#bounty hunter stories

[xinambercladx]

Officer Bathagar reluctantly hands off the payment to Cad Bane. An illustration for Chapter 10 of "Figment", my fanfic. (Mostly bounty hunter adventures with a dash of romance). ------------------------------------------------------------------------- Excerpt:

The spaceport was bustling. Transports dropped off passengers. Bags floated or rolled after them. Droids ferried cargo. The bounty hunter leaned against a pillar, far to the side, observing everything with a keen eye. This was the rendezvous for Officer Bathagar, who clearly had nothing to say. The Bith strode straight up to Cad Bane and handed him a datapad with one hand and a case with the other. Bane opened it to see the gold credits gleaming. The Officer checked over his shoulders nervously, only to find no one watching them in the busy port. Uncomfortable, he made to leave.

Bane growled after him, “Law man.”

The Officer stopped in his tracks. “Everything is on the datapad.”

“Looks that way,” Bane agreed. He tilted his head, looking at the man as though he were an unruly teenager. He casually warned, “Don’t get comfy bendin’ the rules.”

The Police Officer became stiff, then forced himself to relax. He nodded and left without a goodbye.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------- Read Figment Ch.10: Reclamation <-click I'm done messing with this. I've spent way more time on it than I should have. XD Line Art. Feel free to download this and play around with it. :D

Black and White, Noir style.

---------------- ---------------- xInAmberCladx's Fanart Archive <- click

[techmiranda]

Writer's block. The thing that you have ideas, know how the story will go, get even more ideas, and want to write, but the right way to out it Just. Doesn't. Come. Out.

But, finally got the next chapter out in my Star Wars Cad Bane x OC fanfic, and the next chapter already on its way. Yay for that!

These are bounty hunter stories with action, smut, gritty details and adventure, and the storyline once 10 chapters long has become adventure-filled fic now passing 50 chapters...

The Concept of Trust in AO3

And in Wattpad.

[someonetooksendnoodles]

i’m such a whore for jaw-dropping, heavily stylized, thematically laden, full of heart animation. will forever be impressed at the stories that are coming from non-disney studios having their moment to shine.

[tightjeansjavi]

Hi!! Love your writing!! Can you write a cowboy fetish joel miller with boot riding 🥺🥺

Hi nonnie! Thank you for sending this in! It scratched my brain just ✨right✨ and I hope it does the same for you! I couldn’t just do some boot ridin’ without some plot ;) enjoy 🤠

Dinner & Diatribes

~word count: 3.7k~

Pairing | Cowboy/bounty hunter! Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: you’re the kind of love that Joel Miller has been dreaming of all his life

Warnings: smut,fluff, angst, cowboy in shining armor vibes, unprotected piv, boot ridin! dick slingin, mutual masturbation, voyeurism, implied age gap, dom/sub vibes, sir/mister kink, implied abuse (not by Joel) Joel is a bounty hunter during the Wild West, reader is a runaway bride wanted for murdering three men, filthy language, pining, protective! Joel, assumed unrequited love, swearing, AU that might not 100% be historically accurate but I tried! reader has no physical descriptions such a skin tone or body type, readers nickname is Chickadee, +18 minors dni! Let me know if I missed anything!

Joel Miller knows that keeping a bounty for himself ain’t the way to go about things..he knows that there’s consequences for his actions, an imminent problem would surely arise if he didn’t bring you back to the town you fled from. Wanted for the murders of three men. A wild untamable thing on the run is how the sheriff described you to Joel. And the most important detail of all; I don’t care if you bring her back alive, or in pieces.

And then Joel found you, tracked your trails for miles and miles through the barren rough terrain of the Wild West. You didn’t even put up a fight when you heard the distinct sound of thundering hooves drawing nearer and nearer. You were exhausted, dehydrated, and on the verge of collapsing to the dusty earth while vultures circled ahead.

This didn’t mean you gave up entirely when Joel Miller had you circled, cornered and lasso at the ready. That’s when he took notice of your state, your attire. A once glittering wedding dress now hanging on by threads of shredded fabric. The bottom tooled fabric was now a dirty sand color, blending in with the dirt. Remnants of your eye makeup cracked and stained beneath your eyes and cheekbones that were once painted in a pretty pigment.

He watched from the saddle of his horse as you sank down to your knees, awaiting your inevitable fate to be delivered. “Have you come to turn me in, Mister?”

His head cocked to the side, eyes studying your vulnerable form intently. You couldn’t see his face as it was obstructed from your view with a tied bandana, but even from where you sat on your knees, you could see that his eyes were a deep shade of brown, dark and mysterious.

He dismounted his horse swiftly, silently, boots tearing up dusty patches of earth with each heavy step he took. The spurs on the back of his boots chimed through the air as he stopped in front of you. His broad frame casted a shadow over your kneeling form. His hands were encased in worn leather, and he smelled of tobacco smoke, saddle soap, and musk.

He crouched down, hat tipping forward while one leather clad hand reached for your jaw, thumb brushing across your skin as he tilted it upwards, forcing you to look into his eyes. He saw your grime and dried blood stained face up close. Your eyes flickered nervously as he turned your head to the side.

“Ain’t you gonna get on with it and turn me in? What’re you draggin’ this out for, huh? You caught me, mister. Go and collect your fuckin’ reward.” You spat defiantly into the dirt, a glob of salvia landing on the toe of his boot.

His grip tightened around your chin, jaw ticking sharp like a knife, eyes narrowing in on your face and the subtle wobble of your severely cracked and dry lower lip.

“What happened to you?” He finally spoke. His voice reminded you of fire crackling, ominous thunder and heavy rain. Thick, gravelly, deeper than the Grand Canyon itself.

“What’s it matter if I tell ya, huh? You gonna take pity on me or somethin’ mister?”

He was silent again, appearing deep in thought as he continued to study your face, searching through the grime and dirt for any clues..then, he saw it; The eyes of someone that suffered abuse. His grip around your chin softened

“Stand up.” He commanded.

You struggled to your feet, confusion etched in your features, the obvious sway in your step before two strong hands grabbed your shoulders to steady you.

“We’ll have to move fast.”

“What’re you—” You were still confused, head spinning from his words and malnourishment.

“I don’t turn in folks that killed outta self defense, Chickadee. And certainly not a woman that killed her abusers.” He gave you a curt, tight nod. “Better you than I cause I woulda tied those sons a bitches up and dragged them through the fuckin’ desert.” He rasped.

“You’re..not turnin’ me in?”

“No. Ain’t morally right for me t’do so.” He said softly.

And that’s how you ended up riding through the countryside with Joel Miller to protect you. You’d patch up his shiners, his wounds, keep his belly full with hearty stews that kept him strong and alert. You’d clean his gun, shine his leather till you could see your reflection in the fabric. And in return, he protected you. He never asked for any sexual favors, or for your hand. He viewed you as his equal, his partner.

It hurt sometimes, to flirt with the man you owed your life to and for him to brush your attempts off everytime. As if you were a pesky horsefly, or insignificant gnat. Yet, you couldn’t help it. Joel was handsome, ruggedly so and you’d often find yourself fantasizing about kissing him, feeling his fingers touch you in places you craved to be touched in. To feel his caress on your skin, the bite of his leather, the scrape of his scruffy beard. The stretch of his cock inside of your wet cunt.

You were driving yourself mad with want for a man that didn’t want you back, or so you assumed that was to be the case.

That couldn’t have been further from the truth.

Joel Miller was on the edge to finally just give in when he caught you one night with your skirts hiked above your thighs with your boot clad feet firmly planted in the dirt. Under the pale glow of the moonlight above, and the glittery shining stars, he could see your hand between your thighs, touching yourself and moaning his name.

It felt wrong to watch you, to invade your privacy and your modesty. But he’d be damned if he’d go another night without feeling the hug of your pussy around his aching cock. Or to feel the taste of your kissable lips on his tongue. Damned. Damned. Damned. Fuck, he couldn’t survive another second without knowing what it was like to be loved by you.

For years he had pushed you away despite knowing the pain it caused both you and him. A man could only last so long pretending to not love a woman that he’d throw his life down for in a heartbeat. That’s the kinda love Joel Miller had been dreaming of all his life.

Your head snapped at the sound of a twig snapping behind you as your hand stilled between your thighs. Your heartbeat rattled wildly in your rib cage at the fear and excitement of being caught.

Oh, please. Please let tonight be the night.

“Don’t stop on my account, Chickadee.” He drawled deeply before stepping closer to where you sat.

The heat rushed to your cheeks like a wildfire spreading, your stomach clenched inwards as you began to touch yourself once more, eyes staying locked on his own.

When he was close enough, you used his shins for support as you rubbed your swollen clit in tight, fast circles.

“No.” He shook his head. “Slower. Take your time, darlin.’ There ain’t no rush. Let me see you.” He rasped, before slowly sinking into the dirt behind you. His strong thighs corralled your own almost possessively as his hands gently grasped the hem of your skirts, pulling them up higher. You felt the brush of his beard against your cheek when his chin came to rest along your shoulder. “Nice and slow for me.”

“I’m—sorry, Joel.” You whispered ashamedly through the cool darkness of the desert night. You slowed your fingers, dragging them through the building slick that pooled between the seam of your cunt.

“Sorry for what, Chickadee? Sorry for touchin’ yourself? For moanin’ my name? Why would you be sorry for that?..” His deep tone sent sparks flying through your body as you leaned back into his strong chest.

“Because—you don’t want me, and this is wrong for me to do. To touch myself and moan a man’s name that doesn’t desire me the way I desire him.” A whimper was clawing up your throat, begging to be released, but you wouldn’t allow it.

He dropped the fabric of your skirts briefly only to dip his hand between your thighs and place his massive palm over the top of your hand, guiding your fingers over your clit once more. “This man desires you plenty, Chickadee. I was only tryin’ to protect your modesty..and our hearts.” He whispered against your ear, lips ghosting across your exposed skin. “Been wantin’ to love you all these years we’ve spent together.” He admitted. “I’m a terrible, rotten man for keepin’ you starved this long..” he trailed off, pressing open mouthed kisses at the spot where your jaw met your neck. “M’sorry.”

Those were the last words you ever expected a fucking bounty hunter to whisper..let alone to you?

A shuddered breath slipped past your parted lips, just for him. Your head lolled to the side, granting him easier access as your lashes fluttered shut. “I��ve felt like..such a fool, Joel. A dirty little fool for a bounty hunter.” You took your lower lip between your teeth, biting down harshly and drawing blood to the surface. You let him take full control of your hand, letting him guide and manipulate your fingers to play with yourself just right.

“Shh..I know now, Chickadee. M’sorry, truly. But I’m here now, ain’t I? M’here. Here forever if you’ll have me. I understand if I've bruised and neglected your heart far too many times..I can accept your rejection if it is coming.”

You could detect the edge of sadness in his tone, the acceptance already settling into his bones and heart.

“Joel, please kiss me.” You nearly begged him, dying to finally know what his lips would feel like on your own.

“Why didn’t ya just say that sooner, Chickadee.” He chuckled. “I wish ya woulda just grabbed me by the breeches years ago and knocked some sense into my thick skull. Woulda taken your ache away a long time ago, darlin.’” He said in a hushed whisper. “But I know you were afraid..can’t blame ya for that. Not really. ‘Specially since I ain’t the nicest of men to come by.”

He was taking too long, and you were an impatient woman.

“Joel.” You huffed, fighting the urge to curse him out before you decided to take matters into your own hands, finally. Tomorrow was never promised, not when you and Joel were constantly on the run.

He kept rambling on until he felt the soft touch of your fingertips brushing against the patches in his scruffy beard and the magnetic pull drawing him in closer, closer till he could taste your mingled breath on his lips.

Here in the middle of the desert, with nothing but the moon and stars as a source of light, you finally knew what it was like to kiss Joel Miller. You learned his lips quickly, liking that they were both soft and a bit chapped. As you licked slowly into one another’s mouths you could taste the faint remnants of tobacco on his tongue. It was a bruising kiss, one that both ignited the fire deep within you, and sent a delicious tingle curving down your spine.

So, this is what the girls back home were all talking about. Being kissed by a real man.

And then you found yourself straddling him in the dirt, saying fuck all to your modesty because you had never wanted a man more than you did now. And you wished that your mother could see you now. To see what her perfect little daughter had turned into.

Fuck you, mother. Fuck you for forcing me to marry that monster.

Joel brought you back down to earth with both his lips and his words tattooed on your skin. He caged you with his body, acting as a shield from the chilly night ear that sent goosebumps rising.

He worked your blouse open, growing more frustrated by the minute when the clasps wouldn’t automatically give. He was desperate to feel more of you, all of you because he knew then that you were his, and he was yours. And if you’d end up being the death of him, so be it. At least he could go out being loved rather than unloved.

“You gonna fuck me now, mister? Gonna take what belongs to you, Joel?” You mumbled against his lips in a chasing kiss, growing more desperate as the seconds ticked by.

“Gonna do more than that, Chickadee.” He rasped. This was a promise, and a man such as Joel always kept his promises.

The howl of a Coyote far off in the distant sent uneasy nerves rolling through you, because the realization hit you then that you and Joel were out in the fucking wilderness, and you suddenly felt bare and exposed.

“Jus’ a coyote, doll. He’s singin’ to the moon. We’re safe here, I promise. Ain’t ever gonna let somethin’ happen to you again, Chickadee.” His strong calloused, yet gentle hands came to cup for your face. His deep brown eyes met yours through the pale glow of the moonlight casted over your faces. “I swear on my life, you will always be safe with me.”

and while the lone coyote sang his song to the moon, Joel Miller had you singing your own song, just for his ears too.

After that night spent together, you never had a night where you slept alone. Joel was always there. Holding you, kissing you, fucking you into a blissful state.

He still feared for your safety, and you feared for his. This would never change, but you refused to live in fear for the rest of your life.

It was a boiling hot day under the blazing desert sun. You and Joel were moving west towards California. Hearing about the gold rush there sounded like as good of an opportunity as any. Not even just for the gold, but the prospects of a new life. Joel had dreams of owning a ranch, sheep specifically and living out his days with you by his side.

“Come join me for a swim, cowboy.” You were sitting side by side under the one single tree along the river's edge. Your two horses were drinking their fill after traveling for days in these conditions.

Your cowboy had his arms crossed behind his head, biceps bulging under the thin fabric of his shirt. His hat was tipped down over his head. You only witnessed Joel being fully relaxed on a few occasions where he would let his guard down for just mere minutes.

“Mmm. That’s alright, doll. Y’go on and enjoy yourself.” He said with a lazy sigh.

“Just a quick one together? Please?” You reached over and gently lifted the brim of his hat just enough so you could see his closed eyes.”

“Chickadee..” he said in a low warning tone, peeking one eye open to look up at you before he shut it once more.

“You’re no fun.” You huffed while releasing your gentle grip on his hat.

“M’plenty fun, doll. I gotta keep watch, anyway. Can’t do that if I’m stark naked in the river with ya. What if someone tries to sneak up? Won’t have my gun at arms reach.” He sighed.

“I know, Joel.”

Maybe when we get to California..he won’t have to worry about all of that.

He sat up turning his body to face you before his palm came to rest upon your cheek in a gentle caress. His thumb brushed across your lower lip, tugging it down gently before he leaned in and kissed you sweetly. “Now go on and cool off, Chickadee.”

You kissed him back with the same amount of sweetness before you pulled away and gave his nose a light boop. His face scrunched inwards before he reached around and gave your ass a light and playful swat that sent you giggling as you rose to your feet.

You shot him a seductive wink before you raced down to the river's edge, kicking up a cloud of dirt with your boots.

Joel watched from afar with a hooded gaze as you stripped down from your skirts and blouse followed by your unlaced boots. He couldn’t help but chuckle to himself when your one boot wouldn’t give right away and you nearly tripped before finally getting it off. He kept watch as you dove into the crystal clear waters and reameraged moments later.

He reached into his pack, pulling out an apple and pocket knife while you splashed around like a kid on Christmas. He cut off a small slice before biting it off on the edge of the knife, chewing thoughtfully as he leaned back against the sturdy tree.

When we get to California..I’m going to marry her.

He didn’t want to end your fun so soon..but it was time to get moving again. He brought his thumb and forefinger into his mouth, whistling to let you know that it was time to pack up.

You had been floating peacefully on your back with your eyes closed when you heard his whistle that immediately tore you from your daydream state.

He was just about to stand up from where he was resting against the tree when you emerged from the river. You reminded him of a goddess. Bare, beautiful, skin sprinkled in water droplets that were kissed by the sun. You looked unreal, and he was the luckiest man alive.

“C’mon, Chickadee. We gotta head out.” He called for you when you were within earshot.

“I’m coming!” You bent down to gather up your clothes before the idea struck you. “Can I dry off first, please?”

He let out a grumbled sigh before he ultimately nodded his head in agreement. A few more minutes couldn’t hurt..

“Jus’ till ya dry off, doll.”

With your clothes and boots gathered up in your bare arms, you approached him casually, setting everything down on your nearby saddle while he watched you with piqued curiosity.

“I was thinking about you out there..laying on my back and feeling the warmth of the sun on my skin..” you trailed off.

“Is that so? Hmm..what were you thinkin’ about, Chickadee?” His eyes slowly trailed down your bare body. From the swell of your breasts, down your tummy and thighs and what lay between them.

“Want to take a guess, cowboy?” You asked teasingly.

His brow raised as a grin tugged along the corner of his lips. A game is what you were playing, and he was the willing participant.

“Based on your tone, I’m gonna guess it’s got somethin’ to do with..my cock?” He wiggled his eyebrows in a suggestive manner while his hand casually came to rest between his own thighs. Oh, he was playing alright.

“Mmm..perhaps I was thinkin’ of ridin’ your cock right under the shade of this tree..but that would be too obvious, Joel.” Your eyes drifted down to where his hand was before the traveled down the expanse of his strong thighs and ending at the toe of his leather boots.

He caught onto your drift almost immediately and you saw his pupils begin to darken. “Y’wanna ride my boot? Is’that it? Well, ain’t you a filthy thing, Chickadee. You wanna get ‘em all shined up for me? Drag that sweet cunt of yours over them?”

His eyes stayed locked on yours in a challenging stare while he palmed himself through his pants to relieve the growing tension.

“I do, sir. I really, really, really want to ride your boot.” You could feel the heat rise to your cheeks because never in your wildest dreams did you expect to take part in debauchery such as this.

“On your knees then, girl. Kiss ‘em for me.” He fell right into character with a flip of a switch.

You found yourself lowering onto your knees without a care in the world about the dirt while you bent down over his boots, pressing a kiss to the leather, dragging your tongue down the stitched seam.

“That’s it, doll. Get ‘em nice and shined up for me.” He said while popping the button on his pants open and pulling his cock free from the confines.

“You gonna touch yourself while I ride your boot, mister?” You were sitting upright again before you crawled closer, letting your hands rest along his thighs as you positioned yourself right above his left boot. The imprint of your kiss had already begun to dry from the scorching heat.

“Yeah, doll. I’m gonna fist my cock while you ride my boot like the dirty Chickadee that you are.” He spat into his palm before he wrapped his fist around the base of his cock just as you lowered yourself over the expanse of his boot, taking your lip between your teeth when you dragged your clit right across the smooth leather.

“Fuuck me. Ain’t that a sight. Look at you, fuckin’ filthy girl. S’feel good, Chickadee?”

You rolled your hips forward slowly at the rate that he was pumping his fist. A soft whimper slipped past your lips while your eyes stayed locked on his.

“Feels so good, mister. So—so good.” You moaned freely with each steady roll of your hips, chasing that high. Nothing would ever compare to Joel’s cock. You knew this, he knew this, and you also were aware that this little game would only last so long.

And then he watched you lose yourself completely on his boot with each roll and grind of your hips against the dampened leather. Crying out his name, nails digging into his covered thighs, head thrown back, tears nearly flooding your eyes.

He had the same sense of urgency and realization that nothing would ever compare to the warm hug of your pussy around his cock. That’s when the game ended as his strong arms came to lift you into his lap by your thighs. His lips met yours in a bruising kiss filled with intermingled moans and teeth clashing together when he finally slipped into your warmth.

California could wait a little longer, he wanted to savor this moment for as long as it lasted because now he had the love that he had been dreaming of all his life. Right here in his arms, cock buried to the hilt under the shade of this very tree. Right here with his Chickadee.

That’s the kinda love I’ve been dreaming of

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[ddeck]

if cold blooded bounty hunter why babygirl

[syn0vial]

some snapshots of boba fett being a socially anxious mess in legacy of the force

facing some of the galaxy's most ruthless and hardened killers in combat? no problem 👌 having a heartfelt conversation in a room with friends and family? RUN!! 🏃🏃

"am i allowed to call my best friend by his first name when we're at his house? if i get the answer wrong, it is equivalent to me stepping on a landmine and exploding btw"

the thought of having anything like a family or social circle is terrifying to him. loneliness is a much more familiar and thus comfortable experience.

this is a sad one. trying to interact with other people in a way that isn't predicated on violence (whether for or to them) feels so alien and daunting to fett that he feels like he's incapable of it. (it's also one of the many moments in which fett is an unreliable narrator of his own character development bc what do you think you've been doing for the past three books, idiot)

and finally, one of the (several) moments in the series that implies he usually relies on beviin and/or medrit to handle daunting social interactions for him :`) he's very lucky to have them!

[identityquest]

maelstrom 🌪️

oc-tober day 2 complete with one of my newer ocs, coyote maelstrom ⛈️ theyre a stratomancer cowboy and theyre real good at whipping up thunderstorms

[glitter50000]

[critter-wizard]

m,y little aliens !!!

[pussinbootsandbountyhunter]

The Hero and the Villain Gaze

(Both Life and Death moment)

A hero and a villain, both life and death, can look at each other's eyes that somehow see into each other's souls through emerald and ruby gazed on the Wishing Star

[im-a-wonderling]

Safety Harness

This is my piece for @thepenultimateword's song-story writing challenge. My song was "Bloodshot" by Sam Tinnesz, which was submitted by @epiclamer. This was a lot harder than I thought, but such a good exercise! Shout out to @writing-on-the-wahl for helping me out with this. She just has a way of making everything better. ❤️

Word count: 2.8k

-

Hunter didn’t like using front doors. Nor did she like knocking.

That’s why, when she roughly pulled a gagged Kidnapee from her unassuming blue sedan, she went straight around the mansion to the French double doors at the back of Client’s house. She shoved the doors open with such force, they swung, bounced off the walls, and swung back in her direction. Hunter lifted a hand to block the door before it hit her. Kidnapee’s hands, unfortunately, were bound, and therefore he was unable to stop the door from hitting him in the face.

Client sat alone at the head of a long dining table of dark wood, several plates of food in front of him. He didn’t look the least bit surprised or put out by Hunter’s rambunctious entrance. He merely set down his fork. “That was quicker than I expected,” was all he said before lifting his pristine, cream cloth napkin to wipe his mouth. 

“I don’t mess around.” Hunter dragged Kidnapee to the other end of the table and forced them down into the chair.

Client rose to his feet, walking slowly closer, his eyes never leaving Kidnapee. Smoothly, Hunter stepped in between the two of them. “My money?” 

“Oh,” Client said with all his slippery charm, “come now, it’s crass to discuss–”

“Money, or I’m taking Kidnapee right back to where I found them.” She cocked her head. “Considering now they know where you live, that would not end well for you.”

Client’s upper lip curled. “Fine.” He slid his hand into his pocket, lifting out his phone. “Hello,” he said quickly. “I need you to transfer that money we talked about.” The voice on the other side of the phone garbled a bit. “Thank you, Barney.” He hung up and then made to walk around Hunter.

Hunter held up her hand. “Not so fast.” She pulled out her own phone, to wait for the number to increase. 

It did, by exactly the amount agreed upon.

Hunter dropped her hand. “Pleasure doing business with you,” she said, tucking her phone into her pocket and leaving the way she’d come before Client could make her stay, whether for a drink or for participation in whatever nefarious treatment he had planned for Kidnapee. 

He hadn’t requested Kidnapee be blindfolded, so Hunter knew Kidnapee wasn’t walking out of this mansion.

And it wasn’t any of Hunter’s concern. All she did was find people and deliver them to her patrons. What happened after that was not her decision. 

Hunter was done having things on her conscience. 

All she cared about now was making enough money to follow through with her plans. Even after a month of doing these jobs, she still hadn’t made enough, but tonight, that could change. 

She knew firsthand how wealthy her next potential customer was. 

Hopping into her sedan, Hunter sped off into the evening traffic, heading for the Honey Cloud. No other diner in the city had as atrocious a name nor French fries as delicious as the Honey Cloud, but neither of those earmarked it as Hunter’s place of business. It was the alleyway behind it. Small, filled with trashcans, and dimly lit, it allowed for Hunter to keep her identity secret, and it was an easy location to litter with traps in case a meeting went poorly.

And should all her traps fail, Hunter always strapped herself into her harness. If anyone got too close, all she had to do was pull a strap, and the harness would yank her up into the air and onto the roof. She’d never needed the harness, but she knew the one night she didn’t have it in place was the night she would need it.

Once she was all strapped in, Hunter waited, heart pounding in spite of herself. 

She had her mask on, her hood up, her harness clipped on, and stood in the darkest part of the alley with a remote in her pocket that controlled all three hidden traps. She reminded herself that she was safe and prepared. If the conversation took a turn, if he threatened her, she could easily leave. In spite of her internal monologue, however, her hands shook as she waited for the customer to arrive. 

She didn’t have to wait long.

A car drove up to the mouth of the alleyway, and the backdoor opened, revealing the tall and imposing body of Villain himself. 

Simply by laying eyes on him, one could feel the sheer power contained in his tall, broad body.

Languidly, he got out, gave an order to the driver, and then shut the door. The car drove off, leaving Villain alone on the sidewalk, peering into the alley as he buttoned and straightened the blazer of his pale blue suit. Holding his head high, he walked into the alley, one hand lifting to check the knot of his salmon pink tie. As he walked closer, his nose wrinkled as the smell from the trash cans hit him. 

“That’s far enough,” Hunter called, taking on a voice a few tones deeper than her normal one. He was standing right on the edge of her first trap, and good customer service didn’t involve getting a weighted net thrown at you. 

Villain stopped, seemingly unsurprised with the sudden announcement of her presence. He then glanced around, probably realizing he stood directly at the edge of the direct light from the street. “You expect us to talk while we stand fifteen feet apart?”

“If you want to talk at all, yes.”

Villain pursed his lips in the nature of a man used to getting what he wanted, clearly unhappy with the arrangement and debating whether or not he was going to comply. 

Hunter nervously clenched the strap of her harness, ready to pull it if necessary.

But Villain finally bobbed his head once in a nod. 

“So what can I do for you?” Hunter asked, maintaining her alto tone. 

“I need you to find someone for me,” Villain said. 

“I would assume so,” Hunter said dryly. “That is the nature of my job.”

To her surprise, Villain didn’t frown or snap back. He just stood, squinting into the dark, rubbing his hands as if he’d just put lotion on them and was trying to spread it around evenly. 

Hunter’s nerves elevated. “If I’m going to find them, you’re going to need to be a bit more specific.”

Villain lowered his hands, sliding them into his pockets with a cool, practiced air. “I need you to find Hero for me.”

Hunter blinked, glad for the darkness and the mask to contain any surprised expression she might’ve made.

Villain was not the first person who’d come asking for her services in regards to Hero, but she’d expected him to come asking about a long-lost parent, a wayward henchman, even a recently jilted lover, not his nemesis. Her curiosity rose, and despite her best efforts, she couldn’t beat it back. “Let me guess,” she said loftily, “you want Hero dead because–”

“No!” Villain snapped. “I want you to find her, not kill her.”

“Again, that is the nature of my job,” Hunter said. “But you’ll kill her once I bring her to you, yes?”

Villain shifted, clearing his throat. “What I do with her after you’ve located her is not in the nature of your job.”

“That it isn’t,” Hunter remarked. “But if you want to continue this conversation, you’ll tell me why you want to find her.”

Villain visibly faltered. “Does it really matter?” he asked. He must’ve really wanted to find Hero, because he didn’t try to intimidate or bully Hunter into leaving it alone, as if he didn't want to offend her.

Hunter stayed quiet. She wasn’t going to repeat herself, nor would she allow herself to get tricked into continuing the conversation anyway. Hunter once watched an interrogation once where the interrogator said barely three words the whole hour. The power of the interrogator’s silence was enough to extract any information they needed. She mimicked them now. 

Villain reached up a hand, loosening his tie. Was she imagining the beads of sweat on his forehead? “I…I owe her a debt.” Hunter tried to tame her interest, she really did. This was a business meeting, nothing more. 

But she needed to know.

“What debt?”

“Why do you want to know?” Villain countered, jutting his jaw forward, as if he were trying to make himself look more imposing. 

Hunter remained silent. 

“This information won’t affect your ability to find her or bring her to me,” Villain tried again.

Still, no words passed through Hunter’s lips.

“You’re being childish,” Villain scoffed. 

“You know, if you’re trying to get me to do this for you, insulting me isn’t going to get you very far.”

Villain stared at the ground in front of him, visibly struggling, but she knew the second he looked down that he was going to tell her. “She killed someone for me,” Villain said finally, looking back up into the darkness surrounding Hunter.

“You’ve killed loads of people.”

“You don’t understand,” Villain ran a hand through his neatly coiffed hair, messing it up. “For her, it is a big deal, she’s nothing like–” he cut himself off.

“Nothing like who?” Hunter asked softly.

“Doesn’t–”

“–matter?” Hunter finished. Villain turned to the side, staring at the trash cans as if he’d quite like to aim a kick at them. Hunter debated telling him that if he did so, he was responsible for picking up every piece of trash up again. 

Judging by the twist of his lips, Villain was two seconds away from walking out of this alley. 

“Last I heard,” Hunter said, trying for a bit of a drawl, “Hero broke your hand. How’d you go from that to owing her anything?” 

She expected Villain’s face to sour at the mention of his old injury. Instead his head bowed as he looked down at the appendage in question. He didn’t say anything. 

Hunter knew she needed to go back to the original topic. But as she watched Villain silently stare down at a bumpy scar on the back of his hand, she couldn’t bring herself to continue business. “Look, you want a bit of advice from me?” Hunter finally said. “Go home. Put your feet up. Forget about her.”

“No,” Villain said stubbornly.

“Trust me.” Hunter swallowed hard. “Hero’s not worth it.”

Villain pulled out his phone. “How much do you want?” His tone was cold and unyielding.

Hunter chewed on her lip, unsure of exactly what to do. She should end the conversation now. In fact, she should’ve ended it the moment he brought up Hero. But…she had no idea Villain cared this much about his famed nemesis. Her self-preservation pulled her one way, and her curiosity pulled her the other in a furious game of tug-of-war. “How much is Hero worth to you?” she asked finally.

“So you can ask for twice whatever I list? No, thank you.”

“No, I want to know.” Hunter ran the toe of her boot across the alley ground, creating a dim scraping sound. “How far are you willing to go to settle this debt of yours?”

Villain narrowed his eyes, still untrusting. His mouth stayed stubbornly closed. 

“Look,” Hunter said, adopting a tone of impatience, “if you want it quick and dry, go find the Beckham brothers and do business with them.”

Please, she added on silently. 

Villain shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “They wouldn’t take the job. They recommended you.”

Again, Hunter was thankful for the darkness to cover any expression she might’ve made. The Beckham brothers would do anything for money, even if it was streaking on a college campus as part of a fraternity initiation ritual. “Why’d they turn it down?”

Villain pursed his lips. “Few people want to take on the agency.”

A flood of fear rushed through Hunter at the mention of the agency, but she tamped down on it. “The Agency is offering half a million to anyone who brings Hero to them alive.” 

Villain cocked his head. “Then why haven’t you taken them up on it?”

Hunter swallowed hard. She’d made a mistake, a huge mistake in mentioning the Agency’s price. She could see the enormity of her stumble in the thoughts that swirled behind those calculating eyes. 

“Step into the light,” Villain ordered. 

“Excuse me?” Hunter replied, her heart jumping into her throat as she tried to sound offended. 

Villain just stared into the darkness, and Hunter’s heart swooped. “Nothing,” he said finally, falling away a step, and then another. “Nothing, sorry.” But while his words and feet backtracked, his expression didn’t. 

An alarm bell urgently rang in Hunter’s head. This meeting had stretched on too long, and she needed to end it now. 

“I’ll take the job,” she said gruffly. “Transfer a hundred k to account number 4982–”

Villain took a sudden step forward, and Hunter cut off, reaching for the strap of her harness to launch her to safety. “Come closer,” Villain commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument. 

Hunter’s heart pounded. What should she do? Did she cut her losses and escape? Did she try to continue the job? She needed the money, but…did she need it this badly? 

Villain’s expression turned uncharacteristically distressed. “Please…either I’m crazy or…”

That last word hung in the air. 

He knows, Hunter thought to herself, gripping her strap for dear life, frozen like a deer in headlights. He knows, he knows, he knows. She’d thought she was strong enough for this, but she wasn’t. She’d been so focused on the money she needed, she hadn’t thought this through, and now she was going to pay for it. 

She’d be better off cutting her losses and running. Screw the money, she could find it somewhere else. And yet, looking at the sharp desperation in Villain’s face, her will crumbled. 

Barely even aware of anything other than the man in front of her, she hit the button on her remote to deactivate all the traps. She edged closer to Villain, hyper aware that she was leaving the comfort of darkness, for once knowledge was known, it couldn’t be taken back. She was only three feet forward when the harness ran out of line, refusing to allow her even an inch farther. Hunter reached up to hold the buckle of her harness, still unsure of what to do. “What,” she rasped, “do you think you’re going to see?”

Villain’s eyes leapt all around the darkness, trying to seek out Hunter’s form. “The face of someone I very much want to see,” he said. Hunter’s heart skipped a beat in her chest. Her common sense screamed at her to pull the strap, to get out while she still could. Villain chest rose and fell rapidly as he sucked in air. “The face of the woman I love.” 

Hunter’s heart took complete control of her body as she reached up to unclip herself from her harness. Taking a deep breath, Hunter stepped into the light, letting her hood fall. 

Villain lifted shaking hands and pulled the mask from her face, exposing her features to the light. His mouth went slack, and he sucked in a shuddering breath. “Hero.” The relief on his face was so sweet, it hurt.

Hunter turned her face away. “Don’t call me that.”

Villain’s hands came to her face with such gentle caresses, Hunter peeked to see the equally elated and incredulous smile on his face. “I’m not calling you Hunter.”

“Then I guess we’re at an impasse,” Hunter mumbled, letting her gaze drop to the ground.

Villain’s dress shoes stepped closer to her. “We can work out what to call you later,” he muttered, dipping his head.

The kiss he laid on her lips sent a quake through Hunter. She clung to the lapels of Villain’s blue suit, the only way she was able to stay on her feet. 

“I looked for you,” Villain said against her lips, inhaling like he wanted to breathe her into his lungs where she could never run away. “When I heard, I searched for you everywhere.”

To Hunter’s horror, tears pricked at her eyes. Villain pulled back, using his thumbs to brush the water away. “I thought that you were…” He shook his head up at the heavens, unwilling to say it. 

“I almost was,” she choked out. “I’ve been trying to get out of the city ever since, but the Agency took everything. My money, my apartment, all my things–”

Villain’s hand came to cradle the back of her neck, pulling her into his chest. “It’s okay, you’re with me now. We’ll get you out.”

“You were right,” she said, her words muffled by the salmon fabric of his tie. “I was on the wrong side.” 

Villain’s arms tightened around her. He didn’t say “I told you so” or chide her for not listening in the first place. He didn’t rush her away or immediately start cursing those that put her in this situation. He just held her.

And Hunter, in turn, gripped him like he was her new safety harness.

-

Overall tag list:

@thelastpyle @valiantlytransparentwhispers

[spiritshaydra]

Ngl one of these days I kinda wanna try making a comic about space lesbians out of spite, just because I’m sick and tired of all the gay space comics being just,,, two twinks. And there’s a severe lack of science-fiction yuri in general 😭 (I can think of like. One off the top of my head. But it’s dimensional travel yuri not space yuri)

The gays got that Bravern anime but us girls need something too!!

I’m specifically talking about a story that’s got delicate care put into it and how the characters are written, with the focus being entirely on their dynamic and not the [CENSORED FOR SAFE READING] and [REDACTED] along with [CARTOON SOUND EFFECTS] that runs rampant in most of the stories I’ve seen on AO3.

[ifesinachiadrian]

Hey guys! Here’s a bit from my work on ‘My Dad the Bounty Hunter’ storyboard. Don’t remember what version of the boards this was...I had so much fun working with these character, My director was so supportive and in most of my sequence he let my driver the ship to the direction I wanted to and he just nudged me when ever I was veering off course. Shout out to the whole team!

[sinisterexaggerator]

All of Cad Bane's art from the new Star Wars: Hyperspace Stories Vol. 9 (Dark Horse comics).

Some close ups of my favs:

[rochenn]

filoni out there retconning things left and right and yet we still don't get a show about ventress that DELETES whatever tf they did to her in dark disciple. come on. gimme.