Beautifully Said And Rendered. ❤️

True to form!

“Finger guns!” Fives-esque.

the bad batch in: alternative responses to “i love you”

Such sweetness 💕

A Mother's Lullaby

501st & Jedi!Fem!Reader

Summary: After returning home from a long campaign, you and your soldiers find it difficult to fall asleep. Echo has a bad dream which starts a chain reaction of clones entering your room looking for a different place to sleep for the night.

Pairing: 501st & Jedi!Fem!Reader

Characters: Rex, Fives, Echo, Jesse, Hardcase, Tup, Kix, Dogma

Tags & Warnings: platonic clone cuddles, snuggles, and kisses, smidge of angst, comfort, fluff

Word Count: 3k

Author’s Note: I came up with this one from a dream I had. All gestures are 100% platonic. The lullaby the reader sings can be found here. Honestly, these boys need all the cuddles, snuggles, and love they can get. As always, please enjoy! 💚

After being away for several rotations on a long campaign with the 501st, you have finally made it back home to Coruscant. You leave your weary troops in the barracks and head towards your chambers to clean up and get some rest. You enjoy your first warm meal in what feels like forever and hop in the shower to wash the grime off your skin. You let the hot water caress your body as you stand underneath its invigorating spray, never wanting to leave the warmth. 

You finish your shower, slip on your night clothes, and crawl into your bed. You nestle under the covers and take a deep breath, letting the familiar scents of your room fill your senses. There’s nothing quite like sleeping in one’s own bed. At last, you can get some good sleep. Sleep during campaigns is always a hit or miss and never the top priority, but when you’re here, when you’re home, you can sleep comfortably knowing no one is trying to end your life or the life of your men. 

However, tonight you endlessly toss and turn in your bed. You're exhausted, you know it, you can feel it. You want to sleep desperately, but something is keeping you awake. You continue to toss and turn, but slumber seems to escape you. You sigh and stare up at the ceiling in defeat. So much for a good night's rest. After all those long nights on the hard ground with blaster and cannon fire, you wish for nothing more than to sleep.

Unexpectedly, you’re pulled out of your thoughts by a presence entering your room. It’s too dark to see anything, but through the force, you can see exactly who it is. “Echo?” you ask while sitting up against your pillow.

“Ah, sorry to wake you general,” Echo answers while putting an awkward hand on his neck. 

“I wasn’t asleep,” you admit with a sigh as you rub your forehead. “Are you having trouble sleeping too?”

“I…” Echo begins to answer, but hesitates, unsure of how to say what he wants to say. “I had a bad dream.”

You cock your head to the side and give him a sympathetic smile. “Dreams are only dreams, Echo. They can’t hurt you.”

“Yeah,” Echo agrees half-heartedly. “I know.”

You sense he has something else to say, but he is too nervous to ask you. “Is there something else you want, Echo?” you ask to try and get him to tell you. “You know you can talk to me about anything.”

Echo opens his mouth to speak, but then closes it. He doesn’t want to step out of bounds with you as his general, but he also doesn’t want to go back to the barracks. Finally, he musters the courage and asks. “Can I sleep here tonight?”

You’re initially taken aback by the request, but your heart softens towards the tired clone. The nightmares that plague him must be horrific if he wants to sleep with his general. You think about it for a moment, but decide that it won’t hurt to let him stay the night with you. You pat the empty portion of the bed to the right of you to show him your approval. “Come here.” 

Still a little wary of the idea, Echo meanders his way over to the bed and crawls from the base up to where you are. You stretch out your arm and invite him to rest his head on your chest. He obliges with a little hesitancy and you gently drape your arm over his side and back. You can feel every ounce of tension in his body escape at your touch. He breathes deeply and lets out a relaxed sigh, knowing nothing can hurt him now.

You smile at the clone clinging to you and run your fingers through his hair. As a Jedi, you’re not allowed to have attachments, but there’s nothing in the code that says you can’t show compassion. These clones. They’re children, stuck in adult bodies, fighting a war that they never asked for. They never asked to be created. They never asked to be expendable. They never asked to be slaughtered. The least you can do is to offer them some sort of comfort. 

As you settle in with Echo and to try to get some rest, you sense another presence come into your room. Perhaps you should keep your room locked from now on. As the figure enters your dark room, you can see through the force that its Fives. “Looking for Echo?” you ask knowingly.

“Uh, yeah,” Fives answers with a jolt of surprise. “How’d you know?”

“The domino twins will always be inseparable,” you chuckle softly. “Where one goes, the other usually follows.”

“I didn’t think we were that predictable,” Fives rolls his eyes.

“Let’s just say that it doesn’t take a force wielder to know your thoughts,” you explain with a smile. “Would you like to join your brother?”

“I can’t sleep well without him nearby,” Fives admits as he crawls over the base of the bed and scooches next to Echo.

“Better?” you ask while looking over at him.

“Much better,” Fives answers as he nuzzles into the blankets.

You look down at both the clones now sleeping in your bed and you smile. You never thought something like this would occur, but here you are. It’s not that you don’t want them here, but you do feel a weird sense of maternal instinct as they lay there in your presence. Clearly they feel safe with you, but you’re not sure why. Other than being their General, leading them into battle, force healing their wounds, and giving them pep-talks, you’re not sure why they are attached to you.

Your thoughts are once again interrupted by a figure entering your room. You let out a slightly exasperated sigh when you realize it is yet another clone tip-toeing his way into your bedroom. “Looking for something, Jesse?” you ask the sneaking clone.

Caught by surprise, Jesse stumbles back into the wall. “Uh, well, you see,” he begins to explain in earnest. “Echo and Fives aren’t in their bunks, and they’re usually up to no good when they’re together, so I went looking for them.”

“Well, you found them,” you point out in a hushed tone. “They’re right here, sleeping with me.” 

Jesse pauses as he thinks about the situation before him. “Can…” he begins to ask. “Can I sleep here too?” 

“I don’t see why not,” you answer. Your bed is definitely big enough, but you’re still not sure why all these clones want to sleep in your room. They have the barracks and bunks of their own, and they sleep with all their brothers. It is odd to you, but nevertheless, you let him climb into bed with you, Echo, and Fives. He crawls over the end of the bed and situates himself on the left side of the bed, across from the others. Close, but not close enough to touch you. You smile at his reservation. 

As you begin to nod off, you’re pulled awake by yet another disturbance in your room. You wonder if you’re ever going to get any sleep at this rate. You look up at the figure standing across from the bed and with a sigh you ask them what they want. “What do you need Hardcase?”

“Oh, you knew it was me, huh?” Hardcase asks with a little embarrassment.

“You have a very distinct pattern in the force,” you answer with a small yawn.

“Really?” he questions with great interest. “I do?”

“Technically, you all do,” you explain further. “So, what can I do for you?”

“Jesse, Echo, and Fives aren’t in their bunks,” Hardcase begins to explain. “I thought they went to the refresher, but when they didn’t come back, I got worried.”

You smile at him and his concern for his brothers. “Don’t worry,” you soothe. “They’re right here with me.”

“What?” he questions with reproach. “They get to sleep with you? No fair!”

“Would you like to sleep here too?” you propose, thinking one more clone wouldn’t hurt. 

“Really?” he asks with excitement. “Can I?” 

“Only if you keep your voice down,” you hush as you feel Echo stir under your arm.

“Oh,” he quickly whispers. “Right. Gotcha. I’ll be quiet.”

Hardcase crawls into bed next to Jesse and Jesse wraps an arm around his brother to make sure he feels included. You look around at the group of clones covering your bed and let out a small chuckle. You’re not sure how one turned into four, but there’s no going back now. You can only hope that no more wayward clones will show up in your bedroom looking for a different place to sleep or their missing brothers.

However, your thoughts betray you as you sense Kix’s force presence entering your room. Should have seen that one coming. “If you’re looking for Echo, Fives, Jesse, or Hardcase, they’re here with me,” you announce, deciding to jump to the chase. 

“You sound exhausted,” Kix jests as he folds his arms. “I can make them leave, you know.”

“It’s fine,” you answer while running your fingers through Echo’s hair. You remind yourself why you began this little clone sleepover in the first place and smile softly. “Sometimes, we just need each other.”

“Amen to that,” Kix agrees. “You got room for one more?”

“Of course,” you smile at the medic. “Grab a spot wherever you can find one.”

Kix crawls over Jesse and Hardcase, kicking them playfully in the process, and flops himself across from you near the edge of the bed. He grabs a fistful of covers and nuzzles them softly. You smile wide at his childish movements. They really are just children. Children who had their childhoods stolen from them. You can’t quite reach Kix, but if you could, you would rub his back to lull him to sleep. Maker knows medics need their sleep.

No sooner does Kix settle in, do you feel another force presence enter the room. This one is a little more cautious, as if he’s contemplating that he doesn’t belong. You feel his hesitation and call out to him. “Dogma. You can come in.”

“General,” he acknowledges as he steps closer. “I don’t mean to intrude.”

“You’re not intruding, Dogma,” you reassure the hesitant clone.

“Can…” Dogma begins, still feeling like he’s not allowed to ask for this. “Can I sleep here too?”

Your heart softens at his innocent and heartfelt plea, and you smile at him. “Yes, Dogma. You’re welcome here too.”

He smiles back and crawls across the edge of the bed and nestles neatly just below Echo and Fives. You wonder about Dogma sometimes, because he keeps to himself a lot and has trouble opening up to others. You feel great reservation from him, even on the battlefield. But you’ve heard from the others that his previous general was abusive and uncaring. It breaks your heart that anyone could be so malicious towards such beautiful souls. They didn’t deserve that.

Suddenly, you feel an intense presence of sadness and fear enter your room. Your heart begins to race as the force scrunches around you. You want to jolt up out of bed, but you don’t want to disturb your sleeping clones. As the force becomes less distorted, you can finally see who it is. “Tup?” you ask with concern. “Are you okay? You scared me.”

“They left me alone,” Tup says through a shaky breath while clenching his fists. “I don’t want to be alone.”

The pain in his voice breaks your heart. Every ounce of maternal instinct in you tells you to get up and hug this sad clone until all his pain is gone, but you can’t get up at the moment, not with all these sleeping clones surrounding your every side. Instead you invite him to come join you by patting the open real estate next to your left side. “Come here, Tup.” 

He rushes over to the bedside and crawls over Kix to get to your side. You open your free arm and let him rest his head on your chest. You can feel a little shake in his body so you rub his back and place your head atop his. “Shhh. It’s alright,” you soothe. “I’ve got you. Your brothers are right here with you.” You feel the force settle around him and his breathing becomes soft.

“I wish I had a mother,” Tup admits into your chest.

You're surprised by the statement, but it’s not a completely unfounded thought. The clones are test-tube babies. Copies from an original source, with no mothers to speak of. Perhaps that is why they feel safe with you. Perhaps, because you are a woman, they feel a certain level of maternal attachment to you. That’s why they feel safe. That’s why they want to sleep here with you. That’s why they relax in your presence and melt under your touch. They just want a mother.

“What’s it like having a mother?” Tup asks out of curiosity.

“I don’t really remember mine to be honest,” you answer. “I was taken from her at a young age to be trained as a Jedi.”

“Oh,” Tup answers sadly.

“But,” you continue. “I do remember that she was warm and kind. She had a good heart and would sing me lullabies to go to sleep.”

“Lullabies?” Tup wonders at the strange word.

“Yes,” you explain in a hushed tone. “Mothers sing them to their children to help them go to sleep.”

“Would you sing us a lullaby?” Tup asks as he nuzzles further into you. 

You’re shocked at the question. No one has ever asked you to sing, let alone sing a lullaby. “Well, I don’t know...” you hesitate.

You feel Echo tug gently at your hem and whispers. “Please?” 

There were several more ‘pleases’ and ‘mhms’ coming from the lumps on your bed. You look around at the seven sleepy clones and wonder how you got yourself into this predicament. But, their innocence captures your heart and you feel a tender fondness for their simple request. How hard could it be to sing them a lullaby? You close your eyes and think back to when you were still with your mother and try to remember the words and the tune she sang to you.

Lay down your head and I'll sing you a lullaby

Back to the years of loo-li lai-lay

And I'll sing you to sleep and I'll sing you tomorrow

Bless you with love for the road that you go

May you sail far to the far fields of fortune

With diamonds and pearls at your head and your feet

And may you need never to banish misfortune

May you find kindness in all that you meet

May there always be angels to watch over you

To guide you each step of the way

To guard you and keep you safe from all harm

Loo-li, loo-li, lai-lay

May you bring love and may you bring happiness

Be loved in return to the end of your days

Now fall off to sleep, I'm not meaning to keep you

I'll just sit for a while and sing loo-li, lai-lay

May there always be angels to watch over you

To guide you each step of the way

To guard you and keep you safe from all harm

Loo-li, loo-li, lai-lay

Loo-li, loo-li, lai-lay

Loo-li, loo-li, lai-lay

Loo-li, loo-li, lai-lay

Loo-li, loo-li, lai-lay

Loo-li, loo-li, lai-lay

You finish the lullaby as tears form in the corner of your eyes. The words of the song unlocked the sweet memories of your mother from so long ago. She was a strong and loving woman, and even though you don’t remember her face, you could feel her embrace you through the force as the lyrics of her soothing lullaby escaped your lips. Such a soft and simple song, but so full of love, care, and comfort.

You look around lovingly at the clones sleeping softly in your bed and smile. Your heart is full. They’re all sleeping peacefully, probably for the first time in a long while. But your happy thoughts are pierced with poison as you remember why they exist. The bloody war. The war that no one asked for. The war they lay their lives down for. Not all of them may come back, but for now, yes, for now they are safe here with you. 

You look up as you sense the final presence you knew would show up eventually. “Captain,” you whisper, trying not to wake the clones. Rex came into the bedroom while you were singing the lullaby and leaned against the wall while he waited for you to finish. 

“I was wondering where my men went,” Rex chuckles while looking at his sleeping soldiers spread out across your bed.

“They needed a little mothering tonight,” you say as you leave a gentle kiss on Echo’s head. 

Rex smiles. “I can see that.”

“Will you join them?” you ask. “There’s room for one more.”

Without much convincing, Rex pushes himself off the wall and crawls onto the foot of the bed. He lays sideways at the edge, positioning himself to guard over his men. Rex is a great leader and a great Captain. He cares deeply for each of his men and puts their safety above his own. It’s just like him to take the most vulnerable and uncomfortable position so his men can relax and feel covered under his dutiful watch. You smile fondly at their brotherly bond. 

You let out a small sigh and lean over to the left to leave a small kiss on Tup’s head. You would kiss them all goodnight, but the rest are too far out of your reach. “Codladh sámh, my little ones,” You whisper while leaning your head back against the pillow to finally let yourself fall asleep. “Dream of a life far away from this one.”

Masterlist

A03

Tag List: @nahoney22

Join my taglist HERE

Tip me a tea on Ko-fi HERE

The Match from Another Batch:

Three of the finest.

#tcw #arc trooper echo #clone medic kix #clone captain Rex

⸻ Kix, Echo and Rex

So fun! Poor Gonky, victim of serial war criminal Chopper.

the spectres visit pabu 🌤️

after 4 months of pain and procrastination… i finally finished it!!!! i’m so happy to have this off my wip list baha

i got kinda lazy with the rendering but i think i’m happy with the end result :,)

thanks for being patient with me! it usually doesn’t take me 4 months to finish a drawing 😅 i guess i was just overwhelmed with this one and kept putting it off lol

i’m gonna come up with some headcanons about what all these characters did during their time together on pabu at some point!

@vodika-vibes This is fluffily beautiful!!! Thank you for writing my request! ❤️❤️ The actual inspiration was my brother back when we were teens. Used to piss my dad off that he couldn’t communicate right away. Their solution was The Head Pat. 💖

Hi Vod’ika! I enjoy your stories so much! May I make a request? Prompt category Physical Gestures. Perky morning person (F) a little insecure. Chronically sleep-deprived clone BF can’t talk to her until he’s had morning caf and some time. Compromise is a pat on the head (or similar) as he walks by to acknowledge her presence without engaging until he’s awake. Perhaps Hunter, Rex, Fox or Wolffe. Thank you for considering. 😊

Morning Person

Summary: Fox loves his girlfriend. From the top of her head to the tips of her toes. He even loves how bright and bubbly she is first thing in the morning. It’s not her fault he cannot function without a cup of caf first thing in the morning.

Pairing: Commander Fox x F!Reader

Word Count: 1031

Warnings: Reader is described as having long hair that "tumbles down her back" and she can wear it in a bun on the top of her head.

A/N: Hihi! You sent this in and I immediately knew what I wanted to write! But then it turned into something soft and fluffy at the end, lol. Thanks for your request~

Click HERE to be added to my taglist

Fox hates mornings.

In his, professional, opinion. Any time before 10 should be illegal, and he shouldn’t be forced to work before noon.

Tragically, the galaxy very rarely cares about what he wants, so here he is. Awake and sort of aware at 7 am.

The bed next to him is still a little warm, but that tracks. His perfect cyare wakes up at 6:30 every morning, even on days when she doesn’t have to work. Distantly, he can hear her moving around the kitchen, and soon enough the familiar scent of breakfast sausage cooking wafts into the bedroom.

Fuck, he loves her.

Groggily, he rolls off the bed, and stumbles into the fresher to shower for the day. It doesn’t help wake him up, but it needs to happen, and if he doesn’t do it now, it won’t get done.

One quick shower later, Fox meanders his way through the apartment he shares with his cyare and into the kitchen. There, standing at the stove with a spatula in her hand, is his cyare. 

Her hair is pulled into a knot at the top of her head, and she’s clad in one of his shirts and her frog covered sleep pants. She’s adorable. And she notices him as soon as he steps into the room.

“Morning Fox~” She chirps, “Did you sleep well?”

Fox grunts an affirmative noise and walks over to her. Normally, he would pat her head and kiss her forehead as a way to acknowledge her in the morning, but her hairstyle forbids it this morning.

So, instead, he kisses her temple and rubs his thumb down the back of her neck, before he steps around her to grab the, already prepared, cup of caf.

His poor cyare is a little insecure about her place in his life, even now, and so does everything in her power to be useful to him. This means, in this case, that she makes him breakfast every morning and preps his caf the way that he likes before he wakes up.

He, personally, thinks it’s ridiculous. Why would he want to look at another woman when he has her, after all? But she’s allowed her insecurities. It’s his job to make sure that they don’t overwhelm her.

When they first moved in together, she took his silence in the morning as an indication that he wasn’t happy with her. Though she never mentioned her thoughts to him, she just allowed the belief to work her into an anxious frenzy, until she broke down sobbing one morning asking him if he didn’t love her anymore.

That had been a mess and a half to clean up and untangle.

Together, they worked out that so long as he acknowledges her in the morning, even if it’s something as simple as a touch and a kiss, it keeps her from overthinking everything.

He settles on one of the kitchen chairs, silently nursing his caf, as he watches her make breakfast for them. She’s humming along with the radio, and a small smile lifts his lips. 

Her hair is a mess, she’s not wearing any make-up. Her clothes are wrinkled and worn, or very childish in the case of her pants. She would be the first one to say that this is when she looks her worst.

She’s wrong.

Right here, first thing in the morning, when it’s just him and her and no one else, she’s never more beautiful. He really is a lucky asshole.

He watches her plate breakfast, sausage, toast, fresh fruit, and some juice, then she sets a plate in front of him, before sitting in the chair next to him. 

That’s about the time she realizes that he’s staring at her.

“What?”

Fox absently pushes his mug to the side, and reaches out for her, his hand settling on her cheek as he coaxes her closer to him so he’s able to press kisses across her face. His free hand reaches up to tug the rubber band out of her hand, allowing her long hair to fall around her shoulders and down her back.

A giggle falls from her as he pushes her hair out of her face, so he can continue kissing her, “Fox! Our breakfast will get cold!”

“It’ll keep,” He mumbles against her jaw, “Love you.”

One of her hands tangles in his curls, while the other curls around his bicep. “Silly man, what’s gotten into you?”

Fox just hums and continues pressing feather-light kisses across her face, until he finally catches her lips with his own in a series of light kisses. Then he decides that she’s not nearly close enough, and he swiftly tugs her from her chair until she’s sitting on his lap.

Still not close enough, but it’ll do for now.

A sigh falls from her, soft and love-sick, and Fox grins against her lips before pulling away and pressing his forehead against hers. 

She has a dreamy look on her face and a goofy smile on her lips, “Goodness,” She murmurs, her fingers falling from his curls to rest against his stubble-covered cheek, “Have I just been depriving you, Fox?”

“Went all night without kissing you,” Fox replies, suddenly very, very awake, “Had to make up for lost time.”

“Ah, so you’re not deprived. You’re spoiled.” Her voice is teasing and her eyes are soft. Her fingers trail against his jaw, and she huffs out a sigh, “You forgot to shave.”

“Didn’t forget. Didn’t feel like it. Too much effort.”

She shakes her head, “After breakfast, I’ll get the stuff and do it for you. I know how much you hate the feel of your stubble in your helmet.”

Fox feels his heart lurch in his chest. She really is perfect. And so, he pulls her into another kiss, though this time he doesn’t keep it chaste. If she’s not giggling like a schoolgirl when he finishes, then he’s not kissing her thoroughly enough.

The rest of the galaxy can take a hike. This, right now, is more important. And, just before he gets too lost in her lips, he can’t help but think that, just maybe, mornings aren’t that bad.

@kimiheartblade

@yoitsjay

@liz-stat

@bb8-99

@falconfeather23435

@dukeoftheblackstar

@continous-mistakes

@0revna0

@trixie2023

@mira-loves-star-wars

@adriennelenoir

@rebell-ious

@silly-starfish

@maniacalbooper

@padawancat97

@justiceandwar98

@bekah_curlygirl

@cdblake1565

@cc--2224

@omegaprime18

@wax-birds

@msmeredithrose

@tiredbi-peach

@badbatch-bitch

@sweater-sloot

@etod

@bekahcurlygirl

@lonewolflupe

@bad4amficideas

@clones-cyare

@kiss-anon

Fantastic story! Excitedly waiting for more!! Fives flirting, not hitting his mark. The 501st. Anidala. The intrigue is building. 😍

Good Graces

Chapter Three

Tags/Warnings: graphic (and casual) depiction of violence, wounds, death, etc.

Chapter WC: 4,449

A/N: Okay so this is going to be longer than I thought. Definitely less than 20 chapters, but probably more than 10, by virtue of me trying to keep these all under 10k each.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Join the Taglist | Masterlist

Esmé takes the lead as soon as they step out onto the street. She moves quickly, weaving through the crowd with practiced ease. She doesn't so much as slow down, even when a couple bumps into her, muttering something under their breath. Fives has to jog to catch up with her, his steps a little clumsy in his haste, his arms swinging by his sides. She doesn't look back. She just keeps moving.

She's not okay. She's trying to hide it, but she's not. He can see it in the way her shoulders are pulled tight, her back ramrod straight. Her breathing is too fast, and her hands are shaking, her knuckles white. She's on edge, and it's more than just a brush with a bounty hunter. She's seen them before, that much is clear, and this isn't her first time having to deal with one.

Ahead, the crowds begin to thin, the streets emptying as they move farther away from the marketplace. It's quieter, the noise of the festival muffled by the tall buildings, and the air is crisp, a gentle breeze blowing through. It's not exactly a short walk, but Esmé makes quick work of it, her strides long and sure with the confidence of someone who's walked the same path a hundred times.

She doesn't speak, and Fives doesn't ask. He's not sure he wants to know the answer.

He's not really sure what happened. One minute, they were fine, and the next...well. He's not sure.

There had been a moment when they were in the alley. He'd grabbed her and covered her with his body. And maybe he should've said something, explained what he was doing, but he hadn't. Instead, he'd just stood there, and she hadn't protested.

He can still feel the warmth of her, the way her hair had tickled his face, her breath against his neck. Her skin had been soft beneath his fingertips, and she'd smelled sweet, like some kind of flower. She hadn't moved away. Hadn't tried to push him off. In fact, he'd swear that she'd leaned into him. Just a bit. Just for a second.

And then, in the blink of an eye, she was a million lightyears away. She'd practically sprinted out of the alley and onto the street, leaving him to follow. It had happened so fast, so suddenly, that he's still trying to wrap his head around it.

Had he done something wrong? Said something wrong? He knows he has a habit of pissing people off, especially when he's nervous, but she'd been smiling. Maybe he was just seeing things, hoping for something that wasn't there, and the fact that he's already starting to spiral is a sign that he's screwed this up beyond repair.

He's not going to give up. He can't. There's something between them. He can feel it. He just has to figure out how to bring her walls down.

“Bounty hunters are like sand fleas," Fives speaks up, trying for a joke. Anything to break the tension, anything to distract her. "Once you get one, you just end up with a hundred more. They're annoying like that."

Esmé doesn't laugh. She doesn't even crack a smile. She just keeps walking, her eyes fixed on the ground in front of her.

Alright, that was a bust. He clears his throat and tries again.

"So, you...uh...you've got experience with bounty hunters, I take it?"

"What gave it away?" she asks, her voice dry and her lips pursed.

Okay. He deserved that. He can't help the snort that escapes him.

"Yeah, fair enough," he concedes with a shrug. He scratches the back of his head, his gaze flicking towards her and then away. "Do they...do they come after you guys a lot?"

"Sometimes."

"Is it always bounty hunters, or do you get a little bit of everything?" he asks. She doesn't reply, and he's not sure she's going to. He doesn't want her to shut down, not again. He sighs and tries a different approach. "I heard you got attacked a while back. A bunch of droids, or something, right? Was that... Was that your first time?"

Esmé stops suddenly, and Fives almost runs into her. They're not far from the Senator's apartments, only a block or two away, but he's grateful for the reprieve. His arm is aching, the bag of groceries hanging heavily from his hand, and his legs are burning from his attempts to keep up with her.

"No," Esmé says, her voice low. She looks up at him and purses her lips. "No, that wasn't the first time."

"Oh." 

That's all he can think to say. Oh. It doesn't really feel adequate, doesn't really capture the full depth of his surprise and confusion and...and anger.

Anger, because he knows that this can't be normal, and the fact that she's clearly had to do this more than once means that there's a problem. It means that the Senate, the GAR, everyone, has failed.

Failed her.

He's not sure why, but that bothers him. Maybe it's the fact that he and his brothers are supposed to be part of the solution, part of the solution to all the problems in the galaxy, and yet he's standing here, talking to a woman who has clearly been attacked more times than she's willing to admit, and who doesn't even seem surprised by it. Or maybe it's just because he likes her, and the thought of someone trying to hurt her makes him feel sick.

Fives doesn't like it. He doesn't like any of it.

They stand in silence for a few moments, their eyes locked, and then Esmé turns away, her gaze flitting over the nearby rooftops. She's looking for the hunter, or at least he assumes she is. Her hand is resting on her blaster, her fingers tracing the handle, and she's chewing on the inside of her cheek, her brow furrowed.

"You're right," she mutters as she starts walking again.

Fives hurries to catch up, his boots loud against the paved stone. He looks at her, confused, and raises a brow. "About what?"

"About bounty hunters." Her eyes meet his for a moment, and her lips press together. "Where there's one, there's another. We should hurry."

He doesn't need to be told twice. They fall into step with each other, and she leads the way, her stride steady and her back straight. Fives keeps pace, his gaze sweeping the nearby rooftops, his stomach churning.

He should have been faster, should have acted sooner, should have known. He should have seen the threat coming, should have had a better response, and should have had a better plan. He shouldn't have been so distracted by her, and he shouldn't have let himself get caught off guard. He should have been better.

He'll have to be better.

“Captain,” Fives speaks into his comm, his voice quiet. "I think we might have a problem."

There’s no response, and he frowns. He taps his vambrace.

"Rex?"

Silence.

His gut twists, and his steps falter. He stops, his hand reaching for his blaster, his gaze searching the rooftops above him. The sun is starting to dip below the horizon, the shadows lengthening and the sky growing dark. There are windows everywhere, and the balconies are crammed with potted plants, the railings lined with colorful fabric and the windowsills decorated with small statues and lanterns. It would be easy to hide, even in plain sight.

Esmé pauses, her attention on him, her expression expectant. He shakes his head.

"It's probably nothing," he says, trying to sound casual. "Probably just a faulty connection. I'll try again—"

"Don't," she cuts him off, her voice hard. "If they're jamming communications, then we don't want them to know we're onto them."

"But the others," Fives begins as he gestures helplessly, his hand waving in the air. "If they don't know, then—"

"We're not far," she assures him. There's a hint of compassion in her voice. It's not much, just a slight softening of the edges, but it's enough to show that she does care. More than she lets on. "Just a few minutes. We can handle a few minutes."

"Yeah," he agrees. He takes a deep breath, his shoulders squaring. "You're right. We've got this."

Esmé nods.

"Good," she says. "Let's go."

They move quickly, their steps echoing down the narrow alleyways, the music and chatter of the festival fading the farther they go. They reach the building where Senator Amidala is staying within minutes, and Fives feels himself relax when he sees the troopers are still posted outside. Esmé doesn't slow. She walks right past them, her hand on her blaster, and heads straight for the door.

The men look startled, and then confused, their helmets moving from Esmé to Fives, and then to each other. Esmé strides through the lobby and disappears into the turbolift, her finger jabbing the button, and Fives has to run to catch up with her before the lift doors close on him.

"Don't let anyone else in," he calls over his shoulder as the doors slide shut, and then the lift is moving, the numbers climbing higher and higher.

Fives shifts his weight from foot to foot, his grip on the bag tight. He can see their distorted reflection on the metal surface, the bags beneath his eyes and the tense line of his shoulders. His helmet is still sitting on the coffee table, and it feels like a mistake. He should have kept it on. Should have been ready for a fight.

They're nearly at the top when a burst of muffled blasterfire reaches their ears, the sound coming from the floor above. They freeze as their gazes meet in the reflection. The distorted version of Esmé nods once, and he does the same. She draws her blaster, her fingers curling around the handle, and her thumb flicks the safety off.

The turbolift slows to a stop, and the doors open with a soft chime.

The scene in front of them is chaos.

Bodies litter the hallway, the floor and walls littered with holes and scorch marks, the plaster cracked and the tile broken. The door to the Senator's apartment hisses as it opens and closes repeatedly, stuck on the security droid lying deactivated in the entrance. Two RNSF soldiers are sprawled in the middle of the hallway, blood pooling beneath them, their eyes glassy and their bodies limp. 

Esmé lets out a breath, taking a step forward, and Fives reacts without thinking. He grabs her and shoves her back into the turbolift, and her back hits the wall with a thud. Her eyes go wide, her mouth dropping open as a gasp escapes her.

"Stay here," he orders. His hands are on her shoulders, holding her in place. "Wait for the Captain."

A furious look washes over her, and Esmé's nostrils flare. "You can't—"

"Stay. Here," he repeats, dropping the bag of groceries beside her. He pulls his pistols from their holsters, his grip tight and his jaw clenched. "Do not leave this turbolift."

Fives doesn't give her a chance to argue. He steps into the hallway and hits the control panel, and the doors closes on her protests, her face vanishing from view. The sound of a fist banging on the door is the last thing he hears before the lift starts moving.

He can't wait. He has to act, now, before the situation gets any worse. He takes a deep breath, his gaze flitting between the fallen men, and then he rushes forward, his strides long and his blasters raised. 

His mind is racing, a million thoughts flitting through his head at once. Where are the others? Who is attacking the Senator's security detail? Are they even still alive? Who else has the clearance to access the floor?

He should have done a perimeter sweep. He should have checked the rooftops. He should have made sure the area was clear. He shouldn't have let his guard down. He shouldn't have left his squad. He should have—

Fives pushes the door open and stumbles to a stop, his body slamming into the door frame.

The room is a mess. Blasterfire has ripped through the walls, the plaster shredded, chunks of rock and wood scattered across the floor. Furniture is broken, the sofa torn and the cushions ripped, and a painting lies crooked on the wall, a hole punched through the canvas.

Kix is kneeling on the ground, hovering over Tup, whose hand is pressed to his chest, his armor stained red. Jesse and Rex are crouched behind a pile of upturned furniture, their bodies angled towards the staircase. A man dressed in black lies on the ground, his limbs akimbo, his body still.

The Senator and General Skywalker are nowhere to be seen.

Jesse notices him first. His head turns towards Fives, and he holds a finger to the mouth of his helmet.

Fives nods and creeps inside, his back brushing against the wall, and he keeps his blasters trained on the stairs. There's no movement, and no noise except for the sound of Kix working, his hands quick and his movements practiced.

Fives edges closer, his steps careful, and he ducks behind the pile of furniture.

"What's the situation?" he whispers.

"Bounty hunter," Rex answers. He sounds tired, his voice rough, and his body is slumped against the couch. "He had some kind of disruptor on him. Jammed our comms."

"Is he alone?"

"He is now." Rex nods toward the body. "Tup got him. Barely."

Fives risks a glance over at Kix, who's applying bacta to Tup's chest. Tup's breathing is labored, his face pale, but his eyes are open. He gives Fives a weak smile, his hand raising in a small wave, and Fives waves back.

He takes a breath and turns his attention back to the staircase.

"Senator and General?" he asks.

"General's guarding the Senator. She took a shot to the shoulder. They're barricaded in her room." 

Fives feels a wave of guilt wash over him. He should have been here. Should have helped. Instead, he was off, flirting with a pretty girl and buying groceries, and his brothers were stuck fighting a battle without him.

He should have known.

"Where's your handmaiden?" Jesse asks. "She alright?"

"In the lift," he replies. "I told her to stay put. Figured she was safer there than out here."

"And you think she's gonna listen to you?"

"No," he admits, his lips twisting into a wry smile. He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Probably not."

Jesse lets out a huff of amusement, and he leans forward, his gaze fixed on the staircase. There's a long, jagged crack running up the wall, the paint peeling away. There's blood on the railing, and more splattered against the wall. Someone had been hit. Fives hopes it wasn't the Senator.

Fives scans the area, his gaze flickering from one corner to the next. He doesn't see any traps, any signs of hidden enemies, or anything else that might indicate a potential threat. The apartment is silent, and it's almost unnerving, the lack of noise making his skin crawl.

A second later, the warble of a lightsaber and the sound of pounding feet reaches their ears. Someone is running towards them, fast and hard, and the other troopers are on their feet before Fives can react, their weapons raised. They're all aiming at the stairs, their stances wide, their shoulders tense and their fingers ready. 

The footsteps come closer, and then the figure appears, leaping down the stairs two at a time, their head down and their arms pumping. They're wearing a heavy cloak and a hood, a long scarf wrapped around their neck, and Fives only has a moment to register the familiarity of it all before the figure is sprinting past, and then diving for the window.

Fives propels himself forward, intercepting them, his arms wrapping around their waist, and he slams them both into the floor, his shoulder colliding with the ground. The impact knocks the air from his lungs, and he groans as an elbow cracks into his nose, his grip releasing on instinct.

The bounty hunter gets to their feet and dodges the blaster bolts Rex and Jesse fire at them. They reach the window and pull the curtains aside, their hands reaching for the latch, and they throw the window open. A gust of wind sweeps through the room, blowing the curtains wide and knocking a potted plant onto its side.

A single, precise shot rings out, and the bounty hunter's body jerks.

Their knees buckle, legs folding under them, and they crumple to the ground. The window slams shut, and the curtains fall back into place. Fives looks from the dead body to the window, and then to the source of the shot.

He hadn't even heard Esmé approach, hadn't heard her enter the room, but there she is, standing in the doorway, her blaster still raised, the bag of groceries hanging over her arm. She lets out a sigh and holsters her weapon.

She killed him.

Just like that. In a single shot, without so much as a second glance, and Fives... he's not sure what to do with that. It's one thing for a clone or a Jedi to kill a person, but for a civilian, a handmaiden, to do it? Without a hint of hesitation or remorse? He's not sure he's ever seen something like that before.

Rex lowers his blasters, and the others do the same. They look at her, and then each other, and then back at her. No one says a word.

Fives swallows and slowly pushes himself to his feet, his palms pressing into the carpet, his eyes still fixed on Esmé. She's looking down at the body with barely a hint of emotion, her mouth twisted in distaste. She seems more annoyed than anything.

"I told you to stay put," Fives tells her, touching his nose gingerly. It's not what he wants to say. There are a thousand other things he should be saying, should be asking, but that's what comes out. "Couldn't listen for five minutes, could you?"

Esmé ignores him as she takes a tentative step inside. Her eyes land on Tup, and her brows draw together.

"Are you alright?" she asks softly.

Tup's head is propped up against the wall, his helmet discarded on the floor, his hand pressed to his chest. He tries to sit up, but Kix pushes him back, and Tup winces, his teeth bared.

"I'm fine, ma'am," he says, his voice hoarse. He manages a grin, his cheeks flushed. "Just a scratch."

General Skywalker appears at the top of the stairs, his expression stormy and his robes rumpled, his hair a mess and lightsaber held tightly in his hands. The tension drains from his shoulders when his gaze lands on them. He glances at the body and then at Esmé, and his brows raise.

"Nice work, Es," he says with a sigh, and he deactivates his lightsaber, clipping it to his belt. "How many was that, now?"

Esmé's lip curls.

"Eight," she answers flatly. She's still focused on Tup, her eyes moving over his body, cataloguing the damage. "You should have had a better security detail, Anakin."

"Oh, yeah? I'll keep that in mind next time," the General scoffs.

"Do that."

Fives looks between them, his eyes darting from General Skywalker to Esmé and back again. The Senator comes around the corner a few seconds later, moving slowly. She's holding a hand over her shoulder, the other wrapped around her torso, and she's pale, her face pinched and her robes torn. She takes a step forward toward the stairs, but she stumbles, and General Skywalker is there in an instant, his arm wrapped around her waist, holding her upright.

The calm expression on Esmé's face fades, and for the first time since the attack began, Fives sees fear flicker across her features. The bag of groceries falls from her hands, hitting the floor with a loud thump, and she starts forward across the room and up the stairs.

Fives watches her go, his chest tight.

The others are talking, but he doesn't hear them. He's watching Esmé, watching the way her face softens as she helps the Senator, her arm wrapping around her back and her hand coming to rest on her hip, supporting her weight. She's murmuring something, too quiet for him to hear, and the Senator's head drops onto her shoulder, her eyes falling closed.

It doesn't make sense.

Nothing about her makes sense.

She's a handmaiden, a servant. She's a civilian. She shouldn't know how to shoot, shouldn't be able to defend herself, and she definitely shouldn't be able to take out a bounty hunter like it's nothing. She shouldn't be so good at it. And yet... she is.

The Senator is leaning against Esmé, her hand gripping the back of her tunic, her body curled into her side. Esmé doesn't seem to notice the weight, her focus fixed on the Senator, her voice soft and soothing.

Something about the scene is unsettling. She should be frightened, should be afraid. She should be shaking, or crying, or something. Instead, she's standing there, her hand rubbing slow circles on the Senator's back, her chin resting atop her head, and her eyes are hard.

The General says something, and then he and the Senator disappear back around the corner. Esmé follows, her hand resting lightly on the Senator's arm, and Kix is on his feet, rushing after them, the medkit in his hands.

Fives should follow. He should make sure the Senator is okay. He should check on the rest of the men, and make sure the building is clear, and call for a clean-up crew, and find out how the hell a bounty hunter was able to get past them all and into the Senator's apartments.

But he can't seem to make his feet move.

He's frozen. His whole body feels like lead, his hands shaking and his heart pounding. He can't seem to shake the visual of Esmé, her face twisted with determination, her aim true, and her eyes hard.

Eight.

The number rings in his head, repeating over and over. Eight. Eight bounty hunters she's killed. Eight attempts on the Senator's life, and each time, Esmé has been the one to stop them. It should be impossible. It should be a fluke. But the General had said eight like it was nothing, and Esmé hadn't denied it. 

And then, in the space of a single, heart-stopping moment, Fives understands.

It's like everything is falling into place, and the puzzle is finally complete, the picture coming together. She's not just a handmaiden. She's not just a civilian. She's not even a soldier.

She's a trained killer, and a damn good one.

"So," Jesse starts, his voice cutting through the silence, his helmet tilted in Fives' direction. He has his arms hooked underneath one of the bounty hunter's, and he's dragging them out onto the balcony. "You going to tell us what happened with her, or...?"

"Or what?"

"Or I'm gonna start guessing," he replies, his voice teasing. He sounds completely unfazed by what just happened, like taking out a bounty hunter is an everyday occurrence, which, considering who they are, it kind of is. "I mean, I've got a lot of ideas. And none of them are very nice."

"Well," Rex chimes in as he moves to help lift the dead weight, "he did spend the evening with a pretty girl. We all know how those usually go."

Fives rolls his eyes, and he can't help the chuckle that escapes him.

"Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up," he mutters. He crosses the room and bends down, grabbing the abandoned bag of groceries and scooping the fruit that had spilled out back into the bag. "You got me. I spent my evening trying to flirt with a pretty girl, and it went so well she shot someone in the head."

Rex snorts, and Jesse lets out a loud bark of laughter. Tup just grins, his lips stretched into a wide, teasing smile.

"You were gone for a long time," he points out, his eyes dancing with amusement. "What took you so long?"

"I had a lot of flirting to do," Fives retorts, and the men laugh again. He smirks, straightening. "A lot of groceries to buy. Besides, you can't rush these things. You gotta go at the lady's pace. Right, Captain?"

Rex holds his hands up in surrender as he drops the bounty hunter's body beside the railing.

"Don't drag me into this," he warns, shaking his head. "I've got enough problems as it is."

"Ah, come on, Rex. You and General Anathorn are adorable," Jesse teases, and Rex shoots him a dark look. "Maybe you can give Fives some advice."

"Yeah, Rex. Advice."

"You know, I think you boys have got this handled," Rex says dryly. He heads for the stairs, his steps brisk. "I'm going to go see if General Skywalker needs help."

The men chuckle and wave him off.

Fives watches him go, and then turns back to his brothers, his gaze scanning the apartment. The windows are cracked, and the plaster is ruined, but the furniture is still in one piece, and the walls are mostly intact. They're lucky the place is still standing, and that no one was seriously hurt. It could have been a lot worse.

The Senator is alive, and so are the rest of them. And maybe his ego is a little bruised, but he'll survive. At least Esmé had shot the bounty hunter, and not him. Small mercies.

It's going to take a while to figure her out. And honestly, it probably won't be worth the effort. There are a million beautiful women in the galaxy, and there's no reason why he should get hung up on this one.

There's no reason at all.

Fives sighs and shakes his head.

"Yeah, well," he begins. He shifts his weight from foot to foot and looks over his shoulder towards the balcony. "I don't think there's gonna be a second date."

Taglist: @baddest-batchers @kindalonleystars @totallyunidentified @lovelytech9902 @frozenreptile @etod @puppetscenario @umekohiganbana @resistantecho @dindjarins1ut @tech-aficionado @aynavaano @burningnerdchild @ihatesaaand @lolwey @chocolatewastelandtriumph @hobbititties @mere-bear @thegreatpipster @lordofthenerds97 @notslaybabes @ayyyy-le-simp @mali-777 @megmegalodondon @dangraccoon @heavenseed76 @bunny7567 @lostqueenofegypt @anything-forourmoony @9902sgirl @jedi-dreea @salaminus @heidnspeak @gottalovehistory @mrcaptainrex @maniacalbooper @burningnerdchild @julli-bee @moonychicky @sonicrainbooms @captn-trex @webslinger-holland @marchingviolist @deerspringdreams @cw80831 @chaicilatte @somewhere-on-kamino @silly-starfish @floofyroro @veralii

Looooved the casual conversational style. Whole thing had me giggling! 😃

hiii can you do a story about after a long mission, Hunter and Fem reader are about to make out but Omega interrupts and just keeps asking about what they were doing

I’ve been dreaming of this thing for a long time

HI! Thanks for the ASK!!!

Sorry this one took awhile. Been working a LOT lately.

But, here it is! Hope you like!!!

(Pinterest pic credit: Maulia)

"LITTLE INTERRUPTIONS"

HUNTER X FEM READER ASK FIC

Background: This is set after Tantiss when the remaining characters settle on Pabu. My headcannon is they take off for missions to help Rex and the Clone Rebellion. Omega stays with Auntie Phee who keeps her busy with treasure hunting and (mostly) out of danger. She gets to still be a child with fun adventures.

Word count: 1K

Warnings: Swearing, mention of male erection, implied inevitable sexual activity

“Movies over. Time for bed, Omega!” Hunter promptly popped up off the sofa, nudging her to get up. 

“Aww...I’m not tired. Can we watch a couple holoshorts? THEN I’ll go to bed.” 

“Nope, off you go.” Finally dislodging her off the edge. “Brush your teeth first.” 

“Jeez...why are you in a hurry???”  

I couldn’t help but giggle at her persistence and sass. Little smarty pants. She suspected something was up. Usually, Hunter would let her linger a bit longer after the show was over. 

Hunter and I have been seeing each other in-between missions. Him with Clone Force 99 and me with my little band of Rebel Cell “Missfits” (an unruly group of women from planets all over the galaxy). Usually, our squads worked separately and had never heard of each other until meeting on a mission planned by Rex. 

He and I hit it off right away. 

From then on, we conveniently kept running into their squad. Even when we didn’t necessarily need help. And at times when we DEFINITELY needed it. They saved our asses on quite a few missions.  

The Missfits never forgot CF99’s generosity. We saved their cute butts too. After all, we support our allies. 

Eventually I just came out and confronted Hunter. And in front of both squads. Sometimes a woman’s gotta put a man in the hot seat to see what he says. 

“Hmm...we meet AGAIN! Are YOU keeping tabs on us?” Stated it loudly while staring him down...giving my devil may care expression. 

Hunter tried to hide his amazement at my bold statement. Keeping a neutral expression. He really did. But I could see the small barely perceptible grin at the corners of his sweet mouth. 

Kriff, I like to watch him lose his composure! Letting go of the control he tries so hard to keep in check... 

Wrecker couldn’t contain himself, slapping his brother’s shoulder HARD. “He’s keeping tabs on YOU! MAHAAA!!!” 

Hunter turned three shades of red while OUR entire squad erupted in wolf whistles and cat calls. The ladies COULDN’T let THAT go without making a big deal out of it. 

Of course, Wrecker’s statement was partially true. It was no secret he, Echo and Crosshair had a thing for the ladies in our squad. 

Then things got sticky with The Empire and we had to lay low for a while. Being seen together in the same place at the same time proved too risky. Our squads parted for quite a few months. We missed our men. They missed their women. 

But I digress. Back to Movie Night... 

Little Miss Omega really had our number. She glanced from Hunter to me.  

Surely, she suspected SOMETHING, just unsure of WHAT. 

“Goodnight kiddo. We’ll plan to do something fun and stay up later another night. With or without your brother.” I reached out with my foot and playfully kicked Hunter’s leg. 

He’s giving me that hungry look he gets when I’m sassy and physical with him... 

Omega smirked “Goodnight Y/N.” 

Then off she went to brush her teefies. 

Hunter settled back on the sofa, slid up close, arm up on the back of the couch around me. He expertly turned off the lamp on the table behind us. Smooth. 

We stared deeply into each other’s eyes in the semidarkness of the holoprojector. 

“Missed you. All I thought about for months.” His smoky voice so low. So deep. So...sexy. 

“Mmm...did ya now...” 

Maker, he’s so beautiful and sweet it makes my heart ache. Gonna tear him up tonight...quietly of course...we don’t want to wake up... 

“OMEGA! Go back to bed.” Hunter, doing his best to NOT sound annoyed. Didn’t even move from his position on the sofa. Still gazing in my eyes. 

The tiny, barely perceptible shadow in the hallway turns and scurries back to bed. 

“Damn Hunter. You’ve got kid radar.” 

“Not the only thing I’ve got.” He sensually runs his hands up my arms, shoulders, neck, caresses the sides of my face... 

...we close the gap between each other. Gently touching noses, foreheads. My arms slide up his stomach, chest...finally gripping his strong shoulders...and just as our lips meet... 

“HOLY KRIFF!” I just ‘bout lept off the sofa!!! 

Omega stood 5 ft in front of us...watching... 

“Hunter...did YOU teach her to be THAT quiet???” 

“What did I TELL YOU?!” He’s trying to be patient. Trying REALLY hard. 

“I’m thirsty...” Her expression is uncertain. She’s a good kid and certainly not trying to be disobedient. 

“You know where the sink is.” He’s the kind of guy who would get the water for her.  

But he CAN’T right now. I can feel his hardness against my thigh. Hunter shoots me an uneasy expression.  

He anticipates she’ll ask to be tucked into bed next...and he CANNOT support that action right now. 

I quietly giggle. 

He slowly shakes his head at me. 

Omega bounces into the kitchen and we can hear the sink running. 

The tap turns off. 

Sounds of a tiny person drinking. 

The rest of the water gets dumped into the sink.  

Clink of the glass being set on the counter. 

She’s quickly back in front of us. 

He inhales with the anticipation of her request. 

I’m watching all of this with bated breath...ready to bust out laughing. It’s NEVER a dull moment in The Batch household. 

“Will you tuck me...?” 

“OMEGA!” She jumps out of her skin. 

Echo emerges from the darkened hallway. A serious expression on his face, and a contrast to the #1 MOM t-shirt he’s wearing with his sweatpants. 

“Leave them alone and come to bed.” His expression softens. NOBODY can stay mad at Omega. 

“But...” She’s stalling. 

“Now, young lady.” Echo raises an eyebrow and holds his hand out to her. 

Omega glances back to Hunter. 

“Go on with Echo. We’ll talk more tomorrow. I know you have questions.” 

She nods and takes Echo’s hand. Before they disappear down the hall, Echo glances over his shoulder and winks at us. 

Hunter and I wait... 

The door to Echo’s room closes. Clearly, he’s running interference for us tonight. Providing privacy. Otherwise, Omega will keep sneaking out. 

Waiting a minute more...Hunter cocks his head like a dog...listening... 

While reaching over and pressing a button on the holo-remote. Slow, sensuous Jizz music starts to play. 

Then that handsome man turns back to me with an intensity in his eyes that makes my whole-body ache.  

“Now...where were we?” 

(Credit: Cool moving star dividers by @4ngelic-wh1spers )

PLEASE like, comment, and/or REBLOG!

IF YOU WISH TO BE ADDED OR DROPPED FROM MY TAG LIST, PLEASE MESSAGE ME! Don't just comment as I might miss it. Thanks!!! <3

this edit i made (which tiktok keeps muting ☹️) is a perfect representation of how chaotic the bad batch were during their mission with rex in the clone wars. this post inspired me to post the edit here instead. enjoy

This is it exactly.

I need this scene permanently engrained in my head