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moonstrider9904 · 1 year ago

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Passacaille

Chapter Seven of Half-Moon Glow

Pairing: Crosshair x Female OC (Aurora Dawn)

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Summary: After Aurora and the Batch’s encounter with Sobeck and the 104th division on Christophsis, Aurora and Crosshair enjoy a night alone on Coruscant.

Tags/warnings: Explicit (18+, minors begone). Soft smut oral and vaginal sex, and overall just a dreamy, romantic date night chapter. Some PTSD. Hurt/comfort. Brief alcohol consumption.

A/N: My loves… I know I’ve said “I’m back” like four times this year. It has been over one year since I last updated this fic, and a huge reason for that is having moved out of my childhood home where writing just comes naturally. I am writing this as I have returned for Christmas, and being able to write a softer, light-hearted chapter in my current Crosshair fic seems so fitting that a part of me feels it has to be fate. Thank you to everyone who’s remained even while I’ve been away. This blog and writing are a form of a home I can always come back to. I really hope I still got it and that this chapter lives up to what my writing has been in the past.

Also, not me projecting my dream date in some far-fetched fantasy world lol

Word count: 5.3k

No new assignments had come in.

In the rare peace that came with nothingness—no missions, no wounds to clean, no running for her life—Aurora lay on her bed contemplating the dim gray ceiling above her in silence. She let the sounds of steps and chatter outside her room come and go like the thoughts forming in her mind, basking in the mix of relaxation and tension.

The longest she could go without thinking back to Christophsis was just under five minutes, as she confirmed by tearing her eyes from the ceiling to the clock at her bedside as a way to distract her from the memories. Aurora wanted more than anything else to simply not think of that anymore, and even focusing on Crosshair’s heroic rescue of her didn’t put balm over the wounds. She’d been held hostage while facing heartbreak and her own demise, hurt when she was the one supposed to do the healing.

She’d never felt weaker than she had at that moment.

Aurora sat up on her bed, knowing that lying down wasn’t doing her or her spiraling mind any favors. With a heavy sigh, she tried grounding herself; her hands clenched the bed’s comforter underneath her, the fabric fuzzy and soft against her cold fingertips, and when she let go of the fabric, it didn’t go back to its original state. Her gaze focused on a point between the line where the door met the floor, separating her bedroom from the hallway, and she took a deep breath in while closing her eyes.

It’s okay to still get memories. It’s okay to feel sad at what happened because it was a terrible thing to go through. From being taken hostage to getting a blast wound on her thigh, to believing she wouldn’t see the man she loved ever again, a man who at that point she was convinced she had broken up with for good regardless of whether they saw one another again, all of that had made up the cloud that still loomed in her mind. But I’m not on Christophsis anymore, I’m on Coruscant. I’m healing. I’m safe. I’m wearing part of Crosshair’s armor.

Aurora looked down at her forearm, covered by the gray and black piece of armor he’d given her, and the corner of her lip curved up.

He wants me here.

With her next exhale, Aurora felt tears pooling in her eyes, tears she didn’t bother holding back. After taking that moment to reflect, she felt a weight being lifted off her shoulders, and the hole in her chest seemed to lighten up as well. The point she was staring at seemed to materialize in front of her as she finally returned to the real world, to the safe walls of her temporary room at Coruscant, escaping the cell she was held at on Christophsis. When the tears stopped coming, Aurora wiped her cheek dry and stood up from the bed.

Perfectly timed, her wrist comm began to beep.

“Come in,” Aurora answered.

“You sound more like yourself,” Hunter said from the other end of the comm—he’d be the only one able to pick up on the most subtle signs Aurora could give in regards to her emotions. “Got any plans tonight?”

“I… I think?” She raised a brow, doubtful. “Your brother left me a message earlier to meet him.”

“Are you sure you want to go with him?” Hunter sounded like he was teasing. “You could always bail on him and I’ll make sure to annoy the shit outta him.”

Aurora chuckled. “No, I think he’s apologized enough.”

“So you’re not mad at him anymore?”

“Crosshair’s one of those men you’re always mad at,” Aurora replied.

Hunter laughed heartily on the other end of the comm. “Good answer.”

When Hunter quieted down, Aurora felt her features soften.

“I think…” she began. “I think he really does want me to be here.”

“For the record, we all want you here with us,” Hunter replied. “But you’re right.”

Aurora smiled into the comm. She was confident that Hunter knew his brothers better than anyone else did, and hearing that coming from him warmed her heart.

“So where are you meeting him?”

“He’s actually going to come here—”

“So it’s that kind of date,” Hunter interrupted her; she could hear the wink in his voice.

“To pick me up, and then we’re going out,” Aurora finished as she held in her laughter. “He hasn’t given me more details. You know him.”

“Oh, I see,” Hunter dragged the words out, teasing her.

“You know all about it, don’t you?” Aurora raised a brow.

Hunter chuckled. “Have fun.”

And then the line went silent. As she became aware of the smile that had formed on her lips, Aurora realized it had been a while since she’d had such a sweet comm call. Her attention was eventually drawn to the present moment when a golden ray of sun reflected off a distant building outside, making the warm light land on the walls of her room. The sun was going down, and it was about time she got out of her uniform and into something worthy of a night out.

The nights were getting colder on Coruscant, and with that in mind, Aurora picked out a long-sleeved A-line black dress; its skirt reached halfway down her thighs and flowed gracefully over her hips. The top had a round neckline that went deep enough for the start of her sternum tattoo to be visible, and she had adorned her neck and collar with a dainty chain with a moon pendant. Her legs were covered by black tights thick enough to keep her from freezing—the tights and the skirt fully concealed the fact that her thigh was wounded, but her brief limp while walking would still give her away—and she finished her outfit with a pair of dark brown boots with a small, manageable heel.

Aurora put her lavender hair in a messy bun, perfectly balancing elegance with softness. For her eyes, she coated her lashes with mascara just to give them a subtle lift and added some shadow to her crease for more depth, and her lips were tainted with a berry-wine colored lipstick that made a striking contrast with her blue skin and the golden marks along her cheekbones. And when she looked at herself in the mirror, not only did she feel pleased at how beautiful she looked, but it dawned on her that the last time she’d gotten that dolled-up was on Naboo.

An urge to change the past hit her suddenly. For a moment, she wanted nothing more than to change the way things had happened. If she and Crosshair hadn’t fought during Naboo, maybe Christophsis wouldn’t have turned out so terrible.

Or perhaps you should stop burdening yourself with that, Aurora thought.

She took another moment to look at herself in the mirror hoping with all her heart that despite the events of the previous days, that night would be wonderful. With a sigh of resolve, Aurora walked away from the mirror and went to fold her uniform neatly over her bed. The pile of folded clothing was crowned by Crosshair’s forearm pad on top of it, a place where it would safely wait for her until duty called again. She then looked out the window to a dark sky with more city lights shining than stars.

Aurora sat on her bed and waited as she continued to stare at the city scenery, until at last a knock came at the door of her bedroom. Her chest fluttered, suddenly nervous at the first real date she’d have with a man who’d spent so long driving her crazy in more ways than one, and nevertheless, she felt heat rushing to her cheeks and her full lips becoming a smile. Aurora got up from the bed and went to open her door, and there stood the definition of tall, dark, and handsome, dressed in a black suit and holding a single pink peony out before his chest.

Crosshair’s brown eyes glided over her figure before they finally met hers, and in that gaze was a flood of emotions he’d never dream of speaking out loud.

“Hey,” was all he managed to say.

Aurora gave a soft chuckle. “Hi.”

The sly, snarky sniper found himself at a loss for words. For Aurora, it was her first real date with him. For Crosshair, it was his first real date, and he found himself in uncharted territory where he couldn’t rely on the scope of his rifle to get a better visual of.

“I…” his voice was husky. “I brought you this.”

Aurora looked at the peony and took it from him, her fingers delicately brushing his as she grabbed the flower. She held it up to her nose and took in its scent, and she met eyes with him on her exhale.

“It’s perfect,” she said. “Thank you, Crosshair.”

Her words allowed most of the tension to leave Crosshair, and he felt the muscles of his body relaxing as Aurora went to place the flower neatly on her nightstand. She then turned around and stared silently at Crosshair, her big eyes widening with expectation.

“What is it?” She asked him.

Crosshair smirked. “You look incredible.”

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” Aurora replied. “Now where is this sharp-dressed sharpshooter taking me tonight?”

Crosshair chuckled and he held out his bent arm for her to link her arm in it. “This way.”

With a smile, Aurora turned off the lights of her room and walked up to him, taking his arm as he’d offered. As Crosshair began leading her out of the room, closing the door behind him, and into the hallway, he noticed the way she still had to limp between her steps.

His heart sank. Aurora felt his gaze hardening and looked up at him, her gaze soft and reassuring.

“It’s fine,” she said. “Really.”

“Are you sure you can walk?” Crosshair asked.

“I’ll be fine as long as you don’t let go of me,” Aurora smiled.

She’d meant those words literally, but seeing the result of the blast wound on her thigh reignited feelings of regret and of fear within Crosshair. He stopped walking and looked at her, and he used his spare hand to gently lift up her chin and leaned down to kiss her lips.

“I won’t ever let you go again,” he whispered.

Aurora’s cheeks gained a purple tint as she smiled up at him, and she perked up to give him another soft peck before resting her weight on his stable figure again.

“Aurora, I meant what I said when I told you how sorry I was,” Crosshair said. “I fucked up harder than I ever have—”

She cupped his cheek, her eyes softening with the remnants of her sadness.

“Crosshair,” she spoke his name with unimaginable kindness. “If I was still angry with you, I wouldn’t be going on this date with you now. My leg will heal eventually, and as horrible as Christophsis was, it’s already happened.”

He grabbed her waist and pulled her closer. “You and I both know war memories stick.”

“It’s a part of the way we live,” she answered. “And yes, memories of that day do flood me frequently, but I’d rather be here with you now than keep succumbing to them.”

“You make it sound easy,” he smirked.

“It’s easier with you here.”

Crosshair smiled at her response and rested his forehead on hers for a moment before he continued to lead her down the hall and into the elevator that would take them down. When they emerged, they were at the main level of headquarters, and Crosshair walked Aurora over to the transports. As they walked, Aurora began asking herself what Crosshair could have planned for her date, what Hunter could have been so excited about that he had to call and tease.

The first question regarding the date was answered when Aurora spotted Wrecker standing in front of a compact, four-passenger speeder, suited up and holding up a board that read Ms. Dawn.

“Wrecker?” Aurora giggled.

“I do not know of whom you speak,” Wrecker answered eloquently. “I am the driver taking my unknown clients to their destination.”

Aurora laughed as Crosshair gestured for her to step into the vehicle, helping her so that she wouldn’t feel any pain while she did, and then he got in after her.

“Does the plan stand, my good sir?” Driver Wrecker asked Crosshair.

“It does,” Crosshair replied, giving a subtle yet playful roll of his eyes.

“Off we go then,” Wrecker stepped in the pilot’s seat. “No making out in my speeder.”

Wrecker drove off with the couple on the rear seats, and as soon as the speeder got in movement, the city lights caught Aurora’s attention. She watched them as they glided past her gaze and enjoyed the breeze on her cheeks—despite being in the middle of the biggest city in the galaxy, the air felt fresh and even clean. She would barely blink, eyes wide with wonder, and as she stared at the scenery, Crosshair’s ever watchful eyes would only focus on her.

Looking at her that way, Crosshair couldn’t decide if Aurora looked more stunning or endearing.

Slowly, Crosshair reached out for her hand. Aurora looked away from the city landscape the moment she felt his skin come in contact with hers, and with a tender smile, she locked her fingers with his. They didn’t say anything, though Crosshair was about to tell her to turn back to watching the city lights, which he now knew she loved so much. Before any words left him, however, Aurora carefully scooted closer to him, her body pressing to his side, and she leaned on him as she continued to bask in the city’s nightlife.

The ride was shorter than Aurora had expected, and before long, the vehicle came to a stop. Wrecker remained in his chauffeur character and gallantly opened the door for her and Crosshair, only breaking his role to remind his youngest brother to “send food to his loyal driver before he took off”. Crosshair nudged his brother before walking off with Aurora by his side, and he led her into the building.

Aurora couldn’t help but feel out of place. Though they weren’t in the building yet, Aurora recognized the part of the city they were at, one of the most high-end zones of the Coruscant capital. Around them, people of all races dressed in luxurious clothing and adorned with heavy accessories went about their night, some alone, some in couples, some in groups—it made sense why she’d received prior instruction to use her best outfit that night. It was the opposite of being in a war zone or even in GAR headquarters. Heck, the war didn’t even exist in that place.

But a night away from the war and anything to do with it was all Aurora wanted.

They approached the building that towered before them, tall and covered in glass panes that made it appear star-studded in the middle of the city skyline. At the top of the entrance, the word Passacaille was written in large, golden letters beaming with warm light to make them stand out in the night setting.

They were about to enter one of the fanciest hotels on the planet, possibly in the galaxy.

“Cross…” Aurora said, breathless. “Is this for real?”

“Yes,” he answered bluntly.

She let out a chuckle. “You didn’t have to go overboard—how can you even afford this? The restaurant, the speeder, what’s next? Are you going to take me to another planet?”

Crosshair chuckled. “We’re not leaving Coruscant’s atmosphere tonight. As for how I could afford this, call it a mix of my own Sabacc savings and a couple of returned favors.”

“I knew you were good at gambling, but… Returned favors?” Aurora raised a brow.

“Our squad takes on some unforeseen missions, some of them not entirely backed by the GAR,” Crosshair said. “Not exactly dirty work, but we’ve gotten enough members of the high-society and fellow clone squads out of a number of problems to earn their respect.”

The revelation paired with Crosshair in a full black suit and tie made Aurora’s blood flow to hidden corners. She snapped out of how much of a turn-on she found that to be when they reached past the building’s lobby and to the entrance of the restaurant, and Crosshair was greeted by the host to claim his reservation.

“This way, sir,” said the host, and he guided Crosshair and Aurora to a table near the center of the restaurant, placed right under an opulent chandelier that appeared, at least to the untrained eye, to be made of diamonds. Crosshair pulled out a chair for Aurora to sit, and then he took the seat in front of her. The host handed each one a menu and gave a faint bow before leaving them to it, and as hungry as Aurora was, she couldn’t help but gawk at the restaurant itself while listening to the soft piano music in the background and the faint chatter and clanking of dishes and glasses of the people around them.

Even the table where they were sitting was high-end. Made of a dark wood and covered by a dark red cloth, it was adorned at the center by a cylindrical container made of thin glass, filled with beads that looked like precious stones, with enough space inside it to hold two small candles. On top of each placemat, there was a cloth napkin folded into what Aurora felt resembled the peony Crosshair had given her earlier, and there was a set of more cutlery than Aurora could deduce use for.

She knew she’d use the wrong spoon for whatever she ate that night eventually.

“What do you think?” Crosshair broke the silence.

Aurora finally met his eyes again and couldn’t help but let out another breathless laugh. “This is wonderful, Crosshair…” Her chest heaved up and down before she forced herself to keep her feet on the ground. “I don’t want you thinking you always have to spend this much—”

“Enough of that,” he said. “Enjoy yourself.”

“Well, that I can do,” she smiled as she opened the menu and looked at everything the place had to offer. “Do you think they sell choccy blue milk here?”

Crosshair chuckled. “Come on, darling, that’s a joke Wrecker would make.”

“I had to,” she giggled.

Putting jokes aside, Aurora had to hold in a gasp at how delicious everything on the menu looked. It would be hard to only choose one thing, but by the time the waiter came around to take their order, she had decided on the plate of dumplings bathed in a five-cheese and herbs sauce. Crosshair went for a similar choice, except his plate had a spicy sauce. Once their order was taken, the waiter left them a bottle of white wine to enjoy in the meantime.

With their glasses full, Crosshair and Aurora clinked their glasses together and talked. Though they told stories of battles, it didn’t feel like they were talking about the war, and before Aurora even realized, her cheeks were sore from all the smiling. Soon, the subject morphed from wartime tales to Crosshair retelling his many Sabacc victores, which he eloquently disclosed as his foot rubbed Aurora’s calf under the table.

Soon, the plates were empty and the wine was gone. Crosshair paid for the dinner while Aurora watched him, her cheek resting on the palm of her hand with glistening eyes. Had she been less discreet, a dreamy sigh would have escaped her. She managed to hold it in, but not without its difficulties—the sight of Crosshair being a complete gentleman was all she didn’t know she needed.

After a lovely dinner, Crosshair got up from his chair and helped Aurora up from hers. He led her out of the restaurant and across the Passacaille’s lobby, and though Aurora was still mesmerized by the decor, her concentration broke when she realized Crosshair was not leading her to the exit.

“Where are we going?” Aurora asked. “Wrecker must be waiting for us by now.”

“Our chauffeur is long gone, darlin’,” Crosshair answered and made a gesture towards the elevators.

Aurora blushed. “Oh…”

“Is everything okay?” Crosshair asked.

“Yes!” Aurora blurted. “Oh, stars, yes, I just didn’t expect to be spending the night here as well.”

“Believe it,” Crosshair purred, pulling Aurora closer. “Come.”

They got into an empty elevator; Crosshair pressed the button for the penthouse and closed the door before anyone else could get in. As soon as the door closed and the elevator began moving up, Aurora pressed her body to Crosshair’s and wrapped her arms around his upper back. He kissed her without hesitation and wrapped his arms around her waist, lifting her gently so as to not hurt her. Time seemed to disappear as they sank into one another, hidden from the world and the war and from prying eyes. Their hardships were irrelevant if only for that moment. All that mattered was what they felt for one another, whether they spoke it aloud or not.

The couple felt the pull of gravity as the elevator came to a stop, and with a delicate ding! the doors opened to reveal a small, warmly lit hallway. Crosshair regained composure and walked Aurora out of the elevator and up to the single green door that was framed by glass panes, allowing for a tease of the penthouse behind it. He got the door open and Aurora couldn’t help the gasp that escaped her.

The walls were made of glass, and the edges were all lined with plants, from flowers to herbs, even succulents from different arid planets. Entwined in the plants were a series of warm fairy lights, adding a touch of coziness to the luxurious penthouse. On one of the corners there was a small fountain made of rock—water sprouted from the middle of a spherical black stone and fell onto a bowl of grayish marble, and the sound of spluttering water contrasted with the crackling of the fireplace on the opposite side of the room. There were two long couches made of black velvet in front of the fireplace, and behind them was an embroidered carpet made of black and silver threads. Beside the fountain was a nightstand, a large bed covered in a black fluffy comforter, and another nightstand, above which was a small lamp along with the controls to the rest of the lighting of the penthouse, including the artificial fireplace.

“I…” Aurora tried to recover her breath. “I feel like a princess.”

Crosshair gave a low chuckle as he closed and locked the door behind them. “So you like this place?”

“What a question,” Aurora smiled as she walked deeper into the room, examining every detail. She walked past the couches, brushing her fingers over the velvet, and felt a typhoon of emotions forming within her. As she took them all in, she turned to look at Crosshair again, who was already staring at her every move.

“What is it?” He asked her.

Aurora felt the blast wound on her hamstring begin to tingle. “Just a few days ago, I thought it would be over.”

“Hey,” Crosshair removed his coat and set it on the rack beside the door, walking towards her with his hands ready to take hers in them. “You’re here now, with me. In this place. You deserve no less than to feel at home in a room like this.”

“I’m sorry,” Aurora took his hands, her voice breaking. “I’m sorry, this is absolutely beautiful, Crosshair. More than I ever could have imagined. I don’t want to ruin it with my laments.”

“You aren’t ruining it,” he said, taking hold of her waist.

She looked at him with twinkling purple eyes and then gazed out the glass walls of the penthouse at the Coruscant skyline. Slowly, she unwrapped herself from Crosshair’s grip and walked over to the edge to better take in the sight, and Crosshair followed, positioning himself beside her.

“It’s like the war doesn’t exist here,” Aurora said. “And yet…”

“And yet, you and I just had the shittiest mission we can think of,” Crosshair completed for her.

Aurora gulped. “Yeah, that… that about sums it up.”

He turned to face her. “Aurora.”

She looked up at him, his features hardening the way they would when he would struggle to get words out.

“I…” he began. “I really thought I was going to lose you. I was willing to do anything to keep that from happening, but there were moments when…”

“I know,” Aurora said. “Believe me, I know.”

“I never want to feel that way again,” Crosshair admitted. “I had never been more afraid of anything in my life, and that scares me.”

“Cross…” Aurora sighed.

“Do you have any idea the hold you have on me?” He asked her.

“I can only imagine it’s the same as the one you have on me,” Aurora took his hands. “The war scares me too. Losing you scares me too. Losing you to anything, it’s unthinkable.”

Silence fell between them, and Crosshair cupped her warm cheek, tilting her face up to meet her gaze as he pulled her close.

“I wish we could stay here,” Aurora whispered. “I wish we didn’t have to go back in the morning.”

Crosshair acknowledged her words, but then he was the one to look at the city landscape.

“I want what you want,” Crosshair said. “But… don’t get me wrong, but war is my purpose.”

“It was your first one,” Aurora agreed. “But you could find another one.”

Crosshair met her gaze again, and her purple eyes gleamed with hope.

“Right?” She whispered.

His lips curved into a hint of a smile before he took his hands up to the back of her head, undoing the bun her lavender hair had been tied into. Once her hair fell in graceful waves down her shoulders, Crosshair found himself leaning down to kiss her. As she kissed him back, Aurora ran her hands up and down his back feeling the fabric of his black shirt. Crosshair began to lead her towards the bed, stumbling, refusing to break the kiss for longer than was necessary. When they reached the bed, he reached up her back and undid the button and zipper of her dress, and before undressing her, he swept her off her feet to place her gently on the bed—he relished in the soft whimper she made when he did that.

Crosshair climbed on the bed after undoing and removing his tie, as well as his shoes. He kissed her lips again as his right hand reached for the room’s controls, dimming the lights and making the glass walls opaque to conceal them from the world outside. Crosshair broke the kiss to remove the clothing on her, item by item. Her shoes, her tights, with more care than he ever thought he could muster as he gently revealed the bandage on her thigh, her dress. She was left in a black lace bra and panties, and basking in the sight of her, he removed his shirt.

Aurora couldn’t help but moan at the sight of him taking off his shirt and revealing his torso, marked by tattoos and battle scars. The light of the fireplace behind him seemed to make him glow, but the thought escaped Aurora when he leaned back down to kiss her again. Her breathing became heavier and a gentle moan left her as she entwined her fingers delicately through his silver hair.

Crosshair then made his way down to kiss her neck and her collarbone, obliviously bringing a fingertip to brush over the necklace she wore. He made his way farther down, and the lower he went, the more Aurora’s chest heaved. She felt his touch over her skin, shivers dancing wherever his fingers went. Sensations covered her belly, her hips, her inner thighs, and finally he was down between her legs wrapping his fingers around the black lace of her panties and pulling them down.

He didn’t beat around the bush. Aurora gasped and moaned the moment she felt his tongue over her clit, and she couldn’t help her eyes rolling back—he was just that good with her. As Crosshair kept eating her out, one of his hands snaked up Aurora’s body up to her belly, where her hand met his. She moaned deeper and deeper the more he flicked and sucked on her delicate skin, and she was so aroused that it took her no time to fall into bliss. Throwing her head back, Aurora squeezed Crosshair’s hand, her body squirming at wave after wave of pleasure, hearing Crosshair moan as her legs inevitably clenched towards him.

“Please,” Aurora whimpered. “I need you inside me now.”

Crosshair emerged from between her legs and crawled up to be at eye level with her. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t,” she said, mindful of the bandage around her thigh. “I trust you.”

Crosshair was already struggling to hold into more control, but as his dark gaze looked into Aurora’s blissful eyes, he couldn’t keep holding back. He removed his trousers and his boxers and positioned himself above her once more, looking deep into her eyes.

“If it starts to hurt, let me know,” he said.

Aurora nodded frantically, biting her lower lip.

“I need you to promise,” he added.

“I promise,” Aurora replied, pulling up to kiss his lips.

Crosshair eventually settled his weight down and kissed her with more fervor as he inserted himself into her walls, shuddering at how tight and warm she felt around him. Aurora moaned at the fullness inside her, with a hint of relief escaping her voice. Crosshair’s pace began slow, luscious, always careful not to add too much pressure onto her legs. He didn’t need to go any faster—they were already so lost in one another that they were already in heaven with each other. Aurora moaned into Crosshair’s kisses, holding him tighter with every thrust he gave.

Her moans became high-pitched whimpers, and Crosshair increased his pace ever so slightly, enough to send her over the edge. He delighted in the rich moaning that came from her, and he felt the way that she tightened around him as her silhouette squirmed beneath him. He grunted at the tightness, dangerously close to the edge himself, until one last tug of her hand at his silver curls ended him and he spilled thick, white ropes of cum inside her.

Moaning in unison, the two collapsed onto the bed under them and caught their breath, merely enjoying the presence of one another after some long awaited, much deserved loving. Crosshair moved up to meet her gaze, inquiring with his gaze if she had felt any pain, any discomfort.

Aurora smiled in response. “I told you, you wouldn’t hurt me.”

Crosshair kissed her forehead. “I wouldn’t dream of it. Never again.”

She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close, but with the strength he had, Crosshair picked her up again and carried her over to the couch in front of the fireplace on the other side of the room. He gathered the bed’s comforter and went to sit next to her, placing her body leaning on his before covering them both in the tick, fuzzy blanket, softly kissing her temple when they were finally settled.

“Thank you for tonight,” Aurora said.

Under the blanket, Crosshair’s hand found hers and interlaced fingers. “I’m glad you like it.”

They looked at each other and perked up for another brief kiss before settling on the couch and letting the fireplace lull them to slumber.

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clone-anon-after-dark · 2 years ago

Text

Secure (Crosshair x F!reader)

Crosshair x F!Reader

Word count: 1538

Warnings: NSFW, minors DNI, oral sex (reader receiving), handjob, unprotected sex, talking about feelings

A/N: established relationship but first time together, working off the headcanon that it takes Crosshair a lot of time to show vulnerability to the point of being unsure about undressing in front of the person he’s with

This is my first time writing two versions of the same story. The M!reader can be found here.

You and Crosshair had been together for over a year. There were certainly bumps in the road, but as time went on you got closer and couldn’t imagine being with anyone else. It started with emotional closeness and the smallest touches. You felt like the luckiest person in the galaxy the first time he really smiled at you and you could tell from the look in his eyes that he had never looked at anyone else the same way. Sharing a bed became routine and you both slept better when together. You slept together in the literal sense, but were taking your time before going further. Your conversations were normally quiet, facing each other and speaking as softly as if always sharing secrets.

You had saved up enough to get a hotel room for a couple nights and sleep on a nice bed. You were both truly alone together. You got comfortable, taking your time kissing each other, kisses getting deeper and longer. You melted at the feeling of his fingers tracing patterns on your face, down your neck, and across your shoulders. He let out a low moan as you gripped his hips. He pulled back from the kiss, slightly pulling your lower lip with his teeth. He grinned before a flash of nervousness crossed his eyes.

“I want to go further if you do,” he said quietly, resting his forehead on yours.

“Oh?” You smiled and rubbed your thumbs on his cheeks. “What would you like to do?”

You had talked about it before, but you both took your time. He had been terrified of the vulnerability of falling in love and of opening himself up to being with someone, but as time went on, you’d gotten more physical and could tell he was becoming comfortable with being in a partnership.

“Well,” he replied. “How about we start with you? I have a few ideas.”

He pulled on your shirt and you laughed as he enthusiastically helped you out of your clothes. You laid back in front of him, a thrilling anxiousness coursing through your veins. He kissed your lips and trailed down your chest and torso. He took his time running his hands over your shoulders, arms, and thighs as he kept kissing along your hips. He reached up and took his time playing with your breasts, running his thumb back and forth over each nipple and kissing the soft skin. He wasn’t shy about asking what felt good and doing what you asked. His touch set you on fire.

“You’re perfect,” he said softly, laying against your lower half and looking up into your eyes.

He went back to kissing your stomach and mumbled a “May I?” while looking at your pussy.

“Yes, but,” you were already gulping air in anticipation, “do you want to get more comfortable?” You tugged at the top of his shirt and he shyly shook his head a little.

“Not yet,” he replied. “I just want to focus on you. I want to show you how I feel.”

You nodded and laid back down as he propped himself above you, face-to-face. He gently started stroking your velvety folds and nuzzled his nose and lips against your neck, whispering “I love you” and kissing your cheek.

“This spot feel good?” he asked as he circled your clit. You nodded breathlessly, but took his hand to show him a movement that always felt phenomenal. You let out a moan that made him chuckle. He moved further down your body and looked up at you as he left little kisses on your outer folds. He took his time, trying to tease you, but still not wanting to overdo it. He started tasting you, licking every spot and gently sucking your clit before going back to the move you’d shown him.

“Is this okay,” he asked.

“Crosshair, this feels amazing.”

“Tastes so good.”

You reached down and ran your hand over his hair as he kissed the tender skin between your pussy and inner thighs. He went back to gently sucking your clit while reaching up to play with your breasts before reaching around to squeeze your ass just a little. You looked down to see the most beautiful man in the galaxy taking the most tender care of you and thought you might cry.

A few moments later he quietly asked, “Can I put a finger in you? I’m not sure-”

You reached down to caress his face, trying to push away any feeling of need for him to be unsure. “Yes you can, please, it would feel so good. You make me feel so good.”

He smiled back up at you and started treating your clit to little licks. He traced your entrance before slowly moving a finger in and out. He left you feeling that you could be at his mercy forever and never want for anything else. Your body started to tense with more fervor, a heat about to burst through your entire body.

“I’m close,” you said.

He looked up at you and smiled while licking your hot cunt and working you with his finger. You were barely able to breathe as your body became overcome with hot pleasure. He continued to work you over with his mouth through your peak, backing off and nuzzling his nose against your thigh as you came down from your high. He took a cloth and helped clean both you and his face off, smiling as he licked his lips. He moved to lay next to you, holding you in his arms, kissing your temple, and softly smiling. He never felt so happy.

After a few moments, once you caught your breath, you kissed him and couldn’t help but notice his own arousal.

“Hey,” you said softly. “What about you?” You grinned and ran your hands down his sides. “I want you to feel as good as I do right now.”

You both sat up, Crosshair at the edge of the bed while you kneeled in front of him, hands on the top band of his pants. He looked at you with a smile, but then looked away and swallowed.

“What is it,” you asked gently. You could see his throbbing length pushing at the fabric. “Do you want me to touch you?”

“Yes, but it might sound silly,” he said.

“No it won’t.” You took his hand and kissed it, waiting for him.

“I don’t know if I’m ready for that, but I was thinking I could touch myself and you could sit next to me. And I think I’d like most of my clothes to stay on for now.”

“Of course,” you replied. “I’d love that.”

You got up, put your panties back on, and sat next to him. He remained on the edge of the bed and you sat next to him, leaning toward him, and kissed him. You wrapped your arms around his waist and rested your head on his shoulder, smiling at the feeling of the familiar fabric and smell of him.

Crosshair reached into his pants, unsure about taking his cock out, so he grasped his already weeping length in his hand inside the fabric and began with slow strokes. He tried to stifle his groans, but you could tell.

“Don’t be afraid to be vocal,” you encouraged while kissing his shoulder and giving his middle a little squeeze.

He nodded once, his eyes shut while he continued to massage his own length. He was already worked up from his oral dance on you and as he got more comfortable pleasuring himself in front of you, he opened his eyes and looked at you, panting gasps escaping his lips. He quickly pulled his pants down enough for his throbbing length to spring free.

“Will you touch me,” he asked quietly, eyes searching yours.

You reached forward and stroked his balls as he started pumping his length. You reached to join him, your hands both working him. The closeness was almost too much, but letting you touch him felt wonderful to both of you. He was on an emotional high and couldn’t last long. He groaned as he came, nearly drowning in waves of pleasure. You held on to him, snuggled up against him, wanting him to feel safe, secure, loved.

“You’re beautiful,” you said. “All of you.”

He kissed your lips and whispered, “You are everything to me. I love you.”

“I love you, Crosshair.”

You adjusted yourselves, laying back on the bed and holding each other. You could both feel your heartbeats slow to a comfortable rhythm, lulling yourselves into a deeper relaxation.

After a while Crosshair looked down at himself. “I guess this will have to come off after all,” he said, looking at his shirt.

You got up to get another cloth to clean yourselves up, giving him space if he wanted to change alone, but were surprised to find him shirtless and changing into the pajama pants you’d bought him. He smiled softly at you and shrugged.

You got into bed and held each other, sighing softly and sharing sweet kisses. Nothing felt better than his protective love. Nothing felt better than being the one person he kept closest to his heart.

#crosshair anon #crosshair x afab!reader #crosshair x f!reader #tbb crosshair #tbb crosshair fanfiction #tbb smut #star wars smut #tbb crosshair x f!reader #tbb crosshair x afab!reader #the bad batch fanfiction #tbb #reader insert #clone thirsting

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the-toskaverse · 1 year ago

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Hello it's @clone-anon

If you were traveling with the Batch, then you were going to shoot a blaster correctly. Crosshair was going to make sure of it. You sat around the campfire on whatever back water planet, not long after they picked you up from a less than favorable situation. It was a fresh start for you and you were already getting along with them. Crosshair walked up and nodded over his shoulder, indicating you follow. The others looked at you with a smile.

You didn't have to go far, but he had set up a bunch of targets. Knowing this was going to be training, you took out your blaster. He had already watched you care for the weapon before you put it away the day before. Satisfied with that, he nodded toward the targets. You didn't say anything, but shot at the first few.

He nodded. "Not bad." He looked toward the targets again and you shot them. One went much better, two went worse. You felt like you were suddenly nervous for no good reason. He asked for permission to touch you to help you with your posture. You nodded, and he made some slight adjustments. You hadn't thought this was that important, but he had you breathe in and out depending on when you pulled the trigger. You started getting better and more accurate. He had some targets in more difficult locations, but you still managed to hit them. You smiled and saw a little smile appear as he popped a toothpick in his mouth.

"You are quite accurate, compared to most," he said. "And you can shoot fast, but fast and accurate is best, especially when you and the enemy are both on the move."

You nodded. You thought about trying again, but as if he could read your mind, he shook his head and quietly said, "That's enough for today."

You walked back to camp together and he put a supportive hand on your shoulder. "Practice every day. And remember to breathe."

"Thanks Crosshair."

SO THE FACT THAT IS HAS BEEN IN MY IN BOX SINCE THURSDAY AND I DIDNT GET A NOTIFICATION FEELS LIKE A CRIME- I MEAN SJ TX KGDFSKJTSF

#I LOVE YOU SO MUCH #star wars #clone wars #the clone wars #tbb crosshair fanfiction #big brother crosshair #crosshair x reader #clone troopers #crosshair #the bad batch

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leenathegreengirl · 5 months ago

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YES!!!! OP gets me and my unwavering stance that when Cross finds “The One” he is SO. SOFT.

🥰💚💕

for when @ahsokasleftbicep & I had a soft conversation about Crosshair

—

Crosshair x GN!Reader

Word Count: 951 words

Warnings: N/A

Genre: Tooth-rotting fluff

Description: He was always so soft and warm, just for you. Warmth in the arms around your waist, the kisses upon your face. You just melted. Everytime.

Notes: ner - my, mine

—

Sleepy Smiles

—

It was soft lips on your nose that woke you. Warmth seeping into your skin, a butterfly of heat washed over the tender area. The sun should have woken you up, but something else did instead.

When you first opened your eyes, the typical blurry morning vision clouded your senses. It took a few more blinks before things started to look clearer. When you did, being met with the sight of him was unexpected.

It was welcome though.

He continued to pepper your nose with soft kisses, warm breath fanning over your cheeks. He moved slowly, delicately. It was your forehead next, and then your eyelids fluttered shut as he left an invisible mark on each one. Your chin and cheeks, the corners of your mouth.

It was rare when you got to see the soft, fuzzy side of him.

A soldier at heart, battle worn and scared. Physically and mentally. Times when he would be on shore leave, coming to your door in tears at the sights he saw on missions, the horrors. Dark under eye circles, and a plethora of toothpicks gone through as he silently cried into your shoulder.

Your heart would crush under the weight of his pain every time.

You made it go away. You let him cry into your shoulder, you, who took him for what he was in the present, for who he was at the very moment. You never shied away, never judged.

Instead you held your arms out, and wrapped yourself around him so tight that you took away every bad thing that had happened to him while he was gone.

It was the soft touch of lips on the shell of your ear that made a soft laugh from your mouth ring out into the air. You could feel the grin of his lips on your skin, and when he pulled back, well, stars.

He was so beautiful. The sun highlighted his cheekbones, softening the rough edge. Honeyed, angel eyes sparkling with a sense of peace, and a smile. A smile, one that made him look so young, not the war-hardened man you had seen just yesterday.

Oh, did he look happy.

When he leaned in, nuzzling his nose against yours, it took everything in your power right then and there to not cry at the warmth of his affection. The smile pulling at your lips was so wide that your cheeks began to hurt. You missed the way he grinned just as equally when you nuzzled his nose back.

His lips connected with yours. He always saved your lips for last. It was so euphoric, every time.

Rough, chapped lips danced with yours, but they were soft and feather light. Fluttery feelings skipping around in your chest.

The lips soon pulled away, air needed for lungs in separate chests. Eyes cracking open to find the soft gaze of him on you, and a lazy grin on his cheeks.

“Mornin’, ner Sunshine.”

Maker, did his morning voice sound so wonderful.

“Good morning to you too, Butterfly.”

He grinned even wider at the nickname, fighting the urge to smother your face in kisses all over again. Instead, he settled to lay back down beside you, only to pull you right up into his arms. Cradled into his warmth, nose snuggling into his neck, head nestling into the crook of his shoulder. More feather light kisses pressed softly to your temple.

“Cross.”

You were met with a hum, grumbly and tired.

“We have to get up, you know that.”

Another hum, mumbled words as he only pulled you closer. You only smiled into his neck as he let his fingers rub up and down your back softly.

“No, it’s cuddle time.” You laughed at the confession, pulling back to see a soft look in his eyes. One you couldn’t quite place.

“Oh, so it’s cuddle time now? You just like to change your schedule at the last minute?”

He chuckled, the rasp of his voice still thick with sleep.

“Only for you.”

It faltered you for a second. Behind it, those three words held a deeper meaning. One you could analyze, look at from different angles.

Crosshair had… trouble when it came to communicating. Especially when it came to the emotional depth that a relationship reached. You had helped him, teaching him to show emotion. Letting him know emotion was good, it was not a bad thing. He was still working, trying everyday to realize that working through his emotions with you was good for him.

When he would admit things, late in the evening, or early in the morning as he just had, it was his way of telling you all the things he couldn’t quite voice yet.

Only for you, my sweet love. I would give the world to spend every waking moment with you, to leave the wretched war, to hold you in my arms each day. Only for you.

You only gave him a look in return, one that you hoped showed your love that ran so deep into the veins of your beating heart.

Intertwined, you laid back onto his chest, content. No interruptions, no war here. Just two lovers snuggled close, held in the embrace of the other.

As the sun rose, you would still lay there. He would still press the occasional kiss to your forehead, and a quiet whisper of some topic would be said. A hum and another kiss, one on the lobe of your ear.

Love was… complicated at times, but when he held you as tight as he did, nothing but pure adoration surrounding you?

Maybe you could just lay here for a little while longer.

—

#others writing #crosshair x oc #crosshair bad batch #tbb crosshair fanfiction #when he loves you he’ll be soft af

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lothcat-lothcat-lothwolf-run · 8 months ago

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this would go crazy on the holonet

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phantasmagoriatime · 20 days ago

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Finally

My art for the @clonebang (thank you so much for this event!)

Also super BIG kudos💜 to my teammates for making the process so fun and really special!!

The source of inspiration is an amazing story What We Did on Felucia by @wolveria

And the source of motivation is very talented artist @binkyisonline

#fanart #bad batch #star wars #cb2024 #arc trooper echo #tbb hunter #tbb crosshair #tbb tech #tbb wrecker #fanfiction fanart #clone bang 2024

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alligatorpie1945 · 9 months ago

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"Twenty minutes later he’d made it back to his room with no memory of the journey and the taste of vomit stuck in the back of his throat.

No one asked what he’d done - it was an unspoken rule, never to ask - but Wrecker opened his arms and let Crosshair disappear into them without a word."

--Twelve Seconds by @eriexplosion

About a year or so ago I asked for fanfic submissions to be turned into comics! And this was one of them! I had actually started drawing this a year ago, but just now got around to finishing it!

It's a pretty heavy fic, but its short and really well written! Id suggest checking it out if your in angsty mood!

#the bad batch #fanart #tbb #star wars #art #tech #crosshair #wrecker #clone cadets #the baby batch #angst #fanfiction fanart #fan comic

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meshla-cyarika · 3 months ago

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leenathegreengirl · 4 months ago

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Cross is sleepy, let him sleep! 😴 💚💕

@legacygirlingreen @thora-sniper @sukithebean @thecoffeelorian @neyswxrld @somewhere-on-kamino @clonethirstingisreal @royallykt @morerandombullshit @burningfieldof-clover @tbnrpotato @keantha @anxiouspineapple99 @justanotherdikutsimp @antisocial-mariposa

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clone-anon · 1 year ago

Note

It's me again! I'm the one who requested the nonverbal male reader x Crosshair a while back.

I was wondering if you could do another short one expanding with the reader helping teach Cross more signs? I love how you wrote the last one and I'm absolutely in love with your writing!

Absolutely! For those interested, here is the first fic. This one definitely has a bit more of an s/o spin, I think. I also may have made the first part a bit angsty, but it ends well. I hope this is to your liking, but if you want changes let me know!

Crosshair knew how to sign letters pretty well. Like most things, he was incredibly precise and so he paid close attention to the position of his hands and fingers when signing. He was trying to learn more signs using the holonet, but it was often frustrating. There were sometimes multiple ways of signing what he wanted to sign and other times, there were some words that were skipped since signed sentences were different than spoken ones. Still, he persisted. He wanted to do this on his own and show you he took this seriously.

That started to change when one evening you went nonverbal. He understood you needed to leave the situation, but couldn't quite figure out what you were saying. He could speak, but didn't want to, instead trying his best to sign. He usually could figure out what you were signing, but tonight was different.

Signing K A R K, I don't know. He was mad at himself for not knowing more, and in that moment you were both overwhelmed. He took a deep breath and sighed. Your home? You signed yes. He took your hand and walked you home.

Once home, you made a suggestion. Bed? Sometimes, even if you couldn't communicate well, sleeping on it would help. Crosshair signed yes and got into bed with you. He pulled you against his chest and kissed you shoulder, holding you as you both eventually fell asleep.

The next morning, you both woke up feeling better, the overwhelm of the previous evening gone and seemingly helped by the comfortable shared space of your bed. Over breakfast, he finally asked.

"Teach me," he said, signing you teach me.

"Okay," you replied with a smile. "What do you want to learn?"

"At the very least," he replied, "I need to know the questions and phrases that would most help you. I can't keep signing out every word I don't know."

You appreciated his initiative in trying to learn to sign himself, but were more than happy to show him. The next hour was spent showing him the signs you used the night before as well as some others that would come in handy in those situations. I'm scared, hold my hand, too loud, need a break, I'm stressed, I'm overstimulated, I'm overwhelmed, Let's get some food, Can we go home, I need you. He was very open to learning, allowing you to correct his form whenever need be. Over the next few days, you showed him many more signs for every day interactions. It made things so much better, offering relief that the next time something happened, it would be easier.

For whatever reason, he liked the sign for together. It became another way of showing affection. I love you was easy to figure out and most people knew it. Together was a different. Signing together felt like his way of secretly tell you that you weren't alone and that he he loved you in one basic sign.

When Wrecker held a large party, you did everything you could to attend. It wasn't normally your favorite environment, but Crosshair was with you the whole time. Someone made some sort of loud comment not directed at anyone in particular and for whatever reason someone else decided the music needed to be louder.

I need a break, you signed. Come with me? It wasn't even a question Crosshair needed to consider, and you both stepped outside away from the crowd for a break.

Sorry, you signed.

No, he signed back firmly with a shake of his head. You are my boyfriend. I love you. We are in this - both of us - together.

Hold my hand, you signed with a hopeful smile. He took your hand in his own and sat with you until you were ready to go back inside.

#tbb crosshair x reader #crosshair x reader #tbb crosshair x m!reader #crosshair x m!reader #tbb crosshair x nonverbal reader #crosshair x nonverbal reader #tbb crosshair x nonverbal male reader #tbb crosshair fanfiction #tbb crosshair #reader insert #crosshair #tbb #the bad batch #the bad batch fanfiction

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moonstrider9904 · 1 year ago

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Lake Shores

Chapter Eight of Half-Moon Glow

Pairing: Crosshair x Female OC (Aurora Dawn)

{series masterlist} {previous chapter} {next chapter - soon!}

{taglist form} {Read on AO3}

Summary: Clone Force 99’s respite continues on a distant forest planet, which makes meaningful declarations arise between Aurora and Crosshair. In the midst of it all, a new and daunting mission assignment reaches the squadron.

Tags/warnings: Explicit (18+, minors begone). Making out, armor kink, brief mentions of injury, light angst, but also lots of fluff and soft!Crosshair. One (1) terrible pun.

A/N: here’s a small filler chapter with the best of both worlds. Good ol’ fluff and good ol’ Clone War angst. Just a lil something to move into the next arc of the story. Enjoy!

Word count: 4.3k

Aurora questioned whether she preferred the opulent, elegant Passacaille hotel on Coruscant over the chilly air, swaying leaves and cloudy skies of the forest she currently sat on.

She felt the dirt and dry leaves, cool against the soles of her bare feet. With her knees hugged close up to her chest, her gaze shifted between the green spruce trees and the bright clouds, never finding even a glimpse of blue in that misty sky. The singing of the birds in the background magically complemented the occasional drip and drop of the lake before her, its shore starting not five meters from her, all entwined in one beautiful melody of peace.

“You’ll get dirt stains on your uniform,” the voice of her beloved filled her ears from behind.

Not looking at him yet, Aurora smirked. “You can always pat me down to get it off.”

“Is it possible for you to already be such a tease this early in the morning?” Crosshair chuckled as he sat on the ground next to her. “What are you looking at?”

“Nothing and everything,” Aurora replied. “The absence of anything human made is kind of the appeal of this place.”

“Yeah,” Crosshair agreed as he too gazed at the vast nature before him. Being the sniper that he was, he was more used to seeing the broader landscapes a planet had to offer than the average soldier, usually from atop a cliff or a tree or a tower, always ready to look into his scope at the slightest of movements. Being there on the ground with Aurora made him reminisce of that, but it also could not have been more different.

“Where are the others?” Aurora whispered, almost as if she were afraid to break the silence.

“They went to set up the comms antennae,” Crosshair said through gritted teeth, having started to chew on a toothpick without Aurora noticing. “So much for having nothing human made in this place.”

“I’ll take it,” Aurora spoke in a normal voice. “Sending us here for that sole purpose while we waited for another mission was probably the best order we could have gotten.”

“Well, it’s an order we actually followed,” Crosshair smirked. “That ought to tell you.”

Aurora giggled and looked over at Crosshair while he kept examining the landscape, finding herself at a loss for how the sunlight filtered through clouds made him somehow seem warmer.

“I see you looking,” he muttered.

“Do you?”

Crosshair shrugged and leaned back, resting his weight on his forearms on the ground and crossing one leg over the other. “I know, I’m gorgeous. You can’t help it.”

Aurora laughed and extended her legs too, shifting her weight closer to him. “Well, that you are, even if you’re a proud—”

“Ouch,” Crosshair groaned in fake pain.

“-arrogant,” Aurora continued.

“What did I do to deserve that?”

“-insufferably cocky—”

“Last I checked, you didn’t have a problem with any of that, darlin’,” Crosshair purred, flicking the toothpick aside.

“Flattering yourself much?” She leaned in to kiss his snarky grin.

Crosshair gave a deep chuckle into the kiss as he felt Aurora’s hand brushing his chest over his armor, and to add more heat into the kiss, he sat up so that he no longer had to rely on his arms to hold his weight, allowing him to instead wrap them around her waist. It was one of the things he loved doing the most, to hold her soft curves in his hands where she would be close to him, where he could feel she was his.

“We’re all alone, you know,” Aurora whispered between pecks.

“What are you suggesting, doll?” Crosshair prompted. He went on to plant a series of butterfly kisses over Aurora’s cheeks and cheekbones, and he let one of his hands travel to the back of her head where he could entwine his fingers in her lavender locks.

“You know what,” she purred in return.

Crosshair chuckled again and he broke the kiss to firmly hold Aurora’s torso, lifting her and himself to standing. Briefly, his heart sank when—careful as he was—Aurora winced in pain and looked down at her thigh.

“Aurora—”

“No, don’t worry.” She squeezed Crosshair’s bicep with her hand. “Please.”

He sighed quietly, his brown eyes filled with worry.

“I shouldn’t have been on the ground in the first place,” Aurora reassured him. “The harder it is to get up from a position, the more risk there is of some discomfort. It wasn’t your fault.”

Crosshair took his hands from her waist to the top of her neck and brushed his thumbs gently on her cheeks. “You know how I feel about that blast wound.”

“If you weren’t the one pulling the trigger, then it isn’t your fault,” Aurora said. “A lot of feelings come up when I think back to Christophsis, but blame set on you isn’t one of them.”

Crosshair gave one more sigh.

“Please, trust me when I tell you I’m okay,” Aurora’s voice softened. “And that I do not hold you responsible for this wound, or for what happened back there.”

An unfamiliar emotion took over Crosshair as he felt himself compelled to press Aurora to his body. He embraced her fully, arms tightly securing her as if he were suddenly afraid someone, or something, would try to take her from him.

Maybe that was what he was so afraid of.

Maybe he would have that fear for as long as she was in the army.

“Hey,” Aurora whispered. “You okay?”

“Sure,” he answered dryly.

Aurora parted enough from the hug to look him in the eyes, raising a brow. “Bull.”

Crosshair sighed. “You… know I’m not much for conversation.”

“You have your moments,” Aurora smiled at the thought of their night out at Coruscant. “But you don’t have to say anything now. I just want you to stop blaming yourself for all of it.”

“It’s not just Christophsis.”

“Whatever happened between us during our messy start, we’re past that,” Aurora wrapped her arms around Crosshair’s upper back, stroking his nape gently. “Aren’t we?”

“Yes,” Crosshair answered without hesitating. “I just…”

What was happening with him? Why did he feel a knot in the middle of his core?

“Cross,” Aurora whispered.

His thoughts quieted and he set his brown eyes on her purple ones.

“I love you,” she said.

The softness in her voice was unfathomable to him, the beauty that her unique timbre gave to those three words took the air from him, sending him into a brief yet sweet vertigo. Crosshair removed immobile, but not unmoved, as the softening of his usually hard, precise gaze gave him away. For all he felt at that moment, her words gave him care, hope for redemption, but hardest of all was the helplessness at not saying it back when she finished uttering the phrase.

“Cross?” She asked him, her voice shaking with a hint of insecurity.

Crosshair tightened his grip ever so slightly in reassurance. “Aurora…”

“Do you feel it too?” She inquired softly.

His gaze relaxed and he looked straight into her eyes, able to stop the trembling in his body. “Yes.”

She smiled. “Then I can wait for you to say the words, however long it takes.”

With that, Crosshair crashed his lips down onto Aurora’s. One of his hands maintained its gentle hold on her jaw while the other one, with a hungrier touch, clenched the hair behind her head. Aurora shifted her weight onto her good leg and perked herself on the toes of that foot so that her torso could press up to his, and now there was no space left between them. Their kiss was luscious, and it held a hint of desperation, an incessant need of one for the other.

They paused their kiss and looked each other in the eyes, panting to catch their breath. Between them arose an unspoken agreement to take things to the inside of the ship—it’s not like anyone would see them. They were alone as it was, and it would be even better if they were secluded within the steel and glass of the Marauder.

Crosshair took Aurora’s hand and led her up the steps of the platform with care and pulled it up once they were both inside. The air was warm inside, cozy, even, and not a sound could be heard. Gone was the singing of the birds and the swaying of the spruce trees in the wind. It had been replaced by the couple’s breathing, which grew shorter and needier with every beat of their hearts.

Aurora stood there, her figure contrasting with the light that came in through the Marauder’s windshield. For all the blood and horrors and fears she had seen throughout the war, she seemed so soft and gentle, with her wide curious eyes and delicate curves, and the way her straight-wavy lavender hair fell down her shoulders. So worthy of protection.

At that moment, Crosshair felt as if war was no place for her.

His gaze softened at her and he walked up to her. Aurora was ready to kiss him again, but Crosshair went and wrapped an arm around her waist as he bent down to support her legs with the other. He sat down on the copilot’s seat with her in his arms, resting her legs over the armrest while he supported the rest of her weight.

“Does that hurt?” He asked her.

“No,” Aurora sighed, unable to contain the desire to kiss him any longer.

Hungry as it had been before they’d made it into the ship, the kiss grew in heat when Aurora pressed her body closer to his, positioning herself at a taller height. Her hair fell down the sides of her head, brushing against Crosshair’s cheekbones where he could pick up on her sweet scent—it tore him from reality. His mind raced as he felt her touch over his body. Aurora’s hands trailed up his arms and onto his shoulders, passing the edge of his armor where his skin began at the sides of his neck. When her hands went downwards over his chest, her fingertips caressing every texture on his armor, she let out a moan followed by a giggle.

“Have I ever told you how much I love your armor?” Aurora purred, biting her lower lip.

Crosshair chuckled. “Is that so?”

“You look incredibly handsome in it,” she said before nibbling on Crosshair’s lip, making him shudder with delight.

“How about without it?” Crosshair prompted.

“Mm,” Aurora straightened her back, pausing their kiss, only to look him in the eyes. “Would you believe me if I told you I’d rather you kept it on for the next part?”

“I can find my way around most of the things you like with it,” Crosshair smirked. “But there’s one large thing I wouldn’t be able to use.”

Aurora laughed. “Well, I suppose one of the pieces of your armor can go.”

“Atta girl,” he whispered, pulling her back down towards him.

She kissed him with more heat and ran her hands over his chest plate. The sensation of the plastoid against her palms contrasted with the warmth of Crosshair’s skin and the coarseness of the shadow of his beard beginning to come in. That was yet another detail that she loved about him, and it sent her mind reeling. Aurora’s lips trailed kisses on his jawline, switching between them and tender nibbles, enjoying the low-pitched hums escaping from Crosshair. The need of him took over her, and her hands grasped at the pieces of his armor, tugging on them, teasing him, as she made her way down just enough to begin tugging at his codpiece, the one piece she was intent on removing.

The Marauder’s platform hissed and it began to open and descend, announcing the arrival of company. Aurora and Crosshair squirmed out of the pilot’s seat as fast as they could—it could had been faster had it not been for the blast wound—and while they were both on their feet by the time the other three members of the squad climbed on the ship, Aurora’s messy hair and Crosshair’s crooked plastoid pieces told the tale.

“Hey,” Hunter cooed. “Are we interrupting?”

“Get out,” Crosshair replied.

“Your rooms are right there,” Tech’s hand movements appeared cross-wired as he attempted to choose between gesturing at the bunks and facepalming.

“Crosshair, get your fucking codpiece straightened—” Wrecker looked away. “My EYES.”

Crosshair rolled his eyes and readjusted his armor while Aurora blushed and looked away, softly trying to recomb her hair with her fingers.

“So…” she began. “How are the comms beacons?”

“Fully erect,” Hunter wiggled his eyebrows, only to earn himself a shove from Wrecker and a grimace from Crosshair.

“If you would behave like civilized, intelligent beings,” Tech rubbed his forehead. “We would be able to discuss the fact that the beacons are now fully operational. Now that they’re put in place, we just have to wait for confirmation from the other squadrons sent out on similar missions on different systems. If we all succeed—”

“The Republic will have a higher capacity for long distance comms,” Hunter said proudly.

“Which will prove advantageous,” Tech said. “Placing these on remote planets with little to no inhabitants, the Separatists would take too long to find and disrupt the source of these comms even if they caught on.”

“We did our job correctly, now we wait,” Wrecker pouted. “We don’t do waiting.”

“I’m waiting now,” Crosshair slurred through gritted teeth.

“It should not be long before our next assignment,” Tech tried to reassure them.

“He’s right,” Hunter said as he made his way over to the passenger seat on the opposite side of the cockpit. He sat down and took out his vibroblade to spin it between his fingers with enough expertise to not need to look at it. “Best enjoy ourselves. We won’t be here for longer than tomorrow.”

Silence fell inside the Marauder. Judging by how the previous few missions had gone, every one of the members of the squad felt dread over what was waiting for them next.

“Um…” Aurora broke the silence. “Has… anyone mentioned resuming the mission on Christophsis? Setting up the base?”

“Like hell I’m taking you back there,” Crosshair frowned.

“It is my understanding that the base on Christophsis has been postponed indefinitely,” Tech consulted the information on his datapad. “High command will most likely look for a different planet to continue the mission in. There is no telling how many hostile forces were actually on the planet, and it is highly unlikely that our encounter finished them all off. Besides, the Republic’s eyes are on another objective already that could potentially replace the effort for Christophsis, or similar.”

Hunter met eyes with Tech as he spoke those words, his gaze hardening. Aurora noticed and focused on Hunter’s movements—the way he stopped spinning his blade in his fingers, his grip tightening around the handle, the furrowing of his eyebrows that was so faint it was nearly invisible. Being the sergeant, he obviously knew what Tech was talking about, and he must have known what that “other objective” was.

But judging by Hunter’s demeanor, Aurora could only assume the mission wasn’t worthy of any optimism, and that was as alarming as going into a mission blind and unarmored.

“Wherever we’re sent,” Hunter sheathed his vibroblade within his armor, “I suggest we all get some more rest. Can’t get too much of it with our lifestyle. And eat up, too. We’ll get a fresh stash of rations before setting off anyway.”

“Sarge ordering us to eat and sleep,” Wrecker chuckled. “That’s an order I can follow.”

“Don’t finish all the food,” Hunter told Wrecker as he got up and made his way into his bunk.

“You had to ruin it, didn’t you?” Wrecker groaned and followed after him.

Tech shut off his holopad and looked at Crosshair and Aurora, his expression blank. “If you two insist on consummating, I must ask you not to do it in the ship’s cockpit.”

“Is your room available?” Crosshair grinned.

“Not there, either,” Tech answered, and he too made his way into his bunk.

The couple were left alone once more in the cockpit in a silence that was perhaps more dense than before. All the teasing seemed to escape from Crosshair and he walked over to Aurora, hands reaching out for hers. “What do you want to do?”

She smiled with drowsy eyes. “I kind of just want to lay on a bunk with you.”

Crosshair’s features softened. “Are you feeling okay?”

“I am,” she blinked. “It just suddenly sounds like a nice thing to do.”

Crosshair squeezed her hands in his and didn’t say another word. He led her to the back of the ship where the small rooms were, three of them with their doors closed already. They entered Crosshair’s room and he helped her onto the bunk, after which he went back out of the room. Aurora watched the empty space between the doorframe, puzzled, until Crosshair’s silhouette emerged once more as he held a fresh box of rations.

Aurora beamed at the sight of Crosshair closing the door behind him with the rations in hand, and when he caught onto the way she was looking at him, he laughed.

“What?” He asked. “I thought you liked lying in bed with snacks.”

“I really am a simple creature,” Aurora sat up on the mattress and held her hands out to grab the box. “Please tell me there’s cheese in this.”

Crosshair sat next to her, their backs resting against the wall behind them. Her body once again was pressed up to his, and he wrapped his right arm around her, pulling her even closer. Aurora opened the rations box, her eyes twinkling at the sight of multiple rolls of cheese with what appeared to be ham. She grabbed one and took a generous bite of it, holding it up close to Crosshair’s lips as she chewed.

Gently, Crosshair kissed the side of her head. “It’s yours.”

“I’m not offering again,” she teased. “I will finish these.”

With a deep chuckle, Crosshair accepted the bite she’d offered. He took what was left of the roll, holding it between his teeth with half of it still out, facing down at her. Aurora perked up and took the remaining half with her teeth, letting her lips brush against his before pulling back down with a giggle.

“If you tell anyone outside this room I did that, I’m going to deny it,” Crosshair said.

“I understand,” Aurora grinned with mischief. “It’s probably the cheesiest thing you’ve ever done.”

“Go to your room,” Crosshair said bluntly before matching her grin, earning musical laughter from her.

They finished what remained of the ration box without much conversation, and when all that was left were crumbs, Crosshair set the empty box aside. Aurora scurried on the mattress to fully lie down, with her head resting on Crosshair’s chest. Crosshair did the same, and with the ration box gone, he now had both of his arms available to hold Aurora close to him.

And they lay in silence. Through his armor, it was harder for Aurora to hear Crosshair’s heartbeat, but if she focused, she could feel it there. But stared up at the gray ceiling, and while Aurora’s mind quieted down, Crosshair’s mind was racing.

Why couldn’t that fear leave him alone? He was so afraid of Aurora’s wound so much as acting up with an ounce of pressure being placed over it. The knowledge of their next mission assignment not being even one full rotation away put a weight over his shoulders that he had to carry alone.

What was he supposed to do, tell Aurora to leave the army? Leave with her? They’d both be prosecuted for that, and neither would have any chance of winning.

Time moved forward imperceptibly for Crosshair, and though the clouds and the small size of the window between the wall and the ceiling of his room wouldn’t let him see the sun gliding across the sky, he could eventually tell when it was getting darker. Aurora’s breathing deepened and she seemed to become warmer, and in her deep slumber, her grip tightened around Crosshair. The only thing he could have possibly wanted at that moment was to remove his armor so that she would have a softer pillow to rest on, but he was certain any movement would wake her.

He didn’t have the heart to interrupt her dreaming. She deserved to rest.

In the silence and the darkening sky, Crosshair fell asleep too. He had no way of knowing how long it had been when his eyes opened again, only then there was no more gray daylight coming in through his window. Instead, a soft silver gleam crept in through the glass. In the hours that had passed, the dense clouds had cleared from the sky, and now the little piece of sky that he could see was laden with stars and decorated with a half-lit moon staring right back at him.

Crosshair lay in silence long enough to notice the occasional cloud drifting past the moon and the stars. Through the window, Crosshair watched the half-lit moon, its ethereal light hazy in the thin layer of clouds coming and going. It seemed to watch him back, at times brighter than others, even if it wasn't in full splendor due to being in its first quarter, or was it the last quarter? Crosshair couldn't tell on his own account.

Aurora was the one who'd know that detail, but he wouldn't wake her up to ask.

She rested so soundly in his arms. Her breath fell over his chest as she nuzzled his skin, breathing deeply in her slumber. Crosshair held her protectively, enveloping her body with his, keeping her warm and safe.

Suddenly, he wanted her to wake. He wanted to hear her voice, to look into her eyes, to kiss her. He wanted to speak the words boiling in his chest, the ones that had refused to leave him when she wanted to hear them. Crosshair wanted her to hear them now, and he only hoped she could. He didn't think it would be right to stall it further.

"I love you."

A whisper in the night, one heard only by the moon herself, and after the words were in the air, the light of the half moon vanished behind the clouds, as though in saying so, he could finally let her rest.

When morning came, Crosshair found that Aurora had woken up before him. When he moved his body, he found himself sore from sleeping with his armor on, but he hardly cared, not as long as Aurora wasn’t equally or more sore, anyway. He opened his bunk room’s door and was met with an empty hallway, but he was able to hear the faint chatter of two of his brothers coming from the cockpit. Eventually, the sound of Aurora’s voice could be heard as well—he relaxed, finally knowing where she was.

Before he could go to her, he felt a hand firmly clenching his left shoulder, making him turn around to face a stern-faced Hunter.

“We need to talk.”

Crosshair raised a brow, prompting his oldest brother to speak. Hunter crossed his arms and exhaled, his gaze falling to the floor briefly before he looked up at Crosshair again. “It’s as we feared.”

It didn’t take long for Crosshair to catch on. He’d heard the comm chatter and the rumors too. That other objective Tech had talked about the day before, the one that would blow off any of the GAR’s interests on Christophsis and any other planet for that matter. The one that was famed to be the toughest warzone the war had seen yet.

“Umbara.”

“This time, it’s General Skywalker who needs us,” Hunter nodded. “The only reason he does is because he won’t be with the 501st himself.”

“Hunter, I can’t take Aurora there,” Crosshair blurted.

Hunter looked up at Crosshair, not surprised that she was his first concern. “She’s still a part of this squad, and we need medics over there.”

“She can’t even walk properly,” Crosshair whispered, his gaze hardening. “And even if she could, have you heard who’s taking over for Skywalker?”

“Yes,” Hunter nearly growled. “Which is why we have to show up. No matter how much we may not want to.”

Hunter could see the worry culminating in Crosshair’s eyes, and with a sigh of resignation, the sergeant came up with a plan.

“I’ll let Cody know Aurora’s still in recovery,” Hunter said. “He won’t force us to take her there if she’s wounded.”

With a long exhale, Crosshair managed to release some of the tension, and he looked into Hunter’s eyes without any barriers, as honest as he ever could have been to his oldest brother.

“Thank you.”

Hunter nodded and gave Crosshair’s shoulder pad a brotherly tap. “Now we have to tell the others.”

Crosshair nodded at his brother while he walked by, and the two made their way into the cockpit. When they were there, Crosshair locked eyes with Aurora as Hunter broke the news of what their next mission would be, and as he spoke, Tech began plugging in coordinates back to Coruscant, though his usual resolve in doing so had faded. Wrecker made no jokes. Hunter, for a moment, couldn’t meet eyes with any of his brothers—he’d be leading them into what felt like a deathtrap.

And Crosshair locked his gaze on Aurora’s, giving a faint shake to his head. Though wordless, Aurora seemed to understand what he was trying to say, for in her eyes, the trepidation grew.

Crosshair knew she would want to go with them. But he also knew, better than he knew anything, that he’d do anything to protect the woman staring back at him.

Anything.

And that sometimes, a goodbye would serve a better purpose.

He just wished he’d come back in one piece.

{Next chapter (coming soon!)} {Back to series masterlist}

Thank you so much for reading!

#hmg series #moonstrider writes #the bad batch #tbb crosshair #crosshair #clone force 99 #bad batch crosshair #the bad batch fanfic #the bad batch fanfiction #tbb crosshair fanfic #tbb crosshair fanfiction #crosshair fanfic #tbb smut #tbb crosshair smut #oc aurora dawn

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wistfulforstars · 6 months ago

Text

I Want More, More

Crosshair x Reader Oneshot

WOW, I broke 20 followers! Thank you, thank you for reading my little fics, it means the world! Have a Crosshair battling with his feelings oneshot!

Word Count: 4605

Summary: Crosshair is made aware that he has not been treating you like he should. He has a crisis about it before talking to you like an adult, kind of.

Warnings: Here there be smut, minors begone, Crosshair struggling with his feelings is its own warning, Crosshair is a dick until he's not, he's a moron your honor, slightly desperate Crosshair, rough sex into talking into gentle sex into rough sex again, oral (m receiving), oral (f receiving), p in v sex, language, some derogatory pet names, talking during sex, reader is afab, there's porn here I promise, you just have to get through Crosshair's angst

This wasn’t fucking working.

Crosshair was near madness, and he was sure you were reaching a point where you needed a break. You’d never let him fuck your mouth for this long before. But there you were, topless, tears streaming down your face, knees probably scuffed or even bleeding from the durasteel floor, nevermind that you still had your pants on. And yet you pushed through, voicing not a word of complaint as you gagged on his persistent cock.

And he wasn’t anywhere close to finishing.

You should be complaining, he decided. What had it been? Thirty minutes? Fifty? Crosshair couldn’t keep track of anything except his own frustration, and that was making him a terrible lay. And if there’s one thing he would be loath to be terrible at, it was sex.

His cock throbbed, his balls ached, and you kept moaning. He growled.

Sooner or later, you’re going to hurt her. She’s going to get tired of this, and she’s going to leave. Hunter’s words from earlier in the week creeped back into his mind, and any hope of salvaging this situation dissipated into thin air.

Crosshair abruptly pulled you off his length and backed away, tugging his pants up as he went. Still you knelt, breathing heavily, awaiting what he’d do next. It was the arrangement you’d both worked out months ago. You allowed yourself to be used as he saw fit, and he made sure you left satisfied and ready for dreamless sleep. No feelings, no complications. It had worked well for a long time. But he looked at you then, your face a mess, your curled legs trembling, and for the first time, he couldn’t stand the sight.

She deserves someone who cares deeply about her, Echo’s voice, well, echoed in his head, as unbidden as Hunter’s had been. His nosy brothers had held an intervention of sorts a few days ago while you were out getting supplies. It had started with Tech’s “We want to know what you are doing with our medic,” gone through Wrecker’s “You know she likes you, right? Like, a lot,” and ended with a long speech from Hunter about how “One day Crosshair, you’re going to wake up and realize that she’s moved on. For some reason, she really cares for you. And you’re treating her like a meaningless one night stand, except you keep doing it over, and over and-”

It was stupid. You both liked what you were doing. You were both consenting adults with the power to walk away at any time. You were both happy and fulfilled with that. It was enough.

Except for the past few days, it hadn’t been.

Crosshair began to really notice certain things since the talk with his brothers. Like how you always met him with a cheery good morning, and how you didn’t expect an answer in return. How you’d sit next to him while he cleaned his rifle, content to do all the talking if he just listened. How you always ran over after a close call on missions, frantic about his safety and never expecting him to inquire about your wellbeing, even if you were covered in soot and limping away from an explosion.

He realized you were giving more, much more to your…friendship, than he was. And that didn’t sit well with him. Your relationship was supposed to be transactional, and here you were, giving him attention and assistance and contact without expecting one damn solitary thing in return. Always giving, never receiving, and he…

He was a fucking prick.

Horrible, awful scenarios started coming to mind after that. For two days, he thought about what would happen if you got transferred, or completed your service and left, or, stars-forbid, got shot. A concept he’d never considered before. You were always there, always constant as Tech’s pointing finger and Echo’s whirring attachments.

The idea of you leaving him - and he was completely arrogant for never seriously entertaining the thought - was frightening. And Crosshair didn’t do frightened.

The worst part? While he was drowning in inner turmoil due to his asshole brothers and your own damn sweetness, you were waltzing around, perfectly fine. You had never given any outward indication that you wanted something real from him, something more than a smokescreen of orgasms and sharp banter. Now that he knew how much you cared, now that he’d heard that you liked him no matter how hard you tried to hide it, he couldn’t let it go.

You’d been contenting yourself with his hands on your body and his lackluster personality for months, when, according to his brothers, you’d really wanted something deeper. Did you think he would reject you, or that he wasn’t capable of anything more to begin with? Both possibilities stung, a lot deeper than he’d ever supposed they would. Especially as he realized that neither of them were unreasonable of you to assume. Suddenly, he was furious.

That’s how he ended up with his cock down your throat in the back of the Marauder, while everyone else was out on the town. Not in his bed, never in his bed. That was one of the rules he’d made, to stop things from getting too intimate. Instead he’d had you kneel, and you’d done it with a wry smile and no questions. He’d planned to fuck these thoughts out of his head, but as it turns out, his brain was thinking the fuck out of his dick, so to speak.

So instead, he leaned against the wall, gazing at you. You still kneeled, still waited patiently while he’d stared for who knows how long.

You deserved better.

The thought was pounding against his skull, incessant and refusing to leave. And Crosshair knew there were only two ways to resolve it. He could walk away, wish you well, and hope that you found someone who could give you a true relationship, no matter what it might cost him.

Or…he could try to be worthy of you.

The first option entailed less risk, and was definitely more his style. He couldn’t be bad at a relationship if he never tried to give you one. But the thought of someone else seeing you like this, or worse, someone else seeing you in ways he hadn’t yet…on a beach, walking down a colorful city street, riding a speeder bike, in the snow…

He stood abruptly and crossed over to your languishing form. He had you in his arms in less than a second, and had you laying on his bunk in less than five more.

“Cross, wha-?” you protested. You knew the rules, knew his boundaries, and tried to sit up and leave.

He grasped your shoulders and gently pushed you back, “Please.” Was all he said, whispered and hoarse. He worried at his lip without realizing it. Your eyes widened, and you let him lean you back on his pillows. He fidgeted with them, trying to make them fluffier than the GAR issued sacks of foam they really were, and you quirked a brow.

“You fucking with me, Cross?” you asked, and he could tell you were putting real effort into keeping the trepidation out of your voice. “Because this is a real weird joke.”

Okay, he deserved that one. But his words were stuck somewhere between his brain and his mouth. How was he supposed to know how to tell a woman he liked her anyway? If the Kaminoans included a class on charm somewhere in their training programs, he definitely didn’t get an invite.

Maybe you would be better off with someone who didn’t spend their days getting up close and personal with other people through a fucking scope.

But all this staring was starting to freak you out. You were sitting awkwardly, legs open, tits out, under his genetically superior gaze. Crosshair didn’t know what kind of face he’d been making, but it clearly wasn’t one you were used to. You crossed your arms over your chest and turned your head to the side, away from him.

“Are we done?” You ground out through a set jaw, a slightly trembling lip. “Is this…ahem…is this over? Because you could just tell me, you don’t have to try and make it easier. I can just go back to my bunk and…and…”

He caught the sheen in your eyes, the catch in your throat. Fuck. Fuck.

“I-I want you…” stars, he can’t even talk. Damn you. Damn him. He cleared his throat. “I. want. you. to stay… there.”

Well, it sounded like it was being tortured out of him, but at least it got your attention. You turned back to look at his face, “You want me to stay here.” You said evenly, jerking your head towards his shabby pillows. “In your bed. Where I’m never, ever supposed to be.”

He swallowed, mouth dry as hell, and nodded. You were so much better at this, so much stronger than he was. He couldn’t do anything but spill his guts in what was probably the least romantic way possible.

So he did, “I want to try…something else.”

Your lips parted just a fraction, and something seemed to click behind your eyes. But you were tough, tougher than he ever gave you credit for, and you never gave him any ground. Oh you were gentle about it, cool satin to his rough burlap. He suspected it was the healer in you. But you always demanded communication from him, demanded that he explain his behavior, even if it took him a while.

“Something else,” the hitch in your voice had disappeared. “You’re going to have to explain that one to me, babe. You know I’ll try something new, and we have a safe word, but this violates your rules, and I don’t know how to act now. I don’t know what’s okay.”

Babe. It slipped out of your mouth every so often, usually in a teasing lilt over comms during a battle. He didn’t know if he loved it or hated it, but it always brought a sudden heat to his face. He felt the tips of his ears burning.

“I…” c’mon, bastard. You can get this out, you have to get this out. She’s waiting. “I want… toforgettherules.”

“I’m sorry? One more time?”

Brat. In any other circumstance, he’d have you over his knee for something like that. But he took a deep breath, like the ones he’d take before making an impossible shot. And maybe that’s what this was, “I want to forget the rules.”

Your eyes alighted with something like hope, “Why?”

Yes Crosshair, you stupid prick, tell the lady why. He needed to get his head examined. He was talking to himself more than usual. And now he’d started to sound like Hunter.

“Because,” he ground out, teeth clenched. “You deserve…better…than what I’ve been giving you. But I…I don’t want anyone else to deserve you.”

You sat with that for just a moment. And then you brought a hand up to your mouth and giggled. It was such a happy sound, he was almost completely unoffended.

“You like me,” you murmured, eyes full of mirth and pure, honest delight.

He let out a shaky breath. It was almost a chuckle, “I like you. You’re a little shit, and you give me a heart attack half the time. But I like you.”

“And… I’m allowed to like you back?” This question was tentative, small. Not how he wanted to see you. You should be bright, confident, unafraid to show your brilliance. A fierceness crept into his heart.

“You get to like whatever you damn well please,” he growled, then softened slightly. “But…it would be nice if you liked me.”

You hummed, and dropped the arms covering your gorgeous breasts to cup his face in both hands. Your fingers moved in his cropped strands of hair, but he resisted the urge to close his eyes at the peace it brought him.

“I like you, more than I ever thought you’d want me to,” you almost-whispered. Then you grinned that same grin you got when Wrecker offered to let you press a detonator. “But if you want in on this, babe, if you want some kind of commitment, I’ve got some rules of my own.”

Strangely, the thought didn’t concern him nearly as badly as it had a day ago. He didn’t know shit about real relationships. He wanted you, and if you gave him some kind of guide to go off of, well, at least there was less of a chance of him fucking it up.

Crosshair nodded, and your smile grew wider, joy sparkling in your eyes.

“First of all,” you began. “You have to say good morning and good night to me. You also have to hold my hand every so often, and let me kiss your cheek. I promise not to embarrass you…too much.”

He huffed a little, but conceded, “Agreed. Anything else?”

“Oh this is an ongoing list. There will be amendments,” you chirped happily. “I require actual conversation daily, and I get to sleep next to you after we fuck.”

“What do you take me for? Of course you get to-”

“No getting jealous of my guy friends, including your brothers. Like when I give them hugs or candies or-.”

“The regs absolutely cannot be trusted-”

“Ha! I knew you’d be a jealous boyfriend. Oh yeah! And I get to introduce you as my boyfriend from now on.”

Crosshair’s mild disgust must have shown on his face, because you laughed outright, “What about partner? Lover? Fuckbuddy?”

He rolled his eyes, “I’ll make ‘boyfriend’ work. Can I kiss you now or does the princess have more proclamations?”

That shut you up. Despite all the other parts of him you’d had in your mouth, one of his rules had been no kissing on the lips. Your eyes glazed over, and he smirked and leaned forward.

Your lips were so soft, plush and sorely neglected. A vague sense of regret and longing overtook him. How the hell had he managed to avoid kissing you until now? It didn’t really matter. He decided, as you let out a little hum of surprise, that it was about to become his new ritual. Every morning, every night, every time he could drag you into a private little alcove, he’d do it, just to get a chance to press his lips to yours.

He pushed forward, his tongue licking at the line of your lips, and you whined. His cock pulsed, and he began steadily rocking it against your clothed thigh. You opened your mouth eagerly and he dove in. Oh this was divine.

“Never thought,” he mumbled into your mouth. “Never thought it’d be like this.”

“Like…what?” you gasped.

“This…this fucking… brilliant. Stars, your mouth…”

You groaned, and he moved to sweep his deft tongue along your jaw, up to your ear. He bit at your earlobe, and your hips began doing some involuntary rocking of their own. Crosshair growled in your ear, satisfied when you shivered.

He stopped though, when he felt your stealthy hand cup his balls through his pants, “No,” he rasped, taking your wrist in hand and bringing the misbehaving appendage up to nip at your squirming fingers. “I told you, doll. I want… to try… something else.”

“Letting me call the shots would be something else,” you whined, still wiggling in his grasp.

He shook his head, “Not tonight,” he said, sounding out of breath. “Tonight, you just lay there. Look pretty. Look fucking gorgeous because that’s what you are, and keep making little noises for me.”

You whimpered at that, and he smirked. But it wasn’t his usual cocky, infuriating twist of the lips. This was an adorable half smile, part disbelieving, part alive with anticipation.

Your pants were hastily removed, and while your shoes caused a bit of an obstacle, Crosshair simply wrenched them off and tossed them over his shoulder. One landed with a thump on the durasteel floor - a place he swore you would never be kneeling unprotected again. He was pretty sure the other ended up in Tech’s bunk.

Crosshair traced his hands down your legs and slowly, ever so slowly pulled your knees further apart. You were pressed back against the pillows, open and waiting for him, and his heart rose to a furious din in his ears. He was almost positive you could hear it.

He was seized with another fit of insecurity. How was he supposed to know how to cater to you like this? He knew how to grasp your throat just hard enough that your eyes would roll back into your head. He knew how you liked to be tied down and spanked. This wasn’t even the first time he had held your legs apart and let you squirm under his attention. But tenderness… communicating one’s feelings with one’s body… he didn’t even know how to begin.

His eyes flicked to your face, flushed with shyness and lust. Your kind, welcoming eyes, more open in every breath than he was in his entire lifetime. You bit your lip.

You have to try to be worthy of her, he thought to himself. And he turned his attention to your pussy.

Still clothed in your thin, basic panties, the solid color was stained dark with your wetness. Crosshair cursed, and slowly descended between your legs.

First, he kissed your knees, not bleeding but definitely scraped, and the gentle touch of his lips had you sighing. You’d never made that sound before, that exhale of pure contentment. He wanted more of it.

You flinched and squirmed as he ran his tongue down your inner thigh, but he held you fast. You weren’t getting away from him. Not now, not when he was finally ready to really try.

Crosshair knew where you wanted him. You weren’t exactly subtle with the canting of your hips and the nervous fluttering of your fingers over the sheets. Your breaths were coming in short bursts of want. Stars, how were you this sensitive already? He’d seen you in a state of pre-orgasmic distress plenty of times, had made you beg for him past the point where you could speak in coherent sentences, but never had he seen such simple, sweet touches electrify you in this way.

Instead of lowering his mouth to your pussy, though, Crosshair moved to lick and nip at your hip bone. You squealed and moaned, and he decided he’d never heard such an addicting sound.

He brought his tongue across your belly, snapping the waistband of your panties with his teeth before teasing your other hip. Your whimpering was a constant symphony in his dark bunk. He pulled back and chanced a peek at your face. Your eyes were shining with yearning. You had one hand in your hair. He reached up, tugged your abused lip from between your teeth, worried that you’d draw blood, and glanced back down.

The wet spot on your panties had grown, and finally, with a lighter touch than he’d ever directed towards you, Crosshair ran a knuckle up and down your clothed center. You keened, and threw your head back on his feeble pillows, which had flattened almost completely under you.

I need to get new ones, he thought absently as he tugged your panties to the side, exposing your dripping core. She deserves to be fucked on real pillows.

He lowered his head, and you were both gone.

Crosshair had tasted you before, often as a tease while you were tied up and helpless. But not often, and not thoroughly. He usually enjoyed watching your face while taking you apart with his fingers, snarling demeaning pet names into your ear. But this…this was transcendent. You tasted like home, like he could live his entire life and die between your legs. He drank from you slowly, meticulously, lapping at your entrance and circling your clit before closing his lips around it and lightly sucking. Your legs were trembling within minutes. Every few seconds, garbled, meaningless sounds escaped from your throat and spurred him on. He gently, reverently pushed a finger into your hot center, caressing the spot you both loved. You seized up…, and let go.

He rocked you lovingly through your orgasm, fingering you slightly and keeping his mouth clamped around your clit. Your pussy spasmed, your hips jerked, and your mouth opened in a silent scream.

But he didn’t stop.

Crosshair began again, stroking your throbbing clit with his tongue, refusing to allow the fire in your abdomen to subside. Now that he’d really tasted you, now that he’d felt you fall apart on his lips, his only goal was to make it happen again.

“C-cross!” you yelled, hand flying down to his hair. You tugged hard, and he groaned.

“More,” he mumbled into your cunt. His fingers pressed at that tender spot inside you, and your head flew back. You shrieked and writhed on his bed, dripping onto the sheets.

You were moaning with every breath, tensing your legs and frantically thrusting your hips towards his waiting mouth. Your toes curled repeatedly in the corners of his vision. Your pussy was red and swollen, your slick arousal running down his hand and wrist.

Crosshair curled his fingers inside of you and allowed his teeth to gently catch against your begging clit, and your second orgasm hit like a lightning strike. You seized up, screaming your release to the ceiling of his bunk. He gently lapped at your clit as you came down, your yells turning to sobs. Tears spilled down your face and onto your chest. You reached for him, and he encircled your shaking body with his arms.

“Shhhhh,” he hushed into your hair. “You’re alright…you’re alright…I…I’ve got you, mesh’la.”

You pulled back, tears tracking your cheeks as you stared into his eyes, “Y-you’ve never called me that before.”

Crosshair knew you understood the word. Echo called you mesh’la on occasion, Wrecker too. “I felt left out,” he said. “I should get to remind you of how beautiful you are more than anyone else.”

You sniffed, and threw your arms around him, “You’re beautiful too,” he heard you mumble, and his heart swelled. “But…”

“But what, doll?”

Your voice took on a fierce, desperate tone, “If you don’t get inside me right now, we’re going to have our first fight.”

Crosshair was stunned, but only for a moment. This was why he lo…liked you in the first place.

He took on the domineering tone he usually had with you in these situations, “Demanding girls don’t get what they want.”

But you just grinned, and lifted your chin, “Girlfriend privilege.”

He threw his head back and laughed. What had he gotten himself into?

He couldn’t wait to find out.

“Just this once, mesh’la.”

You practically went limp in his arms as his straining, red cock breached your entrance. He stilled for just a moment, relishing in the feeling of being inside you. When you looked up at him, eyes shining with something he dare not name, not yet, he felt complete.

Crosshair grabbed hold of your hair and yanked, and you squealed from the pull of his hand and the push of his cock. This much he was sure of: he knew how you liked to be fucked, and he didn’t have it in him to be gentle any longer. And though he wouldn’t last as long as he’d like, no one could accuse him of not being a giving lover.

“Just like that, good girl,” he growled. You whined and writhed, impaled on his cock and unable to even think. “You just lay back, and come for me one more time.”

“Cross…I-I can’t.”

“You can,” he assured you, and his thumb went down to ever so gently move on your clit. “You’ve done it for me before, and you’re going to do it for me again. Scream, bite me if you have to, but you are going to give me one more.”

You wailed, hips thrusting up, frantically trying to match his rhythm. Crosshair released your hair to grab your throat. He leaned in, a hair's breadth away from your ear, and whispered, “That’s it, that’s my good girl.”

You tensed, and he grinned, “You like that? You like knowing you’re mine? That this mouth, these tits, this pussy all belong to me?” He started moving faster, keeping that pressure on your throbbing clit. He bit at your ear, “But remember, mesh’la, just because you’re my girl doesn’t mean I won’t fuck you like the slut we both know you are.”

That did it. Your cunt clenched around him, and you let out an ear-piercing scream. Your release came in strong, crashing waves, wiping your mind of anything else and soaking both of you. Crosshair couldn’t hold out any longer. He buried himself to the hilt and came deep inside you, and you shuddered with the aftershocks, so full and sated Crosshair swore you’d fallen asleep.

He was wrong. You lifted a trembling hand to his face and smiled gently at him, “Thank you, Cross.”

He scoffed, “Nothing to be thankful for. Not like we haven’t done this a hundred times.”

But you shook your head, “We’ve never done this before.” You gestured at the mess you’d made in his bed, at your tangled limbs and the invisible closeness that still existed between you, even after the amazing sex. “Thank you for trying.”

Crosshair felt his strength leave him. He gathered you up, and buried his face in your chest, taking deep, calming breaths, “Don’t let me coast on it.” He murmured. “Don’t cut me any slack. I’m bad at this.”

He heard your giggle from above, “A little unpolished, maybe, but I’ve never seen you fail to excel at something you were determined to accomplish.” You stroked his hair. “We’ll be fine, babe.”

“We need to talk about that nickname.”

“I can think of others,” you teased. “Honey, sweetie, my little tooka-”

He made a gagging noise against your breasts, and you were outright laughing, “Babycakes, darling, love-”

Crosshair knew he’d tensed up at that last one, had let a little gasp escape in his contentment. He blamed the recent orgasm. But you’d heard it, and you stopped laughing.

“Oh…” he heard your voice take on a strange tone, and finally looked up at your face. You looked…shy. Shy and happy. You nodded, “Love, then. I can make that work.”

He felt his ears burning, and he turned his face back into your chest. A sudden possessiveness overtook him, and he gathered you closer, “You can’t…” he mumbled. “You can’t call anyone else that.”

You were quiet for a moment, probably remembering all of the interchangeable nicknames you liked to use with his brothers. Then he felt your hands grab his face - still hiding in your breasts like a coward - and turn it toward your own. You smiled down at him.

“And that, love, is what we call boyfriend privilege.”

Crosshair gazed at you in amazement, then felt a rare smile break out over his face. He hugged you close, took his time kissing your lips again. He knew, in a moment, he would tell you to stay where you are as he got up and did something he’d never done for you before - clean you up himself. It’s something he would insist on doing from here on out.

Because, he decided, that’s what your boyfriend would do. And, as he was realizing rather quickly, he did not want anyone else to earn that title.

It was his. And he was yours.

#crosshair x reader #crosshair smut #tbb crosshair #the bad batch crosshair #crosshair fanfiction #tbb fanfiction #bad batch fanfic #the bad batch fanfiction #crosshair bad batch #wisteriabyrnefanfic #wistysfics

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sinfulsalutations · 5 months ago

Text

𝕣𝕚𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕕𝕨𝕒𝕧𝕖 ⋆*･ﾟ 𝕤𝕖𝕣𝕘𝕖𝕒𝕟𝕥 𝕙𝕦𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕣

➼ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ ☆ ꜱᴇʀɢᴇᴀɴᴛ ʜᴜɴᴛᴇʀ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

➼ ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ ☆ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ʜᴜɴᴛᴇʀ ʀᴇᴀʟɪᴢᴇꜱ ʜᴏᴡ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ʜɪꜱ ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇ ᴀꜰꜰᴇᴄᴛꜱ ʏᴏᴜ.

➼ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ☆ ꜱᴍᴜᴛ, ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ᴘᴏʀɴ ᴡɪᴛʜᴏᴜᴛ ᴘʟᴏᴛ, ꜰᴇʀᴀʟ+ʜᴏʀɴʏ ʙᴇʜᴀᴠɪᴏʀ, ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ɪꜱ ᴘʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴄᴀʟʟʏ ɪɴ ʜᴇᴀᴛ, ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇ ᴋɪɴᴋ, ꜱᴇxᴜᴀʟ ᴛᴇɴꜱɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴀɴᴛᴀꜱɪᴇꜱ, ᴍᴜᴛᴜᴀʟ ᴘɪɴɪɴɢ, ʀᴇꜱᴏʟᴠᴇᴅ ꜱᴇxᴜᴀʟ ᴛᴇɴꜱɪᴏɴ, ʜᴜɴᴛᴇʀ ɪꜱ ᴛᴏᴏ ꜱᴇxʏ ꜰᴏʀ ʜɪꜱ ᴏᴡɴ ɢᴏᴏᴅ, ᴍᴜᴛᴜᴀʟ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴜʀʙᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ɢʀɪɴᴅɪɴɢ, ᴍɪʟᴅ ɢᴏʀᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴇꜱᴄʀɪᴘᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴡᴏᴜɴᴅꜱ, ɪ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ʀᴇɢʀᴇᴛ ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ ʟᴍᴀᴏ

➼ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ ☆ 9.1ᴋ

➼ ᴘᴏᴠ ☆ ꜱᴇᴄᴏɴᴅ ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴ

➼ ꜱᴏᴜɴᴅᴛʀᴀᴄᴋ ☆ ᴄʀᴜꜱʜ - ᴇᴛʜᴇʟ ᴄᴀɪɴ, ᴍᴏᴏɴꜱᴛʀᴜᴄᴋ - ᴇɴʜʏᴘᴇɴ

⋆ ★ … ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴛᴏᴏᴋ, ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ᴀᴍ ɴᴏᴛ ᴇxᴀɢɢᴇʀᴀᴛɪɴɢ, ᴀ ꜰᴜʟʟ ʏᴇᴀʀ ᴛᴏ ꜰɪɴɪꜱʜ. ɪ ʙᴇɢᴀɴ ɪᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇɢɪɴɴɪɴɢ ᴏꜰ ᴊᴜʟʏ ᴏꜰ 2023 ᴀɴᴅ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴋᴇᴘᴛ ᴘᴜᴛᴛɪɴɢ ɪᴛ ᴏꜰꜰ ꜰᴏʀ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴘʀᴏᴊᴇᴄᴛꜱ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴀꜱ ɪ ᴋᴇᴘᴛ ᴡᴏʀᴋɪɴɢ ᴏɴ ɪᴛ ɪᴛ ᴋᴇᴘᴛ ɢᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ ʟᴏɴɢᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ʟᴏɴɢᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴜʜʜʜ ᴏᴏᴘꜱ ɪᴛꜱ ᴀʟᴍᴏꜱᴛ 10ᴋ ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ. ᴀʟꜱᴏ, ʏᴇᴀʜ, ɪ'ᴍ ɴᴏᴛ ᴅᴇᴀᴅ. ʏᴀʏ? ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ.

➼ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜰɪᴄ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴꜱ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ. ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ 18+ ᴅɴɪ

⋆ ★ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀᴏ3 ⋆*･ﾟ ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀᴍ

Despite the gradual (yet quite quick, in retrospect) increment of your feelings toward the skilled soldier, you do, in fact, notice the blunt sexual appeal of Hunter when you first meet Clone Force 99.

It’s difficult not to; with his long hair you can’t quite place how the Kaminoans allow him to have, the striking skull tattoo, his toned body, and discernable shape even through the heavy armor, you can’t help but flutter your eyelashes and rock your feet back and forth like you’re a schoolgirl all over again. Hunter is the Bad Batch’s essential leader, the closest in appearance to the rivaled ‘regs,’ leading them as their Sergeant and CT-9901, and he stands out more than any other clone you’ve interacted with.

His warm, welcoming, yet slightly wary smile is just as firm as the handshake he gives you when you first meet him, leaning down a little to your height (you’d think clone defects would be the same height, or maybe even shorter than a veritable trooper, but instead you feel enveloped by his vertical. Not that you don’t enjoy the feeling, of course) and nodding firmly.

Then you hear his voice.

It’s only a short sentence; a brief introduction and warm gratitude for joining them as their medic before you acquaint yourself with the rest of the squad. But your ears wrap around the waves of his rough, musky baritone like a magnet. Everything feels as though it’s finally clicked into place and created the perfect picture of your desired man.

Your mind immediately begins to create dreamy rhetoric, wondering silly things to yourself.

Had your mind been aimlessly wandering the galaxy for this long, circling like materials until you finally found an opposite —An opposite so charmingly rugged?

The feeling that rushes through you feels so destined.

Lucky for you, Hunter seems to express his commands frequently with his voice; sometimes hushed through a link, the vibrations of your comm humming pleasantly between the soft undersides of your fingers as he talks.

It always during the times when you’re deep past enemy lines, taking down clankers more efficiently than a Starfleet. Initially too, as you were still trying to memorize their master list of designated plans and being weighed down by the extra weight of regulation armor.

“Don’t go through there yet. Squad of clankers waiting for us.”

“You sure, Hunter? I don’t hear any steps.”

“Take it from the person with enhanced hearing, little medic. Just wait for me.”

Other times when he speaks to you, it’s thunderous commands; ones that he yells out across a field or war front. It frightens you at first, your shoulders jolting and hands instinctively clamping over your ears to deafen the noise, but you quickly realize he’s ordering you to act. Once you get used to the intensity, you come to equally enjoy and indulge how his voice takes on a new edge in fleeting moments of urgency and demand; a once blissful burning of wood turning into threatening crackles, and from there a bleeding forest fire.

“Wrecker, move in! Now, now! Crosshair, how’s the bird's view looking?”

It’s incredibly embarrassing how something as simple as his voice can leave you this breathless. Even from the snide comments he can’t seem to help himself from saying when Wrecker retells stories to you, either from their days as shinies and cadets to missions where you stayed back on the Marauder. Between Tech’s rambling and Wrecker’s enthusiastic narration, the sound of Hunter’s voice becomes even more of a calming sedative to you.

Though it equally arouses you in other moments.

How his morning voice is somehow even lower and raspier than his regular tone is a study that must be researched and conducted by only the galaxy’s best scientists. It seems just so impossible, unbelievable; none of it is inauthentic either—the grogginess is always equally spread through his body, from his tired slouch and ruffled hair, lolling eyes, the unkempt composition of the clothes hung over his broad shoulders and slim waist. It’s unspoken the things you might do if you felt there was even the slimmest chance of starting your every day with that sound so deep and lovely right in your ear.

When he addresses you directly before you both allow yourself the time to sleep, asking you to check on old injuries or patch up new ones he got on the last mission. He always manages to get hurt in the most menial yet bothersome ways, and you’re once again forced into close proximity; you’re beginning to consider paying a few scientists and investigators to study the sexy phenomenon that is Hunter. But either way, you sit legs crossed at the ankles in the cockpit, forcing yourself to zone out on anything he might be saying every few minutes so you don’t have to squirm and change your position in your seat every so often and prevent showing how damn flustered and hot he makes you; in more places than just your cheeks and ears.

In flitting moments you get time to relish in his conjured wavelength, take in the scene you can create with just the sound of his voice; he transports you to a world of the dark morning fog, the red of his bandana the most vibrant sight in your nearest vision as he takes you on the forest floor just like that, no civil thoughts daring to come to each of your minds as he finally gives you the relief you crave for in real life.

Your depraved fantasy of Hunter is all you can dream of when you sit yourself on your fingers, holding back as many of the impoverished whines you wish to let out due to your true desperation for such an attractive man.

And the sweet indulgences you luxuriate in make you selfish. You want more, need to know how he’d sound grunting, moaning your name while his cock lay on your tongue. Or how the oscillations of his words feel on your inner thighs, against your clit when he pushes his fingers past your tight barrier. There’s much more you could learn, could explore if you could attempt an advance. Or simply given something more than slight moments of suggestion that he might have the same deviant desires as you to allow the green light.

You’ve yet to receive such signals. And flimsy fantasies, the work of your fingers to chase unattainable pleasure, and insistent memorization of his voice can only keep you quenched for so long.

“Hunter,” The inadvertent, pathetic whine crawls up your throat the moment you feel his breath on your neck, lingering over your skin even as he pulls back after hearing the noise you make.

“Just a little more,” He reassures you. The hand not firmly gripping your wrist pats your shoulder, and your cheeks flush at the passing fondness. “Let’s try to get one more shot on target and we’ll call it quits, how does that sound?”

With the warmth of your flushed face spreading to the rest of your body, you mutter,

“Sounds good,”

and try to softly shake off your arousal, eyes zeroing in on the middle of the tree, the finger hovering over the trigger surprisingly still. You’re about to take the shot before he starts instructing you again.

“Fix your foot stance,” Hunter gently guides your legs apart with one of his own, fixing the positioning of your feet planted onto the dirt and you take in a deeper breath than you intend to. The fire kindle of his voice and the fire kindle of your core are equal matches now; the husk of his chunked honey tone will certainly turn you to mush if he continues any further, it feels.

Really, how does this oblivious, heart-seizing bastard expect you to keep your focus on this pointless shooting practice when he’s got you this compromised?

“Try again now,” he says after he’s got you in the position he wants. You huff again, letting the fiery stimulation fall to your diaphragm, and breathe down your arousal. Just one hit on the target and you’ll be free of this torture.

But as you lift your arm again, eyes narrowing closer and closer to your prize, the imminent feeling of his leg between yours rears its head. You become so incredibly, annoyingly aware of it, and grimace, biting your lip softly and knitting your eyebrows together to fully get him out of your mind and body. You tug on your bottom lip and pull the trigger.

The bullet lands left side.

A deep groan of frustration leaves you; it sounds much quieter with Hunter’s rumble and grunt in your ear. You gently pull away from his grasp, handing him the blaster, and turn to face him directly. And when you catch that damned expression you promptly decide that you don’t like to see him disappointed; at least, it looks as though he’s disappointed. Eyebrows pinched together with the smallest frown, his chin curled into himself as he looks down at you (Maybe you should look into research for lawyers in the case of when you sue Hunter for the neck pain he’s caused).

“It’s alright,” He assures you, but it doesn’t feel right. And from the way he looks at you, it’s not alright.

“No, it isn’t,” You tell him exactly that, your fingers curling and interlocking together by your stomach. His eyes dart down for a brief moment of scanning, and they don’t linger too long; Maker, you wish you had the power for your eyes not to glue to him and his absolute stature instantly when you enter a space. “I should be better at this by now.”

Hunter clicks his tongue and turns away, as if deep in swirling thought. His gaze comes back to you before you know it.

“You should be,” He agrees, but nothing is degrading or critical in his voice. In his eyes, the wave of gentleness that cascades and shifts his expression, there’s unconditional empathy that you do not deserve and he wouldn’t grace you with if he were to know what you beg him to do to you in your dreams.

“We can try again,” You then insist, but Hunter quickly shakes his head.

“We’ve been working on this for an hour,” He tells you, slickly spinning the blaster back into his holster. He sounds tired as well, a new jaggedness in the smoke tendrils of his voice. “That’s more than enough practice.”

“But I just want to–”

“I know.”

Somehow, those words are more devastating than anything else he’s said. You look back and catch the mysterious glint in his eye, almost as elusive as his words might connotate on a foggy day.

“Trust me,” He continues. You don’t even realize his hand has wandered and softly taken your chin between two fingers until you feel the soft pads brush against your skin; your jaw slacks. He pinches your chin a little tighter to ensure your eyes are fixed on him. “You just want to prove yourself.”

Well, of course, you think to yourself vindictively. It’s enough that you feel ever-so-slightly out of place in a squad of clone troopers, let alone defective ones; not being able to properly handle a blaster in the mere presence of your crush is even more embarrassing. How juvenile.

“We can try again another time. But you’re tired. I can feel it,” He continues. There’s the slightest hint of gentleness you only pick up on because of how you hone all your focus on dissecting and admiring every single crevice of his articulations. Suddenly, he drops your chin, and your head lolls back into place, rather sloppily, and you look up through your eyelashes. “Time for us to sleep, I think.”

With that, Hunter whips around and heads toward the ramp to the Marauder. You’re left there with a smarting jaw, discreetly trying to rub your legs together and take the heat out of the area.

“Alright,” You sigh, glancing around before trotting after him, the white noise keeping your thoughts off of the man in front of you.

Yet, you still picture what his knee had felt like parting your thighs open only half an hour later. Attempting to recreate it with your arm and then your pillow, you give yourself a foggy release and whimper a jumbled version of his name into your pillow before drifting off, body still buzzing with frustration.

The next week, as if the weeks and months before weren’t as excruciating, is pure sexual torture. Not to say it’s entirely filled with frustration and dull aching, however. When you and Hunter have a moment of silence, alone by the cots or the engine or the cockpit together, you both relax into the same, comfortable silence that fills the time.

It’s better to have him not running his mouth off, for sure. You still have to deal with it on deployments and missions, but it’s manageable when you’re knocking down clankers or trying to listen to Tech’s very confusing instructions on how to fly the plane to a certain location to pick them up. But he’s allowing the silence to fester between you two. All the better to preserve the actual sweet, steady relationship you have aside from your fiery attraction, you think.

Hey, it could be worse.

But then the dumbass decides to get himself injured. Get pushed into and dragged against hard durasteel, leaving a gash across his stomach that could challenge Wrecker’s spiderweb scars in its damage. Your jaw practically drops when they return and you see the wound out in the open; you can’t stop yourself before you lurch forward with worried eyes and grasp his wrist around your fingers, pushing him down onto a bench.

As Tech pilots the ship off the planet, the rest all recline and lick their minuscule wounds beside him, while you and Hunter remain cramped in the back, avoiding his gaze and praying to the Maker that he keeps his voice to quiet rough grunts of pain as you try to unclip each different plate of his armor and lay them neatly beside him, tutting when more of his wound is revealed to you.

”Oh my goodness, oh my goodness ohmygoodness,” You stammer to yourself, more and more strained with each breath you take, peeling off the tarnished fabric of his blacks.

“It’s not too bad,” He argues with a soft grin, which slowly fades away when you glare.

“Don’t,” You retort, firm and simple, flashing a genuine look of empathy, and even a drip of fear. If you didn’t know any better, you might think Hunter practically melts under your look with how he slumps and his expression droops. But he’s still an oblivious, sexy fool, you remind yourself.

You don’t even have the energy to fawn over how incredibly attractive he sounds with the rough baritone and anguished sigh-like tone he wears; you instead scramble to open the first aid kit. You can feel his gaze set selectively on you and it doesn’t help. In the corner of your eye, he tilts his head.

“Is everything alright?”

You nod automatically.

“Everything is fine.”

The Marauder jostles in rough air; the ship tilts, your stomach dropping with the altitude change, and you’re unwantedly yanked onto Hunter’s lap with a yelp.

You still for a moment, waiting for the ship to steady again before you become acutely aware of how your chest is almost completely pressed up onto his face. And how your knees are caged over his thighs, your pelvis way too close to his wound for each of your comfort. And pressure against your waist, not too firm but still weighting you to his body–wait, is Hunter holding you to him?

Your eyes widen and you stumble off, stammering nonsensically and afraid to gaze upon his face. You don’t for a long moment, before grabbing the disinfectant and pouring it onto a cloth.

Silence festers between the two of you. When Hunter does speak, it’s not to you.

“Tech! Get her steady, would you?” He yells across the ship, vexed and evidently not in an ideal mood. Tech immediately retorts in his typical, inappropriately casual, intellectual tone,

“That is not a light request, Hunter. I am already trying.”

Hunter scoffs and you finally get the gall to look at him. He exchanges a mutual look of annoyance and manages to grin wider for you. The sight soothes your frayed ends ever so slightly, and you stare down at his stomach again at the wound, biting your lip as you inspect the damage.

Your hands come to the hem of his blacks and you give him a silent ask with your eyes.

“Is it alright if I take this off?”

He hums, which you take as a yes, and you slowly peel it off of his skin, trying very, very hard to ensure your stare doesn’t linger. He looks at you with a mysterious gaze that's too hard to place for your liking. But you just try and shake it off as you slowly dab his wound with the bacta-dipped cloth, pressing it firm against the injury.

When he hisses, you perk up with wide eyes.

“Did that hurt?”

Hunter clenches his teeth and nods slowly, and you pull away with shaky hands. His arms reach out, encircling his fingers around your wrist, and guides them back tenderly.

“It’s alright,” He says, his tone dropping down an octave as your hands tremble again in his grasp. You gain the courage to look up at him, biting your lip softly. The grin he wears manages to soothe your nerves, just a little. “I’ve got you, girl. Just let me guide you so you don’t hurt me.”

You let out a shaky exhale of relief, and he sighs, dipping his chin down, but keeping the intense eye contact.

“How does that sound?”

“Good,” You squeak, the rise and fall of your chest the only constant managing to soothe your fried senses. After a couple of breaths, you finish your thought. “Better.” You press onto a side of his wound, softly spreading the bacta onto it; your eyes don’t separate from his once. “How’s that?”

He huffs, not of frustration or annoyance, but more a comforting relief.

"Fine. Keep going."

The rasp stirs between the space between the two of you, and you take a deep breath before you can do anything else.

With the firm grasp on your wrists and the low tendrils of his voice softly directing you, you continue to tend to his wound, your hands moving deftly over his skin. The thick, intoxicating tension in the air is palpable; the lingering silence between you weighs heavy despite your best attempts to snap yourself out of it and take care of him like you're supposed to.

It's not your fault he just sounds so damn sexy all the time.

"Careful, careful," He tuts when you're stitching up a particularly bad spot, pressing your fingers around the skin and holding it there as you thread the stitch through. "Just a little gentler, please."

Then, "Avoid that spot, please. I can't even-- shit -- breathe without it hurting. Just stitch around it. Yeah, just like that. Good job, little medic," As you're finishing up.

Once you finish wrapping the bandage firmly over the wound and around his waist, taping it firmly to him, he dislodges his fingers from where it's wrapped around your wrist, bringing it to your chin and manhandling you slightly to get a better look into your eyes.

"See, ‘wasn't so bad, was it?" He flashes you a grin, obviously masking the pain etching into his limbs, all to calm your nerves. The fact that he's making such a constant effort to make you feel better despite his state makes you positively soft. "You did great."

You grin back, nodding and averting your eyes.

"Thank you."

There's a pause before he bludgeons you with his next sentence.

"You enjoy getting instructions."

Your eyes widen; you almost drop the first aid kit; everything stills, your chest tight as you process his words. Shit, what the fuck?

What the fuck?

"Wh--What?" You stammer, taking a small step backward and tilting your head to appear more confused and insulted by the accusation. Maybe if you appear offended, he’ll take it back. "Who said that?"

"You don’t need to say it. I can feel it," He continues, gaze thoughtfully fixated on you. He doesn't even falter when you seem to panic. "I can see it." You try to gawk at him to make him feel stupid, make him retract what he's saying, but either he's so certain or you don't seem very convincing.

No matter; you're still fucked.

"You like getting told what to do."

Your heart pounds, and Hunter just sits there, legs spread leisurely, his eyebrow slightly raised in expectation. Seriously, what does he expect you to answer with? Does he want you to fess up and admit how depraved and desperate you are for his touch, then run off mortified to never speak to him again? Surely he doesn’t expect you to take.

Defeated, you sigh and softly run your hands over your work again, avoiding his burning gaze.

"Only from you," you mutter, then immediately pray devotedly to the Maker he doesn't hear. Hunter hums, a tone of question in his voice, then you proceed to figuratively jump off a cliff as you remember this fucker has enhanced senses.

"Why’s that, mesh’la?" He asks. Instinctively, your eyebrows knit together when the new nickname graces your ears.

"What does mesh’la mean?"

Hunter doesn't seem very phased. Can't you just throw him off his rhythm once?

"Don’t worry about that," He quickly excuses your question as a distraction from the question at hand. "But tell me why you only enjoy getting instructions from me."

There's something smug to the way he talks, hidden behind insistent concern and curiosity.

"Why’s that, tell me."

Your hand comes up to hide your face, but he takes it and keeps it away from disfiguring his view of your expression. You want to babble; you can feel your face heating up. Instead, you frown.

"I, uh," You try to discreetly rub your thighs together languidly, easing the tension and buildup of heat in between them. A huff leaves his lips that sounds oddly close to a chuckle.

"Come on," You lift your head, perplexed for a split moment, but then he pats the top of his thigh. You blink once, then twice, then another time for good measure, just to make sure you're seeing correctly. Is he... what's he even implying?

"Sit down. On my lap."

Oh. That’s what.

Your mouth opens, a strange sound bordering on a choke leaving your throat as you try to retort or deny him. He only raises his eyebrows and dips his chin down, gesturing toward his lap again.

You huff, eyebrows knitted, and take a small step toward him, slowly, and you envelop his figure, trapping his legs between your knees and careening slightly, hands still meeting at your stomach, unsure of where to move. He nods encouragingly.

“Good job, just like that,” He praises you, hands slowly rising to rest on the handles of your hips, fingers tracing your waist. You take a sharp intake of breath, eyes drifting down to where your bodies meet, and look back up at him again. Hunter’s wearing this oh-so-innocent, deer-in-headlights expression you know is bantha-shit. “What’s got you so hot and bothered?”

You sough vindictively, averting your eyes.

“Stop teasing me.”

He laughs— though it’s more of a snarky, yet affectionate chuckle. You feel so naked in his presence, given such focused, vehement attention.

“I’m not teasing. Just concerned,” He tells you. The problem is, Hunter does well making you think he’s actually this clueless when he does know and just wants to hear it from your lips.

“Mhm,” You hum sarcastically with a pout.

He manages to grin at you, the corners of his eyes scrunching up as he looks at you. You let your eyes come back to him.

“I can do both, can’t I?” He offers.

“Sure,” You retort.

Squinting his eyes, he casually rubs his hands up and down the sides of your body.

“I’ll figure it out, one way or another,” He affirms, ending the sentence with a wink; you take a deep breath, letting your jaw slack. Hunter keeps talking like there’s nothing thick in the air between you.

“Put your hands on my shoulders.”

You furrow your eyebrows; he pouts like an upset child. Chastising, you huff and do as he says. When your hands shake slightly, he continues giving you instructions. They are so simple, yet they seem so alluring and nuanced in this context. In his voice.

”Steady yourself. Yeah, like that. Good.”

You wiggle your hips slightly, and something boils in his stomach slightly, something bordering on a groan. Your legs are warming up but you have no way to close them and satiate yourself. So all you can do is squirm.

Hunter perks up in concern.

“Are you comfortable?”

You take a moment to respond but then nod.

“Good.” Hunter grins softly, patting your left hip. For a moment, he decides to rake his eyes over you appreciatively, almost in the same way you do when you assume he isn’t looking. “I’m glad.”

Offering a civil smile of mutual understanding, you wiggle your hips, trying to find a better position if you’re going to be compromised on his lap.

”Trail your hands down for me.”

It's hard to deny or disobey him with a voice like that, especially when you know it’s directed toward you. So you slowly let your hands slip from his shoulders and descend his chest and torso.

“Yeah, down,” He encourages you when you reach the top of his wrapped wound. “Maybe try to avoid the gash.”

You lift your hands and let only the pads of your fingers place feather-light touches over the wrapping. When your hands begin to tremble again the further you descend, reaching his pelvis, he tuts to stop you. “That’s a good place to stop.”

You look up again with wide eyes, trying to stop your erratic (embarrassing) trembles and tilt your head. There’s more he’s going to say. At least it seems so.

“Whenever you’re ready, put your hand over my crotch.” He gives you a soft look of reassurance, making sure you’re completely comfortable in this position, before finishing. “I want you to feel me.”

Gasping softly, you pull your hand away, fingers curling into your palm and gripping tightly. A shiver runs through you, and you can’t seem to figure out if it’s from shock or pleasure.

“What?” You begin, eyes flitting from his face and back. “H-Hunter, I shouldn’t.”

“I’m asking you to.” Polite insistence is the game he plays. If this truly is a trap, you might happily fall if it means you get to touch him. He runs his hands over your curves again. “I want you to.”

You tense further, something bordering on fear in your eyes. Hunter notices and frowns while he clarifies:

“Unless you don’t want it. ‘Cause then… we can stop. No hard feelings…”

You can see how he’s getting lost in his thoughts. For a split moment, that perfect composure he holds in your presence fractures; he seems insecure and nervous; anticipating inevitable rejection because he’s pushed you too far.

That isn’t the case.

As you finally press your palm to his bulge, you contain your gasp. He’s big. And so hard.

“Fuck,” He groans, head tilting back. “Feel that?”

Oh kriff, that rumble. It’s warm and smooth yet rough all the same, creeping its way over your skin until you’re forced to keep the faintest whimper from leaving your throat. You string your lips tight and nod.

“Mhm,” Is the only thing that manages to leave your mouth, whiny and soft. You palm him further, as if the fabric would simply tear away and you could finally feel his skin on yours. He hums again, and you’re left looking doe-eyed in his direction. “Shit, Hunter.”

He throws a heavy statement onto you.

“It’s my voice, isn’t it?”

You tilt your head up, containing the urge to gasp.

“What?”

“What’s making you so hot and bothered,” He continues. You want to look away, hide your face in your hands with humiliating embarrassment, but you’re trembling so much on top of him that you can’t even flit your eyes away. “You like my voice. And you like it when I tell you what to do.”

You gasp lightly when you feel his warm hand on your thigh. Your cunt twitches and it really shouldn’t. He’s barely doing anything.

“Well,” he continues, raising an eyebrow. “Are you going to deny it?”

The answer is delivered non-verbally. You relax into his lap, palm pressing further to his bulge, and then you squeeze oh so gently. That heavenly groan graces your ears and you devoutly catalog it into your mind for later recollection.

His chin dips down to catch a glimpse of your hand before he meets your eyes.

“Mesh’la,” he says; even without knowing what it means, just hearing how he speaks with such beguile and worship tells all that you need to know. “Mesh’la… can you do something for me?”

“Yeah. Of course. Anything,” You stammer out with a slack jaw, far too enthusiastic. Hunter doesn’t seem to regard it as anything distorting the absolute utmost respect that he must feel while he has you in his lap with your hand on his dick.

“Slip your pants off.”

It’s practically instinctual how efficiently you gingerly push yourself off of his lap and follow his order. With your hands chastely placed above your waistband, you let your thumbs push past, then await Hunter to grant you to pull them off. His eyes dilate with the view, and he nods.

The pants find their way to the ground clumsily, and you cringe internally at your lack of grace, but when you finally catch sight of Hunter’s expression, perhaps it’s nothing to worry about.

He looks… starved. Hypnotized by the splendor in front of him, for his eyes and his hands and his body only to touch, feel, hold, take.

“You’re… fuck,” he sighs, sounding out of breath, as though you’d just swept his leg and taken him off his feet. His hand methodically strokes up and down his thigh, only lightly grazing the tent in his pants as he takes his eyes over how you look, over and over again.

“You’re stunning,” he finally manages to say. His hand stops stroking to pat his thigh lightly, and his voice simmers in a way you know is on purpose. “C’mere, sit on my lap again.”

“Are you sure?” You ask for permission despite rocking your feet back and forth to shimmy your way back. As you gesture toward the bandages wrapped around his middle, Hunter huffs and frowns with miffed frustration. “You’re still injured.”

Hunter gripes to himself as he pushes himself up, placing his hands on your hips and pulling you to the free space between his two hard, firm thighs. His dexterity surprises you. The warmth radiating from his body does even more.

“I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.”

Oh.

Shit.

He looks the part, certainly; you only try to feel the faintest tremble of his fingers when his hands float away from your hips to sit on the top of his legs again,

“Okay,” You mutter aimlessly, reaching up to your face to brush your hair away in a measly attempt to look more presentable. Your voice is just a squeaky little thing, and it’s so incredibly humiliating. “Okay…”

“It’s alright,” Hunter tries to soothe you, and you breathe shallowly.

“I know that.” Your tongue runs over your bottom lip and you heave. “I just…”

Before you’re able to process what’s happening, Hunter’s reaching a hand out to cup your face. Despite the coarseness of his skin, his callouses fall on your cheek, it’s so tender, and you melt into his touch.

“Do you need some guidance, little medic?”

With a slight whine, you nod, letting your lashes flutter. Hunter lets his thumb swipe over your bottom lip, and your mouth parts. He grins at your unprompted compliance.

“Then let me tell you what to do. Let me tell you how to touch yourself and make you come from that, and my voice too.”

A depraved noise is choked out of you.

“Fuck,” your head careens to the side, but his firm hold on the side of your face keeps your gaze on him. His grin turns more into a cheeky smirk.

“How does that sound?” He asks. You nod adamantly before he tries to change his mind, so worried that he’ll push you away at any moment. As though he can read your mind, the hand that was still on the back of your thigh takes a gentle squeeze before trailing up your body, taking appreciative feels of your ass and hips before settling on your waist again.

“Mm…” You hum, reveling in the sensation. “Really good.”

Hunter gives you a half-crooked smile, and you want to cuss him out, or yourself, you’re not sure who to be fed up with.

“Come on, little medic,” He urges you on, patting your hip. “Slip your hand down your panties.”

Wordlessly, you let a trembling hand descend down your body. You have little dignity left in you to try and make yourself appear more seductive, but you hope your image isn’t so repulsive. The moment your fingertips make contact with your heat, your fingers grazing over your mons and clit, your mouth falls open in a silent gasp.

Hunter tilts his head.

“How does it feel? Are you wet?”

He should know already, smug bastard.

“Yeah,” you nod, keening further into his touch when he tilts his chin down, leaning toward your ear.

He takes a gentle lick, so light that if you weren’t in his grasp you wouldn’t have noticed.

“How wet?”

Your hips instinctively buck to rub yourself over your hand, a rush of arousal washing over you.

“Re–“ You swallow a wad of spit sitting on your tongue. “Really wet.”

Hunter’s lips are gentle when they undulate as he speaks oh so close to your ear, quiet and warm, words just for you.

“Just from my voice?” When he asks this time, you don’t detect much smugness; he wants the confirmation and credibility for a foundation of fact he’s built for himself.

You nod, but add on more.

“Not just that.”

“Hm?” His dark rumble travels down your spine and you squirm with pleasant upheaval. Your hand is still awkwardly lodged down your panties with nothing to do.

“Tell me more,” he demands with an assuasive croon. With one last kitten lick that lingers on the shell of your ear, he allows his lips to wander, mouthing against your skin, leaving delicate kisses on your temple, your jaw, and any moles and freckles in his nearest vicinity while he awaits your answer.

“I, uh,” you begin, awaiting to land on a coherent stream of words loosely strung together to fall on your tongue. “your—“

Just as you feel something begin to tie, your gaze drops down. Hunter palms his full erection over his blacks, languidly as though without a care, and the thought of him being aroused by this, aroused by you, slaps your mind into a render less zone.

“—fuck.”

He chuckles right in your damn face, and Maker he’s just too pretty not to kiss. But you resist the temptation with the festering worry of crossing the barrier past simple attraction into affection.

So you swallow slow and hard and try to compose a sentence.

“Your, face—“

Yeah, real eloquent, idiot.

“—That skull tattoo, it’s, well, shit…”

Your tongue wraps around itself again, words becoming more and more hard to piece together the longer you think about it. All that your primal mind begs you to think of is the olympic man presented under you, and the heat that radiates off the both of you.

“Alright now, you don’t have to continue,” Hunter huffs with no real malice contained in his words. It still makes you cringe nonetheless.

“That bad?” You ask with a clenched jaw.

A simple head shake is all you receive, but it’s more than enough to sedate a growing burn in the pit of your stomach. The hand not pressed to his crotch gently holds your hip, thumb swiping over your panties and bare skin; he even dares to let it slip past the waistband. The accurate awareness of your hand pressed to your pussy returns to you.

“Don’t want you to focus your energy on that,” he clarifies, eyes looking into yours with a softness you’ve never associated with Hunter. You’d find it peculiar in a regular conversation, but everything about this interaction has been anything but normal.

You suddenly realize you’re at a loss again. “So what do you want me to do?” You ask because you feel humiliated just straddling him like this.

Hunter puffs out his chest and you prepare yourself for the worst.

A coarse hand presses to your navel, trailing up underneath your shirt to sketch an image of your body underneath, stopping right where “Rub your pussy for me.”

It’s worded like a demand, but he voices it as though it’s a request. Your body wants to tense and retract, but the palm spread over the expanse of your stomach prevents you.

“You can do that,” Hunter encourages you, almost as though you were a creature he’s saddled on to ride. Though in this instance, you’d much rather be the one to ride. “Can’t you? For me?”

With a huff, you look away and nod bashfully. It’s wordless when you begin to move your hand, let your fingers get soaked as they rub up and down, up and down… you’re almost too tense to really feel the sensation, but Hunter’s doting gaze and his firm hand on your stomach keep you grounded. As you collect slick, running your fingers through your folds, it takes heavy petting for you to relax your jaw and let out the most pleasantly pathetic whimper.

Hunter groans, adding fuel to the flame flourishing in your pants, a dark sound of thunder rumbling in the sky, forewarning something much more devastating.

“Yeah, just like that,” he encourages you in that same husky tone following the groan. “Rock your hips too.”

You do so diligently, using your palm to press against your clit as a foundation for the rest of your hand to move leisurely while you rock your hips into himself. Hunter’s hand retracts from your stomach, fingers curling into his palms as he lets his knuckles graze against your skin. When you shiver, he takes it as an invitation to shush you gently against your temple, before his hand falls to your waist again.

The moment you glance down, you have to tip your chin back with an ascendant sigh. He’s got his hand over his clothed erection, palming it with a firm hand, almost absentmindedly as he keeps his eyes on you.

“Fuck, Hunter…” The desperate, embarrassing whimper comes out of you far more loud than you intend. Hunter shushes you gently.

“Keep quiet for me,” he commands; how are you meant to be by him when he speaks like that?

“Good?” He then asks, seemingly seeking approval good enough for him to continue. “Do I sound as good as you imagined?”

You want to say yes, declare it to the entire galaxy, and tell him just how wonderful this man is, but you’re far too overwhelmed by all the pleasurable sensations disrupting your thought process. So instead you nod.

That seems to satisfy Hunter, and the smallest smirk curls on his lips as he watches you squirm and rock your hips into your hands.

“Don’t you as well.”

With a hum, you try to dismiss the comment. But only as you let it sit does the implication of his words sink to your stomach. But he doesn’t allow you to dwell on it for too long, it seems, as he continues,

“I want you to keep touching yourself. Do whatever you need to for me. Whatever makes you come.”

He pats his incredibly intimidating bulge as though it’s an invitation.

“Right here, on my lap.”

You resist the dizzyness that threatens to overtake your senses, but as you steady your breaths, you suddenly feel so exposed. Far too exposed compared to Hunter.

So you try to level the playing field.

“Would you… er…”

If only your words could come out correctly. Hunter raises an eyebrow, perked with a cheeky glint in his eye.

“Hm?” He hums.

You grunt and attempt again to tunnel out the words. Like a plow shoveling out snow or sand.

“It—It feels unfair that I’m the only one here getting off.”

You wince as you finish the sentence. Maker, you sound so clunky and awkward. So much for being seductive.

But Hunter hums with total compliance, letting his hand trail up to where his bottoms cling to his skin.

“‘Guess you’re right.” Slowly, oh-so-slowly, Hunter peels back the waistband of his blacks, letting his hand slip through to free his cock from underneath the garments.

You think you’ve been knocked out for a healthy minute when you get a proper look. You’d never imagine describing a cock as pretty, but just like everything else, Hunter may become an exception. His fingers curl around the base with rather ease, before reaching up with it to his chin. He opens his mouth, letting a wad of spit collect and drop onto his palm, allowing him to stroke his cock with a more slick movement.

Maker, he’s so… so…

No, that can’t be right. His cock is far too thick for his hand to wrap around it so easily. But then you remember his proportions, especially compared to yours. A small chuckle leaves you when you imagine how you might try to wrap a full hand around his length.

Hunter leisurely strokes himself, eyes set on yours with an intensity that makes your stomach leap bounds up to your chest.

“Now it’s more fair, little medic,” he says. “Don’t you think?”

You nod adamantly with no hesitation.

“Yeah, yeah…” Your fingers deftly move to trap your clit between your index and middle, your mouth falling open when you feel the pressure hum over you. “Shit.”

Hunter huffs with a smugly saccharine look, his hand slowly stroking up and down his cock, lingering at the tip before he returns down again.

“You look really good like this.”

You tilt your head and grunt in disbelief. It’s hard to believe him when you feel simultaneously so powerful and so humiliated. Even though he’s just as physically exposed as you, you still feel more vulnerable.

“Do I now?” Despite being sarcastic, you try not to come off too mean.

But then Hunter sighs out the most exasperated, “ Fuck yeah,” his chin tipping upwards as he gathers his breath, tongue darting out to lick his lips, eyes half closed while he squeezes the tip of his dick, and you’re left render less to your own attraction again.

He seems to see the disbelief in your eyes.

“Don’t you believe me, mesh’la?” He asks. You remain still. “You really need me to spell out just how hot you look right now? How sexy .”

“Hunter,” you whine.

He continues without regarding you.

“I’m trying so hard not to— fuck—“ he tenses his stomach as he tries to compose himself. “—just blow my load right now. You’re just so— so pretty and pliant and so damn obedient .” You tremble slightly, and Hunter reaches to hold the back of your neck; not before tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, of course.

“Listening to my every order,” he continues, oddly affectionate.

A rush of confidence flows through your veins. You try to smirk, but instead it comes out toothy and bashful.

“That’s my job, sergeant.”

Hunter groans, his fingers curling into your neck, one pressing to your pulse point so purposefully.

“Fuck, don’t say stuff like that,” he says, shaking his head, though he doesn’t seem too displeased. “Or else this’ll be really short.”

You giggle, trying to look away, but Hunter’s grip on your neck keeps your head in place. You blink rapidly, suddenly overwhelmed by his stare. But you can’t. Move.

You whisper out a weak, “Keep talking,” before your eyes shut close. You press your palm to your clit, whining softly. Hunter uses the grip on your neck to bring you in closer, whispering slow and softly into your ear with purposeful oscillations of his lips,

“I wonder how you’ll feel around me.” You sigh out the faintest hint of his name in surprise, just as you begin to press a finger into your entrance. “I bet you’re so tight you’ll squeeze me out. Warm, and hot, and loud .”

“Fuck,” you swear, both in response to his words and to the feeling of a single finger pumping in and out of you. You’ve done little to stimulate yourself and cum, but somehow you’re already feeling an anticipated crawl up of an orgasm.

The things Hunter does to you.

“I want your mouth on my cock too.”

You clench involuntarily o over your finger, bucking your hip so your clit catches against your palm. Oh. He isn’t done.

“‘Thinking we’d both have fun if I tried a hand at commanding you around, fucked your face a little.”

Hunter tilts his head. as though expecting a response, so you nod your head — or tilt your chin down, you’re unsure— and he grins in deep settled approval at your compliance.

“How does that sound, hm?”

In a split moment of respite, while he awaits your response, you gaze down, watch his hand wrap around his cock with more insistence than before, stroke at the same rate you move. The hand on your hip drifts down to hold your hip again, rocking you with more fervor. Inadvertently, the movement forces your fingers in a new direction that grazes your g-spot just so perfectly, and you’re sighing again.

“ Oh… ”

The silence becomes too long for Hunter to bear, and he grunts.

“Answer me, mesh’la,” his tone is commanding, yet not overbearing. You appreciate it considering the sliver of shame remaining in your stomach. “Would you like that?”

“I’d–I’d like it,” you stammer out, slowly rubbing a second finger down your folds before pressing in slowly to meet the other. “A lot … fuck.”

With a tilt of his head, Hunter leans in closer, lips dangerously close to yours and for a split moment you consider pulling away.

“Something the matter?” He asks, but he knows the answer. Hunter can damn well see how your legs begin to twitch and shake more rapidly, the unsteadiness of your breathing as you simultaneously calm yourself and try to bring about your high.

“You fucking know what’s the matter, Hunter,” you bark back.

“I don’t think I’m sure exactly,” he responds dismissively. “Could you say it clearly, just in case?”

Something you hope sounds like a playful growl leaves you, but in reality, it probably sounds like a moth cat purring.

“You bastard .” There’s no real bite to your insult, and Hunter knows it, so he grins.

“I do my best.”

Your pleasure overtakes you and a shiver runs from the top of your spine to your legs, your thumb moving to properly rub your clit.

“Oh, fuck, I’m close,” you’re moaning out before you know it, voice dwindling so you’re not too loud.

“Ah,” Hunter hums, affectionately rubbing your hip. “That’s what I thought. ‘Was just making sure.”

His strokes have become more erratic and frantic, but his composure doesn’t give it away. If you weren’t to gaze down, you’d have no tell how aroused he truly was. Though perhaps that’s how he wants it to be— you’re a pretty mess while he’s the foundation to keep you upright.

Suddenly, he’s talking again, using the hand on your hip to encourage you to keep rocking.

“Come on, you pretty thing,” he rumbles. “Come for me and I’ll come for you.” Then you’re remembering what brought you to this attraction in the first place; that damn voice of his. Truly, and you mean truly, never saw yourself being in this position; situated over Hunter’s lap, touching yourself for him while he gets off to you and only you.

With one more curl of your fingers against your g-spot and your thump insistently rubbing your clit, you’re over the hill, and you’re twitching and rocking your hips over and over in arches of your back, jumbled syllables vaguely making up Hunter’s name spilling from your lips like sticky sweet sugar.

That’s when you hear it. When you glance down to catch his spend start to spill on his bare skin the bandages of his, he groans out the most pleasant incantation of your name you’ve ever heard. The moment the noise graces your ears, you’re certain that you never want to hear anything else. Or at the least, any other version of your name.

A few moments pass where you remain panting in each other's presence, his hands remaining render less at your side, rubbing up and down in uncoordinated patterns, while your hands grip his shoulders. You only start to pull away from him as you catch your bearings— and your dignity.

Hunter interrupts you by grabbing the wrist of the hand you had stuffed down your panties. He leans in closer, tongue darting out like a teasing little offer.

“Can I get a taste, mesh’la?” His voice is slow, and warm, like honey pouring into a pot of tea—in any other situation, it would sedate your nerves. But those words ignite that fuel inside you. You press your fingers still coated in slick to his lips, and he opens his mouth graciously, letting his tongue swirl around your digits with a gracious hum that vibrates your skin. Your other hand drops to his chest just before where the gash begins and holds onto it with a tremorous touch.

Hunter pulls away with a resounding ‘pop’ that makes you cringe, but not pull your eyes away.

“Delicious,” he remarks.

Your face is hot again and Hunter is smiling wide, but you’ve figured out by now he means no malicious intent with his mannerisms. His hand reaches out, cradling your face

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” Hunter admires you with a glint in his eye you’ve never seen before. Sure, you’ve seen affection— plenty at this point— but there’s a tenderness to his words as he continues. It still doesn’t feel fair to not return the compliment, however.

“You’re one to talk.”

The only response you get is a scoff.

“Have you ever seen yourself?” He asks, posing the rhetoric as if you’d go out of the way to compliment yourself. It’s hard to feel anything more than pretty when you have the most handsome man trapped between your thighs.

Hunter doesn’t budge — states it like a fact, as though he truly believes it. “I always get ravenous just looking at you.”

“Oh,” You reply dumbly. “I… I didn’t think.” Your ability to talk to Hunter improves after getting off for him, it seems.

“You thought wrong,” he replies, shaking his head slightly with a smile. He leans his head down, looking better at your face before reaching with his palm to hold your cheek with hands so calloused they feel soft.

“You’re a capable woman, a great addition to the batch–” Your cheeks heat up, and he smiles. “--And I think you’re beautiful. Mesh’la. That’s what that means.”

Your hand crawls up slowly against his arm, unknowingly following the pattern of his skeleton tattoo before your much smaller hand is placed against his.

“Hunter…” You whine.

He tilts his head, that goofy smile still stuck on his face. “What?”

“You flatter me.” With a shake of your head, you unpeel yourself from his lap, and Hunter whines so, so soft as you do to the point you almost leap back onto his lap again.

“I’m being honest,” Hunter insists, lazily using the underside of his blacks to clean his spend off his skin and the bandages. You’re standing idly, stupidly, and you know he’s waiting for you to say something— and you do, you do, but you don’t know what.

“Well, thank you,” you finally answer, attempting to compose yourself. You awkwardly place your feet back into the holes of your pants, pulling them up in a swift motion that leaves you put away wet, but you care very little at this point.

You look up at Hunter, appreciatively looking over his features, before a forlorn feeling fills your stomach when you gaze down at his lips. You felt them delicately graze against your ear, wrap around your fingers to gently suck and lap at the spend coating them, yet you haven’t felt them against yours once.

He notices the look on your face.

“Something up?” He asks.

In retrospect, it must’ve been a rush of confidence through your veins after having him in such a vulnerable state only a moment ago, but you truly don’t know where your next words come from.

“Can I have a kiss?”

You expect, hope even, for Hunter to be thrown off his rhythm so he can be on the same level as you for once. Rather he takes a step closer to you, his hand methodically wrapping around the back of your neck again, thumb pressing the juncture between your jaw and throat for that extra leisure, feeling your pulse as he pulls you in for a kiss.

In your dreams, Hunter's kisses are wholly devouring. But in reality, it’s warm, tender, brimming with an underlying passion you least expected. As his lips press against yours, you can feel the velvet caress of his skin, the exchange of breath between the two of you that makes you hum into him.

His other hand rises to gently stroke your back before pulling you closer, and you feel so enveloped in his embrace that neither of you will be harmed again. You press your foreheads together and pull away, each taking slow, savoring breaths.

Truly, you never expected to be in this situation.

“...I don’t want this to be a one-time thing,” you mutter shyly, a bashful look on your face. It’s that little smile, that damned voice of his, that delivers the final blow, sending you back into his striking orbit.

“Of course,” Hunter tells you, smooth as ever. “I still haven’t gotten to be inside you.”

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stellarbit · 8 months ago

Text

Two Faces

Word Count: 11k Pairing: fem!reader x Bad Batch, light Tech nods Warnings: nada except light violence. Training, some fluff, and general fun Summary: When your sister becomes a senator, you decide to join her guard to protect her. Your mother sends you to train on Kamino as backlash. You are paired with Clone Force 99 under the guise of a regular trooper. Encountering you outside of uniform they mistake you for your sister. It is a delicate situation and you have to play your cards carefully.

This started out as a request for the guys getting jealous of you undercover and here I am. When I tell you this was SO FUN to write but took SO LONG. If y'all like imma make it a part 2.

Edit; you wanted it so here it is Two Faces pt 2

“You want to be a foot soldier.” Your mother snarled down her nose. She was a tall woman, taller than you at least, and the governor of your planet. She waved a slender dismissive hand. “Then be a foot soldier.”

Face neutral, you stood before her in the white armor of a clone trooper. You held the helmet with both hands and a white knuckle grip. This wasn’t exactly what you had in mind when you told your mother you wanted to join your sister’s guard

From your mother’s right your sister stood wringing her hands together. She stood at your height with a face that mirrored your own. Often you were mistaken as twins. Only a few years older than you and already she was the senator for your planet -- the perfect example of what you should have been. Despite everything, the two of you were extremely close.

Concern ate her alive as she watched on. She opened her mouth, but your mother’s hand splayed out in front of her face, cutting off your sister’s voice and view of you.

Continuing to stare you down, your mother’s mouth twisted into her nose. Your family practically bred politicians and that was never your path. If the two of you agreed on nothing else it was that you were no politician.

When your sister was elected as Senator, you knew if you were trained you could be in her guard and keep her safe. It was a decision you were proud of and one that sealed your fate in the eyes of your mother. You would be of no use to her. She heard your wish and wanted to make sure you fully regretted it.

Rolling her eyes away from you, your mother turned her attention to a Kaminoan by her other side. As the leaders of two allied planets, your mother and Lama Su maintained a close relationship. At least close enough to call in favors.

“Thank you, Prime Minister, for this opportunity.” Your mother’s disgust faded into a pleasant smile. “Although, I worry she may damage the reputation of your clone troopers.”

The Kaminoan shifted his gaze to you. In near boredom he said, “You do realize she is liable to die?” Settling his hands in front of him, he turned back to your mother.

She scoffed, the idea of no concern to her. “She made her choice. Should that come to pass, Kamino will not be held responsible.” They spoke of you as if you weren’t even present. “But, do make sure they don’t take it easy on her.”

They. An ‘unorthodox’ squadron of clones you would be paired with.

Your mother said your name, her tone sharp enough to straighten your back. Her head tilted back, the crimp in her lip returning. “If it is discovered that my daughter is beneath that armor, forget ever coming home.” She muttered something to your sister and, in unison, they made for the door.

Your sister managed one last glance at you before the Kaminoan door swirled open and your mother shoved her through. Your heart sank as the giant white doors shut behind the women.

What if you never saw your sister again?

Alone with Lama Su, the bright, sterile room began to strain your eyes. The unnatural ambience of the room was enough to unsettle you without the addition of the Kaminoan’s cold stare. With slow fluidity, he fully turned towards you. His eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. “The modified armor will hide your identity. All you have to do is follow orders.” Lama Su said in his smooth, detached voice. He gestured a long finger towards you. “Put on your helmet, do not remove it in front of others, and remain silent. Your family may tolerate embarrassment, but I will not endure it here.”

Under his cold stare, you lifted the helmet and sealed it over your head. Your eyes had barely adjusted to the restricted line of sight when the doors hissed opened again.

Where your mother and sister had left, five men strode in. Their armor was mismatched in shape and color, but there was some vein shared between them. It took you a moment until your eyes widened and the gears finally turned. These were the clones!

You were no stranger to clones. The Republic had dispatched a group of troopers to your planet as a show of good faith and alliance, although you wondered at times if your family fully reciprocated that sentiment. That said, these men were unlike any clones you’d seen.

Their appearances were as mismatched as their armor. Your attention immediately drifted to a behemoth of a man towering over his cohorts and obviously blinded in his left eye. Standing shorter than the rest, one man sported a tattoo covering half his face. Two of them stood at the same height, one with goggles and the other with silver hair. The fifth man looked more akin to a standard clone than the rest, yet his complexion was blanched and he was outfitted with cybernetic prosthetics.

They were the most mesmerizing things you’d ever seen. And none of them spared even a glance in your direction.

Resisting the urge to look to the Kaminoan for clarification, you kept your eyes forward and did your best to look at attention.

“Clone Force 99, welcome.” Lama Su took a smooth step forward and swept a hand in your direction. Still, their eyes remained trained on the Prime Minister. “This promising trooper is being assigned to your squad for training. While their designation number is of no concern to you, you may refer to your new addition as ‘Phi.’”

Phi. A word you recognized as meaning nothing.

A pale hand landed gently on your shoulder, finally dragging Clone Force 99’s collective attention to you. Even through the armor, Lama Su’s touch made your skin crawl. The urge to bite settled between your teeth and the intensity of his stare did nothing to dissuade that.

His next words came across as almost proud. “I trust you will find the skills of this soldier to be exemplary, possibly even to surpass standard clone trooper protocol. It has been decided that integrating with your unit will provide... a most beneficial learning environment for all.”

The praise threw you off until you noticed the change in the squad’s expressions. Something in Lama Su’s words did not sit well with them. In particular, the tall silver-haired clone did nothing to hide his annoyance. Whatever it was, the undue praise clearly sealed your fate in some way. His sharp glance alone indicated that the undue praise had somehow sealed your fate—a fate Lama Su had very intentionally engineered.

“Training will begin immediately.” Lama Su said. “Proceed to the training facilities to begin. You have your orders. You are dismissed.”

Clone Force 99 wasted no time in filing out of the room, offering no introductions or even a glance to see if you followed. Their dismissal was clear; you were an outsider, not worthy of their camaraderie. Hurrying after them, the quiet of the corridor seemed to amplify the shifting of armor and footsteps.

"Just our luck!" His voice boomed, echoing off the walls. "Why do we get stuck with a reg?" He threw a glance over his shoulder, his good eye scanning you with disdain.

Reg? The term echoed in your mind, a label you didn’t yet understand.

The cybernetic clone fell back beside you. “The question is: what did you do to get stuck with us?” His tone wasn't unkind, merely curious, probing.

Instinctively, your mouth opened to respond, but Lama Su’s directive flashed in your mind—Do not speak in front of others. Clamping your mouth shut, you turned your gaze forward again, grateful for the helmet’s limited field of vision that spared you from seeing their reactions. You did see the way Crosshair's eyes narrowed, it was safe to assume your silence hadn’t helped matters.

Adjusting to the weight of your gear seemed trivial compared to the weight of maintaining silence.

Sighing, the tattooed man shook his head. “Listen,” He said as he stopped and turned. “If we are stuck together, we might as well get along. I’m Hunter.”

He gestured to the others as they continued walking. "That’s Wrecker," pointing to the large man, "Echo," indicating the cyborg, "Tech," nodding towards the one with goggles, and lastly, "And Crosshair," with a tilt of his head toward the silver-haired clone who had kept his distance.

They all waited for your addition, but it didn’t come and your silence remained. From behind your helmet you cringed. This was shaping up to be a terrible idea. You held your breath, bracing for the uncomfortable journey ahead.

Your silence only fueled Crosshair’s anger. His gaze narrowed, head cocked like a raptor eyeing prey. "Too good to speak to us?" His lip curled in a familiar, cruel sneer that reminded you of your mother.

Noticing Crosshair had an actual crosshair tattooed over his right eye you couldn’t help the little snort you made, emphasized by your helmet’s voice modulator. You immediately regretted your slip up as Crosshair set his shoulders, head snaking forward. “Something funny, reg?” The way he said that word was pure venom.

You almost conceded at the guttural sound he made at your continued silence, but before you could react Crosshair cracked his elbow into your helmet. The helmet crashed into your face and pain bloomed across your nose, knocking you down to one knee. Blood trickled from your nostrils, leaving you reeling with doubts and likely a broken nose.

"Crosshair!" Hunter barked. He didn't need to step in further; Crosshair stood back, arms crossed and lips twisted into a smirk of satisfaction.

Echo and Tech shared a glance, Wrecker gave a supportive smile, and Hunter shot Crosshair a sharp, disapproving look before turning his attention back to you. "Get up," he said firmly, "and keep up."

With one last glare from Crosshair, you pushed yourself up to your feet, determined not to show weakness. But as the sharp metallic taste of blood filled your mouth, you couldn't ignore the cold reality of your situation.

They certainly did not take it easy on you and by the end of your first session it was clear to all of you that you were a miserable excuse for a recruit. In the solitude of your room, you finally removed your helmet. In a small mirror you twisted your head, examining the crusted blood and swollen nature of your nose.

A gentle, and painful, touch confirmed your broken nose suspicions. You leaned in for a better look and smiled. It hurt like hell, but at least you made it through your first day.

You looked to a photo of your sister you’d pinned to your mirror. It’s worth it for her. Giving yourself a nod, you replaced your helmet and headed for the med bay- a trip you were going to frequent.

As you entered the medical wing, the only presence were that of two medical droids floating about and a female Kaminoan. The female swept her head in your direction, slowly blinking as you stood at the entrance. You recognized the Kaminoan as Nala Se. She’d given your family a tour of the cloning operations in the past.

She addressed you with a good evening and gestured for you to approach. “I am aware of your identity. You may remove your armor in my presence.” Nala Se said in her ever measured tone. When you still hesitated she added, “The clones are currently in the canteen.”

Reluctantly, you lifted the helmet from your head, exposing the bruised face underneath. Nala Se observed you quietly, her expression unreadable. “You should return home.” She suggested. “Our clones are trained from their creation. You will not be able to match their abilities.”

“That’s not an option now. I either return with training or in a body bag.”

You placed your helmet in a tote at the foot of the medical table and began discarding the rest of the armor in the same fashion. Clad only in your black undersuit, you continued undressing under Nala Se's impassive watch. Her clinical detachment did little to ease the discomfort of the situation

Stripped down to a bandeau and shorts, you climbed onto the examination bed. A droid hovered over you, scanning your body. "Subject exhibits a broken nose and extensive bruising," it reported to Nala Se, who nodded slightly before administering two injections—one for pain and another to reduce future bruising.

As the droid tended to your injuries, Nala Se handed you a set of clothes. "There is more than one way to remain hidden," she stated as she unfolded a Kaminoan-style outfit—a set of dark, tight-fitting pants and a long-sleeve shirt, complemented by a light-colored vest with fabric strips cascading down your legs

You’d no sooner dawned the outfit when the doors slid open again and voices immediately broke the silence.

You froze with your back to the door. Tech's analytical voice floated through the air, "I am merely saying, excess violence will only worsen the situation for all of us."

It was Crosshair who answered with dry amusement. "Speak for yourself," he scoffed.

Nala Se held your gaze a moment longer before she looked to the approaching clones. “CT-9902 and CT-9904, what is it that you require?”

Tech spoke up from behind you, "There is a high probability that Crosshair fractured his knuckles during training." You could think of a few instances that could’ve caused that, the bruises across your body serving as evidence.

Swallowing the groan in your throat, you finally faced them. Tech and Crosshair stopped in their tracks both staring at you with some confusion.

“Senator.” Tech offered a nod of respect. His polite tone threw you off balance as he mistook you for your sister. The Kaminoans' medical treatment had indeed worked wonders, hiding your identity well enough to prompt the error.

Crosshair frowned, a toothpick tilting in his mouth.

Tech, noticing Crosshair’s tight expression, nudged his brother. “We passed her on the way to meet the Prime Minister.” This was enough for the sniper to remove his toothpick and stand a bit straighter.

The immediate respect was a stark contrast to the blows they’d dealt you all day. Embracing the assumption you smiled graciously despite the stiff feeling in your face. “It is a pleasure to formally meet you, troopers.” You rounded the table to stand before them.

Without your gear, you realized just how much taller they were. And without the restrictive view of your helmet, you could fully appreciate how striking they were. They stood with practiced military bearing, radiating strength and a sense of purpose that matched their formidable presence.

Absolutely breathtaking, and in a much different way than when they'd been knocking the wind out of you earlier.

“The honor is ours, Senator.” Tech said. His eyes searched your face, for what you weren’t certain.Though having his eyes on any part of you was a lovely sensation. He paused momentarily, but found your eyes again.

Crosshair kept his gaze steady as he studied you, lending some clarity to your earlier question. "What brings a senator down to the med bay? Surely not curiosity."

Holding your composure, you lied, “I am… personally interested in the development and progress of the valiant men keeping our galaxy safe.” You took the opportunity to circle the two men while they remained still and eyes forward. The men had equally long legs and cinched waists that were positively sinful. This view of them was certainly an upgrade, igniting an idea in you.

“In fact,” You polished a smile as you came back to their fronts. “I’d be interested in some personal lessons from esteemed men such as yourselves.”

Surprise lifted Tech’s eyebrows and pulled the corner of Crosshair’s lip up.

“Mistress Se mentioned your squad is already undertaking the training of a new recruit.” Their expressions dulled at the reminder. “What’s a few extra morning sessions with a mere Senator?”

Nala Se, observing the exchange from the background, stepped forward to say, "That can be arranged for the morning after next. For now, the senator has matters to attend to. CT-9904, please proceed with your treatment."

Tech offered another polite nod before leading Crosshair to the medical equipment. As they moved away, you exhaled, glancing at Nala Se, who gave you an almost imperceptible nod of approval.

The following morning, back in your armor, you walked into the training room and the middle of Clone Force 99’s conversation.

Wrecker was throwing his head around, moaning about something you couldn't quite catch. “-well, why didn’t I see her?”

“You did, Wrecker.” Tech said in a flat, exasperated breath. “If only in passing.”

“But why would a senator want to watch us train?” Echo shook his head in confusion.

Tech adjusted his goggles. “Correction: she wants to train with us.”

As he twirled a knife between his fingers, Hunter asked, “Then why would a senator want to train with clones?”

“Does it matter?” Crosshair drawled from his perch on a rectangular obstacle with a knee pulled up.. “If the little princess wants our hands on her, who are we to deny?”

Little princess. Your mind stuttered at the words while your body visibly jerked at them. The squadron cut their conversation short and looked to you. The amusement between them quickly faded, yet even this attention had heat crawling through you.

“Let’s get this over with.” Hunter gruffed while putting on his helmet. The rest followed suit and training began.

The session was as brutal as the day prior, starting with sparring and finishing with blaster drills. You didn’t do much better than the day prior, but you were proud to have left with no new fractures. By the next morning you could barely leave bed.

But ‘little princess’ was enough to push you up.

You arrived at the training room early. It was much smaller than the usual arenas, scattered with mannequins instead of physical obstacles. You traded your armor for a form-fitting suit similar to the blacks troopers wore. Without a helmet, you felt exposed—but exhilarated.

When the doors slid open, your pulse quickened. With composure your mother would admire, you smoothed your expression and smiled. “Nice of you boys to join me.”

A small smirk lifted Hunter’s lips as he regarded you. “Senator.” he greeted, his gaze sweeping over your form. The word almost caused your smile to falter, reminding you of the misconception they were under.

They made their introductions before Hunter, hand at his hip, gestured for you to advance. “You sure you’re ready for this?”

The soreness that wracked your body protested when you squared your shoulders. “I was born ready.” Hopefully your feigned confidence won them over.

The way the leader’s head dipped with a small laugh said it did. Even from a distance, the sound reverberated through you to your core.

“Don’t worry,” Wrecker’s large hand clapped down on your shoulder and right onto an unseen bruise. “We’ll take it easy on ya!”

Crosshair rolled a toothpick between his lips. “Easy’s not our style, Wrecker.” You met his still skeptical stare, not backing down from the challenge.

“I can handle it.”

He snorted, flicked away his toothpick, and strode over to you. Leaning in he said in a low, snippy voice, “Better keep up, princess.”

As much as the nickname heated your blood, you maintained your smile, determined to earn their respect. “I intend to.” You said in an equally low, taunting tone.

From the very beginning, their training style was a complete turn around compared to the borderline abuse you endured while in armor.

Hunter set the pace, showing you rapid movements to prove your reflexes. When a moment of exhaustion hit and you noticeably slowed, Hunter teased, “I thought you said you’d keep up.”

Sagging your shoulders, you rolled back your head with a laugh. “Alright, maybe I wasn’t born for this.”

“We sure were.” Wrecker laughed and took over, launching into instruction about utilizing your body weight against an opponent. He demonstrated on Crosshair, who loudly hissed in protest. Wrecker put a shoulder into Crosshair’s abdomen and tossed him over his shoulder like a sandbag.

Crosshair struggled against his brother’s hold, until he landed safely on the ground. He snarled at Wrecker, then caught the amused smile tugging at your lips. With a grunt of annoyance, he averted his gaze and casually placed a toothpick back between his lips, feigning indifference.

“C’mon, now you try,” Wrecker encouraged as you stepped close. He used his massive hands to reposition your torso into a bent over position. “Like this, see? You gotta feel the power through your whole body!” His bubbly enthusiasm made it hard to take the movement seriously.

His demeanor wasn’t your only distraction. Despite your mother’s disregard for you, as the daughter of a politician, people were always careful with you. Between their ruthless training of you as ‘Phi’ and their gentle instruction as a ‘Senator,’ you were finding them more and more captivating.

Their presence was intoxicating.

Tech used a more methodical style of instruction. His hands deftly maneuvered your body into a slightly different form. “Optimal form is crucial,” he explained. His fingers lingered just a moment too long on your spine, sending an unexpected shiver down your back. With one hand he pressed your bruised shoulder lower.

Your teeth clenched against the pain, a quiet whine making its way past your lips. Tech immediately released his hand, observing you with a tilted glance. “Interesting,” he whispered with curiosity that pulled your eyes to his. Behind those brown eyes of his, something passed through. He blinked once, twice, and stepped back.

The moment went unnoticed as Echo chimed in. “Throw your weight behind it and aim for his diaphragm.” Wrecker tried to chuckle, but you cut him off by doing just that. Despite your best efforts, he didn’t even flinch. A chorus of chuckles erupted around you, but it felt good to join their lighthearted banter instead of getting the kriff kicked out of you.

The training continued until you were slick with sweat. You were exhausted, sure, but the exhilaration you felt in the beginning only grew with every brush with the men.

Though throughout the trading, Crosshair paid the experience little interest. He meandered the outskirts of the room, only chiming in when you had a misstep. Finally, winded but grinning, you let yourself sink to the floor. Crosshair sauntered over, standing behind you as he shifted his weight onto one foot.

His weight shifted onto one foot and postured over you. “Looks like what they say about senators is true.” He snorted, but the bite his voice carried when you were Phi was missing.

You leaned back, hands propped behind you, and squinted up at him. “And what’s that?”

His keen eyes scanned you, briefly pausing on your heaving chest before meeting your gaze again. “You’re all talk.”

Crosshair maintained a smug expression while his brothers fell silent, their attention fixed on the two of you. For the first time since training began, the ache in your nose surfaced in your mind. The memory of Crosshair's initial blow hung in the air as you carefully considered the situation, your tongue slipping over your teeth. He didn't realize it, but as you sat there inches from his feet, he was perched right within your reach. His guard was down, dismissing you as a non-threat.

The backhanded comment about Senator inaction was the deciding factor in your next move. You could always tolerate insults aimed at you. The rough training was even tolerable if it meant a means to your purpose.

Calling out a senator’s - your sister’s - resolve, however, was a step too far.

In one swift motion, you fell back, hooked an arm around his ankle, and yanked his foot out from under him. Crosshair's arms swung through the air, desperately trying to catch his balance, but he tumbled to the ground with a thud, a gasp of air forced from his lungs. Lounging back on one elbow, you kept his ankle cradled firmly in your arm.

The rest of Clone Force 99 tried - and failed - to stifle their laughter. Eventually, they gave him the same round of laughter you received. Crosshair shoved up on his elbows with a scowl. The twitch in his lip betrayed the amusement nipping at him. Grunting with a roll of his eyes, he pushed you off his foot. “Lucky shot.”

You raised your eyebrows with a satisfied hum, then let yourself fall back onto the training mat. As you lay there, staring up at the bright ceiling and still catching your breath with a laugh lingering on your tongue, you felt an unfamiliar sensation—happiness.

All your life, you’d been chasing after your sister, constantly seeking your family's approval. You had never been allowed to simply exist or pursue anything for yourself.

But laying there, beaten and exhausted, you felt strangely good.

Wrecker’s face appeared above you with a lopsided smile. He extended a hand as he said, “Now, where’d you learn to do that?”

Groaning, you accepted his hand and he lifted you with ease. “It comes with having a sister,” you replied. The mention of your sister brought a bubble of anxiety to the surface and Lama Su’s warning pricked you.

“Ha! Just like us then.” With his hand still clasping yours, Wrecker steadied you by gently pressing his other hand against the small of your back.

Your face heated, though it was already flushed from training, and you quickly cleared your throat, stepping out of his grasp. Brushing off imaginary dust from your thighs, did your best to sound casua. “I’m curious,” you said, eager to switch topics, “how’s training that trooper Nala Se told me about?”

Just like mentioning your sister had done to you, bringing up the trainee cast a shadow over the troopers’ mood, which only heightened your anxiety.

“Don’t remind us.” Wrecker gruffed. “It’s bad enough we’re missing out on missions and we’re stuck with a reg.”

“Reg?” You repeated.

Echo sighed with exasperation. “Regular clone.” The way you muddled your face prompted the others to elaborate on their own differences. Though you knew Clone Force 99 was different, you hadn’t realized the full extent until now. You understood now why Echo was the least brutal in his training. With his origins as a regular clone, he sympathized.

Lama Su’s conversation with them finally made sense. He was stoking a fire meant to burn you out.

You laughed nervously, “Surely it can’t be that bad.”

Hunter rubbed the bridge of his nose, dreading the afternoon ahead. “Trust us, you’re showing more potential than this guy.”

They all launched into a conversation about the trainee's abysmal performance, not realizing the irony. Meanwhile, Tech stood back, focused on his datapad, occasionally looking up at the group- at you.

Walking away from the group, you tried to peek at his screen. “What are you looking at?”

Tech glanced up at you and quickly tucked the device away. “I was reading up on some political matters.” He adjusted his goggles and glanced at his brothers still chatting away. “Nothing you are not already appraised of.”

Mouthing an ‘oh’ you followed his gaze t back to the others. They looked so different now, discussing the reg amongst them, than they did just moments ago. “Why exactly are you here?” Tech questioned, you could feel his attention on you.

Not bothering to meet Tech’s stare, you answered without hesitation. “To make a difference the only way I can.”

From that point on, a cycle began. Every morning they trained you as the Senator and every afternoon you received a beating as Phi.

Knowing their distaste for Phi was completely unrelated to you may have eased your anxiety but it didn’t make your training any easier.

That came with your mornings with Clone Force 99 and, on occasion, an even meeting.

The first time you ran into them outside of training happened when you’d snuck off to comm your sister. After stealing a holocom from the medical facility, you wandered the corridors for a few nights to find the best place to reach her. You always worried about an unexpected visitor in your barrack room. Wrapped in a cloak, you huddled beside a viewport, lost in thought as you stared at the device in your hands.

It had been the longest stretch you’d gone without speaking to your sister. Nerves kept your fingers hovering over the controls, practicing how you'd greet her, when suddenly your vision went dark. Your hands dropped the holocom in surprise, but it never hit the ground.

“Look who we found!” Wrecker’s boisterous voice boomed, warm and close, as his large form pressed up behind you.

Letting out a startled breath, you gently pulled his hands away from your eyes. Standing before you were Hunter and Crosshair, both of whom looked amused.

Hunter practically sauntered forward as he offered you the holocom back. "Caught you," he teased, handing the holocom back to you with a sly grin. His eyes dipped as your fingers brushed against his, he shot a question with smirk at you. “What are you doing out here so late?”

You clutched the device a bit more securely and shrugged. "Just needed a quiet spot to contact my sister," you admitted.

Crosshair raised an eyebrow, plucking the toothpick from his mouth and pointing it at you. "And you chose the coldest corridor on Kamino for your heartfelt chat?" he was unconvinced.

You spun the device nervously in your hands. “I didn’t think anyone would be out at this time.”

The silver haired clone gave a low chuckle, twirling the toothpick between his fingers. "Well, don't let us interrupt your cozy little conversation.”

“We’re headed to the canteen for a bite to eat, you should come.” Wrecker suggested, resting his hands on your shoulder.

Hunter nodded in agreement. "You’re right about one thing - it’s quieter this time of night. Less regs to get in the way."

Wrecker grinned wide and leaned in closer, giving you a gentle shake as his presence nudged you forward. "Besides, it's warmer there!"

You certainly felt warmer, but not just from the prospect of a heated room. Glancing down at the holocom, you wondered if your sister was even awake. Unable to resist their invite, you stashed the device away and smiled. “Alright, why not? Lead the way.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Crosshair said in a way that made you roll your eyes. He could make anything sound sarcastic.

Joining them turned out to be a worthy trade. Crosshair and Hunter sat across from you and Wrecker. Wrecker made a habit of pushing into your space, offering bites of his favorite bits, while Crosshair and Hunter discussed your upcoming training sessions as Phi—a topic you found less than thrilling. Instead, you chose to bask in Wrecker’s warm attention.

Despite his high energy and monstrous strength, Wrecker proved to be the most gentle of the batch. Always the first to help you to your feet or catch you when you stumbled. His touch light, the calluses of his hands only ever brushing you. The skinship was a new experience for you, but one you wanted more of each time.

After your last bite of a chocolate morsel, Wrecker caught your chin between his thumb and forefinger. He rubbed a thumb over the corner of your mouth, dragging your lip down with the pressure of his touch.

“Got a little somethin’ there,” Wrecker chuckled, showing you the smear of chocolate on his thumb. “Guess I’m not the only messy eater ‘round here.” His smile crinkled his eyes as he dipped his thumb into his mouth to suck off the sweet remnant.

The casual intimacy of the gesture wasn’t lost on you, though it seemed to escape him. He turned back to his plate, completely missing the heat rising to your face. As a soft smile lilted your lips, you shut your eyes and leaned into Wrecker’s form. Surrounded by them, you felt a wave of contentment—you could happily spend all your free time like this

Wrecker perked up, his eyes wide and eyebrows raised as he felt your weight against him. He sat stock still for a moment, glancing between you and his brothers. Gradually, he relaxed into your touch and reached an arm around you.

“H-Hey,” he stammered slightly, patting a hand on your hip, “What’s all this?”

A foot knocked into yours from beneath the table. Peeking out from under an eyelid, you met Hunter’s lopsided smile and received another gentle tap. “Don’t be falling asleep on us. It wouldn’t be a good look for us to be carrying your limp body back.”

“Is the little princess tired?” Crosshair added lightly, a rare hint of playfulness in his tone.

Closing your eye once more, you hummed in agreement. Sitting alone with them in a mess hall, sharing a meal and laughing under the harsh lighting, you felt completely at peace.

Your mother had meant this all to be a punishment. She couldn’t have imagined that this place, these men, would heal a part of you you hadn’t realized was broken. They built you up and their training made you feel strong. They never admitted to it while you were in armor, but from their observations of the Senator you were improving.

Something you showcased one afternoon as Phi. During a drill with dummy droids, you found yourself blindsided by a metallic blow to your back. Another droid seized you by the neck and hurled you about twenty feet, leaving you crumpled on the ground as the simulation abruptly ended.

Still seeing stars, you heard the familiar cadence of Crosshair’s footsteps. “Get up.” Crosshair growled from above you.

Twisting onto your side, you struggled to catch your breath. Crosshair’s helmet angled to the side as he clicked his tongue, shoving his heal into your hip. “I said get up.” He punctuated his words with another kick. The sharp pain instantly boiled up weeks of frustration and pain.

Not a single thought registered with you as you snapped. As fast as a hydrosnake, you lashed out, looped an arm around his ankle and thrashed him back as you had before. This time your training took over.

You didn’t stop at holding him by his foot. No, you pulled his leg to the side, opening his hips, and pinned his thigh under your knee. Before he could grab at you, you pressed your torso across his, driving an elbow into the side of his helmet. Your hands clasped behind his bicep, effectively locking him in place.

Crosshair thrashed against you as his free hand hammered into the soft spot between your chest and shoulder plates. With every hit, you tightened your grip on him. His vile threats drowned out the sound of Wrecker’s stomping towards the two of you.

A large hand ripped you by the back of your neck, instantly detangling you from the sniper. “Not so tough now, are ya?” Wrecker taunted.

Dangling in the air, your legs kicked and fingers scratched at Wrecker’s fingers. The fingers that otherwise delicately touched you choked you in more ways than one. Crosshair shot up from the ground, ripping off his helmet to expose his seething expression.

“Wrecker!” Echo’s voice rang out from the sidelines, but his veiled command did little to deescalate the situation.

The sarcastic, teasing Crosshair who interacted with you as a senator was nowhere to be seen. Instead, he whipped a finger at you, a silent but unmistakable threat as he closed in on you.

It was Tech that quickly slid between you, effectively barring Crosshair from getting his hands on you. “Crosshair.” Tech’s tone was firm, if not altogether scolding. “You kicked them while they were incapacitated. Therefore, their actions were justified, while your reaction is not.”

Crosshair shook with rage, eyes burning into you past Tech's shoulder. The silent threat of his pointed finger became a promise.

“Wrecker, drop him.” Hunter ordered he yanked Wrecker’s arm down.

Wrecker begrudgingly released you, setting you down with a rough thud, but you quickly steadied yourself, brushing off the dust. Your breath was labored, but you didn’t falter under Crosshair’s glare. It didn’t matter who Crosshair thought you were at this point, he was just being cruel. It fully pissed you off more than anything up to that point. Tension hung in the air, and with each passing second, your urge to snap grew stronger.

Tech stepped aside and Hunter’s stern gaze moved between you and Crosshair. “Are we done?”

Crosshair let out a low growl before reluctantly shoving his helmet back on with a quick twist. You, on the other hand, weren’t done and needed to calm down fast.

“You’ll never be worth our time,” Crosshair said with venom. “You fight like a child.”

That simmering urge burst through. You lunged forward, craned your head back, and bashed the front of your helmet into his. The old wound on your nose flared, but watching Crosshair thrown back and stumbling dulled the pain to an ache.

He shook it off quickly enough and charged you again, narrowly missing as Echo intercepted him.

While you regained your balance, Tech fell in beside you, gently catching you by the forearm. You were too busy wheezing to notice the strangeness in Tech’s assisting you as Phi. While you watched Hunter and Echo work to calm Crosshair, Tech brought his head closer, whispering for only you to hear, “Do not antagonize him. You’ve already had one broken nose, let’s not aim for another.”

All of your burning rage cooled in an instant. You slowly looked at the technician, whose eyes watched you intensely from behind his helmet. Something in his gaze drowned out all other sounds around you. He looked at you differently from how the others ever had.

You had no idea how he knew, but the way he looked at you made it clear: Tech knew exactly who you were.

He leaned closer, his voice a low, amused murmur. "It was obvious." Your head jerked back as if to say ‘how was it obvious?’

Sensing your immediate tension, he added quickly, "To me, at least. The others don’t seem to have noticed." He glanced over his shoulder to ensure Crosshair remained restrained before looking back at you. "We'll manage Crosshair. You should head to the medical facility to have your nose examined."

“Tech-” You tried to whisper but Tech cut you off, spinning you towards the exit. You didn’t wait for him to tell you again.

You did manage to hear Tech quip, “For the record, Crosshair, that would be twice now they bested you.” You made sure you were out the door by the time Crosshair turned on his brother.

Tech was right to send you to get checked out. You’d avoided a broken nose, but the swelling did need attention. You were still in armor when you got back to your room. Dropping down onto a storage tote, you set your helmet between your feet. Elbows on your knees, you sat looking out over the swath of ocean beyond your windows.

The steady drum of rain against your window helped soothe your nerves, which had barely eased since you left the training grounds. You sat there for a while, combing through your time on Kamino, searching for any clue as to how Tech figured out who you were. With his keen mind, anything seemed possible, but you still wondered when you slipped up.

The sound of your barrack door opening snapped you out of concentration. You couldn’t reach for your helmet fast enough when someone said,“You need not bother with that”

You whipped around, twisting in your spot. Sans helmet and alone, Tech stood in your room. He’d already seen your face and touched your body, but this felt like you were meeting for the first time.

You slowly stood, picking at your fingertips. “Hi,” was all you managed to croak out as the door shut behind him.

It must've been an odd sight, you thought. The face of a senator on the body of a trooper. You snuck a glance at your reflection in the window. The sight was familiar to you now, but you remembered the juxtaposition taking time to get used to. You weren’t happy that the first time Tech was seeing you as you, your hair was stuck in a bird’s nest of a bun with crooked hairs jutting out at all angles

Tech said your name and something in your chest lurched at the sound. “If I am correct,” He said as moved his goggles up his nose. “-And I usually am, that is your real name. Is it not?” He remained standing just at the entrance of your room.

Your lips tucked into your mouth as you nodded slowly, still unsure about what to even say. “How did you know?”

Upon your admission Tech walked closer, free of the tension you carried. “Observation and deduction.” He explained, stepping around the tote separating you to take you in fully. Unlike when you portrayed Phi or the Senator, you had never noticed him observing you with such explicit curiosity.

Tech circled you, one hand cradling his elbow and the other holding his chin. “I was fairly certain Crosshair broke the trooper’s nose during the initial altercation. When we met in the medical facility, I noticed a distinct mark on your nose—an odd thing for a distinguished guest such as a Senator.” He moved around your right side, his finger gently pressing into your shoulder. “To confirm my suspicions, I applied pressure to a region I hypothesized would be tender if my assumptions were correct.”

"Your reaction confirmed it," Tech concluded, stepping back to give you space. "It was subtle, but it was enough for me to piece together the truth about your dual identities."

He took a seat on the tote facing the window and pulled out his datapad, tapping away as he continued. “Still, I didn’t have an explanation as to why a senator would be here like this. Until you mentioned your sister, which finally prompted me to do a bit of research.” Tech angled his datapad towards you, displaying a news article with a photo of your sister. “I must admit, the resemblance is uncanny. However, with her being accounted for on Coruscant, it would prove impossible for her to be on Kamino.”

He pressed a button and a photo of a stoic family appeared - your parents standing behind you and your sister. You only got a glance in before Tech pulled it back to his face. His eyes narrowed as he focused on the photo. “Besides, while the two of you do share similar features, you are far more… captivating.” Tech looked up at you, still standing beside him. “I could never confuse the two of you.”

Your breath hitched at ‘captivating.’ No one had ever remotely said that to you. It was always either you could pass for twins or your sister was the more fortunate child. Coming from Tech, such a logical and blunt man, it took your breath away. He saw no point in undue praise or flattery; to him, he was merely stating facts. It melted you.

You lowered yourself next to him, knees turned in his direction. “Why haven’t you told the others?”

Tech thought for a moment, his eyes shifting to the side as he considered your question “I do not know your reason for anonymity, but I respect your decision and will not jeopardize that. Your privacy is your own.” He nodded, pivoting to fully face you. “And I find I rather enjoy being the only one to know this about you.”

The tension in your shoulders ebbed, replaced by a fluttering that started in your chest and made breathing a manual task. You caught your reflection again, feeling frustrated that in such a moment you looked so disheveled. You balled your fists tightly enough that your fingernails dug into your palms, embarrassed that he offered such compliments to someone like you.

“Why are you making such a face?” Tech asked.

You watched yourself a second longer before offering him a sad smile. “I think I know now why you wear those goggles.”

Tech’s brows pulled together. “They alter the way light enters my eye to correct my eye’s refractive errors.” You sat back, blinking at the explanation, humor coming to your smile. Tech kept a serious face, not understanding the nuances you were attempting. “They help me see,” He clarified in a flat tone.

You yielded a small laugh, leaning over to tap his knee. “I know, I was trying to say you must need them if you think I’m the pretty sister.” As soon as the words left your mouth, you realized how mean they sounded. Not just insulting Tech’s taste, but fully airing the distaste you held for yourself. Your smile dropped and along with your eyes to the hand still on his knee.

A drop of panic hit your gut as you started pulling your hand away. “I’m sorry, I-”

Tech grabbed your wrist and you couldn’t react before he hushed you, “Get down.” He said, pulling you both down to the floor. He ducked his head, pushing yours down and pulling you flush against him in one motion. His hand cupped over your mouth just before you heard the door open. Two sets of footsteps echoed in. Whoever it was, they were too far away for you to get a clear image of them in the window’s reflection.

You craned your neck, trying to get a look but Tech held you fast.

“His armor isn’t here.” Crosshair’s sharp voice rung out. “The little snake isn’t home.”

Hunter answered with a sigh, “Cross, none of us like this but you need to ease up. The sooner we get him trained, the sooner we get rid of him.” The two of them made themselves at home, walking around on a light inspection of your space.

Tech kept you both completely still, staying so silent you weren’t sure he was even breathing. Which was impressive considering that between the intruders and being positioned between Tech’s legs you were having a hard time regulating your own sounds.

One set of footsteps quieted. “Would you look at that?” Crosshair snarled. “Looks like the reg has a little crush.” The sound of paper snapping told you he found the picture of your sister hanging from your mirror. The level of agitation in his voice made you worry for the next time Crosshair caught you in uniform.

“That might be why I-” Hunter stopped mid-sentence. You heard footsteps shuffle in place.

“What is it?” Crosshair pressed.

A moment passed before Hunter continued. “It’s nothing. We should go. You can play nice later.” Crosshair made a noise of frustration, and the two of them left the room.

As soon as the door shut behind them, Tech eased his grip on you. His arms hung beside you while you instinctively sagged against him in relief. You twisted around to ask, “What were they doing in here?”

“My guess would be that Hunter wanted Crosshair to make amends.” You could see a thought turning over in him. “And I would say Hunter either just realized the situation or is on the very cusp of doing so.”

“How did they-”

“We have always known which barrack was yours.” Tech answered before you could get the question out. He glanced away momentarily, considering his words carefully. “I advised them early on to leave well enough alone.”

The two of you held each other's gaze for a moment, and Tech's expression softened, becoming more reflective. “I did say I enjoyed being the only one to know your identity,” he murmured. “What I neglected to mention is that I took measures to keep it that way.” Gently, he lifted a knuckle to your cheekbone, brushing back a stray hair. The corner of his mouth ticked upwards.

“It doesn’t bother you - not really knowing me?” You asked.

As Tech began to help untangle the two of you from your hiding spot, he responded. “We may not have had traditional introductions, but I know all that I need to.” You pulled your legs beneath you, reaching out for Tech as he stood. He gripped your hand firmly and pulled you up.

With a slight grunt as he helped you to your feet, Tech continued, “You are resourceful and brave. These qualities are not just observed; they are proven through your actions and decisions here.” Tech’s voice carried a respect and a hint of admiration that felt more personal than his usual factual observations.

“And while I may not know every detail of your past or every layer of your personality yet, I understand your core—your competence, your strength, and your commitment to your goals. These are the attributes that define you, not just the name you carry or the role you play.”

Tech bent over and plucked your helmet from the floor. “Plus, as a clone, a name doesn’t hold a great deal of value for me.” He held the helmet in his hands, He rotated the helmet, examining it before gently handing it back to you. “Does that answer your question?”

Nodding in slight awe, you gently accepted the helmet and immediately dropped it, opting instead to quickly wrap your arms around his waist. “Thank you, Tech.”

Tech stiffened slightly, the rush of adrenaline visible as his posture tightened—a clear sign of his surprise at the physical closeness. This type of interaction was uncharted territory for him. In the window’s reflection, he watched the two of you. Your face was tucked into his chest, hidden from view, but he could feel the tremor of your breathing. Unsure of what else to do, Tech lightly touched your head. “O-of course.”

Tech had a myriad of questions for you about your past and your motivations.Holding you in that moment, he decided, was enough. The questions could wait for another day.

The next morning's training session was particularly challenging for you. It was hard to ignore Hunter's scrutinizing gaze. He watched you as if decoding every movement, his eyes sharp and probing. Tech's earlier observations were spot on—Hunter was definitely onto something.

For once, you found yourself eagerly awaiting the end of the session. As soon as it was over, you hustled away faster than usual, leaving Clone Force 99 to prepare yourself for that evening. You were going to tell them the whole truth.

After mentally rehearsing several scenarios multiple times, you donned your armor and headed for the training facilities. However, as you stepped out of your room, you nearly collided with Nala Se.

She didn’t flinch, embodying the typical Kaminoan stillness. Towering above you, she blinked slowly, her gaze piercing. “Before you go, I must see to your injuries,” Nala Se stated matter-of-factly. Without waiting for your response—accustomed to your practiced silence—she turned and headed towards the medical wing.

You followed quietly, your mind racing as you pondered which injuries she referred to. Certainly, your nose and the rest of your face still ached from the previous day's exertions, and your torso was a tapestry of bruises, but these were all injuries that had been treated before. Moreover, Nala Se had scarcely crossed your path in recent weeks. Initially, she had helped you avoid detection, but she had not intervened since.

Her sudden appearance was less than comforting.

In the quiet of the medical facility, oddly void of the typical droids, Nala Se motioned to a bed. “Have a seat and remove your helmet.”

You were so preoccupied with thoughts of how your tardiness for training might disrupt your planned conversations that you barely registered her instructions. Nala Se said your name, snapping you back to the present.

Removing your helmet, you looked across the bed at her and realized her gaze was focused past you. It hadn’t been her calling your name.

Outside, Hunter, Wrecker, Tech, Echo, and Crosshair were on their way to the training facilities, helmets under their arms, when they noticed the Senator entering one of the medical rooms. Today, you weren’t cloaked in your typical attire but wore a robe of deep purple with gold threading, which seemed oddly formal.

Crosshair snorted, “Looks like we need to ease up on our little princess.”

Tech, who had been absorbed in his datapad, looked up. “To what are you referring?”

“I told you she was actin’ weird.” Wrecker said, more concerned than accusatory, ignoring Tech’s question. “Should we do somethin’?”

Echo, looking to clarify for Tech, gestured with his prosthetic arm. “We just saw the Senator enter the medical facility. And yes, we should check on her before heading to training.”

Tech paused, processing the information. He knew you well enough to be aware of your usual post-training soreness and kept an eye on the medical records associated with your after-training exams. You hadn’t sustained injuries severe enough recently to necessitate a deviation from your normal routine. He buzzed with suspicions and worried over the implications of your unexpected visit to the medical facility at such an unusual time.

“Let’s get this over with.” Hunter said, moving forward with all but Tech who stood in place a second longer. If his suspicions were correct, this was not going to go well.

Back inside, you were faced with your reflection. Blinking back confusion, your mind struggled to process what you were seeing. Stepping towards you, adorned in the traditional regalia of your homeworld, was your sister, looking every bit the senator she was meant to be, her hair elegantly braided back with strands of gold and pearls woven through. The purples and golds of her dress made her appear radiant and regal—so much like your mother, and so unlike you in your scuffed armor and haphazardly tied hair.

Nala Se wordlessly removed herself from the room, making the entire setup evident.

“Sister?” Your voice barely whispered as you took a hesitant step forward, half-fearing that any sudden movement might cause her to vanish like a mirage.

Her eyes widened, her pace slowing, as she scanned your face. Her face, so alike and unlike yours, crumpled with emotion, her lip trembling. Then, with a burst of energy, she ran towards you, hands reaching out from the folds of her cloak. You caught her in a tight embrace as she collided into you, her presence grounding the surreal moment.

She didn’t speak at first, only managing to choke back muffled sobs against your shoulder. You rested your head against hers, holding her close, and savored the familiar scent of her perfume—a reminder of days long past. “I’ve missed you,” you murmured, your voice not choked with sadness but steady and comforting. You had always been the pillar for her to lean on; this time was no different.

Your sister pulled back, rubbing tears away with the heel of her hand. She managed a shaky smile, laughing through another small sob. "I’ve been so worried. I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner."

You shook your head with a smile, gently gripping her shoulders. "You have more important things to do. Like, I don’t know, running the galaxy," you joked. Pulling her into another hug, you held her close for a moment before stepping back to reassess her. "Though… what are you doing here?"

Your sister took your hand, her grip soft against your calloused skin, and squeezed it tightly. "I’ve come to take you home. Mother—"

"Mother?" you interrupted, your tone sharpening as you pulled your hand away.

“We need you-”

“We?” You repeated louder. The joy of your sister’s visit dimmed the instant you remembered why you were standing together in a Kaminoan facility in the first place. “If this is for her, you shouldn’t be here.”

Your sister pressed a hand to her chest, perturbed by your tone. You’d never spoken to her like that. “You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

Swallowing the instinct to give in to her, you reached for your helmet. “I don’t need to. You know why I’m here and I intend to see it through. You should leave-”

The sounds of the doors whirring open cut you off as you snapped your helmet on in a hurry.

Suddenly confused, your sister opened her mouth to say something, but instead you heard a familiar voice and the strength you’d maintained was replaced by panic.

The sudden arrival of Crosshair and the rest of Clone Force 99 sliced through the tense atmosphere like a vibroblade. “How touching,” Crosshair drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he rounded the privacy divider at the room's entrance. “What is our little princess doing alone with a reg? I didn’t realize you had a pet.” His cold gaze landed on you, igniting a tremor in your hands.

Your sister’s expression twisted in a stomach churning and familiar way. She scoffed and turned, “Little princess?” She spat the words out, her disdain palpable. You felt like you might gag yourself.

Your attention snapped to Tech who was just as stunned as you’d been moments before. Apparently he’d not predicted this. Hunter kept a straight face, eyebrows a little furrowed. If he had any suspicions about your dual identity, this chaotic reveal was likely skewing his thoughts. Echo, ever the sentinel, stood slightly taller, his posture tightening as if preparing for conflict. Wrecker towered behind the group, watching on with a rare sense of seriousness.

Crosshair, shifting his weight casually and placing a toothpick between his lips, continued to provoke. “What? Don’t want him knowing about our little fun together?” His wording would’ve made you laugh had the situation been different. He stirring up a misunderstanding for his own amusement.

Your sister didn’t bite. She cocked an eyebrow, giving the sniper a challenging stare before turning her attention back to you. “Are these the clones that have been training you?” Her tone was sharp, and her expression mirrored the stern demeanor of your mother.

Caught between weeks of training to maintain silence in your armor and the escalating tension, you found yourself paralyzed, struggling to formulate a response. It seemed all you could do was breathe through the growing panic.

“You two know each other?” Wrecker piped up.

Your sister, her confusion morphing into frustration, glanced quickly back at the group. “Answer me,” she demanded, her voice heavy with authority that did nothing to ease the stiffness of your tongue.

“You little shit,” Crosshair fumed, stepping towards you but immediately restrained by Hunter’s firm grip. Despite being held back, he snapped, “Show respect and answer her.”

Receiving his anger as an unnamed clone never felt as painful as the anger directed to you now.

Whirling on them, your sister jabbed a finger at him. “Who do you think you’re talking to, clone?” The disrespect in the way she said ‘clone’ gutted you and visibly startled Wrecker and Crosshair.

“Me?” Crosshair retorted, pointing a finger back at her. “Why are you defending him?”

“Him?” Her voice rose almost to a shrill. You reached out, trying to pull her back from the brink of the confrontation, only to have your hand sharply slapped away. She spun around to face you. “Take that ridiculous thing off!” She reached for your helmet, and this time, you reflexively slapped her hand away.

Crosshair, seething with anger, wrenched free from Hunter's grasp and charged toward you. Tech's shouts echoed behind him, but Crosshair was undeterred. He brushed past your sister with a dismissive flick, gripped the rim of your helmet with one hand, and shoved you backward with the other. Just as you tumbled to the floor, your sister retaliated, pushing him away forcefully. From your position on the ground, you didn't see it, but the sharp slap she delivered resounded through the room.

With his cheek stinging from the slap, Crosshair held his ground, his grip white-knuckled on your helmet as he turned a furious gaze on the woman standing defiantly before him. The intensity in her eyes was something entirely new to him. They locked eyes, each poised for further confrontation, when a realization dawned on Crosshair.

He’d never seen you look quite like this. In fact, you seemed like a completely different person. Dropping the toothpick from his lips, confusion replaced the anger on his face as he scrutinized the subtle differences in the face before him—slight variations in aging lines and hair length. There was more than that, Crosshair realized as he picked out the innumerable differences.

“Crosshair…” Echo said hesitantly. Still sat on the floor, you were on full display for Echo.

Wrecker’s face fell as he glanced around Crosshair at you.

Steadying a shaky breath, you gathered what composure you could and pushed yourself up off the floor. "Calm down," you whispered, touching your sister’s shoulder as you rose beside her.

Standing there, you couldn't bring yourself to look directly at Crosshair, afraid of the disgust you might see mirrored on his face. You missed the horror breaking across him. Instead, you kept your gaze fixed on your sister, silently pleading, "Sister, please."

Snapping her hand out, your sister harshly gripped your face and forced it towards the men. “You're the ones who did this to her?” She was likely referencing the scar marking your nose or the other tiny, healed wounds your helmet had dealt you over time.

Heat scorched your face as you were forcibly put on display. You reluctantly met the eyes of Clone Force 99. Crosshair’s face was pale, his brows furrowed deeply and his mouth slightly ajar in a mix of horror and disbelief. Echo and Wrecker were in similar shades of shock. Hunter, on the other hand, looked almost regretful.

Gently removing your sister’s tight grip, you attempted to soothe her. “They didn’t know. Mother-”

“Do not blame Mother for your stupid decisions!” She screamed, gesturing a hand at you.

“Stupid decisions?” You challenged, feeling insulted. “My decisions have been for you. So I can keep you safe.”

“I didn’t tell you to do something so childish and I didn’t tell you to go and ruin your face.” You inhaled sharply at her words. She knew how to slap with more than just her hand.

Ignoring the clones, she straightened herself, her demeanor cooling into a composed facade that echoed your mother's authority. “Enough.” she stated firmly, making you straighten your posture subconsciously. “You are to come home and act as my body double at an upcoming gathering. The clones who trained you are to act as your security.” Pulling her hood up to shroud her face, you saw a glimpse of your gentle sister once more. “We will discuss your future afterwards.”

With that, she was gone.

Left alone with the squadron, you looked to the ceiling as opposed to facing them immediately.

Tech approached, saying your name. The others whipped their heads to him, the familiarity in his tone throwing them off. “Are you alright?” He asked gently.

“You knew about this?” Echo accused, turning on Tech.

“Of course I did.” Tech said quickly and dismissively.

Crosshair's hands clenched into fists repeatedly, his anger barely contained. "Was this all a game to you?" he growled, his gaze intense and accusing as he finally turned to you.

You were to weary to be angry at him. How he could ever think being pummeled everyday for weeks was anything close to a game was beyond you.

Meeting his fierce stare you offered a weak smile. It lasted only a second before it fell with your eyes. “No, never. I was sent here for training… I didn’t mean to deceive you.” Your mouth pressed into a tight line. “I’m sorry you were dragged into this.”

The room fell silent. Wrecker, who had been silent until now, finally spoke, his voice a mix of confusion and concern. "So, all this time, you were…”

“Yes,” You finished for him. “But I didn’t mean for it to happen like this. I’ve been taking all the training seriously.”

“It shows.” Echo said softly.

Hunter stepped forward. “Alright, we can sort this all out later.” He gave you a firm nod. “As a team. But right now, we have a mission.” He extended you a hand and a smirk, an offering. “The rest… you can explain on the way.”

Your chest caved at the sight. Taking his hand you choked out, “Gladly.”

Tech adjusted his goggles with a smile. “Then that settles it.” Brandishing his datapad, he started scrolling through the screen. “And I have compiled a list of questions that will clarify this entire ordeal.”

Hunter walked beside you, placing an encouraging hand on your back. “Let’s get going.”

Echo and Wrecker still looked conflicted, but nodded in agreement with Hunter's decision, and even Crosshair, though still visibly upset, did not contest.

Tech gave one final note. “All things considered, that went far better than even I could have predicted.”

@bruh-myguy-what i hope you like <3

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