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screamingintothestarss · 1 month ago

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thank you! i love writing conflict and pain as horrible as that sounds 🤠. glad you enjoyed!!! 💙

(wildflowers part iii)

pairing: fratboy!Hunter x reader

rating: 17+

chapter warnings: starwars university!au, use of she/her pronouns, strangers to friends to lovers, mutual pining, misunderstanding (again??), hurt/hurt with comfort, angst, kissing, swearing, mentions of vomiting, mentions of sexual intimacy

word count: 4.5k

notes: i apologize for making ya'll wait so long, life just likes to get in the way yk hahahahahahahahahaha

chapters: i ii iii

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You don’t show up to class.

It has Hunter throwing placidity to the wind–it just isn't logical. You weren’t the type to skip a class because you were pissed at someone; you weren’t that type of petty. You were good at it, keeping your emotions in check–or maybe you just hid them really well, sweeping shards of glass under the rug and dealing with your bloody foot later. Something wasn’t right. It's eating at him, chewing through that little sensible part in his brain that’s been screaming at him not to tap into your holofrequency. He’s checking the door every few seconds, hoping to catch you nursing a drink in one hand and a late breakfast in the other. He’s even memorized your order: two creams, two sugars, and a warm treat etched in his skull. It’s stupid, he thinks–this is stupid. He didn’t have to duck and weave hoping you wouldn’t beat him to the punch, it didn’t matter how upset you were at him, he’d check in on you regardless, broken jaw and all.

He’s about to input your frequency when a dainty figure slots themselves next to him, flowery perfume invading his senses in a way that’s all too familiar.

“Hi again.” And it’s that same saccharine-sweet voice from the party, flowing through his ears like warm summer rain. It’s like a speeder whizzing by as soon as he steps off the sidewalk; it catches him off-guard.

“Hey,” he replies, and it’s friendly enough that she decides to spread out, placing her tablet on the little fold-out desk. She beams at him, a gorgeous thing that has him returning one of his own, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. It feels odd, he thinks, like an ill-fitting jacket, it’s stiff and hugging his shoulders a bit too tight. He’d rather that seat remain empty than be occupied by someone who wasn’t you. It's not the nicest thought, but someone taking up the space where you'd always been settles in his stomach like a bad meal. She’s staring, sparkly brown eyes just as enchanting as they were on the dancefloor, illuminated by flashing strobe lights.

“Didn’t know you were in this class,” she says, and he knows it’s a bold-faced lie. There’s a false innocence in her tone, but it’s nothing deceitful, so he gives her the benefit of the doubt, playing along for now.

“Yeah, I was just waiting for my…friend.” Friend. It doesn’t fit right either, that jacket constricting at his chest. He didn’t want to assume anything on your behalf, but he knew you both had a good friendship at the very least. He watches the gears turn in her head, glossy lips twitching upwards. A pretty smile tries to mask the nervousness in her eyes, but Hunter doesn’t miss how it oozes from the gaps. It puts him on edge, rummaging through the clutter in his head trying to find out what he’d done wrong. “Are you-?”

“I really like you.”

He pauses. It shouldn’t be coming as a surprise; this wasn’t the first confession he’d received, and it likely wasn’t the last. He wasn’t that dense, head full of air and lead; he knew her tipsy advances at the party weren’t all liquor. A pin in his heart, his chest deflates, words he’d been hoping to hear coming from lips that weren’t yours. He still feels like shit though, never getting used to the salty feeling of having to reject someone. He knows she’s nice enough, he’d seen her around before, and he quietly hoped she’d find someone who’d look at her like he looked at you. He’s about to swing his axe, cutting into that thicket of hope rooted behind her eyes, but she stops him short.

“I’m also stupidly sorry about how I came onto you at the party! I thought maybe downing a few would’ve given me the confidence to confess, but uh-” She takes a breath, a nervous chuckle bubbling up her throat. “It was a lot more than I bargained for.”

He laughs at that, heavy and genuine, and it gives her the confidence her drink couldn’t.

“You’re just really cool, you know? And…I see how you are with your brothers and little sister, and I just…I’d really like to get to know you better.” She visibly relaxes, the weight of unconfessed feelings rolling off her shoulders like clouds of steam. That bubble of anxiety in her gut grows, however, anticipating axes or flowers. He gives her a gentle smile, but his hands remain steady on the handle ready to swing.

“Thank you for telling me this, really, but-”

The door slides open with a hiss and you trudge through, a cup of caf in one hand and a brown paper bag in the other. You look and feel like shit, feet made of durasteel as you try and rub the sleep from your eyes. You melt into your hoodie, trying to avoid the awkward stares being tossed your way. You might as well have stuck a sign to your forehead screaming ”Fuck me!” in bold red ink. It's like you’re made of glass the way they stare; did they know something you didn't? Were they seeing through you? Cutting you open like your roommate did last night? It’s automatic–you quietly beeline toward your seat, but what you're greeted with in your little corner of the room has you sick.

Sick, sick, sick

You jolt, your caf nearly slipping out of your palm and slamming onto grey carpet. Those chilly winds that nearly blew you away that night in the parking lot return in full force, turning bone marrow to ice. You think you can feel your heart cracking, the little pieces carving up your ribs as they fall. You chose to face the sun that night, towards warmth and honey and good things, but instead, it left you scorched, searching for water where there was none. Twice now it's happened.

You understood Hunter, eventually. When your feelings settled in the dust, you were able to clearly make out what had been buried under your feet: It was a misunderstanding, you came to realize; the timing was all wrong. He wouldn't lie to you. He'd never given you a real reason to feel the way that you did, despite the string of admirers he'd unknowingly woven. He never truly entertained it; he was just being friendly–cordial, even. He was just being Hunter.

You thank your roommate for helping you sift through that sand, but…

…why the fuck was she right here?

~ ☆ ~

You stare at your soupy reflection in the bowl, all warped and hazy like your head right now. You don't think you can even wrap your mind around yesterday; the wires in your brain are already stretched too thin. You're in a daze, your spoon tapping against the edge of the bowl with a steady clink clink clink that has your roommate slinging a pillow across the room.

“What the fuck-!?”

“Maker, will you stop that?”

“Stop what!?”

She springs up from the couch, green lekku bouncing in frustration as she pads over to you. Despite the annoyed grimace twisting her face, her hands are gentle as she pries your iron-grip from the spoon. You hadn't even registered you'd been doing it: maybe it was keeping you sane, the only semblance of steadiness and rhythm in your life right now. You can't even face her, head heavy with betrayal.

That's how you felt, at least.

But what did you expect? Messing around with one of the hottest guys on campus, a frat guy no less, came with…consequences.

Consequences be damned, you'd thought. How could you care when he'd looked at you like you hung the stars yourself?

You want to kick yourself, but you're already bloodied and bruised. That palace you'd built for him in your heart was crumbling, and all you could do was watch.

But you let this happen.

Why build something that'll inevitably be destroyed?

A part of you knew what you were getting into, throwing your feelings into that crumbling heap, and now you had to watch them die. And it hurts. Hurts because it felt so real, those walls pristine and glistening. It's a vibroknife in your chest, prying you open and draining the life out of you. Why didn't you run? You were so sure that he liked you, maybe that he even lov-

“Earth to bantha brains!”

You bristle, too tangled up in the weeds of your emotions to focus on anything else.

“Elara…” you groan, “Not now…please?”

She ignores your moping, plopping herself down on the stool next to you and slotting your chin in between green fingers. Her heart jumps as she takes in your state, your eyes red-rimmed and watery. She feels bad for you. Almost.

“You've gotta get it together,” she's telling you, and you pull away from her.

“Thanks.” It's acidic coming through your lips, and you don't care whether it burns or not. You get up from the table and make for your bedroom, but her grip on your arm pulls you back into reality.

“So you saw him talking to another girl, what does it matter?” It's like it's obvious the way she says it, and it ignites that fire in your gut. You hold your tongue, not wanting the embers of your silent rage to scorch her. It matters to you.

“Let go,” you warn.

“I mean it's not like you like him or anything-”

”I said let go!” You snatch your arm away, heart pounding and legs feeling like jelly. You told her bits and pieces of your relationship with Hunter, but you didn't want her putting any of them together. You never admitted anything, though, despite the knowing looks and sly comments she threw your way. You kept it tucked close to your heart, a lock and key only you held access to.

You're almost there, those four walls you'd been hiding under these past few days just a few steps away. You don't make it in time, though, Elara brushing past you, holding a blade to the beeline you were making. She slots herself between you and your bedroom door as if to add to madness, that stupid grin smudged across her face. You've seen it too many times to stay sane, like when she'd stick her tongue out at you after beating you to the fresher, or when she'd play that holomovie she knew you hated when it was her turn on the projector. But this one was different–knowing.

“You're so obvious,” she laughs, and it's ringing in your ears like a poisonous symphony, and you wish all the strings would snap.

“Elara-!”

“Do you know what your problem is?”

You still, her words like a string to your spine, and they're pulling you in ten different directions. It leaves you spluttering, words crashing into each other like rogue speeders–your problem?

Could she see through you this entire time?

In your fog, she takes the opportunity to

strike.

“You're letting your insecurities ruin a good thing! I don't know the guy personally, but from what I've been hearing, he's one of the good ones. I don't know a single sleemo who'd do half the things you've told me he does for you. I get it girly, you've been hurt before, but fuck, we all have! I'd give a piece of myself for a fraction of the love he shows you.”

Her steps are careful as she approaches you like a wounded animal, holding your head in between her hands with a gentleness that has you reeling; the only warmth you've felt in days. Your tears dampen her fingers, and she thumbs one across your cheek.

“I know shit seems dark sometimes, but maybe you should keep looking for the light, y'know?”

Then she pads away, flicking on that dumb holomovie as if she didn't just pry you open by the doorway.

And you can only stand there in that all-consuming grief: gutted and slack-jawed.

~ ☆ ~

Hunter knows how this looks. He curses under his breath and swiftly rounds the desk as he makes his way over to you, but you don't even meet his eyes, brushing past him like he's nothing. He is nothing. He's just another player, another liar.

And you're just another fool.

You tuck yourself in the farthest seat from him on the other side of the lecture hall; you can't see him and he can't see you. Your appetite is gone, the overpriced little pastry you'd bought going cold, much like your demeanor.

He doesn't follow you. You didn't want to be, and this isn't the place or time to explain anything. His head starts to ache, that familiar panging sending little shockwaves across his skull. He fights the urge to run after you, to cull those thorns of deceit uprooting the flowers in your head, but his wheels are spinning in the mud, unable to move. He wants to say fuck it, placing his hand on the gears and shifting into overdrive, but the pretty little thing in your seat has him putting things in park. He runs his fingers over his temples, that creaking in his head growing. He sinks into his seat and it's heavy, the weight of broken hearts and misunderstandings pulling him under somewhere deep and dark and lifeless.

“Are you okay?” she's asking him, and it earns her a kind nod and a ”yeah”, though she can see the anguish creasing his stoicism. He doesn't know how to explain to her that she'd unknowingly tangled herself up in the web between you and him: a bystander in the crossfire, but you were the one with a bullet in your chest.

She chats him up for the rest of class, and you bleed out on the sidewalk; cold, lifeless, and alone.

~ ☆ ~

He misses you after class.

You must've left as soon as the chrono hit twelve-thirty.

He rejected her, naturally, and the watery smile she gave him tugged at his heart a bit. He told her he was interested in someone else, and she told him she understood, leaving it at that. They made pleasant conversation, though, but he couldn't keep his eyes from flitting over to where you were sitting; the creaking and groaning of yearning behind his eyes.

He packs up the rest of his things, considering stuffing his feelings in his bag too.

~ ☆ ~

“How'd it go?” Echo asks, holding a sandwich up to his nose before taking a tentative bite.

Hunter gives him a wry smile, and it's dry and defeated.

“Uh-oh,” Crosshair sings cooly as he sips on a latte.

“Given Hunter's silence, it would be safe to assume it did not go very well,” Tech adds.

“Well, yeah, obviously!” Wrecker's shouting, mouth full of hoagie.

Hunter rolls his shoulders, but he can still feel that weight on them. Your weight.

He sighs, “M'fine boys,” and he doesn’t even believe it. His nerves are shot, plucked through his skin one by one, he's got nothing left. It doesn't feel right, like a scratchy sweater or sandpaper on the tongue; he shouldn't be the one making his brothers worry, it was his job to keep them in line. It settles like liquor on an empty stomach; vile and treacherous.

Crosshair's peering over at Echo, who in turn shares a look with Wrecker and Tech. It's another quiet affair, nothing more needing to breach the air. Three of them leave the table, leaving Hunter and Echo alone.

“Boys-” Hunter starts, but they've already scattered.

“What happened this time?” Echo cuts straight into the bullshit, leaving no weeds to hide under. It's like a hammer to the head the way he says it; blunt and decisive. Hunter thumbs his temples, the nauseating blend of chatter bouncing off the food court walls starting to rattle around his skull. Maybe it's a good thing, he thinks, like the screeching of an alarm at the crack of dawn, it reminds him that he's still alive–that he can still feel. Echo picks up on it with that freaky sixth sense of his, and leads his brother towards the courtyard.

The evening is warm, a funny contrast to the cold pit swallowing Hunter whole. Echo bumps his shoulder, keeping him from slipping off of that edge. “So?”

“You know the girl from the party? The one she saw me with?”

“Yeah?” Echo knows where this is going, doing little to mask the grimace mixing in with his typical frown.

“She sat next to me in calc, I…I didn’t want to be rude-”

“Where’d she sit?”

“...in her seat.”

It’s like two speeders slamming into each other head-on, glass and hot metal blowing up like shrapnel to the face. Echo sets a hand on his brow, shaking his head like a disappointed mother. Hunter’s quiet–he knows he fucked up, shards of glass still buried in his skin. He’s ruminating, moving the boxes around in his head trying to find the one labeled what he should’ve done. He should’ve told her she was sitting in your seat–but she knew that. Maybe he could’ve just asked her to step outside for a second–but surely you’d see them in the corridor? In his frantic search, he finds something else: maybe he didn’t advocate for you hard enough. He was trying to be polite, not wanting to be the one to crush the weeds under his boot, but they ended up choking your flowers instead.

Echo claps a hand on his back, trying to keep him steady on turbulent waters. “I’m guessing she confessed and you rejected her…right?” Hunter nods, all bleary-eyed and solemn.

“Then you need to explain yourself. Today.”

~ ☆ ~

“And then I fucking see her sitting next to him! Like–what am I supposed to think?”

“Have you considered murder?”

“Elara, I’m being serious!” You throw your hands up and deflate, slumping into the couch cushions like some lazy teen. You don’t know whether to scream or cry, caught in some weird emotional limbo you can’t pry your way out of. You’re about to go off on another tangent, but the tinny trilling of your comm pulls you out of the muck. Stupidly stupefied, you stare into the tiny little screen: Hunter’s holofrequency. Suddenly your cheap little comm is scorching hot, burning your palms to a crisp and you drop it onto the floor with a thud. You feel like Tatooine sand, all dried up and gritty.

“Don’t answer that!” Elara swings a curvy leg over the sofa, clambering over to your watery form.

Your stomach lurches and you think you can feel the cheap noodles you stuffed down earlier edging up your throat. Despite this, you abandon all logic, chucking it away like throwing credits on a sabacc table, except this is one gamble you might lose.

“M-maybe-”

“Nuh-uh!” She scoops up your comm and tries tucking it into her short pocket, but you swipe it from her fingers just as fast.

“I wanna hear him out-!” You’ve already rationalized it in your mind; you don’t like him, you just want to hear him out, give him a chance to mop up the feelings you spilled. It’s not like you’re waiting for an apology–an in back into that crumbling palace of hope.

That would be insane.

So naturally, you accept the call.

Your roommate’s shouting something, but you ignore her as you glue the phone to your ear.

“Hello?” It’s shakier than intended, but you’ve been unsteady for about three days now.

“Hey, I just wanted to say that I-”

And the signal cuts out.

“Damn!” you fumble around with the comm, giving it the good ol’ shake and smack. You hold in ten different directions trying to find the one that’ll bring you back to him.

“Are-are-are you-y-y-you the-there?”

Then the signal cuts out entirely.

Elara’s staring at your back, face all puckered like she’s tasted something sour. Your arm goes limp, the comm clattering to the floor and you slowly turn to face her.

“I blame you for this.”

And she shrugs, padding back over to the sofa and flicking on that stupid holomovie.

~ ☆ ~

An hour later, there’s a knock at the door.

You don’t get knocks at your door.

Okay, maybe that was a lie; a series of food deliveries and Elara forgetting her keycard more than once bites at your memory, but she’s curled up on the sofa, wrapped in that tattered blanket she’s so attached to. Maybe she ordered something and forgot? You blow, trudging over to the console, and the door slides open with that creaky whirring sound you always have to apologize for.

“Sorry about the-”

And your stomach sinks into your feet, replaced by something cold and vile and traitorous. Brown and grey hues bore into yours: a pleading warmth and familiarity that has your knees knocking together. A part of you wants to close the door, to sever that last thread tethering you both, but you flick that little voice off your shoulder and try to find your own, but he beats you to it.

“I-,” Hunter starts, and you try to ignore how his sleepy timbre settles all hot in your stomach. Then he stops, mouth hanging open like a suffocating fish. Whatever strings of apologies and explanations he’d woven on his way here were now all tangled up in his mouth, and he couldn’t quite get the knots out. He knows if he doesn’t say anything in the next ten seconds, he might as well trace whatever was left of you two in white chalk.

You search his eyes for colors of deceit, something sinister wrapped in white wool–but you can’t find anything.

Now you’re collapsing inside of yourself, hiding away in that little cavity in your chest. Your eyes fall to the floor as you’re dissolved by the acidity of your guilt. It was a misunderstanding. It always was. You judged him too harshly, you think, slapping a label on him and shipping him off to your dark thoughts. But what were you supposed to think? You went off of what you saw: what information was available at the time, but you should’ve talked to him, sorting through the soil to find his flowers.

Flowers? Is he holding-?

You didn’t even notice them, all swaddled up in colorful crepe paper.

Felucian wildflowers. The same bouquet you were fawning over in the flower shop.

How didn’t you notice?

He swallows thickly as he finds his nerve. “I know that I attract a lot of…attention, but I promise, the only person I’m looking at is you. It was always you.”

And that has you spilling over in the doorway, flooding his shoulder with your tears–and he lets you. He welcomes it, even, wrapping a strong arm around your frame, holding you like he’s been wanting to for weeks. It’s almost religious how he tucks his chin in your hair and lets his eyes slip closed–something like a prayer, and he’d remain in the pews on his knees singing home to you.

He pulls back and slips his hand into yours, all warm and calloused and comforting, and then he’s staring into you, eyes blooming like flowers.

“Let me show you something.”

~ ☆ ~

“Why didn’t you tell me this was here!?”

He’s taken you somewhere off-world, a starry field on some distant planet speckled with wildflowers in a myriad of hues. The moon hangs high, bathing you both in blues and blacks, and you think it’s something out of a painting.

“I was planning to surprise you, until…”

And your eyes meet his, full of unexpressed apologies and oozing with guilt. You know he understands, he’s always tried his best to understand you, but you want to roll that weight off his shoulders: the one he’d never stop carrying for you.

“I should’ve talked to you,” you say, and it’s odd: odd being able to be so honest with someone, so vulnerable, and you know that you can trust him–you know that.

Maybe you just couldn’t trust yourself.

“I…” your words catch on your lip, and they might end up dragging you under; hook, line, and sinker.

And you’re willing to let them.

“...I think I’m in love with you.”

His eyes snap to yours, and you realize he’s looking at you like he’s always looked at you. There’s no widening of the eyes, no reddening on the cheekbone, and the realization makes you want to sink into the blanket.

He’s always loved you.

His hand inches towards your leg as you stare into each other, and before you can breathe, his lips are on yours, giving life to you in a way you’ve never felt before. It’s like he’s stealing your breath away and giving you air at the same time; hot and heady, you don’t even notice the warmth trailing up your thigh tugging at the hem of your pants. He’s passionate, your colors swirling together creating the ultimate image of you.

It’s sweet like nectar, blossoming like the petals of a young flower, and you want to keep picking until you’ve uprooted the garden. Your hands settle against the planes of his face, and you pull him down on top of you, earning a laugh. He pulls back, staring into your eyes until he’s lost. Lost in every color, every breath, every feeling.

Then he finds himself, and says what’s been laying heavy on his heart these past few weeks.

“I love you, too.”

And he showed you in every way that he could.

~ ☆ ~

You’re yawning, arms outstretched and legs all achey, you spread out in the expanse of your little bed and hit something hard and unmoving.

“Huh-?”

And he rolls over, all grey and hazy with sleep. You don’t quite have the details of last night, but you can piece them together well enough: love confessions, love demonstrations, a 4am run for blue-milk pancakes, and something about staying over.

Then he slings a lazy arm over your middle, caging you into his warmth before you can let your mind tangle in the weeds.

“So,” he rasps into your hair. “Are we…official?”

You both know the answer, and you can even picture the little smile he’s hiding away in your locks. Maybe it was selfish, but you’d do anything to lock it away someplace only you could get to.

“Nope.”

“Pfft-” He pinches your waist, and you yelp, slapping a pillow into his head.

“I take this as a yes,” He says, all muffled from the pillow sitting on his face.

And you both lie there, limbs heavy and hearts heavier. You both hold each other in a way you’ve wanted to for an eternity, like two stars merging together so brightly no amount of doubt can dim its light. Maybe it was fate, a contract written into the cosmos, and you’d sign your name in a heartbeat knowing he’d do the same.

Neither of you go to that calc lecture.

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screamingintothestarss · 1 month ago

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i haven't died!

but i may or may not have something cooking *rubs hands together all sinister-like*

#clone x reader #fives x reader #clone trooper x reader #he's so-

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screamingintothestarss · 1 month ago

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controversial, but i think they should kiss for a very long time.

this was so cute 🤧 💙

technical devotion, part eleven: co-existing

content warnings: nightmares, canon-typical violence

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The light of the holoprojector flickered, the image of Rex quivering in the darkened kitchen, the curtains pulled and shutters bolted closed.

“So you’re saying they’ve already built this weapon?” Rex asked, his brow set in a straight line.

“I’m not sure. I believe they have fully realised the tech, as there was some disturbance to devices that were nearby to their warehouse, but I’d wager it would take a lot longer to figure out how to harness that power into a projectile of some kind” Kan replied.

“How do you think they would do that?”

Kan sighed deeply, pulling together her thoughts, “From what I can gather from their reports, the material that they have been mining here is something that draws electrical charge naturally, the material itself is recorded as having disturbed their equipment, and it is located in a place that is somewhat of a local legend. The people here believe that something, some kind of god perhaps, is behind the disturbance, but once the Empire began digging about, they found a repository of this… material, mineral, metal - I’m not sure entirely what it is exactly, their reports are rather vague. The issue is… well, a bigger issue, is that the material seems to store what electrical charge it takes to some extent, so if they were able to create some kind of canon for this, a projectile containing this material could disable a ship, and then implode on itself - especially with the collected power of an entire ship held within it - sending back the signal and thus possibly frying the ship’s circuits, and if it were big enough, perhaps even the people inside would be affected. It could be devastating. Especially to any kind of large ship such as a venator, or something of a similar size which would usually be able to fend off small fighters with no problems”

Rex blew out a long breath, “Kriffing hell”

“Yeah. Kriffing hell” Kan sighed, leaning onto the kitchen table to steady herself.

“This is certainly not what I expected when I sent you guys there, I would’ve sent others as well had I known” Rex said, and scratched the stubble of his five o’clock shadow. He looked particularly worn down, and Kan felt awful to have to put this weight on his shoulders as well. “I need to think on this. I’ll talk to the others and see what they think, and I’ll call you within a few rotations once we have a plan. For now, hang tight and do what you can, but don’t take any drastic action without consulting me first”

“Yes sir” Kan nodded.

“Alright. Good work you two, I’ll see you in a few rotations”

The image of Rex flickered and cut out, enveloping the room in darkness. Kan looked over to Echo, who had been mostly silent during the call, electing to let Kan explain her findings. He didn’t think of himself as stupid when it came to technological pursuits, but with Kan in the room it was hard not to feel that way. After all, Rex had chosen Kan specifically for this mission because of her knowledge of the subject, and with the information they had found, he was now definitely more than a little out of his depth.

“I’ll go and open the windows” He said quietly, and walked over to the door.

He made his way around the kitchen, opening up the shutters and pulling open the curtains from the outside to let some air into the room that had become stuffy, whether because the windows were closed or because the subject of the call was so heavy, he didn’t know. When he made his way back inside, Kan was already back to tinkering with her own tech disruption project, soldering together all the aspects that made up one part of it. Echo saw her lick her lips and instinctively filled a cup with water, placing it next to her working hands on the table.

Since they had been confined in the same space for so long, both Kan and Echo had begun to pick up on little things that the other did. For Kan, it was that when she licked her lips while she was working it meant that she was thirsty. Kan had no idea what her tell was, and was astounded that Echo seemed to realise she was thirsty before she even realised herself, placing a cup of water beside her without so much as a word. For Echo, it was that when he was cold, he would rub his neck a certain way, as if containing a shiver, and Kan would offer him a blanket or a heatpad.

It was these little actions that made their time together so seamless. They seemed to co-exist so naturally, never stepping on each others toes, always having pleasant conversation, and knowing when what was preferred was a comfortable silence.

“Thanks” Kan smiled up at Echo as he sat across from her, and he gave her a small smile.

Echo watched Kan work, admiring how easily her nimble fingers worked, how steady her hands were.

“How did you get into this sort of stuff” He asked after a while.

Kan looked up momentarily, “My dad ran a repairs shop, I just picked up a lot of stuff from him”

“Is that where Master Unduli found you?”

“No” Kan shook her head, dropping the tools in her hands, “When the war came about I left home, I guess I was searching for some kind of purpose but I was just travelling around doing repairs and odd jobs for people, when Luminara came along I figured there wasn't really any better way I could help the war effort”

Echo nodded and Kan resumed her work again. He really found her drive admirable, her desire to do the right thing, or to be a part of something important, something that meant something. She had joined the Grand Army of the Republic, and now she was here, fighting alongside him and his brothers once more, for seemingly the same reason as before - the Republic. He couldn’t help but want to know more about her, about her childhood and her time in the war, but he didn’t want to push, especially as he knew it could be a particularly sore subject for her.

“Kan, what's your real name?” He asked instead.

She smirked a little as she looked up at him, “It's Kandam'aira. Kandam'aira Hynzir” She watched as Echo’s mouth hung open, almost imperceptibly. “It's a lot I know” She shrugged, a little nervously as she knew people didn’t often try to use her full name.

“How do you say it again?” Echo asked, bringing a warmth to her chest.

“Kandam'aira”

He sounded it out by each syllable, “Kan-dan-ei-ra?”

“Almost” Kan smiled encouragingly, “This is how it's spelled”

She pulled her datapad from the mess beside her and opened up a new file, typing out the spelling in aurebesh. She turned the screen to face him, and Echo read it a few times, turning it over in his head, “Kandam'airra”

“It's more… -ŕa, small roll on the R”

“Kandam'aira?” He said perfectly, and Kan smiled.

“Yeah that's it”

“It's really pretty” He looked up to her from the datapad, and Kan blushed a bit.

“Thanks, it's not as cool as Echo but it's whatever” She shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly.

“Echo isn't cool” He laughed, “It sounds better when you say it though”

“Oh? Why's that?” Kan asked innocently, her gaze inquisitive.

“Uh- your accent, you have a nice voice” Echo admitted, clearing his throat afterwards.

“Oh” Kan blushed again, “Thank you”

She got on with her soldering again, this time with flushed cheeks, and Echo smirked to himself upon noticing it. It made him feel like being a little bolder.

“Why don't you go by your full name?”

“It's just long and people get it wrong all the time. I won't correct them on it either, so it's just easier”

“Why won't you correct them?”

“I just don't want the confrontation”

Echo smirked, “You corrected me”

“Well you're different” She said with no hesitation.

Echo’s eyebrows shot up, “I am?”

His tone was curious in a particular way, and Kan looked up at him briefly to catch his smirk.

“Uh- Yeah” She gulped, looking down to her work again.

“How so?” Echo pressed, and Kan found it hard to keep her skin from blushing even further.

“I don't know, you're like, easy to talk to, or something”

“Or something” He mumbled with a smirk, “Can I call you Kandam'aira?”

She gulped again, refusing to meet his gaze, “If you want to”

“I think it suits you better than just Kan”

“Really? Why?” She looked up at him briefly, to see that his face was still maddeningly and enticingly pulled into a smirk.

“Because it's a beautiful name”

Kan’s heart hammered in her chest, unsure if Echo really meant what it sounded like he was saying. She just stayed quiet, not looking at him, and feeling her whole body heat up as her blush infected her.

Echo bit the inside of his cheek, following up with, “If that's okay to say”

“Of course it's okay, I dont think I've ever been complimented on my name before”

Echo chuckled, “I wasn't really talking about your name that time”

Kan looked to him, and he stared back at her intently, a small smile gracing his lips.

“Oh” She looked down to her work again with small smile.

Echo watched her, his heart soaring with adoration as she fumbled over her project. For the first time, Echo allowed himself to think, pretend even, that Kan maybe liked him in the way he liked her.

She was running, faster than she had ever run before. She had to escape them.

Their blaster bolts flew all around her as she wound her way around the large trees of Kashyyyk's forest. They were getting further and further away, but she didn't stop running.

Her lungs burned, her limbs ached, but she had to hide.

As she turned to look back at her pursuers, a bolt came straight at her head. She evaded it in time, enough to not be killed at least, but a sharp pain seared at the edge of her cheek. She brought her hand to the pain, and in her distracted state, she tripped over a root. Before she could scramble to her feet again, a foot was pressed to her stomach, keeping her back flat against the mossy undergrowth.

“Kandam’aira Hynzir, you are a traitor to the Empire and shall be dealt with as such”

Her best friend, her ori’vod, Spider, stood above her, blaster pointed at her head.

“Spider please. What’s happening? What Empire?” She trembled. It was hard not to let the fear wash over her like a tidal wave at the sight above her and the feel of his boot heel digging into her.

“Quiet!” He hissed.

She could see the tremble in his hands, and a single tear slipped from his eye. He should have taken the shot by now, but he just stood above her, waiting to find it within himself to do it, or possibly fighting that part of him with everything he had, she didn’t know which.

“Spider please, it’s me, it’s Kan”

“I know who you are, traitor” He spoke with such venom that she almost didn’t recognise him. Spider was soft, he was loving and he cared for her like nothing else. Who was this above her? He had the webbed scar splayed across his jaw that would set him apart from not only his brothers, but every other human, and yet, she couldn’t recognise him anymore.

“Spider” She whispered, her voice displaying every ounce of terror that she felt.

Spider’s first finger pressed into the trigger, still shaking, and a bolt flew right towards her head.

Kan sat up in bed, thrown from her dream. She took a shaky breath and raked her hand through her hair, unsticking the few small strands that had clung to the sweat on her forehead.

It had been a while since she had had a nightmare, and even longer since she had dreamt of that moment.

Kan lifted herself from her bed and tiptoed downstairs, filling a cup of water from the tap. She took a few gulps from it and settled herself in her usual chair, situating herself among the familiarity and comfortability of her work. It was still dark out, the stars of systems far away twinkling brightly at her through the window. She felt the gentle chill of the breeze passing through the window and sighed deeply, centring herself in the moment. That’s when she heard talking coming from Echo’s room.

She didn’t want to eavesdrop, but she wondered who he was talking to so late at night. However, when she pressed her ear to the door she could only hear incoherent mumbling, and she could hear Echo shifting around in his bedsheets. She cracked open the door, and her heart clenched at the sight of him. His face was twisted in agony, and writhing around as if trying to break free from something.

Kan approached the bed, “Echo, wake up” She gently placed a hand on his arm, but he didn’t wake, only breathing more raggedly. She sat down on the edge of the bed, her other hand finding itself on his face, “Echo! Wake up!” She said more firmly.

Echo sat up suddenly, his eyes wild and breath uneven. Upon realising Kan was there, he moved away from her, shame burning at his cheeks.

“I’m fine, go back to sleep” He managed to mumble out, trying to compose himself.

“I wasn't asleep, I heard you mumbling and just wanted to make sure you were okay” Kan spoke ever so softly, “You were having a nightmare?”

Echo refused to look at her, “Yes, but I'm fine, you should get some sleep”

“Echo” Kan placed a hand on his arm again, and he reluctantly raised his eyes to hers, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really” He mumbled, looking away again.

“Will it continue if you go back to sleep?”

“I- I don't know, maybe”

“Would you like me to stay with you?”

Echo’s eyes snapped up to Kan’s, “You don't have to do th-”

“Would you like me to?”

He could see such kindness and concern on her face and he desperately craved the comfort of her, so he nodded, “Yes, please”

Kan smiled and made her way around to the other side of the bed while Echo laid down again. She gently climbed into the bed beside him, with him faced away from her. The feel of the dip in the bed, the feel of her being there, was all too much and not enough at the same time.

“Echo”

He hummed quietly in response.

“Can you look at me please?”

He stiffened, but turned over in the bed, looking at her timidly

“Please never feel ashamed in front of me Echo. I would like you to trust me, if you can”

“I do trust you” He said without hesitation.

“I'm glad” Kan smiled. She then grew more serious and bashful, and Echo watched her toy with an idea in her head for a few moments, “Echo, would you…” She bit the inside of her cheek, and her sharp green eyes looked up at him, softened with tenderness, “Would you hold me?”

Echo melted at her expression, the last memories of his nightmare being chased away by the vulnerability in front of him. He nodded and opened his arm for her, and she quickly buried her face in his chest. He leaned into her as well, enveloping her in his embrace and sighing contentedly at the feeling of her gripping to his shirt. He then remembered something she had said previously and frowned.

“Are you okay? Why weren’t you asleep?” He asked, and felt her sigh against him.

“I had a nightmare too” She admitted and Echo instinctively tightened his arm around her.

He tilted his head so he spoke down into her hair, “Do you want to talk about it?”

She shook her head quickly, “No, just-” She nestled in closer to him, wrapping her legs in his mechanical ones, “Just hold me”

Echo’s heart swelled and ached all at once, and in that moment he decided that he must get Kan to make the arm attachment for his scomp, that he must feel her with two hands, and be able to hold her properly if she asked again.

“Are you comfortable?” He whispered, painfully aware of how cold his metal limbs could be.

“Yes, very”

He could feel her smile a little bit against him, and he let a small chuckle escape his lips. Kan could feel the vibrations of it in his chest and snuggled in as close as she could.

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screamingintothestarss · 1 month ago

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pls i love this so much 😭 peppa is just that girl 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

edit: ALSO HAPPY BIRTHDAY 🎂 🎉

in case you were wondering, and I know you were, this is what my birthday cake looked like at the ripe old age of 22

I am aware of the ridiculousness of the number 22 atop this cake but alas, I simply do not care. it makes me chuckle alright.

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screamingintothestarss · 1 month ago

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thank you so much, this means a lot!!!!! and i think i lowkey enjoy writing pain?? help???

(wildflowers part iii)

pairing: fratboy!Hunter x reader

rating: 17+

word count: 4.5k

notes: i apologize for making ya'll wait so long, life just likes to get in the way yk hahahahahahahahahaha

chapters: i ii iii

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You don’t show up to class.

He’s about to input your frequency when a dainty figure slots themselves next to him, flowery perfume invading his senses in a way that’s all too familiar.

“I really like you.”

He laughs at that, heavy and genuine, and it gives her the confidence her drink couldn’t.

“Thank you for telling me this, really, but-”

Sick, sick, sick

You thank your roommate for helping you sift through that sand, but…

…why the fuck was she right here?

~ ☆ ~

“What the fuck-!?”

“Maker, will you stop that?”

“Stop what!?”

That's how you felt, at least.

But what did you expect? Messing around with one of the hottest guys on campus, a frat guy no less, came with…consequences.

Consequences be damned, you'd thought. How could you care when he'd looked at you like you hung the stars yourself?

You want to kick yourself, but you're already bloodied and bruised. That palace you'd built for him in your heart was crumbling, and all you could do was watch.

But you let this happen.

Why build something that'll inevitably be destroyed?

“Earth to bantha brains!”

You bristle, too tangled up in the weeds of your emotions to focus on anything else.

“Elara…” you groan, “Not now…please?”

“You've gotta get it together,” she's telling you, and you pull away from her.

“Let go,” you warn.

“I mean it's not like you like him or anything-”

“You're so obvious,” she laughs, and it's ringing in your ears like a poisonous symphony, and you wish all the strings would snap.

“Elara-!”

“Do you know what your problem is?”

You still, her words like a string to your spine, and they're pulling you in ten different directions. It leaves you spluttering, words crashing into each other like rogue speeders–your problem?

Could she see through you this entire time?

In your fog, she takes the opportunity to

strike.

“I know shit seems dark sometimes, but maybe you should keep looking for the light, y'know?”

Then she pads away, flicking on that dumb holomovie as if she didn't just pry you open by the doorway.

And you can only stand there in that all-consuming grief: gutted and slack-jawed.

~ ☆ ~

And you're just another fool.

She chats him up for the rest of class, and you bleed out on the sidewalk; cold, lifeless, and alone.

~ ☆ ~

He misses you after class.

You must've left as soon as the chrono hit twelve-thirty.

He packs up the rest of his things, considering stuffing his feelings in his bag too.

~ ☆ ~

“How'd it go?” Echo asks, holding a sandwich up to his nose before taking a tentative bite.

Hunter gives him a wry smile, and it's dry and defeated.

“Uh-oh,” Crosshair sings cooly as he sips on a latte.

“Given Hunter's silence, it would be safe to assume it did not go very well,” Tech adds.

“Well, yeah, obviously!” Wrecker's shouting, mouth full of hoagie.

Hunter rolls his shoulders, but he can still feel that weight on them. Your weight.

“Boys-” Hunter starts, but they've already scattered.

The evening is warm, a funny contrast to the cold pit swallowing Hunter whole. Echo bumps his shoulder, keeping him from slipping off of that edge. “So?”

“You know the girl from the party? The one she saw me with?”

“Yeah?” Echo knows where this is going, doing little to mask the grimace mixing in with his typical frown.

“She sat next to me in calc, I…I didn’t want to be rude-”

“Where’d she sit?”

“...in her seat.”

Echo claps a hand on his back, trying to keep him steady on turbulent waters. “I’m guessing she confessed and you rejected her…right?” Hunter nods, all bleary-eyed and solemn.

“Then you need to explain yourself. Today.”

~ ☆ ~

“And then I fucking see her sitting next to him! Like–what am I supposed to think?”

“Have you considered murder?”

“Don’t answer that!” Elara swings a curvy leg over the sofa, clambering over to your watery form.

“M-maybe-”

“Nuh-uh!” She scoops up your comm and tries tucking it into her short pocket, but you swipe it from her fingers just as fast.

That would be insane.

So naturally, you accept the call.

Your roommate’s shouting something, but you ignore her as you glue the phone to your ear.

“Hello?” It’s shakier than intended, but you’ve been unsteady for about three days now.

“Hey, I just wanted to say that I-”

And the signal cuts out.

“Damn!” you fumble around with the comm, giving it the good ol’ shake and smack. You hold in ten different directions trying to find the one that’ll bring you back to him.

“Are-are-are you-y-y-you the-there?”

Then the signal cuts out entirely.

Elara’s staring at your back, face all puckered like she’s tasted something sour. Your arm goes limp, the comm clattering to the floor and you slowly turn to face her.

“I blame you for this.”

And she shrugs, padding back over to the sofa and flicking on that stupid holomovie.

~ ☆ ~

An hour later, there’s a knock at the door.

You don’t get knocks at your door.

“Sorry about the-”

You search his eyes for colors of deceit, something sinister wrapped in white wool–but you can’t find anything.

Flowers? Is he holding-?

You didn’t even notice them, all swaddled up in colorful crepe paper.

Felucian wildflowers. The same bouquet you were fawning over in the flower shop.

How didn’t you notice?

He swallows thickly as he finds his nerve. “I know that I attract a lot of…attention, but I promise, the only person I’m looking at is you. It was always you.”

He pulls back and slips his hand into yours, all warm and calloused and comforting, and then he’s staring into you, eyes blooming like flowers.

“Let me show you something.”

~ ☆ ~

“Why didn’t you tell me this was here!?”

“I was planning to surprise you, until…”

“I should’ve talked to you,” you say, and it’s odd: odd being able to be so honest with someone, so vulnerable, and you know that you can trust him–you know that.

Maybe you just couldn’t trust yourself.

“I…” your words catch on your lip, and they might end up dragging you under; hook, line, and sinker.

And you’re willing to let them.

“...I think I’m in love with you.”

He’s always loved you.

Then he finds himself, and says what’s been laying heavy on his heart these past few weeks.

“I love you, too.”

And he showed you in every way that he could.

~ ☆ ~

You’re yawning, arms outstretched and legs all achey, you spread out in the expanse of your little bed and hit something hard and unmoving.

“Huh-?”

Then he slings a lazy arm over your middle, caging you into his warmth before you can let your mind tangle in the weeds.

“So,” he rasps into your hair. “Are we…official?”

You both know the answer, and you can even picture the little smile he’s hiding away in your locks. Maybe it was selfish, but you’d do anything to lock it away someplace only you could get to.

“Nope.”

“Pfft-” He pinches your waist, and you yelp, slapping a pillow into his head.

“I take this as a yes,” He says, all muffled from the pillow sitting on his face.

Neither of you go to that calc lecture.

#thank you for reading!#i love comments its so motivating

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screamingintothestarss · 2 months ago

Text

(wildflowers part iii)

pairing: fratboy!Hunter x reader

rating: 17+

word count: 4.5k

notes: i apologize for making ya'll wait so long, life just likes to get in the way yk hahahahahahahahahaha

chapters: i ii iii

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You don’t show up to class.

He’s about to input your frequency when a dainty figure slots themselves next to him, flowery perfume invading his senses in a way that’s all too familiar.

“I really like you.”

He laughs at that, heavy and genuine, and it gives her the confidence her drink couldn’t.

“Thank you for telling me this, really, but-”

Sick, sick, sick

You thank your roommate for helping you sift through that sand, but…

…why the fuck was she right here?

~ ☆ ~

“What the fuck-!?”

“Maker, will you stop that?”

“Stop what!?”

That's how you felt, at least.

But what did you expect? Messing around with one of the hottest guys on campus, a frat guy no less, came with…consequences.

Consequences be damned, you'd thought. How could you care when he'd looked at you like you hung the stars yourself?

You want to kick yourself, but you're already bloodied and bruised. That palace you'd built for him in your heart was crumbling, and all you could do was watch.

But you let this happen.

Why build something that'll inevitably be destroyed?

“Earth to bantha brains!”

You bristle, too tangled up in the weeds of your emotions to focus on anything else.

“Elara…” you groan, “Not now…please?”

“You've gotta get it together,” she's telling you, and you pull away from her.

“Let go,” you warn.

“I mean it's not like you like him or anything-”

“You're so obvious,” she laughs, and it's ringing in your ears like a poisonous symphony, and you wish all the strings would snap.

“Elara-!”

“Do you know what your problem is?”

You still, her words like a string to your spine, and they're pulling you in ten different directions. It leaves you spluttering, words crashing into each other like rogue speeders–your problem?

Could she see through you this entire time?

In your fog, she takes the opportunity to

strike.

“I know shit seems dark sometimes, but maybe you should keep looking for the light, y'know?”

Then she pads away, flicking on that dumb holomovie as if she didn't just pry you open by the doorway.

And you can only stand there in that all-consuming grief: gutted and slack-jawed.

~ ☆ ~

And you're just another fool.

She chats him up for the rest of class, and you bleed out on the sidewalk; cold, lifeless, and alone.

~ ☆ ~

He misses you after class.

You must've left as soon as the chrono hit twelve-thirty.

He packs up the rest of his things, considering stuffing his feelings in his bag too.

~ ☆ ~

“How'd it go?” Echo asks, holding a sandwich up to his nose before taking a tentative bite.

Hunter gives him a wry smile, and it's dry and defeated.

“Uh-oh,” Crosshair sings cooly as he sips on a latte.

“Given Hunter's silence, it would be safe to assume it did not go very well,” Tech adds.

“Well, yeah, obviously!” Wrecker's shouting, mouth full of hoagie.

Hunter rolls his shoulders, but he can still feel that weight on them. Your weight.

“Boys-” Hunter starts, but they've already scattered.

The evening is warm, a funny contrast to the cold pit swallowing Hunter whole. Echo bumps his shoulder, keeping him from slipping off of that edge. “So?”

“You know the girl from the party? The one she saw me with?”

“Yeah?” Echo knows where this is going, doing little to mask the grimace mixing in with his typical frown.

“She sat next to me in calc, I…I didn’t want to be rude-”

“Where’d she sit?”

“...in her seat.”

Echo claps a hand on his back, trying to keep him steady on turbulent waters. “I’m guessing she confessed and you rejected her…right?” Hunter nods, all bleary-eyed and solemn.

“Then you need to explain yourself. Today.”

~ ☆ ~

“And then I fucking see her sitting next to him! Like–what am I supposed to think?”

“Have you considered murder?”

“Don’t answer that!” Elara swings a curvy leg over the sofa, clambering over to your watery form.

“M-maybe-”

“Nuh-uh!” She scoops up your comm and tries tucking it into her short pocket, but you swipe it from her fingers just as fast.

That would be insane.

So naturally, you accept the call.

Your roommate’s shouting something, but you ignore her as you glue the phone to your ear.

“Hello?” It’s shakier than intended, but you’ve been unsteady for about three days now.

“Hey, I just wanted to say that I-”

And the signal cuts out.

“Damn!” you fumble around with the comm, giving it the good ol’ shake and smack. You hold in ten different directions trying to find the one that’ll bring you back to him.

“Are-are-are you-y-y-you the-there?”

Then the signal cuts out entirely.

Elara’s staring at your back, face all puckered like she’s tasted something sour. Your arm goes limp, the comm clattering to the floor and you slowly turn to face her.

“I blame you for this.”

And she shrugs, padding back over to the sofa and flicking on that stupid holomovie.

~ ☆ ~

An hour later, there’s a knock at the door.

You don’t get knocks at your door.

“Sorry about the-”

You search his eyes for colors of deceit, something sinister wrapped in white wool–but you can’t find anything.

Flowers? Is he holding-?

You didn’t even notice them, all swaddled up in colorful crepe paper.

Felucian wildflowers. The same bouquet you were fawning over in the flower shop.

How didn’t you notice?

He swallows thickly as he finds his nerve. “I know that I attract a lot of…attention, but I promise, the only person I’m looking at is you. It was always you.”

He pulls back and slips his hand into yours, all warm and calloused and comforting, and then he’s staring into you, eyes blooming like flowers.

“Let me show you something.”

~ ☆ ~

“Why didn’t you tell me this was here!?”

“I was planning to surprise you, until…”

“I should’ve talked to you,” you say, and it’s odd: odd being able to be so honest with someone, so vulnerable, and you know that you can trust him–you know that.

Maybe you just couldn’t trust yourself.

“I…” your words catch on your lip, and they might end up dragging you under; hook, line, and sinker.

And you’re willing to let them.

“...I think I’m in love with you.”

He’s always loved you.

Then he finds himself, and says what’s been laying heavy on his heart these past few weeks.

“I love you, too.”

And he showed you in every way that he could.

~ ☆ ~

You’re yawning, arms outstretched and legs all achey, you spread out in the expanse of your little bed and hit something hard and unmoving.

“Huh-?”

Then he slings a lazy arm over your middle, caging you into his warmth before you can let your mind tangle in the weeds.

“So,” he rasps into your hair. “Are we…official?”

You both know the answer, and you can even picture the little smile he’s hiding away in your locks. Maybe it was selfish, but you’d do anything to lock it away someplace only you could get to.

“Nope.”

“Pfft-” He pinches your waist, and you yelp, slapping a pillow into his head.

“I take this as a yes,” He says, all muffled from the pillow sitting on his face.

Neither of you go to that calc lecture.

#the bad batch fanfiction #tbb hunter x reader #star wars fanfiction #clone x reader #the bad batch x reader #sergeant hunter x reader #tbb hunter #tbb hunter/reader #my apologies

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screamingintothestarss · 2 months ago

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hehehehehe 😈

no pressure! @zahmaddog, @floofyroro

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screamingintothestarss · 2 months ago

Text

sorry im getting to this so late frendo, but i appreciate this! tysm for reading, it means so much to me!

wildflowers (part ii)

pairing: fratboy!Hunter x f!reader

chapter rating: gen

chapter warnings: starwars university!au, use of she/her pronouns, strangers to friends to lovers, mutual pining, miscommunication, some angst, almost kissing, sorta cheesy love tropes lol, emotions are complicated

word count: 2.1k

notes: i am so so sorry for the late updates, i’ve had like two projects and an essay due. it’s also midterm week for me! however please enjoy!! ╰(▔∀▔)╯

chapters: i ii iii

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You spread the cloth across your face, rubbing at pink blotches of makeup sitting pretty on your cheekbone. You think that maybe if you scrub hard enough, you can wipe away the memory of tonight–of him.

He was so casual with her, so easygoing and flirtatious, and it left you feeling all soured and rotten. He never flirted with you, never throwing you that sly wink and smile you’d seen him give other women. Would you want that, though? To have another guy lick his lips, eyes gliding along your curvature just to see you as another score? The feeling is like a vibroblade in your gut, twisting and screwing its way into your stomach, spilling out dead butterflies and buried feelings.

“You almost done?” a tinny voice raps on the door and you jump.

“No, not really,” you grumble, and you try really hard not to let her have it. You’re already trying not to drown in the murky depths of your emotions, and the last thing you need is your pushy roommate pulling you under.

You take a long hot shower to soothe that ache in your chest, much to her chagrin.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

“What's wrong with him?” Wrecker whispers rather poorly in Crosshair's direction.

“I'd bet it's that girl of his,” he rasps, toothpick bouncing between his lips. Despite the bite in his tone, he can't peel his gaze off of Hunter, those brotherly gears in his head starting to turn. Sure, he'd seen him upset before, like that time he'd cut his hair after losing that bet, or the time he got ghosted by that one girl, but this felt different. It felt like an axe to his chest, hacking away at muscle and bone–it made him hurt. He wished he had the words sometimes, an answer, even, but those circuits weren't wired correctly either.

Echo's were, however. He always seemed to know what to say and said what needed to be said. He'd cut you open to the core and patch you right back up afterward.

Crosshair taps around on his comm and in no time Echo emerges from his bedroom, adjusting his prosthetic.

No other words need to be exchanged: it's a silent agreement, an understanding built over years of brotherhood: tight-knit like a warm sweater.

Echo hums and takes a seat beside Hunter, the leather cushion dipping under his weight. Crosshair and Wrecker quietly clear the room, leaving the two brothers alone.

Hunter doesn't stir, still stuck in the thick fog of your perfume.

Echo gives him a once over before speaking up; "What happened, Sarge?"

"You know I don't care for that nickname, Echo," he laughs, and it's strained, the soreness in his chest pulling it taught.

Echo's brow relaxes. At least he wasn't plagued by that all-consuming grief, the kind that leaves you gutted and slack-jawed.

"You went to that party one way and came back another...my guess is it's something to do with her?" He says it rather bluntly, like a heavy box falling onto the ground with a thunk.

Hunter meets his eyes and nods. His jaw circles, and he clicks his tongue.

"She saw me with someone else," he breathes, "It wasn't...it wasn't like that."

Echo nods, understanding melting onto a stony expression. Hunter didn't need to explain anything further, never with him.

"A miscommunication, then. But I'm guessing she wasn't up for talking about it, eh?"

"No. She wasn't." It's flat and grainy between his teeth, but there's a buried longing there; he just needed to sift through the sand.

But maybe you didn't want to be found.

Maybe he should keep you buried, letting granules of sand and dust fill in the cracks of what could've been.

What the hell was he thinking?

Echo sees him falling into his thoughts–dark, deep, and treacherous; but his next words reach out to catch him.

"Do you like her?"

Hunter pauses and hits the replay button on his memory. …Do I like her?

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

"Quadratics are pretty simple," you explain, "First, you want everything in standard form, then you need to plug in all your variables and-" you pause, meeting the brown-grey eyes boring into yours.

"Are you even listening?" Your voice is like spice to his ears, and he doesn't think it's an addiction he wants to shake.

"I'm always listening to you," he says cooly, and you can't pinpoint what's behind his eyes. It makes your stomach recoil nonetheless. You blow, holding your head down so he can't see the red and pink hues bleeding onto your cheeks.

He definitely notices.

How couldn't he?

He's unconsciously mapping your features, scrawling them onto some blank page in his memory. Truth be told, Tech had already taught him everything he needed to know about mathematics, piercing that thick skull of his. But Hunter allowed himself to admit that he simply wanted to spend more time with you, emptying what he could and letting you fill in the rest: all flowery and saccharine-sweet.

He lets himself slip away for a moment, getting lost in that hazy scent you're always wearing. It's funny; he wasn't one for perfumes or smells in general, but something about yours had him inebriated, stumbling over formulas and equations. You meet each other's eyes, hues swirling together like paints on a palette, and he's tempted to create something beautiful.

He leans in closer to you, sealing in that distance that's been driving him up the walls. Like that evening at the dinner table, you're both magnetized, unable to pull away, and you're about to seal the deal when-

“Hey, I think I reserved this room?” a sharp voice sounds, cutting through the line keeping you both tethered.

“Sorry!”

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

“I like the way these ones glow,” you say, eyeing a beautiful array of bouquets and arrangements. You and Hunter are stopped in front of a flower shop, its colorful exterior bouncing with pretty plants from all over the galaxy–some of these colors you swore you’ve never even seen before. An elderly Pantoran woman exits the shop, the door sliding open with a ding!

“Looking for anything in particular?” she squeaks, her voice small and frail much like her stature.

You peer at her and shake your head kindly, “No thank you, we’re just looking.”

“Nonsense! There’s plenty more to look at inside!” Her veiny blue hand tugs at your arm, pulling you through the door, and you look back at Hunter whose expression is a mix of amusement and…nervousness? He trails behind you both, hands tucked into a red and black letterman jacket.

You ooo and ahh at the various arrangements decorating the shop, but one in particular catches your eye. Sharp for her old age, the woman’s eyes sparkle as she follows your gaze, and then she’s got that iron grip on your arm again, whisking you away to the back of the shop.

You’d never seen anything like this before. The arrangement is nothing short of gorgeous; dark blues, violets, pinks, whites–a myriad of hues that has you clutching your heart. Its bioluminescent glow reflects in the whites of your eyes like shooting stars, and Hunter watches planetside, transfixed on how your features are framed in the underglow.

He doesn’t know what to make of the feeling settling in his stomach, all warm and sweet and comforting. He’s staring at you, and he can’t help but to think of that one painting in that art gallery you dragged him to: what was it, again? It was really, really colorful…like…like a field of-

“Felucian wildflowers!” The woman tells you, her wrinkly smile edging ear to ear.

“They’re beautiful,” you sigh.

“Yeah…” Hunter breathes, paying no mind to the flowers adorning your frame. “Beautiful.”

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

“What!?”

You’re laughing, a mix of amusement and disbelief that has Hunter fiending–a line under the ocean’s surface, he’ll keep reeling you in until it snaps.

He scoffs, “Don’t believe me?”

You psh, your frame lazily laid out on the hood of his speeder. “I’m supposed to believe you and Tech used to drag race?”

He mimics you, getting cozy on the hood before looking back at you. “I wouldn’t lie to you.”

You meet his eyes and try really hard not to get lost in brown and grey hues, afraid you might never find your way out again. You’re staring at each other, laid out under a starry sky and the white glow of the moon. It’s as if the light is cradling you, he thinks, holding you with the same adoration he’d give a piece of himself for.

“I believe you,” you speak up, and it’s breathless, the heat of want wafting through your lips.

“Okay.” It’s all he says before moving closer to you, head all stuffy as calloused hand reaches out for soft skin to-

The chiming of his comlink yanks him straight back into the parking lot, met with a low groan and your giggling.

He does little to hold back his eye-roll as Wrecker materializes onto the comm, his blue figure fizzing in and out.

“Sarge!” The cheerful nonchalance in his tone relaxes Hunter a bit; at least he didn’t start another kitchen fire.

“Yeah?”

“We're about to start movie night! You comin’?”

Hunter internally curses; he'd been too wrapped up in everything you that movie night had completely slipped his mind. He knew Omega wouldn't want to start without him, and the thought of her waiting up for him pricked at his skin like thorns.

“We're on our way-” The words slip from his lips before he can catch them, and his eyes flit towards your frame.

“Huh? Who's ‘we’?” Wrecker raises a thick brow, slowly putting the pieces together. “Haw! You're with your girlfrie-!”

Hunter closes the channel.

An awkward laugh stumbles through your lips, rolling around in the tension. You try to keep a cool facade, a blank canvas that he won't be able to paint on, but the way you're fidgeting gives him a few colors to start with.

You're reeling, brain jumping around in your skull trying to find somewhere safe to land; We're on our way.

Four simple words, yet they hold the weight of a thousand stars. We–us. Is that what he thought of you? As a part of him? A cog and screw working together to power this machine of fondness creeping up between you two? It has you feeling so secure and tender, yet terrified.

You start to remember the shameless looks and wandering eyes tearing him apart on campus, and it leaves you feeling sick.

Your thoughts wander into someplace creaky and dark, grimy and lifeless. All that sweet heat you'd just felt is swept away by the brittle winds of doubt.

You remember how close she got to him on the desk, running a hand over his shoulder like you weren't sitting right there.

Sick

You remember the one who'd throw her hair back, trying to pry his attention from you. They'd been…involved before, and you remember having to suppress that anger boiling in your gut.

Sick, sick, sick

You don't know how to feel or what to think. You want to give him the benefit of the doubt, assume his intentions are pure, and you know they are, but it's why you're so confused. That fear creeps up your neck, and you try to shoo it away.

“Did you want to come?” He’s asking you, and it pulls you from the muck–but you're still covered in that grime.

“No, I'm okay,” you breathe, and it’s heavy; weighed down by spindles and thorn branches.

He doesn't press you any further, but he's worried. Did Wrecker's words scare you off? Was he sitting too close? Was…was it something you'd want? His head’s spinning, caught in the hamster wheel of conflicting emotions.

He could finalize it right now if he wanted: confess to you what you've already etched on the foundations of his heart, slaying that beast of confusion.

But he can't risk it.

So he plays it safe.

“My frat's throwing a party on the first…I'd like it if you could be there.” He regains that cool huskiness in his voice, and it's got you hot all over again.

You breathe, and try not to let those chilly winds blow you into oblivion. You decide to face toward the sun and give into that warmth; that of trust.

“Okay.”

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

“Hunter?”

He bristles, and the lenses in his eyes adjust their focus, finding Echo’s concerned expression.

“Sorry Echo, I-”

“Do you like her?” He repeats, his tone less weighty this time.

Hunter exhales, briefly looking away. He knows they both know the answer; he may as well have tattooed it next to the skull on his face. Saying it out loud seemed so final: like ink to a page, there was no room for error–no eraser to smudge the truth away. But that’s exactly what it was: the truth. And Hunter wouldn’t lie to you.

“I love her.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

–

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