#Sergeant hound x you

[dystopicjumpsuit]

Watch and Learn, City Boy (Taylor's Version)

Rating: Mature/18+/Minors DNI

Pairing: Sergeant Hound x Fem!Reader

Wordcount: 2.8k

Warnings: fluff; SMUT; oral sex; PIV; playful partners; sex in a tent; dirty talk; Grizzer has seen some shit.

A/N: This was originally written for the Writer Wednesday week 1 challenge, and if you'd prefer to read a smut-free version, you can find it here. If you like spicy lemons, keep reading!

Want to read more Hound goodness? Check out this fic by @imarvelatthestars

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“Remind me why we’re doing this, again?” Hound grumbles as the two of you wrangle a pile of tent poles and canvas.

“Because the hotel didn’t allow massiffs,” you say, grunting a bit as you struggle with the heavy tent.

Technically, the hotel doesn’t allow clones, either, but you leave that unsaid. You had booked the room, paid the pet deposit, and traveled from Coruscant to Alderaan, only to be abruptly turned away at check-in. Before you left, you told the hotel concierge your opinion of their corporate bigotry, and now you are also banned for life. And so here the three of you are, setting up an ancient, decrepit canvas tent that you dug out of your parents’ attic.

Well, technically the two of you are setting up the tent while Grizzer explores your campsite, sniffing the lush greenery of Alderaan with interest. The massiff is accustomed to the hard plastcrete and rancid smells of Coruscant, and you wonder if she’s ever been in nature before.

“Relax,” you say. “I did this all the time growing up. It’ll be fun!”

“Sleeping in the dirt and eating rations is your idea of fun?” Hound asks.

“The tent has a floor,” you point out, “and believe me, we can do better than rations.”

Eventually, you wrestle the tent into submission and get two bedrolls laid out inside. The scent of old canvas, saturated with woodsmoke and memories, pulls you right back to your childhood: camping under the stars, swimming in the lake, lying in the sand and exploring the world around you. You can almost hear the shrieks of laughter and your father’s deep baritone as he sings a lullaby to you and your siblings.

You hang up a few strings of twinkle lights, and then, satisfied with the cozy little retreat you’ve created, you go back outside to get a campfire started. Hound is standing with his arms crossed, looking decidedly unimpressed with the entire situation.

“Has it occurred to you that there are wild animals in these woods?” he asks. “Gree told me about the wolf-cats of Alderaan.”

“Grizzer will keep us safe,” you reassure him. “Won’t you, girl? Who’s my sweet baby?”

Grizzer wiggles happily over to you and nuzzles into your chest as you squat to scritch behind her ear holes.

“Grizzer, have some dignity, for kark’s sake,” Hound says. “You are a soldier of the Republic, not a pampered lap-tooka.”

Grizzer ignores him and flops onto her back to beg for belly rubs. Seeing the way you fawn over the massiff, Hound can’t help but smile, remembering the day he met you.

“Grizzer! NO!” Hound chased after the bolting massiff as she charged an unsuspecting civilian in the middle of Monument Plaza. Grizzer had yanked the leash out of his hands and was running full-tilt through the scattering crowds. Too late, he saw her target: you. You were standing in the sun, laughing with a street vendor, and Hound would have taken a moment to appreciate your beauty if you hadn’t been directly in the path of certain doom. “Grizzer!” he shouted again. “Heel!” You turned toward the commotion with only a few meters between you and the charging massiff. Hound fought the urge to close his eyes before Grizzer launched herself and savaged you, but then something completely unexpected happened. You called out a word in a strange language, and the massiff skidded to a halt in front of you. You allowed her to sniff your hand, and then you pulled something out of your pocket and offered it to her. She took the treat and licked your hand as Hound finally caught up, heaving with exertion. “Sorry, ma’am,” he panted. “She slipped her leash. I don’t know what got into her.” You smiled up at him, and his heart thudded with more than just adrenaline when he saw the way your eyes sparkled. “She just smelled the treats,” you said with a shrug. “We always had massiffs when I was growing up, and I never got out of the habit of carrying a few treats in my pockets. I hope it’s all right that I gave her one; I really didn’t want to lose a hand.” In that moment, Hound knew he was utterly lost.

“Awww, is Daddy grumpy?” you coo at Grizzer as you rub her belly. “Is he a Cranky McGrumperson? Is he spreading his grumpy energy all over our campsite because he’s afraid to get his hands dirty?”

You shoot Hound a teasing look, and he stalks over to you, pulling you away from Grizzer and into his arms for a kiss. You sigh happily. You’ve been seeing Hound for a few weeks now, and you were hoping that a romantic trip to your home planet of Alderaan during his shore leave would give you an opportunity to take things to the next level. You had booked a room at a posh boutique hotel with a luxurious soaking tub and an incredible view of the mountains. Who knew the hoteliers would turn out to be gigantic dicks?

So you made a quick change of plans. You had been worried about Hound’s reaction to the idea of camping, but your other option was to take him to your parents’ home and sleep in your childhood bedroom, which… No thanks. Not the ideal setup for the intimate weekend you are planning.

You break away from Hound’s kiss feeling lightheaded. He’s an excellent kisser, and as you’ve discovered over the past weeks, a man who can kiss like that will bring a similar level of skill and enthusiasm to the bedroom (or the bedroll, as the case may be). Now all you have to do is coax him out of his sullen mood.

“Did I mention I happen to be an amazing cook?” you ask, fluttering your eyelashes.

His interest is immediately piqued. “How are you planning to cook out here?”

“Watch and learn, city boy,” you say with a grin.

One hour, two shaak steaks, and four bottles of ale later, Hound’s temper is remarkably improved. 

“Where did you learn to cook over an open fire like that?” he asks.

“My dad taught me,” you say as you pull out a deck of sabacc cards. “I told you we used to do this all the time when I was a kid. You in?”

He nods, so you shuffle and deal. 

“Your dad sounds like an interesting man,” he says. “Too bad he wasn’t home when we stopped by to get the camping gear. I’d like to meet him.”

You laugh, “Trust me, it’s better this way. You might be ready to take down the entire Separatist army, but you are not prepared for my parents’ boyfriend interrogation.”

“Boyfriend, is it?” Hound asks, his brown eyes twinkling.

“If you play your cards right,” you say with a smirk.

You play a few hands of sabacc, betting with pebbles since Hound doesn’t have any credits, and when it gets too dark to see the cards, you decide to change into pajamas. Grizzer goes into the tent with you and immediately flops down on a bedroll. When you’d packed for your trip, you were planning to be spending your nights in a luxury suite, and your choice of sleepwear was not exactly suited to the great outdoors, so you regretfully tuck away the lacy little chemise. You strip out of your clothes and pull on a pair of short shorts and an old Alderaan University hoodie—the best option you could find in your old bedroom at your parents’ house. 

When you leave the tent, Grizzer stays behind. Hound watches you with an unreadable expression, and you worry that he’s still not having a good time. It’s time to break out the big guns.

“Are you ready to have your mind blown, trooper?” you ask with a flirty look.

He sits forward immediately. “What did you have in mind?”

You bend over and rummage through the bags of groceries you’d bought on your way out of Aldera. When you straighten up, you notice his gaze lingering on your exposed legs. You toss him a packet of marshmallows.

“What are these for?” he asks.

You hand him a stick that you scavenged earlier in the day and teach him how to toast the marshmallows over the coals of the campfire. Hound’s immediately catches on fire, which you assure him is part of the experience. 

“It’s not a real s’more if the marshmallow isn’t at least thirty percent carbon,” you say.

You show him how to sandwich the resulting crispy, molten marshmallow in between layers of chocolate and sweet biscuits, and the bliss on his face when he tastes it for the first time makes the entire trip worthwhile. You haven’t eaten s’mores in years, and you’ve forgotten how rich they are. 

“I think I can only eat one,” you say.

“Not me,” he says. “I’ll eat the whole bag.”

You give him a delighted smile, pleased that he’s finally come around. Hound has such a sweet tooth. All the clones do, he tells you. Something to do with their enhanced metabolisms, and the fact that they rarely get to eat anything other than ration bars and bland mess hall food.

“These are incredible,” he mumbles around a bite. “Messy, though.”

“I can help with that,” you offer. You raise his hand to your mouth, licking the melted chocolate and marshmallow goo off his fingers. “After all, we both know you don’t like to get your hands dirty.”

His eyes widen, and for a moment, he forgets how to breathe. He swallows audibly. “You know, I take it back. Maybe camping isn’t so bad after all.”

You stand up and tug him to his feet, leading him to the tent. Inside, Grizzer has completely claimed one entire bedroll for herself.

“I guess we’ll have to share,” you say, already planning what kind of treat to give the massiff as a thank-you.

“Oh, no, anything but that,” Hound murmurs as he draws you close to him, running his hands down your back to squeeze your ass. “You know, with the lights on in the tent, I could see everything when you were changing.”

“Everything?” you ask, tipping your head back to gaze up into his beautiful amber eyes.

“Well, maybe not everything,” he admits. He slips a hand inside your hoodie to caress the bare skin of your back. 

“Maybe we should turn them off so we don’t scandalize all those wild animals you’re so worried about,” you tease.

“Let them watch,” he says, pulling you into a searing kiss.

Your tongue brushes against his softly. He tastes like sugar and chocolate, and you melt into him. Your hands roam over his body, sliding the jacket down his arms, tugging at his belt. You silently thank the Force that he’s wearing civvies instead of his armor. Once you’ve gotten his trousers off, you both sink to your knees onto the bedroll so you can take his shirt off without hitting the low ceiling of the tent. 

You press him backward until he’s lying down, and you move to straddle him. You’re still wearing your shorts and hoodie, and something about being fully clothed while sitting astride the very naked, very aroused man is intoxicating. You trail your hands over his smooth, brown skin, tracing his tattoos and massaging the hard muscles of his torso. He raises a hand to cup your face, and you kiss the gnarled, twisting scar on his forearm—a memento of a training accident with a young massiff. You roll your hips against him, feeling the hard length of his cock pressing against you through your shorts. He slides his hands up under your hoodie, cupping your breasts before lifting the garment off over your head. The air is chilly, and your nipples stiffen instantly.

“Oh, fuck, look at those perfect tits,” he groans. “Come here, babygirl. Let me taste you.”

You lean forward, and he captures one of your nipples in his mouth. Jolts of arousal flash through you. His large, rough hands are warm against your back, and you can’t hold back a moan of pleasure.

Grizzer huffs an annoyed snort, and without looking at the massiff, Hound commands, “Grizzer, stand guard.”

She stands with a grumble and pushes out of the tent. You hear the heavy thump as she sits down outside the opening.

“Are you telling me you could have gotten that bedroll back this whole time?” you demand with mock severity.

“Where would have been the fun in that?” Hound asks with a smug grin. “Darlin’, you look hot as kriff in those shorts, but I think it’s time to take them off.”

He holds you against his body and flips both of you over in one smooth motion so you’re lying on your back. You let out a whoop of laughter at the unexpected movement.

“Shh, you don’t want the wolf-cats to hear you and come eat us,” he teases, nipping playfully at your skin as he kisses his way down your torso.

“That’s true,” you say. “I’d rather get eaten by a Hound.”

You raise your hips, and he tugs down your shorts, then lifts your legs in the air to remove them. Before you can lie back down, he kneels and drapes your thighs over his shoulders.

“Nice trick,” you say. “Is that the kind of quick thinking that got you into ARF training?”

“They only accept the best,” he says as he lowers his face to your body.

He dips his tongue into you, sliding over your clit and into your entrance without hesitation. You arch off the bedroll with a cry, and he lays a reassuring hand on your abdomen, pressing you back down as he feasts on you. With his other hand, he strokes up and down your thigh, finally coming to rest against your ass as he grazes his thumb over your pussy. 

“Oh, fuck, Hound, don’t stop,” you whisper.

“Hmm?” he asks, pulling away. “Sorry, what was that? I don’t think the wolf-cats heard you.”

“Kriff you, Hound, shut up and eat my pussy,” you laugh, tangling your hands in his long black curls and shoving his head back down. 

He chuckles against your clit and gets back to work. Between his clever tongue and his skilled fingers, he soon has you writhing and begging beneath him, and then he does something impossibly wonderful inside you, and you shatter with a hoarse moan, squeezing your thighs around his head as you grind against his mouth.

And then he is on you, sliding into your tight heat. He fucks you without mercy, wringing a second orgasm out of you almost before you finish your first. You hold on for dear life as he pounds into you, growling words of praise and filth into your ear.

“Look at you, beautiful girl, taking my cock like a champ. Love the way you wrap those soft, perfect thighs around me, oh fuck, sweetheart. So warm, so fucking wet. Come on, baby, think you’ve got one more in you?”

You nod weakly and let out an incoherent sound, unable to form words. He reaches down to rub your clit, pressing against your lower belly. Faster than you think possible, you feel your body winding in on itself again.

“That’s my girl, my pretty girl. Fuck yeah, baby, come on—kark, you feel amazing, oh shit,” he pants. “Give me one more, honey, before I fill your sweet little pussy up with my cum. One more for your grumpy daddy, come on love.”

“YES!” you scream as the tension in your body snaps again and you convulse around his cock, bucking up against him over and over until your head is empty and your body is swamped with bliss.

He follows you into his own orgasm, thrusting hard as he empties deep inside you and collapses onto you, breathing hard. 

“Fuck, baby,” he says. “You’re incredible.”

You lie that way for a long time, tangled together, until he raises himself off of you to lie on his side as he plays with your hair. You turn to face him.

“Daddy?” you ask with a tiny smile.

He shrugs. “It felt right in the moment. Did it bother you?”

You shake your head. “Nope. Just filing it away for future reference.”

He laughs and presses a kiss to your forehead, and within moments, you fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.

The soft light of an early summer morning filters through the canvas of the tent. You awaken slowly, feeling deliciously warm and safe. As you drift towards consciousness, you feel weight pressing against you from both sides, and you realize that at some point during the night, Grizzer has joined you and Hound on your bedroll, sandwiching you between her and the trooper. You are wrapped securely in Hound's strong arms, your legs tangled between his, and his fingers are interlaced with yours. You hear the melodic chirpings of avian-song outside the tent, and you snuggle closer to Hound, feeling his warm, even breaths against your shoulder, and lower, something suspiciously hard nudges against your thigh.

It may not be the romantic getaway you had planned, but this may be your favorite holiday ever.

---

Tagging: @blueink-bluesoul @secondaryrealm @spicy-clones @wings-and-beskar @imarvelatthestars

[the-bad-batch-baroness]

Greetings and grats on 300+!!!

May I request:

• Hound (special appearance Grizz?)

• romantic

• gn!reader

• sfw

• 300

• prompt: 9 - "Help me."

• optional: said by reader; maybe desperate could be inspiration; blue neon lights?

tysm, feel free to ignore if not vibing with it <3 grats again

Kiss Me

Hound x GN!Reader

Pairing: Hound x GN!Reader

Tags & Warnings: fluff, stalker-ish, light angst

Word Count: 300

Author's Note: Moon, sweetie, thank you so much for sending in a request for my event 🥺 I love Hound and was so excited when I saw that you asked for him! I really wanted to go a little further with this one, but that darn 300 word limit stopped me 😒Who knows though, maybe I'll make it into a full-length fic someday! As always, please enjoy 💚

Your pace quickens as you walk down the neon lit street. You take a few random turns, periodically peeking over your shoulder at the man walking your same path. Your unease begins to turn into anxiety as you believe he must be following you. You’ve been trying to lose him, but you're running out of ideas and places to go.

You steal another look behind you and make a sharp turn down the next street. However, your escape is interrupted when you crash into something hard. You gasp and fall backwards onto your butt. When you open your eyes, you’re greeted by a massif sniffing your feet. You startle, but let your eyes follow its leash up to the Coruscant Guardsman holding it.

“Are you alright?” Hound asks, stretching his hand out to help you up. “That was quite a hard hit.” 

You stare at the ARF trooper blankly before getting an idea. "Pretend to be my boyfriend," you say.

"I'm sorry?" Hound questions, wondering if he heard you wrong.

"Kiss me," you insist as you step closer to him.

"What?" Hound takes a nervous step back.

You take a step forward. "Please," you whisper. "Help me. He’s been following me since I left the bar."

Hound can hear the desperation in your voice, and looks behind you to see a man coming around the corner. Without further thought, Hound places his hand on the small of your back and pulls you against him. He lifts up his bucket and presses his lips against yours. After a moment, he breaks the kiss, plants another on your forehead, and watches as the man turns.

“He’s leaving,” Hound says as he lets you go.

“Thank you,” you sigh in relief, before looking at him and smiling. “Can I buy you a caf?”

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A03

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No Foxes In This Hole Masterlist

New to Coruscant and adjusting horribly to your new job as a senator’s aide, you often find yourself lost on the best of days, and the target of her wrath on the worst of them. You could almost swear she’s setting you up to fail as your job standards become more and more impossible. Fortunately for you, you have someone in high places looking out for you before long. 

This series contains: Depictions of anxiety and panic attacks. A brief duration of financial instability. Verbal abuse. Off-screen death. References and allusion to canon-typical violence/injury. Non-typical characterization of Commander Fox and avoidance of certain fanon tropes. Star Wars and real-world swearing. Narrative and stylistic use of italics. **More to be added**

RATING: 16+ | STATUS: In Progress | POV: 2nd Person | Fem Reader

🦊Chapter One: New Territory

🦊Chapter Two: Sniffing About [WIP]

🦊Chapter Three: Digging In [WIP]

Started: 10/10/24 | Completed: 00/00/24 | Total word count: 2,748

[Masterlist] [TCW Masterlist] [Taglist]

[trixie2023]

I love Hound. 🥰. This is so sweet.

Hi there!

Congratulations on the following!! 🥳 from what I've managed to read of your works so far, you more than deserve every single one of them 🎉

Do you mind if I request something for the celebration?

I don't see much work for Hound, so can I ask from the fluff prompts "am I your favorite?" "I like your dog a bit more than you, I won't lie." (and maybe + "shut up and kiss me already.") for him?

SFW fluff, with a fem or gn reader (whichever you think fits best~)

Remember to drink water and unclench your jaw :D

3000 Prompt List Follower Celebration

Hound X GN!Reader

word count: 1k

SFW

Prompts

• “Am I your favourite?” “I like your dog abit more than you, I won’t lie.”

• “shut up and kiss me already.”

Warnings: none, mutual pining and fluff

“You’re drooling more than Grizzer would,” Thorn quipped, interrupting Hound's entranced daze. The sound of Thorn's voice jolted Hound out of his longing thoughts, and he swiveled his head towards the source of the sound.

Dismissing the accusation, Hound grunted, "I don't know what you're talking about," but Thorn only snorted in response.

Hound's infatuation with a certain attractive mechanic was an open secret among the Corrie guards, one that even his brothers knew about. Hound had shared his feelings with one of his brothers in confidence, but as with all secrets, naturally it had quickly spread throughout the barracks. The only person who remained unaware of Hound's feelings was the object of his affections - you.

You sat with your colleagues, trying your best to avoid looking in the direction of Hound's sneaking gaze. You hoped that Hound reciprocated your feelings, but you were too nervous to make the first move. Hound was always kind and gentle towards you, and was actually amazing when it came to advice. Not to mention you though his armor was the coolest of the whole Coruscant Guard.

Eventually, your eyes met across the hall, and you smiled at Hound. He nodded his head slightly, gesturing for you to come over for a chat. After excusing yourself, you made your way to him, meeting him in the far left corner of the mess hall.

"Hey there Mister," you greeted him, trying to suppress the fluttering feeling in your chest. "You wanted to talk to me?"

Hound leaned subtly against the wall, folding his arms across his broad chest. He played it cool, a smirk on his face as his eyes shone with amusement. "Just wanted to see my favorite mechanic, that okay?" he teased with eyes that danced in amusement.

Your lips purse, trying so hard to not smile like an idiot in front of this handsome clone but it was impossible when it came to him. “Oh I’m your favorite, am I?” You jest, matching his teasing.

Hound felt like he was floating on clouds when he spoke to you, finding himself getting so easily lost in your eyes. “Of course. But I’d like to think that in your favorite clone.”

Playfully, you shrug. “I don’t know about that. There are a lot of very nice men here. It’s hard to pick favorites.” You’re joking of course because how could he not be?

The smirk on his face drops, feigning almost ‘puppy dog’ eyes. “Am I your favourite?”

“I like your dog a bit more than you, I won’t lie.”

Hound laughs at that, not being able to maintain his lying innocence. “Yeah, that’s fair enough.” You could feel your cheeks flush as he laughed, a deep and hearty sound that filled the room. His eyes crinkled with amusement, and you found herself unable to look away. It was a laugh that was infectious, and you couldn't help but join in, feeling the warmth and joy that radiated from him.

“But really though,” you say after your laughter once dies down, “do you want to talk about anything in particular?” Your hands took behind your back, tilting back and forth on your heels as you looked up at him.

Hound glances around briefly and is shocked to see that the mess hall was completely empty. How can one person captivate you so much that he didn’t realise that lunch was over and that everyone had gone back to their respected duties? So, without the pressure of his brothers and their watchful gazes he takes a leap of faith.

“I was wondering if, uh…” Hound hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck as he debated whether or not to voice his desire. He felt foolish for even considering the idea that someone as attractive as you would go on a date with him. But your gentle encouragement gave him the courage to speak up.

You watched as shyness spread across Hound's features, and your heart swelled with affection. You reached out and placed a hand on his forearm, a subtle touch of tenderness. "Go on," you urged him softly, "ask me."

Hound stared down at you, searching your eyes for a hint of what you were thinking. He wondered if you were aware of what he was about to ask. Your growing smile gave him hope that his question had already been answered.

In a quiet voice, almost afraid that he would wake up from this dream, Hound asked, "Would you...?" He didn't outright ask you on a date, but he sensed that this was something you both wanted.

You grinned and nodded, teasing him a little. "I sincerely hope this is you asking me on a date, and I've not shot myself in the foot by just assuming you were."

Hound laughed, his eyes crinkling with delight that he had finally mustered the courage to ask you out. "Of course, what else would I ask for?"

You felt emboldened by the moment and decided to take a risk. After all, both of you had confessed some level of attraction towards each other. "I don't know," you said playfully, "maybe you were going to ask me for a kiss."

His eyes widened beautifully and you watched as a staggered breath brushed past his parted lips. “And what would your answer be to that?”

The tips of your ears tingle with heat as you anticipate his response to your playful comment. You nervously bite on the inside of your cheek before a smile spreads on your lips, revealing your pearly whites. "Probably something along the lines of 'shut up and kiss me already'," you say with a hint of mischief.

And just like that, he closes the distance between you, his hands cupping either side of your face with a tenderness that takes your breath away. His thumbs glide along your soft skin, leaving a trail of warmth behind as he leans down to meet your lips. The moment your lips connect, it's as though time stands still and the world fades away. The kiss is gentle yet passionate, the kind that leaves you yearning for more.

You don't think about who could be watching because in that moment, the only thing that matters is the electricity that ignites between you and Hound. Your heart flutters with joy and your body feels weightless as you wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, pulling him closer to deepen the kiss.

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[persevereforahappyending]

No Man's Land |6|

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x Reader

Summary: Sam can’t help but be drawn to the cute stranger from her gym, even if everything about them makes them the perfect suspect, just when Ghostface has returned.

Warnings: Talks of Killing and Death

Word Count: 4k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11

Almost as soon as Sam stepped outside, she was bombarded with reporters. She was thankful that she didn’t see Tara around, that meant Kirby got her out of there without getting hounded by the media. Sam tried ignoring the cameras and microphones being shoved in her face as she pushed through the crowd. Everyone was screaming questions at her, asking if Ghostface was back, if she was a suspect, who this new Ghostface was, if the killings were connected to her, if this was all because of her father.

Sam kept her head down, focusing on the concrete and not on the dozens of people crowding her. She was about to crack when she felt a strong-arm wrap around her, the grip tightened as they pushed through the crowd. She turned to see you, staring straight ahead, your arm that wasn’t around her was stretched out, keeping the reporters at bay. Sam couldn’t help but let out a relieved breath when the two of you finally broke free of the crowd and she could see the road and a taxi already sitting there.

She nearly sprinted to the taxi and opened the door without bothering to look back at the reporters, she learned quickly it was best to ignore them. “Gale Weathers,” Sam heard a voice say. She didn’t bother holding in her groan as she gripped the door to the cab tighter. “Channel Four.”

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” Sam asked, whipping around and glaring at Gale.

Gale just laughed at her making Sam frown and only glare at her harder. “Do you think Ghostface is going to go after others since he failed to get you?” Gale held the mic out to Sam.

Sam scoffed, shaking her head, Gale sure had a lot of nerve. Gale knew better than anyone that Ghostface didn’t go attacking random people, not unless they were in the way, every victim was intentional. “No comment,” Sam said harshly.

“What about you, hero,” Gale redirected her attention to you. “Do you think saving Samantha Carpenter’s life has made you a target now?”

You just stared at Gale, it didn’t look like you had been phased at all by her questioning or by anything that was going on at the moment. “She said no comment,” you said. You stared Gale down then flicked a glare at her camera man before turning back to Sam.

Sam didn’t realize she was still staring at you in awe until you pushed the car door open a little more and gave her a nod. Sam looked down, trying to cover the blush she was sure was on her face before quickly jumping in the cab. You were right behind her, slamming the door shut and giving one final glare to Gale and the rest of the reporters.

You gave the taxi driver your address and then the two of you sat in silence. There were a million things going through Sam’s head, she had so many things she wanted to say to you, and she didn’t know where to start. She needed to apologize, she needed to thank you, she needed to explain herself, then on top of all that, she had all these questions that she had no right to ask. You had seemed completely comfortable with jumping into fight Ghostface, you didn’t hesitate in any of your movements, and every time you slashed the knife it was with the intent to kill, even after getting stabbed you still swiped the knife at Ghostface. On top of all that, you didn’t seem too affected by being stabbed, you had other scarring all over your body, and Kirby had called you sergeant. Sam wasn’t sure if you were in the military or law enforcement or what, but it was clear you had training.

“Sorry about the cab,” you said, breaking the silence and Sam’s thoughts about what to say to you. “My Jeep is still at my house.”

“It’s-It’s fine,” Sam brushed it off, looking at you. “And if anything, you shouldn’t be apologizing, when I should be thanking you.” You turned your head, finally meeting Sam’s eyes for the first time since leaving the station. “So, thank you.”

You gave a little shrug. “It was nothing, really.”

“But it was, odds are you’re now a target all because you saved me.” Sam ignored the glance from the cab driver in his rearview mirror.

“And I would do it again.” There was no hesitation in your voice. Sam couldn’t decide if this really was nothing for you, if you truly weren’t concerned about any of it, or if you didn’t know anything. “I don’t run from danger.”

“So, you just run to it?” Sam raised an eyebrow.

You silently chuckled and Sam couldn’t help but give a little smile, she had never seen you smile, let alone laugh, even if it was a small one. “It’s kind of my job.”

“Which is? Kirby called you sergeant.”

You nodded. “Army, special forces.”

Sam let out a whistle. “Well, seems Ghostface is the one who doesn’t know what they’re getting into.”

“That’s for sure,” you smirked.

Sam’s head whipped back up to you. “Do you know something?” she watched you closely, there was still no visible reaction.

Kirby might not have trusted you, but she had enough doubts about you being Ghostface that she didn’t try and hold you longer at the police station and she didn’t put up much of a fight when Sam said she’d go with you to your house. It didn’t stop the thoughts of if Bailey was right from piercing her mind. She wanted to trust you, you were strong and clearly had skills, you saved her life, plus she liked you, but all of that could mean you were Ghostface. Every thought in her mind suddenly stopped, she was being paranoid, if you were Ghostface that meant you set up the whole gym attack, which just seemed crazy. Though crazy and seemingly illogical plans seemed to be Ghostface’s thing, maybe she made a mistake getting into the cab with you and inviting you back to the apartment where the others would be, where her sister would be.

“Having regrets about tagging along?” you asked, snapping her out of her thoughts. Yes, she was, it was like you were reading her mind. She wasn’t sure if that should put her at ease or make her more on edge.

“Have you ever killed anyone?” she blurted out. She tried not to pay any mind to the cab driver whose eyebrows rose, and how his eyes kept going from staring at the road in front of them to the rearview mirror.

You glanced at her out of the side of your eye, though you didn’t seem offended by the question. “You’re not supposed to ask that.” Sam frowned; it was a rather rude thing to ask. If you were special forces, it was a fair assumption that you probably had, but normal people didn’t tend to like to talk about that type of stuff. She opened her mouth to apologize when you continued, “But yes.” Sam could see the way the cab driver’s eyes widened slightly, and his eyes instantly dropped from the rearview mirror to stare straight ahead again.

Usually learning someone has killed before would make a person more nervous but it oddly eased Sam’s worries. The fact that you didn’t try and lie or didn’t brush her off, that you answered and didn’t elaborate or try and defend anything was what eased Sam’s worries about you. If you were Ghostface or the mastermind behind these knew attacks she figured you’d try and justify your actions, saying it was part of the job, they were the enemy, or something, anything to get Sam to understand and let her guard down, but you didn’t do any of that.

“You never answered my first question,” Sam said. She couldn’t let her guard down yet, you knew something, and until she knew what that was you were a potential threat. “Do you know something?”

“We’re here,” is all you said.

Sam rolled her eyes; you were being incredibly difficult with your short responses. She didn’t understand how she could have a conversation with you and learn more about you in a cab ride than she had in the last few months at the gym, but you still somehow came off as even more mysterious. You were somehow a lot simpler and easier to understand when you were just the cute stranger from her gym who liked to box.

You paid the cab driver and opened the door, stepping aside so Sam could slide out and close it behind her. Sam looked around; it definitely wasn’t the nicest neighborhood, but it certainly didn’t seem like the worst. Sam followed you through the metal gate in front of a single level white house. It was tucked between two other houses, leaving hardly any room on the side of the house but you had a front yard with a small patch of grass that was fenced in.

You didn’t have much else though, the grass wasn’t dead, so it was clearly taken care of, but you didn’t have any plants or a garden of any kind. The only thing in the driveway was your Jeep, which she wouldn’t know for sure until she saw the inside of your house, but it seemed like the nicest thing you owned, it had large wheels clearly meant for off roading, if the dried mud splattered on the side was anything to go by and it was a four door, giving you ample room for stuff or people, but Sam had a feeling it was used more for stuff. Even your porch was bare, not even a chair to sit on. If Sam were just walking past the house the only thing that would indicate there was someone possibly living there was the fact that the grass wasn’t overgrown.

She followed you up the concrete steps and waited as you put the key in the door. Your house wasn’t run down by any means, it was taken care of, there was no paint peeling or siding falling off, it just seemed empty. You pushed open the door, giving it a good shove when it got stuck. Sam moved to follow you but froze when she heard a deep growl.

Her head snapped up and past you and deeper in the room was a snarling German shepherd. Sam clenched her fists that were shoved in her pockets, she didn’t dare move, the dog continued to growl and bare its teeth, making sure they were on full display.

“No,” you commanded. You held up your hand in a stop motion and the dog instantly snapped its mouth shut and sat down as if it hadn’t just been ready to attack.

You walked over to the dog and gave it a good pat, scratching behind its ears. It looked up at you and Sam could see the tail wagging, but the dog continued to sit. Sam also stayed where she was, she had no desire to step into your home and be mauled by your dog. As much as Sam wanted to back out and just stay outside, she was afraid to move, she was pretty sure she always heard you weren’t supposed to run from a dog because then they’d chase you.

You glanced back at Sam, and she could swear there was a slight smirk on your lips. “You can come in,” you said. Sam started to move her hands out of her pockets but when the dog’s head snapped to her, she froze again. You fully turned around but still kept a hand on the dog, never stopping running your finger through her coat and behind her ears. “She won’t hurt you.”

“I’m inclined to disagree,” Sam said, looking at the dog warily. She had never been afraid of dogs before, but she wasn’t stupid, if that dog charged at her it definitely wouldn’t be pretty.

You chuckled and crouched down to rub your hands up and down the dog’s neck and under her chin. She was a mostly black German shepherd with bits of brown on her legs, neck, and belly. “She’s harmless.” Sam raised an eyebrow, giving you a disbelieving look, there was no way you could convince her that dog was harmless. “Unless you attack me. So, just,” you nodded your head back and forth as you stood back up. “Don’t do that.”

Sam nodded unsurely but crossed the threshold, stepping into your home fully. She closed the door behind her without turning around, just because you said the dog was friendly didn’t mean she was taking her eyes off it. Sam opted to stay near the door, not wanting to do anything to trigger the dog. The dog also stayed put, it was just Sam and the dog, staying in place and staring each other down, though at least she wasn’t growling at Sam anymore.

You moved away from the dog and into the kitchen which was just past the living room. Sam heard you shuffling around and when you turned around, she saw you scooping some dog food into a bowl. After you set the food bowl down on the floor you came back up with another one, dumping the old water out before giving it a quick rinse and filling it with fresh water.

“How long should this whole thing take?” you asked. Sam finally took her eyes away from the dog to look up at you. “I just need to know if I need my buddy to take her,” you glanced at your dog. “Or he just needs to stop by and let her out.”

Sam shoved her hands in her pockets again and gave a little shrug. “Usually, these psycho’s only make this go over the course of a few days,” she answered. “But you might not want her to be here,” she nodded at the dog, who just tilted her head curiously at Sam. “Ghostface might come here looking for you.”

You chuckled as you put the fresh bowl of water down. “Then I feel sorry for him. Artemis there,” you pointed to the dog. “Is a military dog. She was trained for combat, to take down bad guys with guns, and people shooting all around her.”

“Artemis?” Sam couldn’t help but smile at the name. She looked down when she saw the dog’s ear twitch at hearing her name.

You shrugged as if it was an obvious choice. “Goddess of the hunt.”

“I didn’t think dogs usually came home with soldiers. Aren’t there rules for that?”

“Normally, but she isn’t active duty.” You walked back to the living room and leaned against the doorframe as you looked at your dog with nothing but love. “Got injured and had to retire.” Sam frowned at that, even though she’d never admit that she was slightly scared of the dog she couldn’t imagine what kind of injury she had to suffer to be retired. “That doesn’t mean she can’t still take someone down.”

Sam let out a hum. Based on the greeting she got she wasn’t surprised by that statement. “Let me change and we can go,” you said. Sam nodded and watched as you turned around, walking through the kitchen and into the bedroom in the back.

She bounced on her feet as she waited for you to return. She glanced around your place, the walls were bare, there was a couch, a coffee table, a TV, and a video game console plugged in. It really didn’t seem like someone actually lived in the house, she figured she should count herself lucky that it seemed like you had an actual bed and not just a mattress on the floor. Sam jumped back when she felt a wet nose brush against her. She looked down to see Artemis had moved and was now standing directly in front of her, sniffing her.

“Hello,” Sam said awkwardly. She slowly removed her hand from her pocket and hesitantly held it out for the dog to sniff. Artemis gave her hand a few sniffs before beginning to lick it. Sam couldn’t help but smile, when she wasn’t growling and showing her teeth Artemis was rather adorable.

“You still never answered my question,” Sam called out. “What do you know about Ghostface?” she knelt down to get on eye level with Artemis to pet her better.

You popped your head through the doorway of your bedroom just as you finished pulling your fresh shirt down. “I don’t know anything about Ghostface,” you said.

“Are you kidding me?” Sam looked up. There was no way you didn’t know who Ghostface was, it was too famous of a story, there were so many books and movies about the attacks. “You expect me to believe you don’t know the story?”

“Of course, I know the story,” you continued shuffling around your room. “I’ve never seen any of the movies, I’ve only seen a couple articles or whenever there’s a new attack, of course I’ve heard people talk about it.”

Sam sucked in a breath and nodded. She could believe that. Horror wasn’t really her thing, that was always Tara, she probably never would have seen the movies or known as much as she does if she hadn’t grown up in Woodsboro, and of course if Billy Loomis wasn’t her father. “So, do you know who I am?”

You crouched down at the nightstand beside your bed before looking back at Sam. “I’ve heard whispers,” you admitted. “But I wasn’t in the country last year so no offense, but I had other priorities when whatever was happening to you and your friends.”

“You didn’t look me up just from the rumors? Someone like you,” you raised an eyebrow as if daring her to finish that sentence. “You don’t want to know who’s coming into your gym?”

You let out a sigh and rested a hand on the edge of the nightstand. “Everyone is entitled to their privacy. I also know how the media can be spun; I prefer to form my own opinions.” Sam nodded, she never thought about what you might have seen or done and how the military and media might have spun things for the general public or covered things up.

You looked back to your nightstand, opening the drawer before doing something that looked like pressing buttons, though Sam couldn’t see inside the drawer from where she was. A second later you flipped open the door to whatever was in the drawer and reached down to grab something. When your hand came back it was holding a gun. Sam sucked in a breath but didn’t say anything or move from where she was still petting your dog. You glanced at her as you checked the gun before putting the magazine in and sticking the gun in a holster at your back. You fixed your shirt and if Sam hadn’t literally just seen you put the gun where you did, she wouldn’t have been able to tell you had one on you.

 Sam didn’t know you. You were a complete and total stranger to her; it didn’t matter if you had saved her life. There was no reason for Sam to trust you, to not say anything about the gun and still allow you to come back to the apartment with her. But she didn’t, she kept her mouth shut, she couldn’t explain it but a part of her felt like she could trust you, she wanted to trust you. She also knew all too well how handy a gun could be in these situations and if Ghostface didn’t know you had one then it would only be a plus.

“You asked what I know,” you said as you came back through the kitchen and leaned against the doorframe to the living room again. “I know whoever I fought in that gym is untrained. They had absolutely no experience handling a knife, if it wasn’t for the other one catching me off guard they didn’t stand a chance.”

Sam pulled herself back to her feet, smiling as she watched Artemis walk back over to you. “Most of them don’t have training,” Sam said, nodding along. “In every previous attack they’ve always been seemingly normal people, high school or college kids.”

“They were disorganized. The only reason the one caught up to you was because you tripped. The gym seemed like unknown territory to them.”

“I wasn’t supposed to be there,” Sam ran a hand through her hair. “It was an impulsive decision.”

“Meaning they’re watching you.”

Sam’s eyes snapped wide open. “I shouldn’t be surprised,” she crossed her arms over her chest. “After all, my last relationship was all a lie to try and set me up.” You raised an eyebrow at that. “Long story.”

“Well, it’s hard to make a plan of action without all the information.” You crossed the room until you were standing only a few feet from Sam, Artemis falling alongside you. “If I’m going with you then I need to know what I’m getting into.”

Sam’s grip tightened around her jacket, but she nodded, it was only fair. It wouldn’t be right to literally drag you into her mess and basically expect you to help protect the others and not tell you why any of this was happening. “It will be easier when we get to my apartment, with the others.”

You nodded and grabbed your sweatshirt before leading Sam out the door. “Also,” she said, turning back to face you. “Expect a lot of questions from my sister and her friends, we’re not exactly a trusting bunch.”

You only lightly chuckled at that. “Great, another interrogation,” you said but there was a small smile on your lips. You scratched the top of Artemis’s head and behind her ears before telling her to go eat. Sam could hear the sound of claws clacking against the wood floor as you closed the door. “Are we allowed to take my Jeep?” you asked.

Sam opened her mouth, about to deny it, but ended up nodding. She had already ridden in a cab alone with you and came to your house, also alone, getting in your car hardly seemed like that big of a deal. She also couldn’t argue that not having to pay for a cab back to the apartment would be nice, she didn’t think you were too far from her place but with everything going on she didn’t need the cab fee on top of it all.

Sam slipped into the passenger seat and looked at you as you pulled out onto the street. “Why are you doing this?” she asked. You were a stranger and were literally getting involved in something you had nothing to do with. Anyone else would have told Sam to piss off and would have gone back to their life, never to think about her again.

You eased on the break as you came to the stop sign at the end of your street. “Because you need help,” you said like it was simple. “I can’t just walk away when I know someone is actively trying to hurt you.”

“But I’m no one, I’m hardly worth all this.” You turned out onto the main road.

“I told you, it’s not in my nature to just turn my back on someone who needs help. And it’s clear the authorities can’t be relied on.” Sam scrunched her brow at that. “I don’t know about agent Reed, but I don’t trust Bailey.” You spared her a quick glance. Sam had never questioned Bailey until this new Ghostface, specifically his clear distrust of you. “I might not know you very well, but no one deserves all this,” you gestured with one hand. “You don’t deserve to be hunted down by some psycho.”

“Thank you,” Sam whispered. She really didn’t know what else to say. She knew she was the one to ask you to join them, but you didn’t owe them anything. You were going above and beyond for some random girl at your gym. Sam couldn’t help the small smile that appeared on her face as she looked at you, your eyes glued to the road. Maybe you were one of the good ones after all, maybe Sam wasn’t completely cursed to only attract darkness.

Taglist: @thatshyboy1998 @artrizzler19 @btay3115 @acutenobody @godamnityess

[boozenboze]

1.The Blood Hound

Task Force 141 x Roberta!Male reader Summary: The new recruit was...a strange one. Never really spoke much and always strayed behind the others whenever walking together. Ever since his arrival, none of them could shake the feeling that he wasn't your average soldier... Side note- Teleiotís is the greek word for Terminator

Females: She/Her, She/They DNI Teleiotís. That was the call sign M/n had acquired during his time in the military. He was a new sergeant in the 141, and the others were fully accepting. Although, there was something about him that didn't sit right. There was never much information about him on his file, not even his age, not much about his background as well. Though after asking how long he had been on the field, the other members of the Task Force concluded that the male had to be in his early 20's. As for details of his upbringing, that was all classified.

Ever since his arrival, he had always been the strange one out of the team, but nevertheless he had proven himself time and time again. Even with that, they all still had their suspicions, especially Ghost. The man was always so calm, and the constant professional tone wasn't something he could get used too. He was used to Soap speaking freely and Gaz using some slang as he spoke, but M/n, he had never seen the man speak that way. Not to mention how he never got angry at anyone, no matter if someone is literally screaming in his face his demeanor never wavered.

It was clear that M/n was a well mannered young man, hell overly well mannered if anything. He had never once been disrespectful to anyone which was something many other soldiers found honorable. Then again, none of them truly know who M/n really is.

//////

It was a normal day so far, everyone either training, signing paperwork, or soldiers just coming back from missions. Gaz and Soap were talking about nothing in particular while Price sat at the coffee table, sipping some tea. M/n sat on the couch, sitting completely straight and upright as his hands stayed positioned on his lap. This was...normal, now to say the least due to the others having gotten used to the male and his unique quirks.

Ghost had entered the room, not making his presence known like usual, nearly giving Price a heart attack when he saw the man just standing in the doorway. Ghost's steps were swift but calculated as he loomed over M/n, who had noticed his arrival but hadn't acknowledged him. There was a brief silence before the h/c male spoke up, his overly round glasses hiding his eyes as he looked up at Ghost, his gaze meeting Ghost's more intense one.

"Do you need any assistance lieutenant?" M/n asked, tone overly perfect and well mannered like usual.

Ghost said nothing, gaze sharpening as he stared down at the man. There was an obvious tension in the air, one so thick that it could be cut with a knife. Soap and Gaz went silent as they watched what was happening, Price doing the same, brow risen as he set his tea down.

"Something wrong Ghost?" Price asked, tone authoritative yet curious as to what had gotten the large man worked up.

"Yeah 's something wrong mate?" Gaz asked, leaning against the counter top as Soap smirked.

There was more silence....then more silence...

"Come with me." Ghost finally spoke, walking out of the room just as silently like when he had first entered. The air in the room immediately changed, a sense of relief washing over the room. M/n had stood up walking in the same direction that Ghost had gone in. He turned down the corridor and saw Ghost standing by the door to the training room. Ah yes, the common occurrence where Ghost wants to test M/n's strength.

You may be wondering why, but Ghost had always had the feeling that the man was holding back. See, M/n wasn't the tallest nor most muscular looking guy you'd see, he had a very average build and doesn't look like he'd be a major problem to enemies on the field. That's where Ghost's suspicions kick in, despite the mans lack of obvious physical strength and endurance, anytime he had gotten a serious injury on the field he'd still moved like he was completely fine. But every time M/n sparred with him, the others, or any other soldiers, he always seemed like he wasn't giving his all. To Ghost, it seemed like the h/c haired male let whoever was sparring him beat him, and that was something Ghost didn't like. Not at all.

Instead of straight sparring with M/n, Ghost decided that an arm wrestle would do. He won the first round, the second round...the the third.... Despite the mask covering his face, Ghosts' annoyance was very clear. To him it was like the man wasn't even trying, not attempting to win at all.

"Is there a reason why you aren't trying to beat me Teleiotís." Ghost asked, tone gruff and harsh as he glared down at the smaller male. He tightened his grip on the other mans hand, gaze not easing up at all as he waited for a response.

M/n was silent for a moment, opening his mouth to say something before he was interrupted by a loud explosion outside the base. His own grip on Ghost's hand tightened as he froze in place. A few seconds passed before Gaz and Soap came bustling through the door.

"H-hey, ain't nothing to worry about." Soap said, giving a thumbs up with a nervous closed eye smile

"One of the rookies accidentally dropped their grenade and it went off..." Gaz continued, his voice trailing off as his gaze landed on M/n's arm. Remember how it was mentioned earlier that M/n doesn't have a lot of muscle? Well imagine the look on the mans face when he saw a large bicep popping out of the h/c haired males arm. There were highly noticeable veins running through it as well, going all the way up to his hand that had Ghost's hand in a death grip.

Soap had noticed it to, his eyes popping out of his skull as his gaze locked onto the mans arm. Ghost took M/n's current state of surprise to try and force his arm down, and to his surprise, the main didn't even budge. Not even an inch. Ghost was the one struggling this time, and it further proved that there was more to the enigmatic soldier. "Teleiotís.....Teleiotís!" Ghost rose his voice, making M/n snap back into reality. His grip on Ghost's hand went slack and his arm went back to normal. He quickly excused himself and exited the premises, leaving the other 3 men to question what just happened.

//////Timeskip//////

Price had been in his office, doing some paperwork and going through files. When he was done, he pulled out another file that had M/n's name on it. Unbeknownst to the others, he and Laswell had been doing their own research on the man. He had searched through very old files, and Laswell even looked up his name. As expected nothing came up but a few images of random stuff or random websites. She then got the idea to search up his call sign, Teleiotís.

Because of this, the 141 were about to lead down a rabbit hole of secrets, and the secrets of the strange mans past are something much darker than anything.

//////

(A/n: Part 2 guaranteed, and if it doesn't come out bash me. I have like 3 other things that i've been writing part 2 for.😵‍💫)

[dystopicjumpsuit]

Fic Masterlist

Hello there.

Thanks for stopping by! This is my masterlist of Star Wars fics. I'll update it as I publish new works. Please note that most of my fics contain mature content and are intended for readers over 18. Enjoy, and feel free to drop a comment any time; I love connecting with fellow readers and writers. May the Force be with you!

Updated Nov. 25, 2024

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Longfics

Stars Beyond Number. (AO3 link, complete)

Soldiers. Heroes. Deserters. Traitors. They've been called many things. As the Galactic Empire rises from the ashes of the Republic, a small group of clone troopers and their allies will find a new identity: Rebels.

Echo, Rex, and Gregor are on a mission to save as many of their brothers as they can. The task is daunting, and their friends are few. But from these small and desperate beginnings will come a spark of resistance that will set the galaxy ablaze.

Cerra Kilian GAR Personnel Datafile

Cerra Kilian Portrait and Character Info

Martyrs and Kings. (AO3 link, complete) Star Wars meets light academia. A post-stasis Kix longfic. Clone medic Kix is a man displaced in time. Captured by Separatists and put into cryostasis when he learned the truth about the clones' inhibitor chips, he awakens fifty years after the end of the Clone Wars. The Republic is gone. The galaxy has changed. And now, the last clone trooper searches for answers with the help of a New Republic historian.

🍋 "Martyrs and Kings AND ZOMBIES!!!" 🍋 - a spooky, sexy one-shot sequel.

Jedi

Cal Kestis

Request: "Cuddles of consolation after a bad day" (GN)

Dark Side

Savage Opress

Part 1: Between the Shadow and the Soul

Part 2: No Other Way (November 30)

Part 3: Without Knowing How (December 7)

Part 4: So Close (December 14)

501st Legion

Torrent Company x Reader

Headcanons: Watching a Scary Movie Holovid with Torrent Company

Rex x Reader

🍋 "No Sleep Till Coruscant" 🍋

Request: "Soft looks while cuddling" (GN)

Jesse x Reader

Jesse First Kiss Ficlet (GN)

🍋 "In Which Jesse Gets What He Deserves" (AKA the cuddlefuck fic) 🍋  

🍋"She's Such a Scream"🍋  

Hardcase x Reader

"A Question of Seman-dicks" (GN)

"Hey, Sunshine 💙" (GN)

Dogma x Reader

Quote prompt ficlet (GN)

Tup x Reader

Tup fanart!

🍋 "Do It Again" 🍋

🍋 "Tup à Trois"🍋

The Bad Batch

Hunter x Reader

First kiss ficlet (GN)

🍋 "I Wish All Readers a Very Hunter Life Day"🍋

Crosshair x Reader

"I Know." (GN)

Request: "I'm Right Here." (GN, followup to "I Know.")

"The Plant Prowler of Pabu" (GN)

🍋"Too Early"🍋

Tech x Reader

Request: "Feeling the rumble of their chest when they talk while cuddling/Needing their cuddles even though they have something else to do" (GN)

Request: "Putting your ear against their heart" (GN)

Wrecker x Reader

Request: "Trying to crawl under their shirt" (GN)

212th Attack Battalion

Commander Cody x Reader

"Someday" (GN)

🍋"The Night Before Someday"🍋 (GN)

Boil x Reader

"Double, Double Boil and Trouble (Part 1)" (GN)

"Double, Double Boil and Trouble (Part 2)"

"Double, Double Boil and Trouble (Part 3)"

🍋"Double, Double Boil and Trouble (Part 4)🍋

Art: "Boil deserves to feel pretty" (mildly 🍋. Let's say 🍊)

🍋"Double, Double Boil and Trouble (Part 5)"🍋

Waxer x Reader

"The Sixth Language (part 1)"

"The Sixth Language (part 2)"

"The Sixth Language (part 3)"

🍋 "The Sixth Language (part 4)" 🍋

"The Sixth Language (epilogue)"

104th Battalion - Wolfpack

Wolffe x Reader

"Sweet as Summer Rain"

🍋"Just a Little Bit More"🍋

Coruscant Guard

Commander Fox x Reader

🍋"In the Matter of Marshal Commander Fox vs. the Stocking Kink, the Court Finds the Defendant Filthy."🍋

Hound x Reader

“Watch and Learn, City Boy, Part 1: Summer" T version | 🍋 M version 🍋

🍋"Watch and Learn, City Boy, Part 2: Autumn"🍋

Other Clones

Alpha-17 x Reader

🍋"Who's the Alpha Now?" 🍋 (GN)

🍋"Who's the Alpha Now? Part 2"🍋

Neyo x Reader

🍋 "Everybody Hates Neyo." 🍋

🍋 "Everybody Hates Neyo Round 2: Matchmaking Boogaloo" 🍋 (reader got converted to OC)

Neyo first kiss ficlet (GN)

Mayday x Reader

Accidental first kiss ficlet (GN)

"A Match for Mayday, Chapter 1" (collaboration with @nika6q)

"A Match for Mayday, Chapter 2" 

🍋"A Match for Mayday, Chapter 3" 🍋

🍋"A Match for Mayday, Chapter 4" 🍋

O'Niner x Reader

🍋 "Nine Lives for Sergeant O'Niner" 🍋 (cowritten with @anxiouspineapple99) 

Sev (RC-1207) x Reader

"Are You Sure About This?" (GN)

🍋 “Turn It Up When You’re Gone.” 🍋 Part 1

🍋 “Turn It Up When You’re Gone.” 🍋 Part 2

🍋 “Turn It Up When You’re Gone.” 🍋 Part 3

Mandalorians

Jango Fett x Reader

"Promises and Pastry"  

Fenn Rau x Reader

🍋 Fenn Rau Thots 🍋

"The Protector of Chopper Base" (GN)

Request: Falling Asleep in Each Other's Arms (GN)

Please don't put my work through AI programs or repost elsewhere. Also, if you’d like custom dividers, feel free to send a request via DM or Ask; I love designing these! But please don’t use mine without permission.

[vodika-vibes]

Do It For Me

Summary: You are a Forensic Scientist who has been put in charge of the lab for Coruscant in spite of your youth and your relative inexperience. Due to budget cuts and the fact that there's so much crime on Coruscant, you are severely overworked. Hound takes an issue with that.

Pairing: Pre-ARF Trooper Hound x F!Reader

Word Count: 1837

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: I was writing a Fives fic and it was turning into hot garbage, so I wrote something else instead. And I'm in a Hound mood for some reason. AND I made a new divider for this story specifically.

You are severely overworked. 

You know this. You’ve known this for years. And yet no one seems all that interested in making it better.

You thought, hoped, prayed, that the creation of the Coruscant Guard was going to lessen your workload.

It didn’t. In fact, it just made you busier.

Now there are a lot more men out there investigating crimes, and sending their evidence to your lab, and the same number of techs trying to analyze the evidence.

The turnover rate at your lab is, frankly, embarrassing. 

You’re the employee who’s been here the longest, and you’ve only been here for two years. The fact that you’re now in charge of the lab, at barely 24 years old, is horrifying.

But none of the people who trained you were willing to stay.

And you can’t even keep new hires around for longer than a couple of months.

In fact, you once had a recent graduate that you interviewed and hired, who took one look at her to-do stack, and resigned. She worked less than an hour. You hadn’t even had time to finish filing her paperwork before she resigned.

It was impressive. 

But as impressive as it was, it didn’t help with the fact that you’re one person doing the job of five.

You haven’t seen your apartment in a week.

You haven’t had a vacation since you were hired.

You haven’t slept more than 6 hours a night in over six months.

And still, still, the work keeps piling up.

At this point, every time you close your eyes, you see blood splatter and blaster round trajectory and dead bodies. Every night for the last week, you’ve had nightmares about the morgue-

You need a break.

Desperately. 

But, in the end, it doesn’t matter what you need. Because crimes keep happening, people keep dying, and the evidence keeps piling up, and there aren’t enough employees for anyone to even take a day off, let alone a vacation.

You push your fingers through your hair, pulling it out of the tail only long enough to use your fingers as a brush, and then you pull your hair into a messy knot, and focus your exhausted eyes back on the file in front of you.

30 year old Nautolan Male, found murdered in the lower level. Coroner's report indicates that he was executed, two bolts to the back of the head. Victim was a known member of the Justic-

The words start blurring on the page, and you sigh and press the palms of your hands over your eyes.

You are so kriffing tired.

There’s a sharp knock on your door, and you lift your head as someone clad in gray and white armor walks in. The locations of the colors indicate that he’s a member of the Coruscant Guard, and the colors themselves indicate that he’s an ARF Trooper.

Not for the first time, you curse the fact that the Guard doesn’t allow for more unique body armor paint.

You squint at him for a moment, waiting for your eyes to agree with you so you can focus better on the man standing in front of you. “What’s wrong, Sen’ika, can’t recognize me?”

You recognize the light tone, and familiar nickname, before you recognize the man, and you send up a silent prayer of thanks that the clones only have identical faces, and not identical personalities.

“Hound,” You even sound tired to your own ears, and as he comes closer to you, you see a concerned expression on his face, “Ah, sorry. Sergeant.” You correct hastily.

“You don’t have to use my rank, Sen’ika.” He crouches next to your desk, his sharp eyes taking in the bags under your eyes, the way your hands are trembling, and the blanket and pillow on your couch. “When was the last time you went home and slept?” He asks, his voice gentle.

“Does it look like I have time for that?” You ask as you rub your tired eyes, “I dunno, it’s been a week, I think.”

“Sen’ika,” Hound frowns at you, “This isn’t healthy.”

“It’s not like crime stops because I need to sleep,” You grouch, “And the evidence keeps piling up, and I can’t get anyone to stay longer than a few months and-” You trail off, “And you have another case for me, don’t you?” Your voice becomes dull and almost lifeless.

Hound stares at you for a moment, and then he flashes a small smile. “I don’t, actually. I just wanted to come and see you.”

You squint at him, “Come and see me? Why?”

“Do I need a reason?”

“...I guess not?” You ask, bewildered.

“Exactly!” Hound smoothly slides something onto your desk while you watching him, bewildered, and then he takes your hands and lightly pulls you to your feet, “We’re taking a trip.”

“I can’t! I have-”

“You have a legal requirement to take an hour break every 6 hours.” Hound interrupts, “How many hours have you been working? More than 6 I’m guessing.”

“...Yeah, maybe.” You don’t fight him as he draps an arm over your shoulder and he guides you out of your office, and down the hall, and then outside, to where Grizzer is waiting.

The large massiff immediately bounces around your feet, and you duck slightly to give her a scratch. You’re a familiar person to her, likely because of how often you bump into Hound at various crime scenes.

“You never did tell me where we’re going.” You say to Hound once you straighten back up.

“Trust me.” Hound offers as he takes Grizzer’s leash and then tugs you against his side.

You’re a little confused at the way he’s being so comfortable with touching you, but you’re also not too bothered. Hound is Hound, after all. He’s always been safe.

So, as he leads you down the street, you don’t offer any complaint outside of a very weak argument that you needed your purse and your comm. And, with a laugh, Hound disagrees.

Hound doesn’t have an office, per se, but he does have his own space where he’s able to do his own paperwork, and where he can take Grizzer when she gets overwhelmed.

And apparently, where he brings overworked and underpaid civil servants who are working themselves to death.

His sen’ika is sitting on the old, worn couch he got from somewhere, her arms draped over Grizzer who is asleep on her lap. She looks exhausted. The kind of exhausted that he’s only seen on Fox before.

In a word, he’s worried.

“Sen’ika,” He coos the familiar nickname, and she lifts her gaze to look at him through hazy and exhausted eyes, and even then she’s the most stunning woman he’s ever met, “You can lay down and take a nap, I won’t judge you.”

She’s already shaking her head, “I have to get back eventually.”

“But if you get up, you’ll disturb Grizzer.” Hound points out.

She looks down at Grizzer, and she must be more tired than he thought because she just looks puzzled, like she can’t quite figure out the best way to get free. His worry increases.

“Just a short nap, sen’ika.” Hound encourages, “You’re not going to be able to finish your work with how fuzzy you are right now.”

For a moment she looks like she’s about to agree, but then she presses her lips into a thin line, “I have to get back, Hound.”

Hound leans back in his seat, his mind racing. He can’t let her go back. Not in this state. And using Grizzer as an excuse isn’t going to work anymore, he already knows.

“Alright,” He says slowly, thoughtfully. 

He gets to his feet and carefully moves Grizzer, and then helps his sen’ika to her feet. Hound isn’t the least bit surprised when she stumbles into him, though he is glad that he thought ahead and removed the majority of his armor.

“...m’sorry.” She says quietly.

Hound closes his eyes for a moment and then, very gently presses his hand against the back of her neck, holding her against him. “You haven’t done anything wrong.” His voice is soft, soothing.

Her hands come up to press against his chest, and for a moment, Hound thinks she’s going to push away, worries that he pushed too hard. But, instead, she curls her fingers into the thin material of his blacks. “I’m so tired,” She whispers, and her voice cracks.

And that’s what Hound was waiting for.

His free arm wraps firmly around her, holding her tight, “You don’t have to go back to work. You need to take a break.”

He feels her tears soaking into his top and Hound turns his head to press a light kiss to the side of her head, “Someone has to do it-” She whispers, her voice thick with tears.

“That someone doesn’t have to be you.” Hound murmurs in reply as he slowly, and carefully, walks her back towards the couch. He readjusts her, and then sits on the couch, while holding her close. “We can reach out to the Jedi, they can help you.”

“The Senate-”

“Kriff the senate,” Hound’s voice holds no heat as he gently offers what comfort he can, “You’re working yourself to death, and I’m not going to tolerate it anymore.”

She pulls away from his shoulder and looks up at him through miserable, watery eyes, “Why do you care?”

“Because you’re my friend. Because I care about you.” Hound brushes his fingers against her cheek, “because I love you more than anything in this galaxy. Take your pick.”

She blinks at him, and then drops her head on his shoulder. She doesn’t say anything positive, but she also doesn’t say anything negative, which is good enough for now.

It’s not fair to spring love on her when she’s so exhausted. The fact that she’s not running away is good enough for now.

“Will you stay here and take a nap?” Hound asks as he strokes her back lovingly, “For me?”

“Every time I try to sleep, I have nightmares,” She admits quietly.

“Then you can sleep on me. I’ll wake you if you look like you’re having a nightmare. I promise.” Hound offers. “What do you think?”

She sighs, soft and quiet, “I suppose I can agree to that.” His sen’ika’s eyes drift shut, and Hound carefully adjusts her so that she’s leaning against him comfortably. 

Fox is going to blow a gasket, but if he words his request properly, maybe then the Guard and the Forensics unit can get Jedi oversight. That can only help with his poor Sen’ika’s problem, and it’ll keep Fox from working himself to death.

Hound glances at the woman in his lap, and his gaze softens, before he presses a light kiss to the top of her head. That’s a problem for later, for now, he has the love of his life asleep in his arms, and he’s going to just enjoy it while he can.

[littlemissmanga]

I am in the most polite way salivating for a part 2. The competition, the one upmanship of this pairing, the way they're clearly trying to take center stage of your attention but also happy to share rather than be left out.

I gotta wonder who will find you first ... unless they decide to team up, hunt you together, tease you into a trap and you don't realize until it's too late that you were cornered.

I am here to stir the pots thots! After the delicious ideas that arose in this post (especially in the comments lol) I couldn't get this idea out of my head. @blueink-bluesoul I hope this is a fitting apology for adding to your WIPs 😜

(Implied) Hunter x reader x Hound

warnings for: highly suggestive themes (Minors DNI) jealous and possessive Hunter, predator/prey elements and vibes, scent kink, mentions of alcohol.

Hunter had never considered himself a possessive man.

Slow to trust? Sure. Protective of his loved ones? Absolutely. Overly protective of some? Well, he was too big of a man to wave off the notion without thought.

But possessive?

Hunter had never considered it, or jealously, for that matter. That is, until he met Hound. More specifically, until he saw the way you lit up around Hound.

You had spent the first year of the war on Coruscant, working closely with the Corrie Guard, until your skills landed you with the Bad Batch. It made sense that you had...old friends, that some of the boys in red and white had gotten your affection long before you even met Hunter and the others.

Logically, he knew that, but even still, Hunter couldn't deny the clench of anger that filled his chest when he saw you run at the ARF trooper with that adorable smile. And he certainly couldn't deny the growl that escaped him when said trooper scooped you up in his arms and held you tight.

He couldn't stay annoyed at the other man for long, though, especially not when Hound was so enthusiastic as he pulled Hunter into a brotherly hand shake when you introduced them. Still, with you squished between them in a booth at 79's, Hunter couldn't shake the nagging urge to pull you against him every time Hound rubbed your shoulder or nuzzled against your skin. Especially since you giggled every time he did it.

"You know, Hound, I think Hunter's the only trooper that may have your tracking skills beat."

That brought him out of his possessive musings, your praise like music to his ears. Hound did not seem bothered by your comment, if anything, the ARF trooper quirked a brow in interest.

"Oh yeah? That's high praise coming from you, cyare. That true, Sarge?"

Tech was always the best one at bragging (or, "stating fact" as he called it) but somehow, Hunter couldn't find it in himself to be humble right now.

"I'm the best tracker in the GAR," but, because he still had a nice side, he added, "I'm sure you've got some skills too, though."

That made Hound laugh, a bark of a thing, staying true to his name. "Oh, that almost sounded like a challenge, brother."

"Ooo," you smiled into your drink, eyes darting between the two of them, "now that's something I'd like to see."

Hunter flicked his eyes down to you, and he liked the way you squirmed a little under his half-lidded gaze. "Maybe we should test our skills against each other." He looked back up at Hound, who was wearing a mischievous, toothy grin.

"I'm in, how do you want to do this?" The way Hound looked down at you, much in the same way Hunter couldn't keep his eyes off you, gave the sergeant an idea.

"You wanna help us, mesh'la?" Hunter asked, making sure his tone was low, the tone that he new made your heart race.

Your throat clenched as you swallowed, "How would I do that?"

Hound made a knowing sound, his grin somehow getting wider. "I think he wants us to track you, sweetheart. Wants us hunt across Coruscant."

Oh, Hunter could feel your reaction to that and if all this time around you in the tight quarters of the Marauder hadn't taught him a new level of self control, he might have given into the urge to slip his hand down your body right there.

Instead, Hunter said, "Catching you would be the best prize, after all."

Maker, if he could smell your excitement already, what state would you be in when they track you down and caught you like a scared doe?

"Al-" you had to clear your throat, "Alright, I'll be your little prize."

Hound sounded more like a cat when he purred, "That's the brave girl I remember. This is going to be fun."

Hunter scooted back in his seat, allowing you just enough room to squeeze past him and leave the booth. "We'll give you a head start, mesh'la. Don't make this easy on us."

If you were shocked at the abruptness of the command, you didn't let it show. Instead, you downed the last of your drink, made sure your perfect ass brushed against him as you climbed out of the booth, and scurried away at a fast pace.

Hunter could feel something primal stirring low in his stomach, and, sitting beside him, he knew Hound was feeling the same thing.

[rare-clone-fic-exchange]

The Sweetest Constant

Pairing: ARF Trooper Hound x Fem!Reader

Summary: Sergeant Hound comes to your pet store needing supplies for his new K9. Fluff ensues.

Warnings: None. Hound is a perfectly sweet cinnamon roll who does no wrong and I am taking no questions.

Word Count: 2260

A/N: Written for the amazing @the-bad-batch-baroness! Hope you enjoy it lovely!

A few notes/translations before we start:

Centaxday - second day of the Galactic Standard Calendar week

Zhellday - fourth day of the Galactic Standard Calendar week

Besom - ill-mannered lout, unhygienic person, someone with no manners

It was Centaxday the first time you met. The gentle jingle of the bell as the door of your humble shop opened brought you back from your daydream. You rose from your seat to greet the Coruscant Guard ARF trooper who strolled him. His armor was shiny and unblemished. The kit paint looked freshly applied. His kama possessed no blaster burns yet.

“‘Mornin’.” His warm baritone crackled through the vocoder of his helmet. You couldn’t see his face but you could hear a tinge of excitement in his greeting.

“Good morning! What can I do for you, sir?”

“Ahh no sir, please.” He waved a dismissive hand before it came to rest on the back of his neck. “Sergeant Hound. But just Hound is fine. Gettin’ my K9 tomorrow and I want to make sure she’s set.”

“You came to the right place, Hound! Have a look around and let me know if you have any questions.”

He bounced on the balls of his feet before he stepped away from you, his elation palpable. He had the energy of a child receiving their first pet and you loved watching this grown man trying to reel in the abundance of joy bubbling through the shiny white and red armor.

He tried to appear casual as he meandered through your shop eyeing various pet accessories, treats, and food. You watched him curiously as he ran his hands over a fluffy pink puppy sweater, with all the ardor of an expectant father. You’d only ever seen the Corries from a distance and you were slightly awestruck by his presence. Respectful yet commanding, he walked with a confidence that made him incredibly attractive even having not seen his face. And his obvious excitement about his new K9 may have been the most attractive thing you’d seen ever.

You cleared your throat. “I don’t mean to pry but what will your K9 be?”

He glanced over from the shelves of treats. “Massiff. She’s still a pup. We start training tomorrow.”

You circled around the counter, coming to stand to his right. Even through the armor he smelled wonderful, woodsy and fresh.

“These.” You pointed at a large blue box with a cartoon massif on the front. “These are my best selling massiff treats. Everyone who buys them raves about how much their pooches love them!”

He tilted his helmet toward you before taking the box from the shelf. “Thanks. Any other suggestions?” The lightness to his tone betrayed the smile hidden under the helmet.

You nodded and guided him around the store. Soon his arms were stacked high with collars, leashes, dishes, a training clicker, food, a bed, and the pink sweater, just the right size for a wee massiff.

You packed everything for him in a box and he informed you the GAR would be picking up the bill.

You slumped in your chair once he’d left, overwhelmed by how quickly you’d taken to a man whose face you’d never seen. A face, you’d assumed you’d never see.

It was Zhellday when you saw him again.

The park near your shop was the ideal place for you to take your kima pup; minimal crowds, quiet, and slow paced. It allowed for a slow transition into socializing for your excessively anxious puppy. At least that was the case on most days.

“Grizzer! Grizzer! Stop! Heel! Grizzer, you besom!!”

You spun around, hearing the frantic voice accompanied by enthusiastic yelps quickly approaching you. You snatched up your bitty kima as he trembled like a leaf in the wind. The grinning massiff pup donning a familiar pink sweater came skidding to a halt at your feet. Not far behind was the slobbery pup's handler.

“I am so sorry about her! We just started training and she’s still excitable!” He huffed, catching his breath as he bent over to pick up the leash.

You blinked in disbelief at first. You hadn’t seen his face when he’d come to your store a few days prior. He’d been decked out in his entire kit last time. Today he only had on armor from the waist down and his kama. His broad shoulders and chest were accentuated by the skin tight black body glove with the Galactic Roundel emblazoned on it. Behind the warmth of his brown eyes was a spark that threatened to outshine the galaxy. Those same mesmerizing eyes studied you intently while a bashful blush darkened his ears.

His hair was shaved into a tidy undercut with the extra length tied into a bun in the back. He puffed, pushing the dark curls from his sweaty forehead.

“It’s okay. I get it. Puggle is still pretty excitable too. But…” you held up your own pup. “He’s a little smaller than…Grizzer was it?”

He looked away sheepishly as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, Grizzer.”

“And you’re Hound, right?”

He chuckled. “You remember me.”

“I couldn’t forget a Corrie who bought his massiff a pink sweater. Looks great on her by the way.”

Grizzer danced around your feet with happy tippy taps and impatient whines. She looked from you to Hound and gave her butt an excited wiggle.

Hound grinned proudly. “Yeah she’s pretty cute. Pink is definitely her color. She loves those treats by the way.”

You beamed at his praise, delving into a hundred questions about how training was coming along and if he needed more supplies. Eventually you bid each other farewell for the second time and you prayed to the Force it wouldn’t be the last.

Days turned into weeks. Whether it was the Force or something more intentional, you and Hound encountered each other with increasing frequency. Sometimes you’d see him on duty patrolling the park where you walked Puggle. Sometimes he was training Grizzer there, half clad in armor, often drenched in sweat under the exertion of handling his enthusiastic massif. If you managed to catch his attention he always gave you a friendly wave. And sometimes he showed up at your shop unannounced. It was always under the guise of making a purchase (always charged to the GAR). But his visits were becoming more frequent and accompanied by fewer purchases. Not that you were bothered. He was divinely handsome, charming, and sweet as chocolate covered camby berries. To say you were enraptured by him was an understatement.

He’d often spend hours leaning against the counter, his bucket casually resting next to him as he chatted with you about anything and everything under the Coruscant sun. He loved telling you about his brothers. Fox and his caf addiction and inability to decompress. Thorn and his penchant for chaos. Thire and his smart mouth that always got him into trouble. Stone’s endless patience and his refusal to engage in small talk of any kind. You loved seeing his face animate as he talked about them, his love and adoration for his brothers was apparent.

He was funny. You often found yourself laughing until you had tears streaming down your cheeks and both of you were gasping to catch your breath through fits of giggles. He was thoughtful as well, volunteering to help with heavy orders or reaching the top shelves. It was those times that your heart fluttered as if it were a butterfly trying to escape captivity. Especially when your hands would brush in passing or he would press into your back, caging you in as he lifted boxes over your head.

However, it was his love for animals that had bewitched you entirely. You’d watched him carefully tend frighted song sparrows and tookas in the park with no hesitation. He’d rescue cornered pikobis so they wouldn’t shed their tails. He even told you about the time he snuck an injured crown finch back to the Corrie Guard barracks and nursed it back to health during his off-duty time with the help of his brother, Stone.

He’d talk for hours about his precious Grizzer. His animated hands gesticulating wildly as he shared story after story about the trouble his “sweet Grizzy girl”- as he called her - would get into. Including the time the rambunctious pup invaded his brother Fox’s footlocker and chewed a hole in the rear end of his body glove. A hole that was only noticed when Thire made a snarky shebs joke at Fox’s expense when he’d taken his kit off for the evening. He laughed as he recalled Fox putting him on ‘fresher duty as payback.

The more he visited you, the more your conversations flowed, and the more you realized you may be falling for him. And then one evening Hound stayed a little longer than usual. You both had been so consumed in each other’s company that it wasn’t until the beeping of him commlink that you both realized how late it was.

“Stang! It’s 1130! Fox is gonna kill me!”

“Kriff! I’m sorry Hound!”

“S’alright! Any punishment I get will be worth it.” The impish wink he shot you nearly melted you faster than the lava flows of Mustafar. “I’ll escort you home. A pretty lady shouldn’t be walking home in the middle of the night.”

He pulled his helmet on and waited patiently as you completed all of the closing tasks before guiding you out the door with a hand that only just ghosted the small of your back. The late night breeze cooled your cheeks that burned hot by just his presence. You found yourself glancing at him and staring just seconds too long. Long enough for him to catch you. You couldn’t see his expression behind the visor of his helmet but the light bounce to his shoulders had you assuming he was chuckling. The conversation in the shop was easy but now you were the only two walking through the little Coruscant neighborhood. The intimacy of walking so close that your hands brushed each other left you wanting for words. You wanted him to know. To know how you felt. You were dying to paint a masterpiece of your feelings on his very soul. And that thought terrified you.

You were so wrapped up in your thoughts you almost missed your apartment, stumbling clumsily to a stop. “This is me.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, disappointed that you’d wasted your time with him.

“Hmm.” He shifted his weight from leg to leg, tapping the toes of his boots on the ferrocrete.

“I’ll…see you around I guess? Thank you for walking with me. And spending the evening with me. I hope you don’t get in trouble for it.”

He pulled his helmet off, shaking his unkempt curls loose. He pressed a hand to the wall behind you, partially caging you in. His eyes locked on yours, holding your gaze with a cocked eyebrow and a smile that was far too alluring. Your eyes flicked from his eyes to his lips, swallowing thickly.

“Don’t worry ‘bout me, princess. I’m the baby brother. Pretty sure I could shoot the chancellor himself and my brothers would cover for me.”

You giggled, instinctively pressing a hand to his chest plate.

Glancing down at your hand and then back at your lips, he smirked, leaning in and stopping just short of your mouth, allowing his breath to fan across your lips. “There is one more thing though, before I get back to patrol duty. Been on my mind all evening.”

“What’s that?” Your breath was shaky as you instinctively leaned closer.

He closed the space between you, pressing his lips to yours. The kiss was soft and chaste while his hand remained anchored to the wall behind you. As he pulled back he allowed his eyes to travel along every inch of you, unable to conceptualize the euphoria he was wading through. You pulled him back, firmly this time. Your tongue teased his bottom lip, seeking entrance which he happily permitted. You swallowed his moan as his hand drifted to your cheek in soft caressing strokes.

When you finally separated, both awash in the glow of the evening and chests heaving heavy breaths, he spoke again. “I get off duty at 0600. I’ll be back and I’m taking you for caf.”

“Charged to the GAR?”

“If we talk about training Grizzer, I can write it off as a work expense.” He gave a cheeky grin.

“And what if I want to talk about you?” You cooed softly, tracing the outline of his chest plate.

“I can still tell Fox it was a work expense. Like I said, I’m the favorite. I’ll see you in the morning, mesh’la.” He slipped his helmet back on and started to leave.

He paused and spun back on his heel, lifting his helmet once more. He grabbed your hand and pressed one final kiss to it before jogging back toward his patrol route.

You’d never gotten ready for bed so quickly. But the sooner you fell asleep, the sooner you’d be seeing Hound again; an event that couldn’t happen soon enough. He was, after all, the sweetest constant you’d ever known.

[nahoney22]

Congratulations on the followers!

Can I please request a fluffy enemies to lovers with a clone of your choice with the prompt “Did you just call me cute?”

Would love to see any! Female reader if possible. Thanks! 💓

Up Close and Personal 🌊

🫧 Pairings: Commander Fox X Female!Reader

word count: 3.9k

prompt:

• “Did just call me cute?”

Plot: When you accidentally let slip you thought Fox was cute, he grows curious and wonders if you still think the same under the helmet.

Warnings: Safe for work, grumpy/sunshine trope, teasing, awkward moments, flirting, kissing, mutual pining, accidental confessions.

You’ve been working alongside the Coruscant Guard for a while now, handling everything from delivering reports to managing routine tasks that help keep the operation running smoothly. Most of the clones greet you with a warm smile and friendly chatter when you drop by.

You were cheerful and always had a smile on your face, nothing ever seeming to phase you.

But when it comes to Commander Fox, he doesn’t seem to match your enthusiasm. Where others find a moment to chat or joke around, Fox’s response is always the same: curt and dismissive.

You remember one time when you entered the office, probably a fortnight ago, laughing with Thire and Stone as you handed them their files. “You’re a lifesaver,” Thire had said with a sigh of relief and grin after his had miraculously gone missing. You of course always had extra, just in case.

Stone chuckled and added, “You’re the only reason we stay organised.”

Before you could reply, however, Fox cut in. His tone like durasteel. “Can you just leave the files and go? Some of us are trying to work.” He hadn’t even looked up, but the chill in his voice was unmistakable. You forced a smile, and rolled your eyes at his attitude when you left the office that day. It didn’t bother you as you were used to his moods but you couldn’t help wondering what it would take to get past that fickle exterior.

And despite his attitude, you had noticed Fox’s subtle care for his brothers; something you found rather endearing. You’ve caught him running silent armour checks, making sure everyone’s gear is spotless and in perfect order. Of course, it’s not about vanity but simply about keeping his men safe.

It’s those types of moments that make you think there’s more to him beneath the mask. Or helmet in this case.

Today, you decide to do something different. Rumors have been swirling that the Guard’s workload has been overwhelming lately. Crime in the lower levels is on the rise, and the boys are sadly running themselves ragged. So, you arrive at their station with a special treat: caf orders, each customised exactly how you know they like it.

You start with Commander Thire, who breaks into a grin as you hand him his cup. “You’re too good to us,” he says, taking a sip. “Thanks.”

Next is Stone, who raises an eyebrow in surprise. “Didn’t expect this today,” he says, taking the steaming cup. “But I’m not complaining.” He shoots you a wink. “You really know how to keep morale up.”

Sergeant Hound, busy tinkering with his gear with Grizzer snoozing at his feet looks up with a smile when you hand him his drink. “You actually remembered mine,” he says, sounding almost impressed. He takes a long sip before giving you a small nod. “Cheers. Really needed this.”

Finally, you approach Fox. He’s leaning back in his chair, arms folded across his chest, watching you carefully through his visor. “I’ll assume you didn’t get me anything,” he says, voice as flat as ever.

You fight back a smirk and meet his gaze behind the visor. “You assume wrong, Commander.” You slide the cup across his desk. It’s strong, with a hint of sweetness—your best guess based on what you’ve observed. Alongside it, you place a small sweet treat and the stack of data devices you’ve been carrying. Oh, and you also could help but draw a small smiley face on the lid to his cup.

Fox doesn’t touch the drink. Instead, he gives a sharp nod. “Just leave it and go.”

You swallow your disappointment, trying to keep your smile from faltering. “Of course, sir.” You turn to leave, the brief flash of hurt lingering despite your best efforts to shrug it off. Huh, maybe it did get to you.

As you exit, you catch a glimpse of Thire, Stone, and Hound exchanging looks before Thire’s voice cuts through the room. “You know, Fox, a ‘thank you’ wouldn’t kill you.”

Fox remains silent, but you don’t stay long enough to see or hear his reaction. The door closes behind you, and you let out a quiet sigh.

Moments later, you hear quick footsteps behind you. “Hey, wait up!”

You turn to see Thire jogging to catch up. “Don’t take it personally,” he says, offering a sympathetic smile. “Fox is… well, Fox. If he didn’t like you at least a little, he wouldn’t let you stick around.”

You laugh softly, though the sting hasn’t fully faded. “Doesn’t feel like it sometimes. I know he’s under a lot of stress, but still…”

Thire nods, understanding in his eyes. “He’s got a funny way of showing appreciation. But trust me, we all see what you do for us, even if he doesn’t say it. You’re a bright spot in this whole mess.”

Your smile this time is more genuine, though still a bit weak. “Thanks, Thire. I just wish I could get through to him, you know?”

“Give it time,” Thire says, clapping a hand on your shoulder. “He’ll come around. Until then, we’ve got your back.”

A few days later, you arrive with—surprise, surprise—yet another stack of files. You expect to find the usual group in the office, and sure enough, Thire, Stone, and Hound are all at their stations, busy with their tasks. But there’s one notable absence: Commander Fox. You glance around, scanning the room in curiosity.

Before you can ask, Stone notices the way you’re searching and smirks. “Looking for someone?”

Your cheeks warm slightly, realising you’ve been caught. “Nope,” you reply, a little too quickly. “Just… making sure I don’t miss anyone.”

Thire chimes in, an amused glint in his eye. “Sure, that’s what you’re doing.”

You roll your eyes playfully, trying to play it off. “Honestly, you guys are worse than all those gossiping cadets and shinies.”

“Did Fox ever apologise for the other day?” Hound asks as you stand nearby, shifting through some flimsi. His question surprised you a little since you hadn’t truly thought about it until now. But, you shake your head with a dismissive wave. “Nah, but it’s fine. I’m used to him being a grump. Besides,” you add with a smile, “you lot make it worth coming around.”

But then Stone started to dig a little deeper as he leans back in his chair. “Did you think about what Thire said? About Fox not minding you hanging around?”

You bite your lip, remembering Thire’s words all too well. Now that did have you wondering for most of that night. For someone who always wanted you to go, he never actually told you to fully leave.

“Yeah, actually. It got me thinking… maybe he’s not as bothered by me as he pretends.” You pause, considering your next question. “Hey, have any of you actually seen him without his helmet?”

The three of them exchange glances before Thire nods, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips. “How do you think he downed that caf you brought him the other day?”

You lean back against the wall, arms crossed as you think it over but also a little smug knowing that Fox clearly liked your drink choice for him. “I always wondered what he looks like under there. Maybe he’s got some cool tattoos, or, like, bright red hair or something; to match the gear.”

Stone shrugs, pretending to be nonchalant. “Could do. But we’re not spilling anything.”

You narrow your eyes at them playfully, but before you can push further, you find yourself blurting out, “I mean, I bet he’s kinda cute.”

There’s a beat of silence before all three of them break into laughter. Hound gives you a teasing nudge. “So, you’ve got a crush on the boss now, huh?”

You wave them off, feeling your face flush. “No, I mean—well, no, yes, kinda? I don’t know!” You fumble with your words, realising you’ve put yourself in an awkward spot. You wouldn’t say it was much of a crush but you did admire him.

“It’s not like that. He’s just interesting, I guess. Annoying, but in a weird way, it’s kind of… cute?”

The boys exchange amused glances, and you’re about to defend yourself further when you notice all of their gazes suddenly lock onto something—or someone—behind you. The laughter dies down, and your stomach drops.

Before you can even turn around, a deep voice rumbles from directly behind you. “Did you just call me cute?”

You freeze, feeling your blood run cold. Slowly, you turn to face Fox, who’s standing there with his arms crossed, his helmeted visor trained directly on you. You can’t tell what expression he’s wearing underneath, but the deadpan delivery of his question makes you want to disappear into the nearest ventilation system.

“I—uh…” you stammer, utterly at a loss. “Well, you see—”

Thire, Stone, and Hound are barely holding in their snickers, clearly enjoying your discomfort. Fox’s posture remains unyielding as he waits for you to say something. Anything.

You finally manage a weak shrug. “I mean sure, why not?”

For a long moment, there’s nothing but silence, and you’re certain you’ll never live this down. But then, just when you think it couldn’t get worse, Fox turns his helmet slightly as if considering your words. “Interesting,” is all he says before he strides past you, not giving anything away.

The room erupts in laughter as soon as he’s out of earshot, leaving you standing there, cheeks burning, as Thire claps you on the back. “Well, if that’s not a confession, I don’t know what is.”

“I’m never going to hear the end of this, am I?”

Stone grins. “Nope. But hey, at least now you’ve got him wondering.”

You playfully slap Stone’s arm with the thick stack of flimsi you were holding. “You’re impossible, you know that?” you tease, but there’s a grin on your face despite your embarrassment.

Stone just chuckles, dodging away from your reach. “You make it too easy, kid.”

Shaking your head, you wave the guys off. “Okay, I’m leaving before I say anything else stupid. You’ll just have to survive without me for a bit.”

As you walk away, you can still hear their laughter, and although your cheeks are still warm, you can’t help but smile.

Over the next week or two, you notice that Fox isn’t in his office as much. You’re not one to pry, but eventually, Thire lets it slip that it’s the Supreme Chancellor who’s been keeping him busy, not the fact that he might be avoiding you. “He’s been running all over the place on Palpatine’s orders,” Thire had said. “Trust me, it’s not about feeling awkward with you around.”

You nod, but you can’t help the nagging thoughts that linger. Still, you push them aside, deciding it’s better not to dwell on it.

One afternoon, you arrive at the office, balancing a tray with the usual caf orders and some sweet treats. It’s become a bit of a weekly ritual now, something the guys seem to look forward to. But today, when you step inside, the office is eerily quiet—no Thire, no Stone, no Hound. And non-surprisingly, no Fox.

You frown, setting the tray down on the nearest desk. “Hello?” you call out, but the only response is the hum of the overhead lights.

Shrugging, you decide to leave everything on their desks for when they return. You place each clone’s drink down, making sure their reports are organised alongside them.

When you reach Fox’s desk, you pause. It’s a bit messier than usual, the clutter showing signs of someone who’s been overworked and stretched thin. Your brows furrow in concern as you instinctively start tidying up, sorting the files and stacking the more urgent ones on top.

As you organise his drawers, you’re about to close one when something catches your eye. An empty caf cup, tucked away almost like it’s been hidden. You pull it out and recognise it immediately—it’s the cup you gave Fox the other week, the one with the little smiley face you drew on the lid. Your heart skips a beat. He kept it.

For a moment, all you can do is stare at the cup, a small, unexpected warmth blooming in your chest. Maybe there’s more to his gruff exterior than you first thought. Maybe he does have a soft spot for you, even if he won’t admit it.

“Can I help you?”

You jump, nearly dropping the cup as you whirl around to face the door. There stands Fox, his arms tucked behind his back, his gaze unreadable behind his helmet.

“Fox—Commander!” you stammer, hastily shoving the cup back into the drawer and closing it. “I was just… fixing things.” Your voice trails off as you awkwardly step away from his desk, suddenly finding it difficult to meet his gaze.

He takes a slow, deliberate step forward, and you feel your pulse quicken. “I’ve been meaning to speak to you.”

“Oh! Sure, of course!” You’re flustered now, your mind racing. “Is it about the reports? Or maybe the supply request? Or—”

“No.”

You clamp your mouth shut, cheeks burning as you mentally curse yourself for rambling. You stand there in silence, waiting for him to continue, while he circles around you with the careful precision of someone used to keeping others off balance. His presence is commanding (oh the irony), making the room feel smaller as he closes the distance between you.

“I had overheard something the other day,” he says, his voice low, almost conversational. “You were wondering what I looked like. Wondering if I had tattoos, colorful hair…” He trails off, his tone giving nothing away.

“I—uh—well, I didn’t mean anything by it. I was just curious, you know? I hope you didn’t take offense, Commander. It wasn’t—”

He stops in front of you, so close now that you can see your own reflection in the dark visor of his helmet as you crane your neck to look at him. “Why not?” he asks, cutting off your nervous rambling. “Do you not want to know if I’m ‘cute’ or not?”

The words hang in the air between you, and you feel your breath catch in your throat. His tone isn’t mocking, but there’s a subtle challenge in his voice, as if daring you to admit something you haven’t even fully acknowledged to yourself.

You try to swallow the lump in your throat, searching for a response. “I—I mean… maybe?”

His head tilts slightly, as if studying you. “You know, I rarely remove my helmet. It’s part of who I am, part of the uniform. Most people never see what’s underneath.”

“I get it,” you say quickly, eager to reassure him. “It’s not like I need to know. You’re still you, helmet or not.”

But as you speak, he moves closer, his voice dropping to almost a whisper. “And yet, you’re curious.”

Your gaze flicks up to meet his visor, the tension thick enough to cut through. “Maybe a little,” you admit, barely above a whisper.

You think he’s about it leave, a small stagger in his step. But instead of stepping back as you expect, he reaches up and, with a slow and deliberate motion, removes his helmet.

Your breath catches in your throat. You were expecting him to look like the other clones but nothing prepared you for this.

His hair, salt and peppered with a few streaks of silver, is slightly messy but still shows a hint of soft curls. Framing his face in a way that’s both rugged and refined. But it’s his eyes that catch your immediate attention.

A deep, rich brown, just like his brothers but darkened by exhaustion. Yet somehow still smolder with an intensity that makes your heart stop. They’re striking, alive with an alluring warmth that makes it hard to look away.

You’re utterly speechless, barely registering that your mouth has gone dry. He’s not just cute; he’s absolutely gorgeous. His lips curve into a knowing smirk as he tilts his head at you, clearly gauging your reaction.

“So, tell me…” he drawls, his tone soft and low as he notices your gaze drifting to his lips, “how ‘cute’ am I?”

Your mouth opens, but the words you want to say get stuck somewhere in your throat. You feel a sudden heat rising to your cheeks and creeping down your neck, making you feel warm under the collar. For months, you had wondered what it would be like to be this close to him, to hear his voice without the filter of that helmet, to feel his presence in an almost tangible way. Now, with his breath fanning your face, it’s almost overwhelming.

“You’re… you’re…” You struggle to find the right words, but everything comes out in stutters as your brain short-circuits under the intensity of his gaze.

Fox leans in closer, his eyes never leaving yours, his lips still curved in that teasing smirk. “Mhmm? I’m what?” There’s a playful and teasing lilt in his voice as he inches nearer, clearly enjoying how flustered you’ve become.

Before you know it, you’ve backed up until you’re nearly pressed against the edge of his desk; close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from him, and it’s impossible to think straight. Your pulse feels like it’s pounding in your ears. Especially as he leans in even further, the distance between you shrinking until it’s nearly nonexistent.

His breath is warm against your skin as he adds, “Come on, I’m waiting. You were so curious before. For someone so chatty, you have gone awfully quiet. Why’s that?”

Your mind is a whirlwind of thoughts, but the only thing you can focus on is how close he is, how those deep brown eyes are watching your every reaction, and how his lips look infuriatingly soft. Finally, you manage to stammer out a broken, barely coherent, “You’re… more than cute.”

Fox chuckles as he straightens slightly, clearly pleased with your reaction. “Good answer.”

You let out a nervous chuckle, brushing a hand through your hair, thinking this is the end of it. But he barely budges before asking, “Do you want to know what I think about you?”

Breath shaky, you avoid his eyes. “Let me guess… annoying… too talkative…”

“Distracting,” he cuts you off.

Before you can respond, his hands lift, gently cupping your face. You’re caught off guard as his thumbs brush tenderly over your cheeks. A soft gasp escapes your lips at the unexpected warmth of his touch, your eyes fluttering closed as you lean into it. His presence is all-consuming, his closeness dizzying as his nose lightly brushes against yours, sending sparks dancing down your spine.

His voice is low, rich with a sincerity that makes your heart race even faster. “I find you distracting. Beautiful and distracting.”

Before you can fully process his words, his lips capture yours in a kiss that’s impossibly gentle and utterly intoxicating.

It’s slow and unhurried, his lips moving against yours in a way that feels both tender and deliberate. Your eyes widen in surprise at first, hands raised but unsure where to place them.

Fox was kissing you. the Commander Fox was kissing you. You didn’t even know what this meant fully. Had he been harbouring feelings for you after all this time?

The initial shock soon melts away, your body relaxing into the kiss as your arms instinctively wrap around the back of his neck, pulling him closer. The feeling of the warmth of his mouth on yours, the soft press of his lips sending a sweet sent an addictive thrill through your veins. He’s steady and confident, guiding the kiss with a gentleness.

His hands remain on your face, anchoring you to the moment until one slides back to cradle the back of your head, his fingers threading through your hair that makes you gasp against his lips.

You can’t help but chase after his lips, the slow and tender rhythm of the kiss drawing you in deeper. He’s all you can think about—the taste of him, the feel of him, the way he’s holding you as though you’re something precious.

Fox finally pulls back just enough to look at you, his forehead resting gently against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the small space between you. His eyes, those deep, mesmerising brown orbs, search yours as if he’s looking for something—confirmation, maybe, or understanding. You’re not sure, but whatever he sees in your gaze seems to settle something inside him.

His thumb sweeps over your cheek again, a soft, almost absent-minded caress as he holds you there, still so close. “You have no idea how distracting you are,” he murmurs, his voice hushed.

You’re left breathless, your heart racing in your chest as you blink up at him, dazed by it all. “You… you kissed me,” you whisper, your body still flushed against his as you try to piece things together.

“I did,” he replies softly, his hands now moving to rest on your waist, grounding you in the moment. “Is it okay that I did?”

“I mean, yeah, I guess it’s just… I thought you didn’t like me.” You pull back slightly, leaning against the desk this time. He looks down at you, his gaze unexpectedly soft.

“I’ll admit I haven’t been the kindest to you,” he says, a touch of regret in his tone. “The lads gave me an earful the other day.”

“So, was it a guilt kind of kiss or…?” you mumble, sincerely hoping it wasn’t.

Fox’s eyes widen slightly, and he quickly shakes his head. “No, it’s nothing like that,” he exclaims, his voice firm but gentle. “I’m not great at showing how I feel, and hearing you call me ‘cute’… it pushed me in the right direction. Made me realise I couldn’t keep pretending I didn’t care.”

His sincerity catches you off guard. “Oh,” you say, your voice small but relieved.

He offers you a small smile, the kind that’s rare for him, and it makes your heart skip a beat. “So, would you consider going for drinks with me tonight?” he asks, his tone hopeful but tinged with the same guardedness that’s always been there.

The hesitation in his voice makes you understand how much this moment means to him, and you can’t help but smile back with a genuine, warm smile. “Yeah, I’d like that,” you reply softly.

Fox’s shoulders visibly relax, the tension you hadn’t even noticed finally easing as he nods. “Good,” he says, his voice low and a little rough around the edges. But there’s a warmth there now, something new that you hadn’t had the pleasure of seeing before. “I, uh, have to get back to the Chancellor. I knew the others wouldn’t be here today, and I know your routine, so I figured I’d have time to speak to you before heading back.”

You raise an eyebrow in surprise. “So, you’re not supposed to be here?”

“No, I’m not,” he admits with a somewhat sheepish smile, rubbing the back of his neck. “I may or may not have told the Chancellor I had an important matter to tend to.”

You laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. “I can’t believe you did that.”

Fox joins in with a chuckle, the sound rich and surprisingly pleasant, before he takes a final step toward you and presses a soft kiss to your cheek. “It was worth it,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin.

Your heart skips a beat as he pulls back, his gaze lingering on yours for a moment longer. “I’ll see you tonight?” he asks, a hint of uncertainty in his tone.

“Definitely.”

🌊 Masterlist is pinned 🌊

Tags: @lulalovez @the-bad-batch-baroness @photogirl894 @whore4rex @imperialclaw801 @temple-elder @mysticalgalaxysalad @yunggoblin @imalovernotahater @sithstrings @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @thesith @raevulsix @cw80831 @knightprincess @crosshairlovebot @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @jesseeka @theroguesully @ladykatakuri @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87 @ezras-left-thumb @the-rain-on-kamino @lamiliani @tentakelspektakel

[oneshotnewbie]

Olivia benson x reader where the reader is Olivia’s daughter and a perp runs into her during the chase and hurts the reader and Olivia catches the perp and then mother daughter fluff

Authors note: It's pretty short but I just don't have the time or motivation to write right now. I hope you still like it, even if it doesn't correspond to the extent that you know from me ♥

...

"Idiot, watch where you are going!" you yelled in the direction where the man next to you landed face down onto the street. He fell to his knees in front, not bringing his hand forward in time to steady himself and smacked face first onto the sidewalk. Something cracked, his glasses or his nose- probably both.

Your elbow suddenly turned into the sensation of lightning and fiery pain and you placed it in the palm of your hand. Out of frustration and flooded with throbbing pain in your entire upper arm, the heel of your boot intentionally dug into the side of his thigh and let him groan out in pain.

His head dragged on the floor, trying to protect his face from the small stones scraping the skin like sandpaper. A piece of his broken glasses got caught in the ground and cut his face in his movement. The dripping blood out of his deep laceration on his cheek, intensified that angry, devilish smirk that he threw at you.

His long brown hair, which was sticking out in all directions after your collision, almost made his eyes disappear. Your gaze traveled further down his body and got stuck on his hands. Within them, he held something that had a razor-sharp blade and reflected the sun´s rays.

The knife lay at your feet and the movement of his hand scraped the rough concrete with a metallic sound. Fearful, you backed up slowly trying to gain some space between the two of you and swallowed hard as you watched him hesitate. Instead of lunging at you, he looked around, apparently trying to get away from someone.

Not five seconds later, you felt and heard more noises behind you; rough and loud footsteps rushing towards you at a rapid pace, creaking on the concrete floor, mingling with hounded voices; voices of people you knew.

Sergeant Finn Tutola, your mother´s best friend, bent down in front of you and briefly jolted you out of your thoughts. "Y/n, what are you doing here?" he asked in surprise and grabbed the man´s feet before pulling him off the sidewalk away from you and onto the street. Pistol holstered, his hands gripped the suspect´s upper arm and twisted him onto his back before pulling him up.

"Just catching a little break. There are not enough benches in the area so I figured why not just sit out here?" the dark-haired shakes his head with laughter at your sarcasm and reached out a hand to pull you up from the cold ground. Thanking, you clasped his hands in your non-painful one and jumped up.

Around the corner of the street on which you were now standing across from each other, another figure ran towards you and you could already see from afar that it was your mother who came to support her best friend. The brunette dogged her heels into the gravel when she realized her sergeant had everything in control, but gave you a questioning look, eyebrows furrowed as she jogged the last few meters standing between you.

"Hey mom"

"Your daughter caught this one" he thrust his arm forward, which he had anchored around the young man´s handcuffed wrist, and nudged the suspect a little to add more emphasis to his sentence. Proudly, he smiles at you softly. "Now off to the police station with you. You have a lot to explain"

Olivia stood at your side and tucked a strand of hair, that had become tangled on your face from the gentle breeze, behind your ear. "What happened?" she asked worried as she stepped closer to you. You looked like you were in pain and judging by your jacket, it had suffered too. Her hand tentatively rested on one of your shoulders and ran down the leather of your jacket until she came to a larger cut that parted the material.

"What a crap," you scolded under your breath and looked at the place where you felt her fingers on your skin; stirring over the split leather. "Your suspect knocked me to the ground because the idiot did not see me"

You grimaced in pain as you braced your elbow in your hand again. Your mother was shocked at first- she did not tolerate any missteps when it came to you and you knew instantly, that the young man will later face an short-tempered woman who would make his life hell in the interrogation room.

The brunette quickly but carefully began to slide your jacket off your shoulders, exposing your slowly discolored skin. She gasped when she saw the blue color running from your elbow to the middle of your forearm. With every step that she tried to move your arm to get a closer look, your body tensed in front of her.

Olivia kept glancing at your face, worry creeping into her serious expression. "Ouch!" you gasped and gritted your teeth hard. The brunette worked quickly, not wanting to prolong your pain any further. "A doctor needs to look at that. Come on, let´s get you to the hospital"

Carefully, she placed a hand on your shoulder and pulled you closer to her; her lips gently drawing three small kisses into your hair while one of her hands supported your elbow. "Mh.." you closed your eyes and unconsciously leaned onto her.

She grinned at the way you were when you were hurt. You have always been someone who enjoyed her warmth, cuddles and kisses and never put her off. If she did not know otherwise, she do say you could not have more love coming from you. But she always misjudged it; when you were sick or in pain, a little more of your dependence on her always came out.

But she did not complain. You were the greatest gift that life had to offer and could give you. With you, she was complete.

[hetalianskywalker]

Thank you! I’m so happy you found it that cute. It brings me a lot of joy to know I brightened some’s day.

Day 20: Stargazing

Pairing: Mer Hound x Nightsister Reader

Summary: You find Hound stargazing so you and Grizzer join him.

Author’s Note: No thoughts only fluff.

Warnings: None that I can think of

Word Count: 783

Prompt: Character A is a witch who lives by the sea. One night, while sitting by the sea and just enjoying life, they see Character B, a mermaid who has beached themself so that they can watch the beautiful moon. 

Prompt from “Mermaid or Witch Ideas” by auideas

Being one of the few remaining nightsister witches, life is a little lonely. However, you make do. You have a nice little cabin near the beach and the people here leave you be. Well maybe you’re not too alone, you have Grizzer at least until her owner has a more permanent place for her to stay.

Tonight should be a night like any other night. You sit down in the tree line above the sand, quietly watching the full moon and stars; Grizzer is asleep back at your cabin. Looking down at the beach, you notice something in the distance. Watching intently, you see a merman drag himself up onto the sand. He then sits there, staring up at the night sky.

Confused, you quietly make your way up the beach to see him better; hands glowing with green magic just in case. His red and white scales shine in the moonlight and you can see his long curly hair up in a bun. Any thought of using magic to defend yourself dies and is replaced by joy. You know exactly who that is.

Your hand glows with green magic again and you flick your wrist. The front door of your house opens and the massiff comes barreling out. She dashes for the beach, having caught the scent of her master. You can’t help but burst out laughing as she totally knocks him over.

“Grizzer!” You can hear him laugh inbetween her licks before finally ordering her to heel. She obediently sits next to him, but continues to lick him. He happily pets her in turn, but is very careful with his claws.

“Sarad?” Hound calls behind him and you happily walk out to join him. You plop down into the sand, curling into his side opposite of Grizzer.

“Get distracted by the moon?” You tease as you look up at the sky.

“Maybe for a moment.” He chuckles softly wrapping an arm around you as Grizzer places her head in his lap. “But getting to stargaze and sit with you two is even better.” You giggle in response and you all just contently sit together for a long while.

“How long before you have return to Mandalore this time?” You whisper sadly. Hound had been among of the first and only groups to escape the Coruscant Guard after the rise of the empire. While most clones from other battalions were being phased out, the empire seemed more intent to work the Coruscant Guard clones to death and then replace them. It also didn’t help that many of its members were selkies who could not leave without their cloaks. Many had vanished over time during the war and miraculously showed up in imperial hands.

While Hound was a merman, he refused to leave his mastiff behind so he ended up getting separated from the rest of his escaping group. He had ended up on your island and, seeing how exhausted and desperate he was, let him stay for a few days. Once you heard his story, you offered to watch Grizzer while he made the rest of the trip to Mandalore. He reluctantly agreed, knowing she would be safe here with you.

Once he came back though, it was revealed that Grizzer would need to live on ships or on Mandalore island while he worked. You both ended up agreeing that for now it was best she stay with someone familiar and have wide spaces to run. And over the visits, you and Hound slowly grew closer and closer.

“A few days.” Hound whispers sadly into your hair. “But it won’t be too much longer like this.”

“If you say so.” You mumble, disappointed. You don’t know if you're more disappointed by the fact he’s not staying longer or that he’ll be taking Grizzer soon. He pulls back slightly and puts his clawed hands on either side of your face.

“I mean it. The Sea Alor’s plan isn’t done yet and won’t be for a long time, but…” He stops, eyes looking away nervously.

“But?”

“I could get us three a house on Mandalore. If you’ll have me. We’ll be together a lot more and-“ You cut him off, bringing him in for a soft kiss. You blink your eyes rapidly as you pull away, trying not to cry.

“I would love that Hound. Thank you.” You can see the slight change in the color of his cheeks. You giggle as he brings you in for another kiss with the cutest smile you’ve ever seen. However, you both end up laughing as Grizzer pushes herself in between you two; you both give in and shower her in attention and affection.

[sednonamoris]

call off the dogs (and come home to me)

Pairing: John Price x gn!reader

Summary: You've quietly yearned after Captain John Price for a long time now, and known him even longer. With each stolen glance and interrupted moment the tension between you grows, but everything comes to a head when a mission gone wrong forces you to confront feelings that have gone unspoken for the better part of a decade.

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, strong language, alcohol mention, drunk hookup, a little bit of torture + murder, fingering, porn with plot (smut should read gender neutral but let me know if any changes will make it more inclusive!!), mild angst, mutual pining with a happy ending

Word count: 3,940

A/N: My first foray into smut inspired by the incredibly talented @yeyinde!! Expect more Hound/Price content in the future bc I’m obsessed lol

--

 “Hound,” a familiar voice startles you from the mountain of paperwork on your desk, “what are you still doing here?”

 You raise a challenging brow at your captain. “Couldn’t I ask you the same thing?”

 This exchange has become familiar in the months you’ve spent grounded. Anyone else would take a bullet to the knee as a chance to slow down - switch careers entirely if they were smart - but you’re stubborn. A dog with a bone. Two surgeries and months of rehab that still aren’t finished, frankly you’re lucky to be walking. Luckier still that they let you stay on with the 141; There was a minute there that Laswell threatened you with an honourable discharge. A timely intervention with the physical therapist got you out of it, the only stipulation being that you remain firmly planted behind a desk until the doctors clear you. Having spent the better part of a lifetime hands-on in the field, it’s been hard not to overextend to prove your worth off of it.

 So after-hours paperwork it is. At least the company is good.

 “Touché,” Price huffs a laugh through his whiskers. “Fancy a cuppa? Sounds like we’ll both be here a while yet.”

 “Have I told you lately you’re my favourite? Two sugars and--”

 “--a splash of cream,” he finishes for you. The twinkle in his eye warms you right through, and you smile after him a little bit like an idiot.

 It’s been like this ever since the domestic terrorism scare your team was called in on in Belfast what feels like a lifetime ago. He was only a lieutenant then, and you a sergeant. You were assigned to civilian extraction, but took off when you saw one of the primary suspects make a dash for it through side streets. Price saw you go for him and followed, the two of you giving chase on foot for three blocks before you managed to dive-tackle him in a back alley. It was a major success to take him alive, but your captain at the time wanted blood for the abandoned civilians. Price stood up for you in front of the entire regiment.

Took after ‘im like a bloody hellhound! he’d said. That deserves a medal, not disciplinary action.  

 Just over ten years later you’re still called Hound, and he’s still the subject of your silly, unattainable daydreams. Captain John Price is a name that means something, but to you he will always be the sergeant with fire in his eyes who stood up for you when no one else would. When he asked if you were interested in joining the 141 at its inception you didn’t even hesitate. You’d follow him anywhere.

 “One tea, two sugars, splash of cream,” Price announces when he returns from the kitchenette with two steaming mugs to distract you from your thoughts. Yours is placed ceremoniously on an ARW coaster you ‘borrowed’ from your last commanding officer. “Now I believe you owe me something…?”

 You grin and pull out your secret stash. The false bottom of the drawer is probably meant for sensitive intel, but you’ve found it’s perfect for biscuits. Three are placed in his outstretched hand, and three next to your mug.

 “You’re lucky I’ve got a man on the inside who sends me these,” you scold as he scoffs one down almost immediately.

 “Yeah, tell your granddad I said ‘thanks’.”

 “I can’t. He’d disown me if he knew I was feeding a Brit.”

 That earns you a laugh - a true belly laugh - and you can’t help but feel entirely smug about it.

 “Fuckin’ Paddies.”

 “Ah, go fuck yourself.”

 A companionable silence blankets the room after that, broken only by the sound of shuffled papers and laptop keys. Soft lamplight illuminates your reports so unlike the harsh fluorescents everywhere else on base. You’ve done your best to make the regulation desk homey; bright sticky notes and colored pens and a picture of you and the lads after a successful mission. Occasional hums and huffs and heavy sighs from your captain’s desk across the room breathe life into the space as well. You like to think your incoherent, foul-mouthed muttering does the same for him.

 The clock reads 0100 hours when you look up again. The caffeine from the tea wore off over an hour ago and you can feel yourself starting to fade. A quick peek over at Price reveals much the same.

 You open your mouth to ask if he’s ready to tuck in when he looks up and steals the breath from your lungs. His short hair is mussed where he’s been running his hands through it, that hint of premature grey turned silver at his temples in the low light. Tired eyes crinkle fondly behind the lenses of reading glasses you haven’t stopped teasing him over but can’t get enough of. It’s achingly domestic. A glimpse into a future you’ll never have - not with anyone, and certainly not with him.

 “What are you thinking about over there?” he asks softly.

 “Nothing,” you flash a tired and unconvincing smile. “I’m knackered. Shall I close up shop or will you, Cap?”

 “I’ve got it, you get some shut-eye.”

 Your eyes linger just a bit too long as you bid him goodnight, knowing very well you won’t sleep a wink.

--

 This pub is definitely one of the shittier ones, but its location is convenient enough to pretend that the wallpaper isn’t peeling and the live band of part-time musicians and full-time retirees is any good. The handful of covers they play are indistinguishable from originals sprinkled in, all with that same, washed-out sound of empty bottles and stale dreams.

 The group of hooligans crowded up at the bar sit in stark contrast of the otherwise dour patrons. Even Ghost, who’s taken the corner seat and keeps a lazy watch over the room, is loose enough to be making those terrible jokes of his. Soap and Gaz lean over one another with goofy grins and half-empty glasses before them. Price, true to form, has taken the end seat to nurse a ‘proper pint’ alongside a lit cigar the bartender can’t dispute after lighting up what looks like at least his tenth cigarette of the night behind the bar.  

 “If it isn’t the Bionic Hound!” Gaz calls when he spots you across the poorly-lit room, waving you over with a grin.

 You shake your head, wondering why you agreed to come out tonight. But the second Gaz had started with the puppy-dog eyes there was no denying him. Drinks before leave are a 141 tradition, he’d insisted.

 So here you are.

 “You’re lucky it’s a metal knee and not laser eyes or you’d be in yesterday’s papers,” you wag a finger at him as you take your seat amongst them all.

 Ghost snorts a laugh at the empty threat.

 “Oh, come off it, Hound,” Soap says. “You love us too much.”

 Price chuckles. “I wouldn’t count on that.”

 You glare and wrinkle your nose at the comment, but he just smiles back at you with that damned twinkle in his eye. Prick. Then he wordlessly slides over your usual and you have to be grateful on top of it all. Double prick. One swift gulp and half of it is gone; you’re too sober for this.

 The lads cackle over another awful joke - Soap’s, this time. Price holds his temples.

 The drinks go down easy after that.

 “Any exciting plans for your leave, Cap?” you ask. It’s almost closing time now. This place is never full, anyway, but there’s enough alcohol in your system that you almost buy into the pretense of hearing him better as you edge further and further into his space.

 You’re not sure what you want him to say, exactly. Maybe if he reveals that there’s a cute little family or some stunning girlfriend waiting back home you’ll finally be able to move past the strangled feeling in your throat every time you look at him.  

 “Hardly,” he says around the cigar. The soft glow of it lights his face, makes him look like some sharp-eyed noir detective shrouded in smoke and mystery. “Might get a bit of fishing in, head into Liverpool and catch a game or two. What about you?”

 You wave a dismissive hand. “I make a terrible civilian. After I visit my grandfather and annoy him half to death I’m not sure what I’ll do. Maybe finally get some use out of those Egyptian cotton sheets I spent a bleedin’ fortune on.”

 “Are they nice?” he laughs, leans closer.

 You hum an affirmative, dizzy at the little space between you. He smells like tobacco and wood, whiskey and gunpowder.

“Too nice.” You should stop talking now. “End up on the floor half the time, anyway.”

He doesn’t need to know that.  

 “Sleeping alone, then?”

 His breath fans your face. Yours gets quicker, and you swear you’re more drunk off this shared air than any liquor you’ve had tonight.  

 “Sometimes.” You wet your lips. “Usually.”

 Your lashes leave tender butterfly kisses on your cheekbones as you meet his blue-eyed stare that’s gone impossibly dark, dipping down to see where your lips have parted - breathless, waiting. Wanting. His hand reaches out--

 “Last call!” the bartender’s shout snaps everything back to reality.

 You jump away from one another as though you’ve been burned. It feels a lot like you have.

 Price clears his throat, mutters something about getting back. His voice is rougher than usual. Raw. You look everywhere but him as he proceeds to round up the rest of the lads before you all stumble back to base.

 Your head pounds the whole way back to Ireland the next morning, marching drums in your mind and sandpaper beneath your eyelids. The flight has never felt lonelier.

--

 The man you bring home has blue eyes and brown hair. He’s not tall enough, certainly not broad enough, but he happened to be in the right place at the right time as you drank your sorrows away in some tiny pub up the road from your flat, and you happen to be desperate enough not to care.

 At least that’s what you tell yourself as you back him against your bed.

 When you kiss him it’s relentless and controlling. Mean. You suck a dark bruise on his neck and climb in his lap before he can think to return the favor.

 “Fuck, sweetness,” he groans at the sweet feeling of friction between your bodies. The accent is wrong. So is the endearment.

 You clamp a hand over his mouth. “Shut up and fuck me.”

 It’s a quick and sloppy affair, chasing a half-drunk high like a pair of horny teenagers. When all is said and done, you stare up at the ceiling on too-soft sheets and tell him he can go. He leans over to catch your eye briefly, maybe checking to see if you’re serious. You are. There’s hurt written across his expression - a bit of shock, too - but all you can think about is how his eyes are the wrong shade of blue.

--

 The second the doctors clear you for active duty you all but sprint to Price’s desk, demanding he get you back in the field as soon as possible. He smiles up at you in that sharp way that always makes your heart stutter and promises he’s got something small in the works - perfect to shake the rust off.

 Of course he’d think of an unsanctioned, off-the-books capture of a Russian mobster as small. You’re the only two who make the trip; your Russian is miles better than anyone else’s, and more bodies will only attract attention.

 It’s easy to forget how beautiful Moscow is. You don’t come here often, but the sprawling cityscape and romantic spires speak to your soul, set something singing inside you. You try to hold on to that feeling as you and Price make your way into the chipped paint and piss-stained sector of the city. These winding side streets and twisted back alleys are far more fitting for your line of work.

 Your mark, one Mikhail Yanovich, is a low-level enforcer for a high-interest gang that has connections to Makarov. Allegedly. That’s why you’re planning this friendly little chat. Not so much catch-and-release as catch-and-stage-a-believable-accident; if he really is involved, you can’t afford for Makarov to know you’re onto him.

 It feels strange to walk around in civvies with only a thin kevlar vest underneath to protect you. Thank goodness for the cold that makes layering less conspicuous. You look every inch the lost, frozen tourist. Price does too. You don’t think the miserable face he’s pulling beneath the beanie is acting, cheeks and nose flushed raw as they are.

 “Bloody cold out,” he mutters.

 “The fuck did you expect, tropical holidays?”

 He glowers, and you shake your head to hide a smile.

 Thankfully, kidnapping Yanovich is quick work; two bickering tourists hardly seem like the type who will stick you with a needle on your way to work and drag your unconscious body to a stashed van, driving through bad, then worse neighborhoods to reach a secure location to interrogate you.

 He wakes tied to a chair in the basement of an abandoned parking garage you and Price have taken up a temporary residence in. The captain circles him like a vulture, taking in all the details a broad frame and blockish features have to offer. You sit perched on the edge of a shitty folding table set just in the shadows. Patient. Waiting. There’s a case of freshly sharpened knives beside you - the Hound’s fangs, as Ghost likes to call them. So often the glinting threat of harsh light on metal is all it takes to break a man.

 “What can you tell us about Makarov?” Price opens.

 “Go fuck yourself.”

 The blow lands harsh on Yanovich’s cheekbone. Instantly a bruise begins to form, splotchy and plum on pale skin.

 “I asked you a bloody question. I promise you’d rather answer me than Hound over there,” Price looms over him, growls in his ear. “Makarov. Tell me everything you know.”

 There’s a stubborn set to his jaw when he says, “I know nothing.”

 If he really knew nothing he either would have laughed in your face or led with open ignorance. The way he clings to resistance can only mean there’s something to resist telling. As to how much he knows? There’s another echoing crack as Price backhands him.

 You’ll soon find out.

 “Hound,” your name on your captain’s tongue is as much a command as an invitation.

 You lean forward, step into the light. Twirl one of your knives expertly between scarred fingers. Watch it flash in the whites of his eyes.

 “I’ll ask you again: Where is Makarov?” Price demands.

 “I. Don’t. Know.”

 You step between Yanovich’s legs, lean over him and gently trace your blade over his groin with a smile sharper than the knife. He lets out a harsh breath.

 “I said I don’t know. Boss tells me nothing - I’m just a guard.”

 The knife presses, insistent. Not quite hard enough to draw blood yet. A bead of sweat rolls down Yanovich’s forehead. He’s pressed himself as far back into the chair as his bonds will allow.

 “Fine! He comes to club once a month. Speaks to the boss.”

 “What about?”

 “I don’t know-- I swear!” his accent is thick with unfamiliar syllables and fear.

 “When’s he due next?”

 “You just missed him. He always comes last day of month.”

 “Location?”

 “Changes every time,” he says, licks his lips. “I told you all I know - call off your fucking dog!”

 You dig your knife in for good measure just to watch the hate and fear in his eyes before backing off at Price’s nod.

 Turning to step away and table your knife, you don’t miss the way Yanovich mutters darkly after you, “My zdes strelaem vie brodyachikh sobak, suki. Esli ya uviju tebya snova, the mertview.”

 Then a gunshot fires.

 You pull your weapon out of its holster and whip around to cover Price, only to find the smoking gun in his hand and Yanovich’s head splattered on the wall behind him. Captain John Price stands over the body, eyes blazing, chest heaving, gun still aimed. Blood and brain matter speckles his face and clothes.  

 “What the fuck was that?” you demand. “He could have told us more! And what about the cover-up? Blowing his brains six ways to fucking Sunday isn’t exactly a bleedin’ accident!”

 You expect some kind of remorse when he turns to face you, but there’s only a grim, deadly acceptance. “He said--"

 “I heard what he said, I can speak bloody Russian!” you stalk towards him and jab a finger into his chest. “We were gonna kill the cunt anyway. You should have waited.”

 Price snarls, lip curling to bare his teeth. “You didn’t see the way he looked at you.”

 Suddenly you’re hyperaware of how close the two of you are standing. “How did he look at me?”

“He wanted to kill you the slowest way he knew how,” he says, like he’s confessing a sin, “and I’d shoot his fucking face a thousand times over to make sure he never looks at you again.”

 And just like that anything you were going to say dies in your throat, comes out a pathetic whimper. He grabs a fistful of your shirt and hauls you the rest of the short distance to him.

 “Tell me you wouldn’t do the same,” he demands. “Tell me to stop.”

 His hand burns on your chest, an iron-hot brand of possession.

 “John,” you breathe, because you don’t know what else to say. The look in his eyes is magnetic, drawing you in further still with pupils blown wide with want. “Don’t stop.”

 He kisses you rough, teeth and tongue and a certain kind of desperation brought on by the still-warm corpse lying just a few feet away. When you break for air he wastes no time kissing down your neck, every inch of exposed skin branded by his lips and the rough scrape of his beard. Yanovich’s blood smears down the column of your throat.

 “Fuck, John,” you say, “just like that.”

 “Sound so fucking perfect when you say my name,” he growls and bites down on your pulse point, leaving you gasping.

 It’s enough to distract you from his true purpose, large hands cupping beneath your ass and scooping you up into his arms. You hold on tight as three purposeful strides take you across the room to the table. One sweep of his arm has everything tumbling off it before he sets you down to stare up at him with wide eyes and a kiss-swollen mouth.

 When he captures your lips again it’s searing, molten heat rushing through your veins. It pools in your stomach, that too-hot wanting, and it suddenly hits you how much you do want this. Him. Each kiss tastes like so many years of silent longing, of standing too close and staring too long and wanting too much. All suddenly real and within reach.

 You let your hands snake up his shirt, explore the broad plane of his chest and the wiry hair that curls over it. Your fingers run over scars like braille that tell stories of violence and valor. Some of these stories you helped write. There, beneath his ribs, where you had to stitch him up in the field to keep his guts from spilling into the streets of Vienna. The lump where his collarbone never healed right after taking the brunt of a nasty blow meant for you. He shivers under your touch. Then his large, calloused hands cover yours and stop them in their tracks.

 “I’m going to fuck you now,” he says, “because I don’t think I can wait any longer than I already have to feel you.” His voice is even lower and rougher than usual, accent thick with arousal. “Do you want that?”

 You nod, afraid to speak and break the spell.

 “Come on, soldier, use your words.”

 “Yes, Captain. Please.”

 His grip on your hips tightens and he lets out a growl. “That’s my perfect soldier.”

 It’s all the warning you get before he tucks his fingers under the waistband of your trousers and underwear and tugs them down to your thighs, leaving you exposed before him.

 “Fuck, just look at you,” he says under his breath, almost like you aren’t meant to hear.

 You squirm under the scrutiny. A hot flush creeps up your neck as he stares, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like it. He looks at you like you’re some kind of revelation, like he’s been denied salvation all his life only to find it at the apex of your thighs.

 One, two, then three fingers stretch you open for him quick and dirty. It’s too much too fast but you want it so bad, and the pleasure far outweighs any pain. When he finally unzips his trousers to free his already hard, leaking cock you think you drool a little bit. You knew he’d be big, the way he carries himself, but seeing it is something else. Your insides flutter at the thought of the tight fit. He lines up to your entrance with that same military precision you’ve always admired before pushing in slowly, slowly, slower still. When he bottoms out he does it with a deep groan, your fingernails raking down his back as you keen at the sensation. This small mercy, just a few moments to adjust with his forehead pressed to yours, is all you’re granted before he sets a brutal pace. The obscene slap of skin on skin echoes off cracked concrete. With each thrust he hits someplace deep inside you no one else has managed to find.

 Heat coils in your belly, closer and closer to fever pitch with each expert snap of his hips.

 “John,” you pant, “m’gonna… gonna cum. Feels so good.”

 He says your name like a prayer. “Cum for me, then. Want to see you make a mess of yourself on my cock.”

 Like a tidal wave breaking against a dam you cum fast and hard at his words with a broken sob. He fucks you through the high, brushing a tear from the corner of your eye with a rough thumb.

 “There you are, so good for me,” he says. “Gonna cum all over your pretty little self, make you mine.”

 “I’m yours, John,” you gasp, “all yours.”

 His thrusts turn sloppy chasing his own high, and it doesn’t take long before he pulls out and makes good on his words, covering your stomach in spend as he grinds out your name. Bent over your body, he presses a chaste kiss to the juncture of your neck before pulling back to admire his handiwork. In the afterglow you lay spread out on the table with a sheen of sweat, smeared with his cum and another man’s blood. The way his eyes darken rubbing it into your skin, and the way you shiver at the sensation, you think that you both might like it a little too much.

 “Laswell’s gonna kill us for this,” he murmurs.

 You hum your agreement. “So where shall we hide the body?”

 His eyes shine down on you with adoration and crinkle with wicked humor. “I’m sure we’ll think of something, but let’s be quick about it. The sooner we get home the better.”

 “Yes,” you hear yourself agreeing, “home.”  

 For you, it will always be at his side.

[mamuzzy-creates-stuff]

Collection of my TCW art. I mostly draw Commander Fox and Coruscant Guard, 501st boys, and through those lovely asks you sent me, other characters too. :)))) 

JUNE 2023

「501 shenanigans」 [ART]

16/06/2023 | Captain Rex, ARC Trooper Fives, Clone Trooper Hardcase, ARC Trooper Echo, Clone Trooper Tup, Clone Trooper Dogma, OC: Deadshot | Sketchbook | Draw the Squad | Fives is nude but nothing important is visible | They are dorks your honour

「POV: Fives approaches you in 79's」 [ART] 

19/06/2023| ARC Trooper Fives, Coruscant Guard | Sketchbook | Fives sucks at flirting | *deepinhale.* VOD. | 

「Anakin Needs therapy」 [ART]

18/06/2023| Anakin Skywalker | Sketchbook | Amputee!Anakin | BPD related art | I love using kitsugi as a motif for breaking down over and over again then rehabilitating |

AUGUST 2023

「Dar'Ad」 [AO3] + [FIC]

01/08/2023 | Fanfic | 437 word | Alpha-17, Commander Fox | Mentions of Execution | Angst | Hurt, no comfort | Seriously, guys, the amount of interactions I’ve got for this snippet! Maybe I should think of a continuation if you liked it this much!

「Foxhunt」 [ART]

02/08/2023| Commander Fox | Blood | I drew this picture first and then and then I wanted to write a description and Dar’Ad happened. The picture takes place after some time of the snippet. 

SEPTEMBER 2023

「Comfort a character: Deadshot」[ART]

03/09/2023 | OC: Deadshot, ARC Trooper Fives | Comfort a character prompt | Umbaran darkness hide the tears of the grief-weary troopers |

「Comfort a character: Cadet!Fox」 [ART & Snippet]

03/09/2023 | Cadet Fox, Alpha-17, Captain Fordo | Comfort a character prompt | Alpha is TRYING OKAY??? |

「Comfort a character: Rex」 [ART] 

07/09/2023| Captain Rex, Commander Cody | Comfort a Character prompt | Hurt & comfort |

「Comfort a character: Cadet!Rex」 [ART]

10/09/2023 | Cadet Rex, and Cadet Fox aka Tintin (by Kilt) | Comfort a character prompt | Omg, this was such a lovely request from my friend, I still think about it a lot~ I really enjoyed trying out a different coloring technique |

「Comfort a character: Dogma」 [ART & FIC] + [AO3]

23/09/2023| Clone Trooper Dogma, Commander Fox | Comfort a character prompt | 407 words | Corrie!Dogma | Dogma deserves better. |

「Comfort a character: Fox」 [ART]

29/09/2023 | Commander Fox, OC: Headshot | Comfort a character prompt| We have a shared custody on Headshot with ithillia <3 |

OCTOBER 2023

「Red is a color of...」 [ART]

03/10/2023 | Commander Fox, Commander Thorn | …LOVE | No context, just unhinged Fox | I have many Commander Fox in my head, but this one is actually crazy like a fox. 

「Bullet-time Fox」 [ART]

05/10/2023| Commander Fox, Commander Thorn, Commander Thire, Commander Stone, Sergeant Hound, Grizzer | The corrie commanders are major dorks when no one is looking | 

「Fives」 [ART]

10/10/2023 | Gift for Mary <3 | ARC Trooper Fives |

「Mal」 [ART]

| Gift for Corey | Corey's OC | Precious scarred babu <3

「Happy Dogma」 [ART]

14/10 | Clone Trooper Dogma | Character reaction to post | DOGMA IS THE SWEETEST GOODEST BOY MUST PROTECC |

「Fives x Shots」 [ART]

CLONESHIP 23/10/2023 | OC: Deadshot, ARC Trooper Fives | They are in love, you honour |

「TCW x Lucky Star」 [ART]

25/10/2023 | Commander Fox | Incorrect Quote | Redrawing Kogami Akira as Fox |

NOVEMBER 2023

「Mlem.」 [COMIC]

09/11/2023| OC: Deadshot, Clone Trooper Hardcase, Clone Trooper Tup, Clone Trooper Dogma, ARC Trooper Fives, ARC Trooper Jesse | Torrent barrack shenanigans | Boys being boys | Hardcase is a kind of friend who randomly licks your face |

「I've got a birthday gift from Corey! 」 [Gift] <3

13/11/2023| OC: Deadshot, ARC Trooper Fives, Clone Trooper Tup | Character reacts to post | Deadshot is a softy | A wonderful gift, thank you so much <3 |

「Received a gift on my birthday &lt;;3」 [Comic]

16/11/2023| Captain Rex, Commander Fox, 501st, Coruscant Guard | Sketchbook | Gift from nuclearteabag | Nuke gave me a present but the corries confiscated it :(((( | Fox is a dork |

「Thoughts about natborn cadets」 [Photo]

18/11/2023|Commander Fox, ARC Trooper Fives | Toy Photo | 

「It’s called nature, Fox!」 [Photo]

19/11/2023| Commander Fox, Arc Trooper Fives | Toy Photo | Commander Fox doesn’t like nature |

「The Captain isn't entirely satisfied with the new ARC trooper」 [Comic]

CLONESHIP mentioned 29/11/2023 |OC: Deadshot, Captain Rex | Blorbo bleebus | pls don’t take this post seriously or else Shots will die of embarrassment | that’s what happens when I draw with migraine |

「Fox loves caf」 [Photo]

30/11/2023| Commander Fox | Toy Photo | Don’t tell him it’s chai latte |

DECEMBER 2023

「I don’t deserve you」 [ART & FIC]

THORN X FOX CLONESHIP 03/12/2023 |Commander Fox, Commander Thorn | Art and Fanfiction | I don’t deserve you prompt | 982 words | Hurt & Comfort |

「I don’t deserve you」 [FIC]

FIVES x DEADSHOT (OC) CLONESHIP |OC: Deadshot, Captain Rex, ARC Trooper Fives | Fanfic | Wordcount: 2446 | Mature | I don’t deserve you prompt | Talking about a dead person and grief | Captain Rex had enough with Deadshot's digging into the past and decided it's time to have a conversation neither of them wished to have. | NO BETA |

「Deadshot has one of those days」 [ART]

12/12/2023| OC: Deadshot, Clone Trooper Tup | Sketchbook | Breaking down in 3…2…1… |

「I do deserve better」 - [ART & FIC] + [AO3]

Dogma x Tup - CLONESHIP 16/12/2023 |Clone Trooper Dogma, Clone Trooper Tup | Art and fanfiction | I don’t deserve you prompt | 560 words | Hurt, no comfort | Angst | Umbara arc |

JANUARY 2024

「Commander Wolffe portrait」 [ART]

16/01/2024 |Commander Wolffe | 104th follower celebration thingy |

「Fives portrait」 [ART]

16/01/2024 |Arc Trooper Fives | Art Request |

「Deadshot reacts to Fives portrait」 [ART]

Fives x Deadshot (OC) CLONESHIP 16/01/2024 | Arc Trooper Fives, OC: Deadshot | Fives exists and Shots is melting |

「Sergeant Sinker portrait」 [ART]

17/01/2024 | Clone Trooper Sinker | Art request | I love how this little shit turned out <3

「Warthog & Tracer portrait」 [ART]

17/01/2024| Clone Trooper Warthog, Clone Trooper Tracer | Art Request | How dare you make me invest in cloneboys again just to get my heart broken!!! >:(((( | 

「Big Bad Wolffe」 [ART]

21/01/2024 | Cadet Rex, Cadet Wolffe | Art request | Soft babybabus <3 | 

[Rex with a lightsaber] [ART]

24/01/2024 | Captain Rex | Art request | Let me see what you have! - A lasersword. - NO! |

FEBRUARY 2024

「Dar’ad part II」 [ART] + [AO3]

01/02/2024 | Commander Fox | Febuwhump 2024 Day 1 - Helpless | ART & FIC | Wordcount: 417 | Warning: character's death, execution by injection, open-ending |

「Sketchdump」 [ART]

FIVES x DEADSHOT ECHO x TECH MAZE x BOOKS CLONESHIP 02/02/2024| ARC Trooper Fives, OC: Deadshot, ARC Trooper Echo, TBB Tech, Alpha-26 Maze | sketchbook | Various sketches about cloneboys + JungleSkirmish!AU lore | 

「Obedience/Devotion」 [ART] + [AO3]

SHEEV x FOX but can be interpreted platonic too 04/02/2024 | Commander Fox, Sheev Palpatine | Febuwhump 2024 day 3 | Toxic relationship, one-sided love…or is it? | Art & Fic | Word count: 300 | 

「I love you」 [ART]

SHEEV x FOX 05/02/2024 | Commander Fox , Sheev Palpatine | Febuwhump 2024 Day 5 | Continuation of “Obedience” | Toxic relationship | 

「IT’S COFFE TIME!」 [ART]

08/02/2024 | Commander Fox | ASDF movie parody | It’s Muffin time! song parody | 

「Clones in the closet」 [ART]

15/02/2024 | Captain Rex, ARC Trooper Fives, ARC Trooper Echo, ARC Trooper Jesse, Clone Trooper Tup, Clone Trooper Hardcase | Characters react to post | My brain hurts :DDD |

「City boy gets intimidated by war veteran’s huge equipment」 [ART]

Not a cloneship, but I’m a very mature person and the dialogue is purposefully written as cockmeasuring 18/02/2024 | Clone Trooper Kix, OC: Headshot | Kix tries to befriend the corrie medic |

「Life after O66」[ART]

19/02/2024 | OC: Lily, OC: Blaze, OC: Vorn, OC: Headshot, OC: Pons, OC: Angel, Commander Fox, Commander Thorn, Commander Thire | ARTs and rambling about OC’s and how they life will be after Order 66 | WARNING: Mentions of canon character's deaths, mentions of suicide, actual suicide and visual depiction of it, nudity but genitals are not visible. Coruscant Guard has cultish vibes.

APRIL 2024

「Finger-sketches」 [ART]

25/04/2024 | OC: Deadshot, Clone Trooper Tup, Clone Trooper Dogma | Sketchbook app | Quick finger-sketches drawn during empty hours |

[kiragecko]

Dick and Babs

Updated version, since Tumblr REALLY doesn’t like me editing lists that were made in the old text editor. (The original, the rest of the lists, and a reading guide, are HERE):

Dick to Babs-

CIVILIAN NAME

Babs - 97 | 21

Barbara - 27 | 15

Babsy - 1 | 0

CODENAME

Oracle - 18 | 8

Batgirl - 3 | 3

Former-Batgirl - 1 | 0

High Priestess of Tech - 0 | 1

"A Pretty Decent Detective" - 1 | 0

OTHER

Nurse - 2 | 0

A Princess - 1 | 0

Baby - 1 | 0

Love - 1 | 0

Beautiful - 1 | 0

A Drill Sergeant - 1 | 0

Lady - 1 | 0

A Friend - 0 | 1

A Nice Girl - 0 | 1

Babs to Dick-

CIVILIAN NAME

Dick - 73 | 8

Grayson - 13 | 0

Dick Grayson - 6 | 0

The Flying Grayson - 1

CODENAME

Nightwing - 16 | 11

Dih - Nightwing - 0 | 1

Mr Nightwing, Sir - 1 | 0

N – 0 | 1

Robin - 4 | 0

The Robin I Remember - 0 | 1

BOY WONDER AND VARIANTS

Hunk Wonder - 5 | 0

Man Wonder – 3 | 1

Former Boy Wonder – 3 | 0

Boy Wonder – 1 | 1

Two Boy Wonders – 1 | 0

Late Boy Wonder - 1 | 0

Former Teen Wonder - 1 | 0

Gen X Wonder – 1 | 0

Hound Wonder – 1 | 0

Twenty Something Wonder - 1 | 0

The Blue Wonder - 1 | 0 (referring to police uniform)

The Other Boy Wonder - 0 | 1

STATUS

Soldier - 2 | 0

FAMILIAL

Barbara Gordon’s Husband - 1 | 0

Boyfriend - 1 | 0

My Boyfriend - 1 | 0 (comparing to her BEST friend)

OTHER

Guys - 4 | 0

Boys - 2 | 2

Flatterer – 2 | 0

Dih—Darling! - 1 | 0

Lover - 1 | 0

Love - 1 | 0

The Brightest, Sweetest, Most Handsome, Wealthiest Young Bachelor on the Entire East Coast – 1 | 0

The Billionaire’s Ward - 1 | 0

Old Idiotic Trapeze Artist - 1 | 0

Young Fearless Trapeze Artist - 1 | 0

The Blüdhaven Cop - 1 | 0

Buckaroo – 1 | 0

Bucko – 1 | 0

Candy-Gram – 1 | 0

Cowboy - 1 | 0

McFly - 1 | 0

Pizza Boy – 1 | 0

Planet Grayson - 1 | 0

Your Bad Self – 1 | 0

Bait Boy – 1 | 0

INSULTS

A Teenaged Boy O.D.-ing on His Own Testosterone - 1 | 0

The Idiot with the Bullet Holes In his Body - 1 | 0

Bonehead - 1 | 0

You Big Dope! - 1 | 0

A Gaggle of Vigilante Lost Boys - 1 | 0 

Stupid - 1 | 0

Stupid, Stupid Boys - 0 | 1

Poor Lovable Naïve Dope – 0 | 1

Comments:

Dick calls Babs “Barbara” when he’s sad, serious, or formal; and “Babs” when he’s happy and/or casual. Dick is the only character that uses "Babs" more often than "Barbara". Which is weird to me.

Despite the fact that they frequently interact as Oracle and Nightwing, and the fact that Babs is usually pretty good at referring to people by codename, NEITHER uses codenames for each other often.

Babs REALLY loves to play with the phrase “Boy Wonder” now that he’s graduated from the title. Also, I think Babs uses more nicknames than anyone else in the Batverse, though Jason is trying hard to keep up.

Also, ALL the really lovey-dovey endearments are from the period Devin Grayson was writing Nightwing. Make of this what you will.