to kneel in front of him. That caught him off guard and almost backed down when you reached out to feel the tampered skin. “Please tell me where it hurts.”

Your little fingers began to poke around the wounded area, massaging the zones where you knew a more serious injury could present itself. It didn’t go under your radar the way he would have goosebumps whenever you looked up to him or groped him more firmly. Repeating over and over: “How does it feel here?” you made your way all over the part of the bruise that was visible to the eye. 

“Good. It seems like no internal organs have been compromised.” You announced with a little smile. Now the part you dreaded -and kind of expected- was next. “Uhm, I’m going to need to check the rest of the bruise to make sure you didn’t break your hip, sir.”

“Anakin.” He spat.

“Pardon?” You blinked rapidly.

“Call me Anakin. It makes this… easier.” He cleared his throat.

“Okay, Anakin.” You nodded. How you said the next thing so calmly was still a mystery to you. “So, I know this part may be uncomfortable, but I’ll need to remove your pants out of the way. Probably your underwear as well, if I need to take a better look. Don’t worry, I’ve seen enough male anatomy for this to be routinary for me-”

In the middle of your speech, as you dropped your gaze to prepare yourself for dipping your fingers under his pants, something snapped your attention. 

The gigantic bulge right in front of your eye line.

How you had missed such a tent while you palpated his abdomen was another mystery to you. 

“Uhm- I-” You choked, unwilling to look up. “I-”

Anakin made no effort to try and hide his wood. But what was the point? It was already there. You had already noticed it. 

Mumbling, you decided to continue being professional. It was a normal response after all. “I’ll go ahead and lower your pants, sir- Anakin, sorry.” You corrected yourself, but it was too late.

You had already seen the reason why he made you call him Anakin: his dick twitched the second you said “sir”. Now that was interesting. 

Your hand pulled down the brown pants, lowering his black underwear at the same time, only revealing his right hip, leaving the bulge quietly covered. Anakin’s chest rose uncontrollably, flinching every now and then when your hand would get too close to his boner, or when your warm breath would fan his exposed hip. When you finally dared to meet his gaze, to let him know you were almost through with the exam, you were pleased with the view above you. 

Rose pink cheeks, bottom lip trapped in between his teeth, darkened gaze fixed on your cleavage. It was the equivalent of liquid courage in human form. 

“Does this hurt?” You felt up another portion, this time closer to his groin. When he murmured a weak “no”, you inched even closer. “And here?” Same response. 

When you got to a point where your pinky grazed the bulge and he gasped, you knew this was the point of no return. 

“And does this hurt?” You asked, slowly palming the thick shaft that was threatening to rupture his pants at any given second. 

Swallowing harshly, Anakin refused to speak up a word. Instead, he let you carry on with your devilious plan. 

“And this? Does it hurt, sir?” You wrapped your hand around the still clothed member, rubbing faster and harder. 

He limited himself to closing his eyes, moaning on the low as your hand gripped his swell cock with more pressure and more confidence. Your ego was so high up in the sky that you had the impulse to rub your lips against the fabric already stained with pre-cum. 

“Sir, can I finish up the exam?” Your wide doe eyes were quite the contrary of your filthy intentions. 

Once he nodded with hooded eyes, you fished his veiny cock from out of the confinements of his underwear and tugged it out for you to admire all of its glory. It sprung free, the tip pointing directly at you, like it knew. Involuntarily, your mouth opened in admiration to such a big and thick frame. Anakin’s sly smirk made another surprise appearance at your gawking.

You were acquainted with male genitalia. But not like this. Never like this. 

So huge. So intimidating. So mouth-watering. 

“It’s almost like you have never seen one. Not as huge as this one, right?” You shook your head, biting your lip as you took in the whole image. You needed a minute to wrap around the idea that he was carrying this weapon everywhere he went.

Your hands -yes, plural, because you needed both to handle such beast- pumped fast to grant him the deliberation he so desperately craved. Yanking his thick shaft in between your palms had you pooling all over your white panties, like a goddamn slut. His hips were thrusting at the rhythm you had set, fucking your fist like he pleased. Feeling how he tensed his abdomen, the climax was closed.

Taking a last leap of fate, you stopped the jerking off momentarily and clutched the fabric of his pants down with both hands, revealing his whole lower part to your delight. His thighs, oh, his muscular thighs always did unholy things to you and to have them right there for you to grip was making you rub your own thighs together. Foreseeing what was to come, you let your hair down, losing the stupid hat.  

Digging your nails on the hardness of his leg, you licked the tip of his shaft, testing the water. The little drop of pre-cum you managed to catch was salty and warm, so deliciously milky. Moaning, you opened your mouth to lazily envelop his tip, rubbing it without interest, just softly teasing him.

“Look at you. Who would say that you would be so unprofessional, sucking your commanding general’s cock? Huh?” Anakin mocked you from his proud stand. “Miss little giggling nurse turned out to be a filthy cockslut. Salivating at the sight of my dick.”

You moaned, still pampering the reddened head of his cock.

“I could.” He chuckled, his thumb coming to caress your jaw just like you did to him earlier. “You think I haven’t noticed the way you stare when I walk by the medical tent? How you practically undress me with your eyes? Such a desperate slut. Begging to be fuck just right. Acting like you're not thinking about hopping on this dick while working.”

After giving a last open mouthed kiss on the sensitive tip, you opened your mouth and presented your pink tongue to him, for which he rewarded you with a smiling expression. 

“You offer yourself to make me feel better?” He cocked an arrogant brow.

Nodding, you let out a small, high pitched whimper to hurry him up. 

“Hope you know what you’re doing, baby.”

 And with that, he grabbed a handful of your locks with his gloved limb and the other one he used to tug your chin further down, making room for the rest of his cock. In the blink of an eye, he was fucking your throat raw, having no mercy for you or the tears that spilled from our eyes when he would especially far down. He emphasized repeatedly how he had to train you to take all of him in, that you were not properly ready to take someone as big as him. He even said it with pity, making fun that you hadn’t been fucking with real men. 

But he was here now. And he was going to take care of you. 

Even if you lack the ability to relax your throat enough for you to take the whole 9 inch monstrosity that was violating your breathing canal, he was appreciative of the way you gagged around him and the noises you made whenever the tip would hit a wall. He even praised the movements of your tongue on his underside, rewarding you with a little slap on your cheek. Anakin laughed when he heard your horny moan at the harsh action. 

Suddenly, Anakin stopped bobbing your head up and down his length, causing the mess of saliva that was covering both you and him to dissolve into a mesly string connecting you two.

“Let me see how well your other hole makes me feel, baby. Up.” As your legs made an effort to stand without shaking, Anakin returned to his previous seating position, this time manspreading to let his cock breathe in all of its glory. Patting his lap, he called you in like a dog. “Here.”

Dying of shame at the wetness that dripped from your inner thighs, you spread yourself until both your knees were at each side of his hips. Anakin glanced at the leaking juices and fucking grinned the brightest smile. 

“So wet just for sucking dick.” His index and middle finger retrieved some of the spill, playing with your sensitive nub on their way. He tasted the juices himself, licking his fingers clean. He hummed in approval, ripping your panties apart to have more access and drink up more of your arousal. “Pretty little pussy. Do you think it’ll fit?” He asked you with a narcissistic loop side smile, as he sucked some more off his fingers. 

“I don’t know.” You answered honestly, shaking at the ministrations of his hands around your ass.

“It will.” He reassured you, pulling your skirt up and entangling it just above your hips. “You’ll make it fit.” He put his hands behind his back, on the bed, yielding control to you. “Now show me how bad you’ve been wanting this. Ride my dick.”

Using his strong shoulders for leverage, soon your slick pussy was sucking up his length. The first contact had you digging your nails on his shoulders, fighting through the pain of the stretch, this position only enlarging the already swollenness of his member. Gasping with an open mouth, you fought to push yourself even further down. Skin to skin, you were feeling all of him in: every curve, every wrinkle, every twitch. Even after remembering the condom, you opted for not mentioning it. There was no way you could say goodbye to feeling him bare.

Anakin pulled you in by the neck, drinking in the scream you let out when you bottomed out. His lips tasted better than anything you had ever tried, so sweet by nature and salty because of the sweat. You just wanted more and more; anything he was willing to give you.

“Faster.” Anakin demanded; clasping to your hips to bounce you harder on him, to remind you that this was about him, not you. 

Obeying like the sub you were, you humped him faster, adjusting yourself to surround his shoulders with your arms so you could pull his hair. You knew he liked it by the way he purred on your ear, embracing your waist tighter to manhandle you better. The hug you were both entrapped in ended with his big hands holding both your ass cheeks, groping them in such a disrespectful manner: splitting them open, squeezing them until it hurt, slapping without any sort of consideration. 

“Mhm, just like that, baby.” He praised blissed out, his hand cruelly smacking your already red and abused rear. “You do know how to ride dick. So good, taking me so well with this slutty pussy of yours.” 

Chasing your own pleasure, you gripped him harder and grinded on his wood, rubbing your clit with his pubic bone. You whimpered when you felt the delicious shock on your clit, which only incentivized you to rock your hips even faster. You were close, so close to coming undone, clenching him like a vice. 

“C’mon, you offer yourself to me, to use you as I seem fit.” Anakin pushed you back so you could see him clearly. “I want you to bounce, baby. Bounce those tight tits for me.” 

Anakin removed three buttons of your dress, enough for him to get drunk on the sight of your boobs pressed together and bouncing, but not all the way exposed. Like instructed, you bounced on his dick like it was your job to do so, enamored by the view of him hypnotized by your jumping breasts. Your nipples would shyly come to greet out of your white top, albeit Anakin wouldn’t have the full show because of the fabric that still caged them. 

Tired of the partial view, Anakin’s hands left your ass and traveled to their next destination: your full tits. Without removing another button, he took in the weight of your boobs inside of his palms and played with your meaty buds like he had never seen a pair before. The rough movements of his hands around the fat caused your dress to open a bit more, basically leaving you naked for him. 

“They’re more gorgeous than I ever anticipated.” He muttered, before enveloping a peak inside his mouth and lapping at it repeatedly. “Seeing you with this lame excuse of a uniform it’s harder than going to war, baby. Craving a taste of you and not being able to do anything about it, it’s torture. Pure torture.” He moaned in a ragged voice, sucking in the same nipple with closed eyes, savoring it. 

“You- you wanted me?” You cried, sliding in more frantically.

You were so close and he had it in his hands to make you come in that same instant. 

“Baby, I’ve been dreaming about filling this pussy to the brim the second you were drafted.” He exhaled with a smile. “I hate seeing you with the clones: gifting them smiles that should belong to me, parading this cleavage around when it should be for my eyes only, showing off this ass when only I should know the feeling of it inside my palms.”

“Anakin! I’m coming! I’m coming!” You announced, simultaneously feeling how his dick twitched inside of you. 

“Let me feel it, baby. Come all over my cock. Indulge me.” This time it was you who took the initiative to kiss him, thinking this would be your last chance to savour him before this was all over. 

You convulsed around his dick, just like he asked, tumbling over his shoulder to regain your breath. Anakin followed short after you, shuddering as he spilled over, biting your shoulder to muffle his groan. 

After the aftershocks dissipated and you regained consciousness, the shame of what had transpired hit you like a train. Fixing your dress to cover more of you, you wondered how long you should wait before saying something. Luckily, Anakin broke the ice first.

“Next time you should keep the hat. I like it.” He chuckled, making you giggle as well. 

Needless to say, you were now expected to be in his tent every night after he came back from battle, split open for him, ready to take in all of the frustration of the day and make him feel better.

[radiance1]

Feral Bruce Wayne clone meets scared ghost child locked under max security.

You see, this clone is technically about a probable three months old, but is physically an 18-year-old. Why was he made? His creators wished to test and perfect their cloning technology before moving onto their prime subject, as for how they acquired the DNA of a Bruce Wayne he'd never know.

For some odd, odd reason, he had a plethora of fighting skills under his belt ingrained in his muscles, only really held back by his mind that didn't know how to use said skills to their highest degree. But it was apparently enough to break free, steal their most prized 'material' from under their nose, and escape.

They should've just got good tbh.

So now he had a kid (who was actually older than him) under his belt that he decides to take care of. Said kid was pretty good at making things, didn't want to go outside, or interact with other people if he could help it when they decided to occupy a warehouse they managed to buy for cheap (Cough, cough, Reuben may or may not have threatened them, slightly.) and it was up to Reuben to acquire both money and items to renovate the warehouse.

Fun.

Easy way to get money? Rob people. Easy way to get money without making his... friend? Judge him is to rob people who tried to rob him first.

Isn't much, but it is easy money.

That, and a lot of odd jobs here and there, usually goes out wearing a mask to hide his face. Really only to hide from his creators if they ever decided to go looking for him and, let's face it, he literally stole their most prized subject without their knowledge, of course they're looking for him.

Unfortunately for him, while his fighting skills are top-notch, his judgement getting better from the number of fights he partakes in. His emotional understanding and social skills are basically almost null and void, so most of his interactions with everyone- especially Danny, is pretty awkward when he isn't threatening people.

And he would never threaten Danny.

Anywho, he's been racking in a steady flow of cash, then got himself involved in an underground fighting ring and, well, it just expanded from there, with his being regarded as a 'Dark Horse' (whatever that is) and then quickly overthrowing the champion and becoming a good undefeated so far.

At least he now has money to buy furniture, food, clothes, and parts for whenever Danny got a bit too twitchy so he can build whatever his heart desires. Best thing about the underground fighting ring? They don't give a shit about what kind of weapon he brings, or if he has armor.

And lucky for him, he has himself a little genius who would very willingly make him such things while also being his test subject for them.

[bountyhunter1409]

our little secret - Crosshair x fem!reader

summary; you're in a secret relationship with pre order 66 crosshair —sfw.

You were caught between a rock and a hard place.

More accurately, you were caught in Crosshair's arms, and time was ticking. Although your heart was pumping anxiety throughout your bloodstream, it was no match for the feeling of Crosshair's chin resting on your shoulder.

Hands braced lightly on the forearms wrapped around your upper body, you leaned back on your heels, Crosshair's chest armor coming in contact with your back. Crosshair seized the opportunity and kissed your cheek, though it felt like a playful bite on the ramus of your jaw.

The moment was fleeting as it always was. You had no time to laugh, no time to squeeze the arms around you as a token of your own affection.

A cool breeze eventually replaced Crosshair's arms as you both were separated now, facing one another. A mutated clone and a jedi—an unrevealed secret, nothing more and nothing less.

"Are you ever going to be nice to them?"

He grunted. "When have you ever known me to be nice?"

He had a point. His default stoic and grumpy nature was what had intrigued you from the beginning. Combine that with his unparalleled accuracy for his targets and his unwavering skill of being able to pull the trigger without guilt. Sometimes you wondered if Crosshair would've been a better jedi than you.

"I'm just saying," you said with a shrug, arms folding across your chest. "Must you refer to them as "regs"?"

"Yes," he said, his hands falling at his sides as if it were obvious.

"You're unbelievable," you said, earning a light scoff from Crosshair.

It was playful banter such as this that had started your secret relationship in the first place.

"And you're too nice," he shot back, a smirk appearing on his lips.

"As if acting like a brute has gotten you anywhere."

Crosshair slumped against the wall and inconspicuously produced a toothpick from his pocket and placed it between his lips. Effortlessly the pick migrated to the corner of his mouth.

"It's gotten me with you, hasn't it?" He crossed his arms then, mimicking your stance with a playfully, quizzical brow.

Miffed, you pressed your lips together into a straight line. Mere seconds passed by, but your tongue couldn't conjure up a creative comeback—a plethora of words to seal his fate. Instead, Crosshair took it upon himself to call this conversation adjourned.

"Cheer up, y/n," he said, pushing off the wall. His thumb and forefinger nipped at your chin, unknowingly causing you to look up at his arrogant eyes. You pursed your lips, biting back a smile of your own. "I'll let you win next time."

With the battle of words over, Crosshair dropped his arm at his side, nodded once, before walking past you in victory.

Left to your own devices, you watched as he disappeared around the corner to find his brothers. You were left in the corridor by yourself, flustered and frustrated that the infamous Crosshair had left you speechless with the harsh truth.

[sweeteaacakes]

C-can I asked for a stupid headcan about them playing Minecraft

♡》 WHB Kings Playing Minecraft.

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° Sorry it took long~ I ended up writing some for the nobles too... but had to cut only for the kings because it would be too much.

»»-----------►

Satan

The griefer. He would pull out TNTs whenever he felt like it or light things on fire. It's an impulse.

Mining? Explosion. Fishing? Explosion. Building houses? Explosion.

His inventory has common things like flints and lava buckets.

You'd think he have a diamond sword, diamond armors or things like that until he pulls out a fucking rod.

Correction: enhanced blaze rod.

It has a knockback, fire aspect so it'll burn whoever is hit, sharpness, smites, bane of arthropods. You call it.

He has another one which is an ordinary rod that just deals damage and knockback.

Would use it with the people in his server occasionally. The nobles are eager to be the target of it.

Uses it to Mammon every time they meet and Mammon retaliates.

Despite being a griefer, he takes care of building and when the nobles told him he can find various materials he started mining and building along with others.

Paimon recommended using mods so he can have a motorbike in game. He is having fun building rails and riding minecarts.

“Expert” in redstone (aka puts it to everywhere + tnt + flint)

His playmode sways here and there but he has the most creative ideas when it comes to building.

Mammon

He traveled far and wide until he found the biome Badlands where there are mineshafts and golds.

Mammon is good at building and always experiments on various materials.

He always has treasures with him.

Either he takes whatever treasure is in the chest or leaves some. You better keep your stuffs in the ender chest :x

Eligos has to tell him many times to not make armors and weapons out of gold because it's not efficient when it comes to battle! TToTT)

So he just made a golden statue… various golden statues and some are built using redstones.

Mammon probably managed to put his ability in-game thanks to that.

He can activate giant hands in his server and they work as defensive walls.

if he is not in the server, he wears enhanced armors and weapons plus have many stacks of enhanced golden apple.

Implied a policy that in-game currency isn't exchangeable outside because a certain someone would have taken advantage of it.

People who can't afford a better computer can't enter Tartaros. Not because they have to pay to enter but because of the massive and detailed buildings that will overheat their computer TT-TT)

And when I tell you massive, I mean it obscures the sun. As if it was made by grand masters of constructions that will tell you “it's the average”.

They have a mod installed which allows them to have an advanced technology.

The server has a giant wall that resembles Mammon’s giant hand.

Ahem He dedicated a golden statue of MC’s bottom ♡

Leviathan

Since he can't hang someone in-game Leviathan uses instant-kill. They're gonna respawn anyway so no big deal.

I would say they have a mod to have tombs but… I can imagine Hades’ server to be proficient in potion making and animal taming.

Leviathan spends most of his time exploring other biomes such as nether, caves, ocean. Unlike in the outside world, in-game he can explore freely with minor accidents :3

He has a castle in each of the biomes.

I can tell he would love the Cherry Grove, Ice Spikes and even Savannah where there are many animals TTwTT)

He tames animals. Even tries taming monsters but those who hurt him are quickly dealt with. No hard feelings.

He seems like someone who doesn't care but he actually has insane armors, weapons and potions for competitive games.

Goes to another server from time to time carrying potions of invisibility.

Have more chances to stumble with Beelzebub than the Avisos’ nobles lol

Quickly log-out if it happens.

Beelzebub

Aye! The wandering king! Even in-game, he still wanders server to server.

His clones play too so you'll find him in various servers once at time.

You'll probably find him in unexpected places too…

He… have a fucking rod as a weapon TToTT)

Like… not a blaze rod like Satan… a FISHING ROD.

Yeah, it's enhanced. He forgot how he did it or what he put in it. He fucked around and find things out lol.

If you find him somewhere, there'll be a chance that he'll tag along with you and he suddenly disappears just like how you found him.

Just like outside, he still create unexplainable phenomena in-game TToTT

Lucifer

Just here to have fun~

Gamigin and Jjok helped him to get in creative mode so he can just fly around and stuffs~

He is just there to relax~

He builds here and there but is very slow because he needs to figure out.

So being in creative mode helps a lot so he won't have to search for them.

He goes in player mode though because he wants to feel the fun of actually playing it with others.

He does suck on mining…

Dies a lot…

He was mining and drowned in lava.

He drowned.

Fell on high places.

✨️Dumb Ways To Die✨️

He was flustered when he found out that there are wings in Minecraft! Gamigin was worried it would bring him bad memories but Lucifer didn't mind it.

He found it fun learning to fly again in a game. He crashed in various places until he got used to the control.

Belphegor

In AFK

Uses the game as background music while he does other stuff outside.

You know those videos of relaxing Minecraft music for 10 hours? Those

Don't bother to fight him. He cheats.

Asmo

Doesn't log-in often.

But when he does it's for hook-ups.

He prefers to feel the real thing and isn't very much in roleplay, especially when it comes to games.

Have various potions with him that he throws whenever he feels like.

I imagine him building a garden house? Lucifer like that. They hang together without speaking.

He builds the most questionable thing. Like strange things.

»»———-　　———-«

Author Note: Asmodeus and Belphegor's are short there isn't much known about them but I wanted to include them too TT-TT)~ Thanks for the ask ♡ I don't get much often so it's always appreciated:3

[lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom]

Does the End Justify the Means?

CX-2 (Clone Assassin) x Reader

Summary- CX-2 never planned on forming a relationship, but once he did he had to protect it. Even if it meant killing hundreds to keep you away from Hemlock.

A/N- SPOILERS FOR THE BAD BATCH FINALE. I feel like people forget that deep down, CX-2 is still a clone being forced to serve the Empire. Maybe I'm delusional though!!! MENTIONS OF BURNS AND TORTURE!!

Word Count- 5,253

"You know, CX-2. There was once a time where I considered scrapping you. The very cloning program that made you..." Hemlock started. "You were hard to control. My methods had little effect on you. Considering you had little to live for, well that didn't help."

CX-2 stood, arms crossed behind his back. He listened intently, staring at the grey border of the wall.

"You were too, hmm. Rebellious should I say?" He walked slow circles around CX-2, studying him. "That was until I found your little secret out." Hemlock laughed at his own wit. "Who knew a medic trainee would have an Assassin Clone falling so hard!" He seemed to think the situation was hilarious.

Silent, CX-2 contemplated killing Hemlock where he stood. It wasn't possible though, he was smarter than that. He probably had a weapon on his beloved as they spoke. Perhaps Scorch was with her now...

He didn't want to think about it, so he didn't. Opting to stare back at the wall again.

"Truly, I created you better than that. The problem with you clones is your loyalty. It would typically disgust me. Though, unlucky for you, this all plays out in my favor." CX-2 swallowed hard at his words.

There were not many things that scared CX-2, but the thought of Hemlock hurting you consumed him. Striking him with a never ending fear.

"You will bring me Omega. Unless, you want an accident to happen. That would be tragic, wouldn't it?" The man asked, taunting the clone. All while fiddling with his gloved hand.

For the first time in many minutes, CX-2 spoke. "I will retrieve the girl."

"Good, I do not doubt your abilities." Hemlock stepped closer, right in The Assassins face. "Dire consequences are at stake..."

CX-2 made sure his next stop was Pabu.

CX-2 had no intentions of forming any friendships, especially not a relationship. You, however, came natural to him. In one of Hemlock's attempts to have complete control over CX-2, a burn was implemented on his waist. He remembers the day vividly, as it was the first time he'd met you.

You were only on Tantiss because of your mother. She worked for the Empire as a medic, a famous doctor of some sort. While you never had the knack for the medical field, you enjoyed helping people. It was in your blood after all.

CX-2 was taken to a special room for clones of high status. You were there by sheer accident. A mishap guided you to his side.

"Uhm, hello sir." You introduced yourself. "I'll be your medic today. What's your name?" You asked, a little nervous to be assessing a clone by yourself. He wore black armor, head still covered. You'd never seen that style before, maybe he was new?

CX-2 just stared up at you, a hard gaze. Out of fear, you started to breathe a little heavier. He could have killed you there and no one would have batted an eye.

"Sir, is something the matter?" You pressed on, trying to mask yourself with professionalism.

He continued to stare, eventually pointing at the chart In your hands.

"Of course, uh. CT-4340?"

CX-2 didn't say a word, just tilted his head. You looked at him with doe eyes. "Are you CT-4340?" you hesitated.

"My code is CX-2." He commanded out, a modulated voice appearing.

You almost jumped at the sound. "I uh, seem to have the wrong chart. I am so sorry, I should get a higher official-"

Under his helmet, CX-2 resisted the urge to roll his eyes. His shoulder dropped, annoyed. This caused his side to jolt. The pain of the burn on him was strong, but he withheld any reaction.

You, on the other hand, seemed to notice the very small twitch his waist gave out. "Where are you hurt?" You asked, the words now flowing with a motive in mind.

CX-2 instinctively started unbuckling his chest piece. You flushed slightly, ashamed you couldn't be more serious in the situation. "Do you need help?" His head rose quickly, falling after looking at you for a second. He didn't respond, just continued to take his upper armor off.

Guess not...

The second you saw his skin, you suppressed a gasp. It looked gruesome, like something had repeatedly been burning him. With a deep breath, you shoved down any lasting fear.

Getting to work, you prepared bacta and bandages.

He was still, almost too still. You'd seen plenty of procedures and medics fixing up clones. There had been wincing, complaining, and fidgeting on lesser injuries. You would have expected tears and need of an anesthetic for any other man. But he was still...

You prayed you didn't hurt him more than he already was. You knew your hands were clumsy with inexperience. If you did, he made no effort to tell you nor pull away.

From then on you saw each other more and more. While your mother made sure you got plenty of experience working on clones, you were extremely busy. Never getting a second to actually talk to CX-2. A particular encounter with a clone in the hangar would change this.

You were helping a trooper with a broken arm- Simply wrapping it to prevent further injury. You crouched down, examining the break.

CX-2 was just passing by, heading to see what his next mission was. He barely took note that a soldier under his command broke an arm. Why would he? Clones die everyday, including ones under CX-2.

He did however take note of you. He recognized you immediately. He surprised himself, why would he care about some medic? He'd never remembered the ones that had worked on him in the past.

At this, he stared at you. He took in your silhouette, something deep down told him to bask in your every feature. So, he did.

Of course you felt the beaming eyes of CX-2. It made you nervous. Was there something on your face? Did you make him mad? It distracted you.

"Ow!" The clone exclaimed in pain, face screwing. He yanked his arm up. It was an accident, you were sure. A response to the pain you caused unintentionally. CX-2 didn't seem to think this when he saw the clone raise his arm to hit you.

It all happened so fast, you didn't have time to lean back or even register what was happening. The next thing you knew was that the unidentified clone was on his back. CX-2 stood over him, a vibroblade at his neck and foot on his chest.

Falling onto your butt, you gasped and regained some sense. "CX-2...."

He slowly turned around to face you. The two of you looked at each other. His hand still expertly rested centimeters from killing the clone.

Adrenaline pumping, you spoke. "it's okay. It was an accident."

He pushed the clone back with his foot, hand raising. With the vibroblade still wielded, he stormed to you. Your heart pumped viciously, though not in fear. If he was going to really hurt you, he would have let the clone hit you.

No, your heart thumped in your ears in anticipation.

He grabbed you by the forearm with his free hand, careful of the blade. He yanked you up, off of your position on the cold floor.

You briefly noticed eyes around the hangar now in your direction. You grew nervous, only at their judgmental looks.

The quickness of it all made your head spin. You stepped out, trying not to fall. His hand still gripped your arm, he stood unmoving. He let you catch your balance, just watching you.

"Excuse me, what is going on here?" A vice admiral questioned, appearing from your left.

CX-2's modulated voice said your name. It was harsh and cold, but you somehow knew it wasn't directed at you. "She is my medic."

"And? What gives you the right to attack a clone for no reason?" The admiral demanded.

CX-2 didn't like being questioned. Before you could get a single word in, CX-2 pulled you with him as he turned to leave the hangar.

"Wha-" You decided not to protest, the man was on some kind of mission. One he had made for himself the second he saw a threat to you.

He guided you two through the complex halls and levels of the lab. You were beyond lost, but he seemed to know where he was going. After a few minutes of paced walking, you stopped him.

"CX-2, where are we going? I don't want to risk getting reprimanded by the admiral." You were cautious, the smallest of complaints could get you reassigned. Tantiss was not for the faint of heart.

"You won't." He would make sure of that. He continued to walk, this time a little slower.

Finally, you found some familiarity in the halls. You noticed he was leading you to the very room you met in. The examining room for special operatives.

He pulled you into the room, making sure the door shut behind him.

"Examine me." He demanded.

You were dumbfounded, "Excuse me?"

CX-2 actually rolled his eyes this time, even when you couldn't see them. In response to your confusion, he removed his left arm's armor.

A gash that went from the top of his shoulder to before his elbow was present. "CX-2..." Your sadden voice spoke.

You didn't actually have clearance to be in that room, nor the supplies. But you worked nevertheless.

"Please, sit." You asked. He followed your instructions immediately, sitting up on the exam bed.

Just as the day you met, you retrieved bacta and med patches. You coated the wound in extra bacta, then prepared the gauze wrap.

"So," You held his arm up gently, starting to wrap it. "How did you get this? Was it your latest mission?" Your hands carefully worked, moving under his arm.

"No." Was all you heard.

"Oh, how did it happen?" You asked, trying to make conversation.

His skin twitched as a subconscious response when you smoothed over it.

"Better if you don't know." He kept his eyes on the wall ahead of him. "Sorry I asked..." You really were. He said nothing.

After a few more moments, you made sure the wrap was steady in place. "I think you're done!" You smiled at him. He dropped his arm at his side.

After, he promptly nodded, but gave little indication on what to do next.

You looked around, feeling a little awkward.

"So... What division are you from?" You tried to ease the tension.

"Project Assassin." He said, being short.

"I haven't heard of that, wha-" He inturpted you. "Tell me about you."

You blinked. You'd only seen this man a dozen times, many of those in passing. Even so, a shot of nerves flowed in you each time. There was something special about him. It was like your heart knew something your brain didn't. You weren't a child though, you knew 'love' was something of fairy tales. That there must be a perfectly rational reason you were feeling this way around him.

"What do you want to know?"

"Everything."

Though, if that were true, why did you sit up next to him and tell him everything?

From that day on, the only medic he allowed to work on him was you. The number of visits varied, depending on how evil Hemlock was feeling. CX-2 tried to hide the backstories from you as much as possible, sometimes even ignoring your questions.

Though, late at night, when he'd sneak into your room, he'd tell you the truth. At first he would listen. Anything you'd tell him, you had his full attention. Then, right before you fell asleep, he'd whisper his secrets.

He'd whisper them to the only person he ever trusted, you. Then, it was your turn to listen.

You cried for him, the pains he had went through. He was the perfect clone in your eyes. The only problem was how stubborn he was, no matter how hard Hemlock tried- you were still the only one who could persuade him.

Despite his grunts of protest, you'd just hold CX-2 some nights. Using your fingers to rake through his hair, cradling his head. You tried you best to give him the comfort he had never experienced before.

Everything was going so well. You would continue your training, he would continue his missions, and at night, you would talk and he would listen. You would spoil him with affections under the nights bask.

Of course, all good things must come to an end.

The day Hemlock found out about you was the worst day of CX-2's life.

CX-2 was called in for a meeting about his next mission, something he was used to. He only received orders from the highest of officials, so seeing Hemlock or Scorch was common.

"I have... a special mission of some sort. One I cannot risk incompletion of." Hemlock began.

CX-2 stood upright, ready for instructions.

"Now, despite what we have tried to instill into you- I do not want you to listen to any other orders. I think this particular mission requires your mindset." His words didn't effect CX-2, he'd heard worse.

"One of your fellow operative has been captured. Alive. I will not accept him risking our organization."

"My orders?" CX-2 asked.

"Find and neutralize him." CX-2 nodded at his words.

"You have 48 hours to kill him." Hemlock walked up to CX-2, arms folded behind his back. "If you fail, that...medic... you are so fond of? She will reap the consequences of what you sow."

It was impossible to cover up the way CX-2 breath hitched. If he didn't have a helmet on, Hemlock would see his eyebrows scrunch in anger.

"Yes, that's right. I know about her." Hemlock said, his voice mocking. "Oh, don't fret my little assassin. She will remain unharmed, that is... unless you fail your duty..."

"I trust you will locate him and rid the republic of any information?" Hemlock taunted.

"Yes sir."

How? How did Hemlock find out about you? He was so careful... He immediately headed to your quarters. Damned everyone else, he pushed through crowds and odd stares.

He banged on the door, fist closed. If you hadn't opened in the next 10 seconds, he'd shoot the door down.

"I'm coming, I'm coming." You 'tsked.'

"Oh, CX-2." You breathed out once you opened the door. Unsure if he was there for pleasantries or business.

He shoved his way past you, pressing the button to close the door shut.

"Wha-" He stormed around your rooms, it was quick considering there were only two. A bedroom and bathroom.

He held his blaster up as he checked every crevice of the room. His eyes glanced back at you quickly to make sure you were still there and alive.

"CX-2." You raised your voice. His head shot your way. "What's happened? You're scaring me..."

He paced up to you, removing his helmet as he walked. "He knows about us." Was all he managed out, throwing his helmet to the floor in favor of grabbing your cheeks gently.

Your face dropped, heart pounding in your ears. "How? I don't understand!" You started to breathe heavily.

"I just had to make sure you were safe." His gloved hands felt cool on your hot skin.

Your mind wandered, what would they do?

"I have to leave now." He said, dropping his hands. "No, wait. You can't just drop that bomb and leave!" You had so many questions, and you didn't want to be left alone freighted.

"I do not have time, if I don't complete my mission he will kill you." Your blood ran cold. "I am so sorry I brought you into this. I should have never stepped between you and that clone." He readied himself to exit the room, turning and putting his helmet back on.

"CX-2!" His shoulders dropped, he stood silent. You walked around to face him.

He let you reach your hands up and lift his helmet off. "I'm not upset at you. I only want more time..."

"I can't."

"I know." At your last words, you pulled him down by the collar of his blacks. Now level, you kiss him. Scared it would be your last.

The few seconds your lips touched felt like an eternity. All the time you needed with him...

Eventually, he pulled away. "I-"

"I know... please be safe..." You asked only one thing of him.

He nodded, placing his helmet back on snug. He then walked out your door, your thoughts consumed with wishes of his safety.

CX-2 would fulfill his mission, killing the compromised Operative. Though, that was only the first time he'd have to leave your grasp to keep you alive...

CX-2 reminded himself why he was currently headed to Pabu. 'Dire consequences are at stake' echoed in his mind.

He would capture Omega. He had no care for the innocent people he might have to kill. In his eyes, all of his actions were justified in the name of your well-being.

He never told you of his endeavors, now being sent on more gruesome missions than ever. He knew you'd be disappointed in him, but he also knew he had to always protect you. No matter the cost.

While expertly leading a fleet of soldiers, the only thing that let CX-2 think straight was you. He filled his mind with memories of your laughter. Of the times you begged him to choose a real name, even when he protested. When you first touched, when you first kissed.

He worried for you until the second he had Omega tied up on his ship.

Even after, he was anticipating his reunion with you. He had the girl, he had what Hemlock wanted. He could see you again.

And he did... Hemlock was consumed with his experiments and testing on Omega. So much he that didn't bother CX-2 for a few days. Oh, it was bliss.

The time you shared reminded you of before anyone knew you were together. You both still had your duties as clone and medic, but spent any free time with each other.

You laid in your bed, a glance at the clock scolded you for being up so late. You paid little mind to it, just enjoying the feeling of CX-2's arms around you.

With your head now buried in his chest, you let your hands wander. Slipping under the top portion of his blacks. He used to shiver reluctantly when you felt his skin, now it seemed like second nature.

You loved tracing his scars, the texture consuming you. While they were painful memories, they were treated with love and tenderness. He looked at his scars and thought of you, how you took care of him so nicely and delicately. Not Hemlock.

A light flickered from his panel brace. The one that rested on your nightstand. It lit up the room, and CX-2 immediately reached for it. he pulled away from you, but was careful to keep a connection with his leg still feeling you.

"I have to go." He said, standing to put his arm and chest armor back on.

While he was always quick and determined when hearing from Hemlock or Scorch, he was frantic here.

"Did something happen?"

"Nothing, do not stress. I love you." He gave you a quick kiss on the lips, and an affectionate rub of your thigh before putting his helmet on and leaving.

You sighed and leaned back when the door closed again. This was slowly becoming the new normal for you. You still savored every spare second you had together...

Just as you rolled over to fall asleep, the door opened. "Did you forg-" You jumped up, almost hitting your head on the baseboard of the bed. It was Scorch.

"Come with me. Now." He grabbed your arm and pulled you rough out of bed.

"Excu-"

"You are under arrest until further assessment." He forcefully put you in handcuffs.

You tried to resist, but put up no real fight in comparison to the trained clone. He grew tired of you and stunned you with his blaster.

You fell unconscious.

"You activated me?" CX-2 asked over Comms, like he would in any other situation.

"It seems we have another problem with our favorite girl." Hemlock said.

Omega...

"You see, she has managed to escape with the other children. Did I mention she also freed the zillo beast?"

CX-2 listened intently, not moving a muscle.

"You have been the only operative capable of capturing Omega thus far. I will see that you will find her again. Before she finds some way to leave the planet." CX-2 could hear the frustration in Hemlocks voice. It made him flicker a smile.

"Affirmative."

"Oh, and as a little motivater, I think it would serve you well to know your medic is currently held up in a cell." Hemlock went radio silent, leaving CX-2 to head to the exposed section of the base. The hole the Zillo beast left, and the way Force 99 was headed.

Your head throbbed, vision a little blurry. Raising your head from the cold of the floor, you noticed you were in a cell.

The room spun around before you sat up. Your whole body ached. Not to mention the confusion you were feeling.

Looking around, you saw other prisoners lining the walls. You knew exactly where you were. The hall where all the traitors and experimental clones were kept.

Were they going to experiment on you too? Was CX-2 okay? Did something happen to him that made Hemlock finally get you?

The building shook with a loud boom, it did nothing to help your nerves. It sounded like some kind of cannon went off.

"You okay?" A clone asked in the cell across from you.

"I don't know..."

With the effort and passion of a man whose entire reason for living was at risk, CX-2 and the other Clone Assasins were able to capture the rouge clones.

With his blaster barred in his hands, CX-2 guarded the three prisoners. He was occupied with the thought of what The Empire was doing to you.

You must have been so scared in a cell... He knew you didn't like small spaces. With his new fury, he closed his fist, doing yet another round of the platform they were on.

Boredom was unable to strike you, anxieties kept you busy. Your mind ran wild with the possibilities of CX-2. For a moment you questioned if he had just abandoned you as a whole, but quickly shunned yourself for bringing it up.

CX-2 loved you, and wouldn't dare leave you to rot.

"Look!" A clone yelled out, just as you saw a small girl and a storm trooper running by.

What were they doing?

They crept around the corner, swiftly blasting and taking out 2 storm troopers in the process. The girl got to work on the main computer that operated the cells.

"Hey kid, whats going on?" Someone asked.

"We're breaking you out."

Seconds later, your cell door opened. You slowly walked out, unsure what to do. What would CX-2 do in a situation like this? He'd probably tell you to keep your head down and blend in. Stay out of trouble, 'for his sake.'

You did just that, creeping out of the cell and hiding within the groups of clones.

Apparently, the 'storm trooper' was a clone, so was the girl. They were on a mission to free their three brothers, recruiting clones as they did so.

Was this the big mission CX-2 was called to? To capture the people they were here to rescue?

"We've checked all the cells, they aren't here."

You knew where they probably were... The training room. The very room that tortured and left your beloved marked. You didn't dare say a word. As much as you hated Hemlock and his 'methods,' worse things would happen if CX-2 failed his mission...

"Well... they could be in the training room." Damn, another clone had though the same as you.

They decided to head there, a few turning for an easier escape.

What should you do? Warn CX-2? You weren't raised as a soldier, you had no training. No fighting experience. You knew how to save and help, not attack and kill.

A small hand was rested on your arm, the girl from earlier. "Hi, I'm Omega."

You looked down to her. "I know it's kind of scary, but we have to fight for what's right.." If only she knew your true intentions...

"You're right... i'll come with you..." All you wanted was to find CX-2.

So, you did. Following them to the training room, they planned an attack from the lower circle.. You, however, had a new idea. To come in through the main balcony. The one that led directly to Force 99.

You managed to sneak away and climb the steps that brought you to the main doors.

"Hey, you! Are you supposed to be here?" A trooper stopped you.

"Yes sir," You gave him your chain code, "I am a medic. Hemlock has requested my services in the Training room." You lied, faking a confidence you never had.

"I never heard about Hemlock ever needing a medic in the training room..."

"Well if you want to ask him, while the Zillo beast is one the loose, he has new prisoners, and while his top experiment is lost- Be my guest. I just don't think he'd be very happy with you questioning his methods." You crossed your arms behind your back, something you'd seen CX-2 do many times.

"Fine." He moved out of your way, letting you head to your destination.

You walked to the door, ready to put your mother's clearance codes in. With a steam they opened, leaving you to witness a terrible sight.

The 3 captured clones were out, fighting. You got there in time to see the big clone burst out of the glass, tackling a special operative.

With the sound of the door, the man with a bandana looked your way. Along with CX-2, who rose swiftly upon seeing you. You distracted him long enough for the clone without a hand to blast him in his side.

You gasped as you watched CX-2 fall in your direction.

With an electrospear in his hand, the bandana man stepped to him. He only managed to zap him once before you ran in.

"No!" Your scream pierced out, you threw yourself onto CX-2. Using your body to cover his.

You didn't care if you died then and there, at least you'd die in CX-2's arms. You'd at least die together...

"No, don't!" You squeezed your eyes shut, prepared for a shock that never came. You felt a weak hand raise from under you to grip your clothes.

Tears streamed down your face violently. Pattering on CX-2's armor.

"You do realize the crimes he has committed..." The man panted out, he was also wounded.

"Please, it was for me... It was all for me..." You sobbed out. "Hemlock threatened my life..." You buried your head in his neck, holding him tightly.

"Hunter, no. We should kill them both now." The handless man spoke.

The man you assumed to be Hunter didn't have time to respond.

"I swear we wont follow you... Hemlock is probably on his way to his private ship... I swear..." Your words were muffled but they understood well enough.

"We are wasting time, lets go." Hunter commanded, the two of them left.

You gave out a whimper, "CX-2... Please... Stay with me." You pried his helmet off. He was in a rough state.

His eyes struggled to focus on one thing, but he still tried to find your face. "It'll be okay, just let me grab a med pack." You went to pull away, but he gripped you tighter.

"Let me.. hold," He coughed, "You.."

"You are not going to die on me. You wouldn't do that to me, would you?" You tried to joke. He shook his head, 'no.'

"Then let me do my job, and help you." He still held you tightly. "Please... you deserve to live..." He let you go.

It was only half a minute, you grabbed a medics kit that was nearby and began patching him up.

Making quick work of taking his armor and blacks off. It reminded you of the first time you'd done this to him. A very similar wound on his waist.

You forced him a pill, and squeezed out as much bacta as you could from its packet.

"Can you roll over for me, baby?" You asked, helping him get on his side.

He complied as much as he could, and you were able to patch up his other side.

"Okay, this will hold you over. I know the closest procedure room, a droid can give you a proper examination." You helped him stand, an arm under his own to keep his balance.

"You'll be okay, we'll be okay..." You whispered praises and words of affirmation to him. The walk was extremely painful for him, you could tell he was hiding most of it from you.

Lucky for both of you, a droid was able to identify where the blast was and give him a proper cleaning of the wound.

He was still woozy, but forced himself to stand. "We have to go. Tarkin is on his way.." CX-2 strained out. He was stubborn and refused any medication that would cloud his mind.

"W-where? Your ship?" You were scared, not just for CX-2, but your futures as well.

He pressed a few buttons on his panel brace as you picked up his helmet.

"Turn left." He instructed you all the way to his ship, even with the pain starting to blur his vision.

The two of you somehow managed to make it to his ship, you opened the door with his panel brace and sat him in the co-pilot's seat.

You clicked away, starting the ship up. Though, you did need some guidance from him.

You had never flown a ship before, but knew you had to take the risk to save CX-2. It was wobbly, but you raised the ship and let Auto-Pilot blast you into hyperspace. It had a set of coordinates in, ones you didn't know the location of.

A groan made you turn to your lovers direction, you were at his side immediately. Crouching down you spoke, "Hey, its okay... We're far away. You can take the pain medication, its just us two."

He peaked open an eye to look at you, his face barred disappointment in himself. Almost like he was a lesser man if he took the meds.

"Take them. If not for yourself, for me." You pulled them from your pocket. He did take them, minutes later he felt the relief.

You took another look at his wound, it was stable for now. You figured that he would need a cleaning and new bandages in a few hours. Hopefully his medkit was fully equipped on his ship. If it was, you'd be able to last many days without needing to land.

You stood, pulling his head to your breast. "Shhh, rest now. We are both safe."

He truly did feel safe in your arms, like he didn't have to always be on guard. A huge change from his normal. One he'd hoped he could live out with you for the rest of his life...

A/N- Thank you so much for reading! I got a little carried away with this one... I just had to get this idea written down!!!

Tags-(lmk if you want to be tagged as well!) @thethreeeyed-raven @knight-of-flowerss @dangraccoon

[hermitcraftheadcanons]

Xisuma is not the only Hermit to originate from the end.

Unknown to most, but Welsknight is actually a Shulker Hybrid. Its why he prefers to stay in his armor. Its why he rushes to get to the diamond tools as theyre what hes used to. Its why he appears very sporadically in the background on occasion. Its why he helps with the enderman farms every season as he can take those hits better than people who are made of literal goo Jevin, its why Helsknight exists though neither Wels nor Beef know how a shulker bullet got into the cloning machine nor did they know that Wels had enough shulker traits to split, nor do they know why Hels immediately went I'm going to be an evil nuisance now, though privately Wels suspects thats the draconic traits in them.

He can't actually take the armour off- that's his shell, dyed grey for the aesthetic.

-Mod Mleem

[ghostofskywalker]

Stop Running From Love

Crosshair/Fem!Reader

Words: 2,968

Summary: Lost after finally escaping from the Empire, Crosshair crash lands on your property. While he's recovering, he realizes something important about himself, but it takes the meddling of his brothers for him to actually admit it.

Prompt: “Falling in love, no, it ain’t for the weak" (In The Kitchen, Renee Rapp)

Notes: this is a gift for the lovely @intricatechaosofyou in the @cloneficgiftexchange song lyric exchange! I thought Crosshair fit the vibes of this lyric especially well because he would be the most apprehensive about falling in love. there's some canon divergence here, and in my head it takes place in a world where crosshair escapes the empire sometime in season 2. I hope you enjoy it :)

Clone Troopers Masterlist

When Crosshair first opened his eyes, he didn’t recognize his surroundings. He remembered the escape pod hurtling through the atmosphere of a planet he didn’t recognize, and of course he remembered crashing on the outskirts of a forest and field, but that was about it. By the time he hit the ground his vision had gone blurry, but he remembered the jolting feeling before all his other senses decided to sign off as well. 

Now, the first thing he registered was the wafting smell of something cooking in the next room. It had been so long since he had any kind of food other than stolen Imperial rations, and even then, he could tell that whatever was being made now would be infinitely better than the flavorless slop and rock-hard bricks they used to serve at the bases and send on missions. 

The second thing he noticed was how warm his body was. Spending a seemingly endless amount of time trapped with the same air in that escape pod was completely different than the soft blanket that was currently resting atop his body, and there was no way the Empire would hand out supplies like this to clones, let alone prisoners. Running his hand across the fabric, a small smile curled on his lips.

Maybe he was dead. He couldn’t imagine a version of reality where he would be afforded these comforts, not after what he had done to his family. He had spent so much time in that tiny vessel, chasing down an ice cold trail his brothers left in the endless expanse of the galaxy, maybe that crash had finally put that journey to an unsatisfying end. 

But those thoughts immediately exited his head as he heard someone enter the space, and he turned to see you approaching his resting place. “You’re awake,” you said softly, still at a distance. “That’s good, I was just about to come and change your dressings.” 

In that moment Crosshair realized another thing, that his armor was gone. He was wearing the bottom part of his blacks, but there was a loose tunic of unfamiliar fabric resting over his top half. He shifted as he sat up to face you, and he could feel the tightness of bandages wrapping across his right shoulder and upper area of his chest. 

“Who are you?” he said, and this version of his voice was alien to even him. It was scratchy and hoarse, a product of both the injuries and the fact that he hadn’t spoken aloud in quite some time. He hoped his tone wasn’t accusatory, especially if you had taken care of him while he was unconscious. 

You told him your name as you stepped closer, fresh bandages in your hand. “Your escape pod crashed at the edge of my property and when I found you, I didn’t know how long it would be until you woke up.”

If you woke up. You didn’t say that part, but Crosshair was willing to bet you’d considered it. 

“Is the escape pod still functional?” he asked, his voice coming out sharper than it had before. That thing, cramped (and now busted) as it was, was his ticket off this planet.

You stared at him for a moment before responding. You were so close to him now, one hand reaching out to remove his tunic. “I don’t know. It’ll need some new parts and heavy repairs at the very least, but I might be able to make it fly.” 

Whew. That was at least something he could work with. “Where can I find-” 

At this point you had begun to remove his old bandage dressing, but you stopped as you registered his words, raising your eyebrows. “Woah buddy,” you said. “With your injuries, you’re not going anywhere anytime soon. You need to focus on healing, and then we can tackle the task of your ship.” 

He scoffed. Who did you think you were? This was his life, and if he wanted to make terrible decisions he was fully within his right to do that. Besides, the voice in his head he so desperately tried to ignore chimed in, he didn’t deserved to be treated with this kindness. “I need to leave as soon as possible,” he said, his gaze turning steely. 

You returned the expression, gesturing down to the bleeding gash on his chest and burns on his shoulder, which were both thanks to his less-than-graceful landing. “Not in this condition.” 

“It doesn’t matter what condition I’m in, I need to leave.” 

You must have noticed the desperation in his voice, because your tone softened as you began to apply a bacta solution to his shoulder. ��Look,” you said. “I don’t know what happened to you, or what you’re looking for beyond this planet, but I do know this. Unless the Empire is seconds behind you, which they aren’t since you’ve been passed out on my couch for over a rotation, leaving hurriedly will do you absolutely no good.” 

“How do you know?” he said, too shocked to elaborate but hoping you understood. 

“Your armor was a pretty dead giveaway,” you said. “And besides, people who aren’t on the run usually let their wounds fully heal.” He was silent, his mind still attempting to figure out exactly what your game was. “I don’t work for the Empire, that’s one thing I can promise. All I want is to help you, but I can’t do that if I’m worried you’re going to bolt the moment I turn my back.”

“Fine,” he said, though it came out more like a growl than he intended. 

A smile crossed your face, clearly happy at the small victory you had won over him. “Excellent,” you said as you finished re-applying his bandages. “And now, since you already know my name, can I ask yours?” 

“Crosshair.” He still wasn’t happy about the current state of things, even though he knew it would be for the best. 

“It’s nice to meet you Crosshair,” you responded, seemingly not bothered by the annoyance in his voice. “Would you like some soup?”  He nodded, and you left the room to fetch it, humming an upbeat tune under your breath as you did so.  

As much as he didn’t really want to admit it, something about you made him want to stay, and the thought was terrifying. 

Over the next few rotations, Crosshair got a glimpse of what it would be like to settle down. Yes, you lived away from others (there wasn’t another home nearby that he could see), but you didn’t do so out of fear, like he would have (and like other clones who defected were forced to). You grew your own produce, sewed your own clothes from fabrics purchased at the local market, and made a life working as a droid and speeder mechanic. In a different life, Crosshair could see himself going about his days in a similar fashion. 

The internal conflict started not long after. The escape pod he had been traveling in turned out to be crushed beyond repair, so you had pulled a decrepit-looking starship from your shed and offered that to him, and he didn’t really have any other options. 

You didn’t let him help because the injuries on his chest were still too fresh, but he made himself useful in other ways as he sat on a chair next to where you were working on the ship.  “Could you toss me the wrench next to you?” 

“The small one or the large one?” 

You poked your head out of the ship’s cockpit. “Small one please.” Crosshair nodded and tossed the tool in your direction. “Thanks!” 

Kriff, he wanted to stay. But he needed to finish what he started, to find his family and at the very least apologize for not listening to them about the Empire. And while you were so kind, could he really ask you to permanently allow him to live here? He doubted you felt the same way about him that he did about you, so those desires would have to remain in his mind for now. 

“Okay, I refitted the hyperdrive and adjusted the control panel in the cockpit,” you said, popping into view and tossing the tools in your hand to the ground with a clatter. “With a new set of converters, she should be able to go as fast as you want her to.” 

“When are you going to let me out of your clutches?” Crosshair asked, leaning back slightly in his chair. 

“Why, you want to escape or something?”  you fired back, raising your eyebrows in his direction as a playful smile crossed your face. “A few rotations probably, once your chest wound closes up more and doesn’t take as much gauze.”

“I don’t want to take up more of your time and resources.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” you said. “It’s been nice to have someone else around here.”

Maker, did he want to stay. 

But he couldn’t. 

In a very Crosshair fashion, he slipped away in the dead of night, the moment his wounds were healed. As much as it hurt not saying goodbye, it would hurt more if your feelings didn’t match his.  

***

On the surface, the man standing at the produce stall didn’t really look like Crosshair (for one, he had a rather striking face tattoo), but you could see resemblance in their mannerisms. Or you were just crazy, because there was no way those two could be connected. At this point, you had accepted that Crosshair was not coming back, and that was the end of things. 

It had stung, to wake up one morning and see him gone, with the cot he slept in perfectly made and a scrawled note on the pillow thanking you for everything you did. Of course you knew he would leave, but you at least expected that you would be around to say goodbye. 

Clearly he didn’t feel the same way about you that you did about him, or this would not have happened. It was stupid, to allow yourself to fall for your temporary houseguest, and you were paying the price for it now. You just didn’t know that paying the price meant you had to be content with seeing ghosts of him at every turn. 

You were looking at the homemade sweets one Twi’lek was selling as you watched as a young girl drag the man with the face tattoo over in your direction. “Hunter, let’s get some candy for everyone back at the ship!” 

You smiled quickly before turning away, they didn’t need you watching their every move. “Do have leftover credits?” 

“Yes, and Crosshair gave me some as well, though I don’t know why.” 

Wait. 

Crosshair? 

Maybe you hadn’t been so incorrect when you noted their facial similarities earlier. 

The man and young girl walked up to the booth, and you couldn’t stop the words from falling out of your mouth. “Excuse me, did I hear you say Crosshair?” 

The man instantly stood up straighter, a threatening gaze on his face. “What’s it to you?” 

But you stood your ground and didn’t back away. “I knew someone by that name,” you said. “I was just wondering if it was the same person, as I’d like to send him a message.” 

At this point, you saw the girl’s eyes widen, and you could hear your name in a quiet voice. The man stopped. “What did you say Omega?” 

“This is the person who helped Crosshair,” she said excitedly. “That must be why he gave me the extra credits when he heard we were coming to this system!”

The man’s face changed instantly, the threatening expression evaporating in a second. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “But usually, people who talk about my brother aren’t exactly happy to see him.”

You laughed and introduced yourself to the two, moving away from the bustling market to talk. “Crosshair told me a lot about his brothers and sister, but he never told me any of your names.” 

The man, who you learned was called Hunter, smiled. “That sounds like Crosshair for sure. He owes you a great deal, for saving his life.” 

“He doesn’t owe me anything,” you said, shaking your head. “It’s just nice to know that he found what he was looking for.”

You didn’t say anything about how he left, not sure what he had told his family. “He should have still waited around to say goodbye though,” Omega said, and Hunter stopped. 

“How do you know about that?” he asked, and you had the same question. 

“I overheard him talking to you and Echo when he first came back and you asked him about his injuries,” she said, before turning her attention back to you. “He really likes you, you know.” 

That was certainly news to you. “He does?” 

Hunter nodded. “The di’kut just didn’t know what to do, and he made the decision he thought he had to.” 

“I wish he would have said something,” you said softly, before you could think twice about it. 

“Crosshair won’t admit it, but he feels the same way,” Hunter said. 

Omega’s voice was bright as her face lit up with a realization. “You should come back with us!”

Immediately, you shook your head. “No, I don’t think that would be such a good idea,” you said. 

“If you’re worried about Crosshair being mad at you, that won’t be an issue,” Hunter said. “But if you’d prefer to move on completely, I understand. We won’t say anything about seeing you here if you don’t want us to.” 

You had to admit, the choice was a difficult one. And despite a knot of worry taking hold in your stomach, you eventually agreed to return to the ship with Hunter and Omega. If all went well, you certainly had enough land and resources for your family to grow by six, and if it didn’t, you could always pretend this day never happened. 

Omega gave you a hug as you nodded, and soon you were walking with the two of them to the rendezvous point, anxiously staring at the sky. What if Hunter and Omega were wrong? Could you handle that embarrassment? 

You wanted to run as a ship descended from the sky, but you stayed rooted in place. As the ramp touched the ground you could see three figures in the doorway, and Omega gleefully shouted across the space. “Hey Crosshair! Look who we ran into at the market!” 

Crosshair’s eyes widened as he registered you standing there, and he pushed past the other two people on the platform to step onto the ground. “We’ll give you two some privacy,” Hunter said, shooing both his brothers and Omega back into the ship. 

“It wasn’t my idea to come back with them,” you said quickly, still unsure if he was unhappy with the current situation or not. 

“I know,” he said. “When I told them how I left, I got a lecture about how I should have said goodbye, and I knew they were right. I need to apologize for that, I didn’t want to take your aid for granted.” 

“Why did you leave?” you asked, your voice quiet. “I didn’t truly imprison you, did I?” 

“It was the opposite actually,” he said, shaking his head. “I liked spending time with you so much that it terrified me, because I didn’t think you felt the same way. It wasn’t fair of me to do that, but I don’t think I would have been able to resist if you asked me to stay.” 

The feeling of worry in your stomach dissipated instantly, and it was replaced with a thunderous herd of butterflies. “Crosshair,” you said kindly, reaching up to softly run your fingertips across his cheek. “I would have never asked that of you, no matter how much I wanted to.”

His hand moved to rest over yours, and the feeling of warmth that overtook your body was honestly a little embarrassing. “I wanted you to ask,” he said. “More than anything. And I thought that these feelings were unimportant, that I could just move past them, but I couldn’t. Eventually it was Hunter who demanded I tell him why I was moping around all the time.” 

You smiled. “Well, you’ve seen my place,” you said. “I’d be happy for you and your family to come live there, if you’d be interested.” 

“Yes, we would be,” he breathed, his hands moving down to rest on your waist. 

Suddenly your faces were much closer than you realized, and your gaze flickered down to his lips. It seemed that Crosshair had the same thought, because he moved even closer. “Can I kiss you?” he asked, the look on his face akin to that of a desperate plea. 

Instead of torturing him any longer, you closed the gap between you two, crashing your lips into his. It was everything you’d dreamed of, the feeling of his hands resting on your waist and his lips against yours for the first time something you would remember for the rest of your days. 

You were so utterly lost in each other that you didn’t hear the ramp of the ship descend again, but the gleeful shouts of Crosshair’s family did pull you two apart. “Shut up,” Crosshair growled at Hunter, whose grin was the widest of them all. 

You smiled, placing a quick peck on his lips. “They’re just happy for you,” you said softly. 

“It’s annoying.” 

You laughed. “Come on, we can always continue this back home.” 

Crosshair’s grip on your waist tightened for a moment. “That better be a promise, mesh’la.” 

You just smiled as you pulled away from him, excited to extend your offer to your new family, whether they knew it yet or not.

- the end -

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[antianakin]

I'd love more fics where someone asks the clones if they identify as Mandos or something and the clones all go "No, those poeple SUCK, who would ever willingly be a Mandalorian??? All they do is kill each other and destroy their own planet. Even the supposedly peaceful ones are arrogant assholes. I'd literally choose to be anything else before I'd ever choose to be a Mandalorian."

More fics where the clones have spent so much time forced to be at war and enough time connecting with the Jedi that even the CONCEPT of being a Mandalorian sounds like a fucking NIGHTMARE to them. Imagine WANTING to be like the people whose whole core culture is about going to war and hating the Jedi? The clones can't relate.

More fics where the clones just AVOID Mando culture entirely. They don't speak the language because they just have zero interest in it, none of them like the taste of Mando food very much, and none of the little Mando traditions seem that interesting or compelling.

A clone sleeps with a sex worker one night and she tries to be seductive by using a Mando endearment she knows and it's an immediate turn off for the clone.

More fics where giving armor to each other isn't this huge meaningful thing. Armor gets lost and damaged all the time, so even if they gave it to someone as a gift, the chances that it would last very long are pretty minimal. The paint designs are meaningful as one of the few ways they distinguish themselves from each other, but it's not more meaningful than their hair choices or tattoos. They don't technically OWN the armor, but their hair and skin is attached to them, which actually makes armor LESS meaningful than hair choices or tattoos. They certainly don't try to marry each other with armor, armor is the most meaningless gift to give someone else. Giving armor to someone is a practical act, not a romantic gesture.

More fics where clones just... AREN'T MANDOS AT ALL. They're CLONES, they're their own distinct thing with their own distinct experiences that would coalesce into their own distinct traditions and cultures.

And more fics where the clones are actually influenced more by JEDI culture than they are by Mando culture because ffs there is not a single Mando character in canon who gave a flying shit about the clones or ever spent a single ounce of time with them, but there were THOUSANDS of Jedi living and fighting and dying with the clones for THREE YEARS STRAIGHT. There is NO culture they'd be more exposed to in a positive way than Jedi culture, and it is honestly criminally underexplored as an influence on clone culture in fics. Where are the clones exploring non-attachment as a concept and realizing that most of them ALSO have no real interest in marriage or kids? Where are the clones studying Jedi philosophies and finding a lot of comfort in them and passing them along to other clones and Jedi philosophies and sayings end up becoming really common among the clones? Where are fics where the clones become some of the most accepting and tolerant people specifically because they learned that from the Jedi?

The clones deserve to be more like the Jedi and deserve so much better than to end up Mandos. I cannot think of a worse fate for the clones, and they've already been through a lot of bullshit.