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krypticcafe · 1 year

Note

Hello! This is my first time asking someone but can you do 141 men reacting to us being hypersexual? I dont see any of those ones😅

Task Force 141 men w/a hypersexual partner

rating: mature

character(s): GN!Reader, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, John Price, John "Soap" McTavish, Simon "Ghost" Riley, Gary "Roach" Sanderson, Hound

warning(s): language, emotions(?), sexual themes, possible inaccuracies, mentions of trauma

a/n: An interesting request! I'll try my best to be accurate, but I can't guarantee it'll be perfect as someone who does not go through hypersexuality and a lot of resources online tend to only go over symptoms and general medical help but not a lot on how it affects relationships. So please please PLEASE correct me if needed, and I'll make the necessary changes!!

Gaz

I think out of all the guys, he'd be the only one who's heard of it, though he isn't all that educated about it.

With how Gaz is, you're actually quite comfortable discussing it early on in your relationship, bringing it up one day while you two are just talking about things.

He listens and nods along, occasionally commenting here and there, but he mostly listens. When you mention how it can be caused by trauma, you appreciate that he asks but tells you you don't have to if you're uncomfortable. He's just super understanding.

Also super low-key about it.

For example, if you tell him, signal, or if he can tell you're kinda going through it, he'll come up with a quick excuse to pull you aside and talk it out or do something else.

He already knows a bunch of exercises to keep your mind from reeling, small games to keep you grounded, and supervises you for a bit.

If you choose to, Gaz will absolutely support you if you pursue therapy! He'll especially praise you for any progress you make.

All in all, 10/10 boyfriend.

Price

It'll definitely take a while for him to wrap his head around the concept, but as long as you just communicate, things should be fine.

If and when you guys have sex, he's always checking in here and there, making sure you're good but not overdoing it so that it becomes overbearing.

Outside of that, if you're having trouble coping and physical touch helps, he's the best man for it.

His arms will wrap around you snugly, and just listening to his heartbeat alone can help soothe you. Sometimes, he'll hum to you or help massage your back. You find his voice to be helpful with how firm and direct it is, so he'll often converse with you to get your mind off things.

Definitely will give you resources if you ask. Need a therapist? He's got a reliable list. Need tools like sex toys? No shame, he'll get what you need. Ran out of medication? Just picked some up.

Keep in mind he can't always tell if you're having issues since he's quite busy when he's not alone with you, so you two developed a small signal to help each other out if needed.

Don't forget to reassure him too because he worries he's doing something wrong a lot of the time, so again, just communicate with him!

Soap

He's a little confused, but he's got the spirit.

It does take you a while to work up the courage not because you're worried about the shame of telling him, but more about if he'll understand.

When he first hears it, he kinda confuses it for higher libido but you quickly correct him.

"Ah, so it's not just impulsive but intrusive?"

From there, oh he's very, very sweet about it.

One of his best traits is how distracting he is so you can bet your ass he will find a way to keep your mind off things and humor you. He asks a lot of questions, but that's just his way of expressing his concern and care! Again, he's a super observant boy.

He'll always give you distance if that's what you need, but if you need some physical or verbal help, he's there in a heartbeat. If you guys are intimate, he'll take it slow and be loving as possible. He's happy to provide.

Oh, but if he hears you talking badly about yourself, he's quick to shut it down because hearing you call yourself 'dirty' or feeling 'used' has him very distressed.

"But I'm-"

"But nothing. You listen to me, okay? I would never think of you like that and I want you to know that to me, you're more than that, you're more than-" He stumbles over his words, "-jesus, you're everything and I don't want you thinking that you'll ever be less than that to me, alright?"

It's a hard pill to swallow, but his words are nothing but the truth, just as genuine as he is. After that, you start taking more of his words to heart.

Ghost

It's hard to tell what Simon's thinking a lot of the time, but rest assured, it's anything but judgment.

He thanks you for telling him and acknowledging how difficult it is. After all, you've done the same for him.

He's not gonna treat you like a porcelain doll, but that doesn't mean he's not gonna be cautious if guys have sex, he gets how vulnerable it can feel, being exposed, so it's something the two of you work through together.

He's also prone to getting upset if he hears you speaking badly about yourself, and admittedly, he's kind of brash and blunt at first when trying to confront you about it but over time, he learns to better express his concern.

With time, he'll steadily find more ways to keep your mind off of it. So far, he finds he's best at it via spending time with you like cuddling, or when he invites you to do different physical activities like exercising, taking walks, or sparring with him.

If you need help focusing or you take medication or therapy, expect him to nag about it!

"Did you go to the-"

"Yes, love, don't worry, I have. Thank you for asking."

You know he's looking out for you, and you couldn't be any more grateful.

Roach

Very much like Gaz, he's quick to understand.

"The girls who get it, get it" type of energy

He'll ask questions, but if he sees you getting skittish or awkward about it, he'll change the subject.

When he's nonverbal, he knows it'll be difficult to help you, especially if you're struggling to focus on his signs.

So what he does is he'll take your hand and trace a question mark in your hand, asking what's wrong and having you explain. If you need to calm down, he'll trace little shapes and hearts in your palms, intertwine his fingers with you, and help guide your breathing before asking questions.

If you struggle with finding other ways to be intimate or expressing yourself in your relationship, he'll show you what he likes, love languages of his, and such.

During a long mission, he had found you particularly frustrated. Rather than shaming you, he offered to help you get tidied up and take you out on a date.

The two of you went trinket shopping at the local town, though he was mostly buying you whatever you showed interest in, which quickly grew overwhelming.

But hey, it worked to brighten your mood, so it's a win in his book.

Hound

Oh he's so understanding. Hound isn't hypersexual themselves, but they understand the struggles of having highly impulsive and intrusive thoughts and actions, and more than understand the pain and shame that stems.

He expresses that he's proud of you for confiding in him something so personal and being comfortable enough to tell him

From there, he's very attentive to your needs and makes sure you're never overdoing it when indulging in NSFW.

If you two have sex, then it probably starts as a slow process to get comfortable, since Hound has their own sexual anxieties. But they're more than willing to take the reigns, establishing boundaries and patiently communicating with you even if it's difficult. In the end, it's a very vulnerable and intimate experience for the both of you.

In the case things have to stop, he'll clean things up, reassure and praise you, while finding something else for you two to do, like a movie night or cuddling.

Or if you're needy but they're not in the mood, Hound will help you redirect that energy somewhere else and makes sure you don't feel ashamed or insecure.

Personally, their favorite way of helping you is asking you about your interests or hyperfixes because they just love listening to you talk so passionately and just learning more about you so they can spoil you for future reference.

But sometimes you just need him to completely envelop you in his arms and give you something else to feel instead of that frustration, something to feel loved.

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vodika-vibes · 3 months

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Do It For Me

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

Pairing: Pre-ARF Trooper Hound x F!Reader

Word Count: 1837

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

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

You are severely overworked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was impressive.

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

You haven’t seen your apartment in a week.

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

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

And still, still, the work keeps piling up.

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

You need a break.

Desperately.

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

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

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

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

You are so kriffing tired.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do I need a reason?”

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

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

“I can’t! I have-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

In a word, he’s worried.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alright,” He says slowly, thoughtfully.

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

“...m’sorry.” She says quietly.

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

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

And that’s what Hound was waiting for.

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

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

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

“The Senate-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#star wars #tcw #arf trooper hound x reader #hound x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #f!reader fic

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starliights-shining · 1 year

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Bayverse drift, crosshairs, and Sideswipe

W cybertonian crush who calls them nicknames in other languages that they don't know? Like, Mein liebe (my love) , Mahal ko (my love, again), hermoso (Handsome), Liebling (Darling), beaue (Lovely)... Just any sweet nicknames in a language he doesn't know shit about??

Reader just loves telling the mech their feelings straight up, and the darling doesn't even know

What would his reaction be when he's informed of the translations?

Hellloooo, sorry for the wait! I hope this is what you were looking for and expecting. Request are still open if you like what your read or have a request. Enjoy :)

Pairings: Bayverse Drift x Reader, Crosshairs x Reader, Sideswipe x Reader

Warnings: Poorly translated languages(sorry in advance),

Drift - Mein Liebe(My Love) and Liebling(Darling)

You spent most of your time on Earth in the German countryside, considering you arrived right after WWII. So in time you learned the language, and with the many different drivers you’ve had, you’ve experienced and heard many different things, but the sweet nicknames your long term German driver gave to their lovers just so happened to stick with you.

“Mein Liebe!”

After jumping out of the driver side door and into their lovers arms, the image was sweetly sickening, but how you longed for your turn.

You remember when you received the message from Optimus about other autobots being out there. You were with the same driver, and boy had it been a long time. The children were crying in the back as your radio transmitted the message.

“Warum ist Ihr Radio durcheinander? Dieses Stück Schrottauto!!”

Their hand coming to smack down on your dashboard, what the fuck. In that moment you transformed, throwing the two adults out and holding the small children. Your feet stuck to the concrete of the highway, and their words hit hard, you were no piece of junk. You sat the children down, giving them a hard look before transforming and leaving.

You may no longer be in Germany anymore, but you still spoke like it. A thick accent when speaking and along with the occasional German words, but with the group Prime had configured, everyone was different. Especially this one bot, Drift. He also had somewhat of an accent, and was all about tranquility and whatnot, kinda the opposite of you. You remember the first time you called him Liebling.

He and Hound were getting into it, something about a flower in the wind, loyalty and fear, some haiku. When Hound threatened to drop a grenade down his throat over it, Drift pulled his swords and started on about threats when your servos grabbed at his shoulder plating, pulling him towards you.

“Liebling, cool it yah! He can’t comprehend such great poems.”

Optimus then started on about something. Drift dropped all arguments and just looked towards you, a smile coming from you and you both just looked back to Optimus.

The second time just happened was when you were both battling in london. He was in the blast radius of a con attack, being thrown back and you witnessed it. Running over to help him, your processor not being able to pick between german and english curse words before you made it in earshot of him.

“Mein Liebe! Are you okay? Are you hurt? Where does it hurt?”

Your servos move him around as he groans. He was too dazed to fully recognize what was going on, He had only picked up on Meine Liebe, that was new. A foot soldier that had been with you since the battle laughed a little. Your optics moved to look at him, a concerned look.

“‘My love’, what are you two in a relationship?”

This must have been what shook Drift from his daze. My love, you have been calling him My love, he felt honored.

“Well, It was easier to say when he didn’t know what it meant, soldier”

Your optics moved back to look at Drift. He was smiling at you, his body seemed to relax.

“I'm honored to know you call me that, My love.”

Now it was your turn to smile at him, He finally knew your feelings.

Crosshairs - Mahal ko(My Love)

Crosshairs was no shy bot, so when you showed up. He felt the urge to question you, make sure you weren't a ‘backstabbing con’. Which with the circumstance of your arrival it made sense. You had taken your time with showing up, but once he saw you transform, and the nice placement of the autobot symbol on your chassis, he knew you were somewhat okay. He found you interesting, the way you didn’t speak like the rest, the way you were just something else, it was kinda fascinating to him. You were fascinating to him, and that nickname you gave him, it sounded special, far too special for him. He didn’t do research, opting to just let you tell him when you're ready, and boy did it happen.

Minding your business, he makes some sort of gun, when it all blows up in his face. With an upset noise he turns around. Waving his servos around like it was nothing.

“It's okay Mahal ko, you’ll get it next time.”

The words of encouragement just weren't enough to get him to go at it again, instead his optics landed on you and in an instance, he had some questions.

“What does that even mean? You say it often, but not to anyone else. You calling me a name or something, cause if so i’ll,”

He cut himself off, you were simply just smiling at him and he was threatening you. You optics closed, you trusted him far too much.

“You are just something else,”

Your voice was so sweet, never weavering, never sounded bitter, he simply couldn’t get enough.

“If you wanna know so badly, It means my love.”

“My love, do you have some feelings for me or something?”

You smiled, he was so clueless. He stared at you, optics steady scanning your face for lies, but there were none.

“Nah, I don't believe you. What is this for you?”

“You're always asking what's in it for you.”

“Because there’s gotta be something, ain't no way you aint getting something outta this.”

“Nothing in this but you, your feelings.”

He stops, he always says let's use words but this time he was out of them. Your feelings really took the words outta him.

Sideswipe - Hermoso (Handsome)

With the rise in autobots showing up after Primes message, bots from all around the world and universe were showing up. One of the bots from around the world was you, coming from South America. You’d traveled around the world, but there was something about Spanish that just sat right with you. It felt so normal, so when you developed feelings for the bot you were constantly paired up with, you just got used to calling him handsome. It just wasn’t in english.

You two were cornered in a run down building, it was a two on four moment. You two were bumped back to back. You loaded your fusion cannon before speaking.

“How are we doing this, Hermoso?”

Your optics narrowed as you tried to pinpoint where they'd come from. Your servo lifting up your cannon. He laughed at your question, you could hear the smile in his voice.

“However, we must.”

He leaned his helm into the back of yours, almost to reassure you that the two of you will survive this.

“Hey, I’ve got a question, just in case something happens.”

You thought he’d ask how you wanted your sent off to be, and that's what filled your head before his question. You wanted him to be the one, the one to carry you, the one to remove your autobot symbol, the one to give your last words. You were taken out of your thoughts when he started talking, a light hearted tone.

“What’s Hermoso mean and why do you only call me that?”

You felt him lift up his swords and turn his helm to look over his shoulder plating. You laughed, just like you would if he told you a funny joke about brother.

“It means Handsome, and why only you, because you’re handsome, Harmoso.”

You turned around to face him, a smile on your face as he turned around on his skates to look at you.

“You clever bot.”

A smile appearing on his face as well, you simply nodded and closed your optics.

“I like it, now I’ve gotta have one for you.”

“Aww no need for that.”

You started moving back, the silence from no cons was starting to get worrying.

“Of course there is, you gave me a cute nickname, I gotta give you one back.”

“I'm sorry, are you reciprocating my feelings right now?”

He shrugged at you, before skating off. He was reciprocating your feelings.

Hound - Beaue(Lovely)

Hound had his shotgun pointed at Crosshairs helm, all the autobots were on the ship, and Crosshairs was kinda bullying the humans.

“Come on, let's use words.”

You reached around and placed your servo on the gun, pushing it down while whispering something to Hound.

“Beaue, let's calm down now.”

The group disperse, you and Hound, and the rest in pairs. You don't remember what you were looking for, but you just remember Hound clearing his throat.

“Huh, What’d you say?”

You tear your optics from whatever you're looking at to him.

“I said, what does that name you keep saying mean? Is it someone you're looking for.”

You laughed, placing your servos on your hips as you looked around.

“I'm not laughing, I wanna know. If I can help or not.”

“It’s not someone I'm looking for. It just means lovely. It's what I call the people I like.”

You got closer to him, you thought about touching him, placing your servo on his shoulder or arm, but with such high tensions from surroundings you decided against it. So you decided you’d explain what like meant in this scenario.

“Like, love, hints why its ‘my love’”

“You like me? Hard to believe, when there's a war going on.”

He turned around and continued to walk.

“Well war doesn’t stop love Hound.”

You laughed, and continued to follow him. You could further explain when you guys weren’t on some enemy ship.

#transformers #bayverse #transformers bayverse #drift x reader #crosshairs x reader #sideswipe x reader #hound x reader #tf drift #tf sideswipe #tf crosshairs #tf hound #transformers x reader #tf bayverse #tf x reader #stars writings

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imarvelatthestars · 10 months

Text

Fireworks

Pairings: Sergeant Hound x f!Reader

Warnings: none! just 4.9k words of tension & cuteness

Notes: Hound's appearance was inspired by some very cool art by heidiss on twitter. I also dropped a quick reference to @samspenandsword Fox series, The Coffee House, which truly sold me on being a Fox girlie.

You feel borderline sick. Thirty solid minutes of chasing down your sweet, stupid, panicked massiff from the local park to, well, wherever in the Sith hells you are now and not only do you feel close to collapsing, but your chest is tight and aching from adrenaline and anxiety. He’s a good boy, really, he’s such a sweetheart and he can be so fun and friendly once he gets to know someone, but Jaxjo’s also easily startled. The two of you have been working long and hard on soothing strategies for when he’s overwhelmed, for warming up to and trusting well-meaning strangers, but this day has gone from bad to worse in a matter of hours.

Some blocks down the (mercifully) mostly deserted walkway, you can see Jaxjo’s rump as he darts under a bench after a speeder zooms too close for his comfort. It hurts your heart to see him so worked up, but it’s also sending you into a spiral. What if he gets really scared and gets lost? What if he lashes out at someone and you have to put him down? What if another speeder comes by and he jumps out and everything goes horribly wrong and he gets hit? What if what if what if what if? Maker, you don’t want to lose your little boy. He makes your life so much brighter and happier. What if-

Another firework goes off, another problem to add to the already substantial list, and you feel your eyes start to pinprick along the waterline. Why not add a grounded explosion? A Separatist attack, maybe? A mugging? Just make a night of it! And then, as if you weren’t already at your wit’s end, you catch a flash of plastoid armor, white and red and gray, and your stomach plummets to your feet.

Jaxjo doesn’t see the Corrie at first, he’s too distracted by the remnants of fireworks sparking out overhead, but the Corrie sees you. Of course he does. Him and the other trooper doing rounds with him. You notice their helmets tilt and twist a bit, probably to allow for a conversation as they consider why you’re out in a back alley all by yourself at dusk.

You ignore the troopers. You whistle as loud as you can in that specific way that only Jax could recognize and start jingling his leash, and thank the Maker, it works! His head jerks to the side, tongue lolling out, and his body language softens for a moment. Sweet boy, he’s still so scared, but he knows his mom, he knows you mean safety.

“C’mere, boy!” you call as encouragingly as you can despite your throat threatening to close up on you. “Jax, c’mere!”

The Corries have stopped their patrolling and are now fully watching you. One of them, the one on the right with the strange looking helmet, has his arms crossed over his chest. This probably means they’ve decided you’re their evening entertainment or they’re lingering to see if you need help. Maybe? You haven’t interacted with enough troopers to accurately gauge what’s going on under those helmets.

“Sorry!” you shout across the street, a hand pointed in his direction. “He’s just scared of the fireworks!”

As if on cue, another one lights up the steadily darkening sky and the resulting boom is loud enough to rattle you down to your bones. Jaxjo whines loud and low. Then another firework goes off and your massiff goes bolting out from under the bench. He scrambles into the middle of the street, throws his head back and forth with the whites of his eyes on full display, and for a moment you think that he’ll come running right to you and you can finally take your boy home, but he barks, shivers like a leaf in a storm, and takes off at full speed, fangs bared. He’s zeroed in on the Corries. Oh Maker, no.

“Jaxjo! Jaxjo, no!” All logic goes flying out the window. Every special cue and direction you’ve learned to keep both him and yourself calm, it’s gone in an instant because it’s like your worst nightmare come to life. He’s going to attack one of the troopers and then you’ll have to put him down, probably even get fined on top of it and put on some ‘incompetent massiff owner’ list that’ll ban you for life, and and-

The trooper in the strange helmet steps forward. He’s not afraid of Jax’s growling, even though he really should be. You’re sprinting forward as fast you can, heart in your throat, whistling and shouting, and the trooper just holds out his hand and speaks. You don’t know what he says, but it’s like a switch flips in Jax’s brain. He stops mid-stride and just stares. Another firework goes off and Jax starts rather violently, but he doesn’t run.

It’s like you’re watching some kind of nature holo and this Corrie trooper is the reincarnation of Stirwin Eve. Within a matter of minutes, Jaxjo has crawled his way to the trooper’s feet and is cowering into his shin guards while the trooper gently pats his back. It’s magic, plain and simple.

You’re so stunned that you don’t even know what to say. You know something comes out of your mouth, some vague approximation of awestruck thanks, but you’re hardly aware of it. All you can think about is the fact that your boy didn’t go wild and bite a member of the Coruscant Guard and that he’s not going to get transported to the pound and put down because of your own stupidity.

The other trooper, the one whose armor looks more like what you’d expect, clears his throat. “You really should keep him on a leash, ma’am, especially during a fireworks display. It’s not safe to have massiffs off-leash in the city.”

A streak of irritation flares up behind your eyes, but you manage to swallow it with a smile, albeit a forced one. “Unfortunately, he broke out of the park earlier and I’ve been trying to catch him for the last half hour.” I’m not usually inclined to letting my anxious wreck of a massiff free when the mood strikes, is what you want to say. You opt for biting your tongue instead. “It won’t happen again, sir.”

The first trooper finally looks up at you. It’s quite the sight – a big anxious massiff, a Corrie squatting down next to him and offering treats and pets, and that strange helmet that keeps throwing you for a loop. He doesn’t say anything. He’s definitely looking at you; you can feel the weight of his gaze even through the visor. It’s compelling enough that when he extends his hand and wordlessly asks for your leash, you hand it over without a fight.

Jaxjo is quickly clipped on by his harness and the leash is returned to you loop first. The trooper pats him once more, then stands, and it hits you then just how intimidating a figure he cuts in the lowlight. The kama, the broad shoulders that bear his dark gray armor, the blaster rifle hanging from his free hand, the jagged triangles carved into his helmet flaps that look oddly reminiscent of massiff fangs, and the streaks of red over the crown of his head, it’s all a reminder that before you stands a soldier and officer of the Chancellor’s forces.

For kriff’s sake, he answers to the fucking Chancellor. You’re so damn lucky right now, you ought to get down on your hands and knees and thank every star in the sky that Jax didn’t completely lose his mind!

“Thank you.” The words sound strangled and foreign. “Sir. Uh, s-sorry, sir. It was an accident, it won’t happen again.” You vaguely recall already saying this, but it doesn’t hurt to reiterate. “Thank you.”

Five minutes later, you’re left standing under a streetlamp with a citation and leash in one hand and a serving of treats in the other. Jaxjo tilts his head back to look at you properly and whines.

“I know, buddy, I know.” Your head is starting to spin and the fireworks are only going to get worse. “Let’s go home.”

The knock that shatters the comfortable silence of your mid-levels apartment the next day sends Jaxjo into a barking frenzy. “Just a second!” you shout, although if you’re even audible is doubtful. You manage to get him into your bedroom after a bit of finagling and the barking only continues, but this way it’s at least manageable.

“Maker, I’m sorry,” you start as you press the door controls by the entry, “he gets all worked up with strangers and-”

You’re met with an eyeful of gray chest armor and massiff fangs painted on to a helmet, a hint of a vision screen under the red and white visor. Oh.

The two of you size each other up for a long moment until the trooper finally speaks and you feel some kind of dread curl up in the pit of your stomach. “I’m here for a follow up on your citation last night, ma’am.”

“I... wasn’t aware I needed one.”

The helmet tilts ever so slightly to one side. “It’s standard procedure for massiff incidents.”

At the risk of sounding repetitive - “I wasn’t aware there was an incident, sir.”

It’s one thing to be given a citation for having a massiff off-leash. You can understand that, even if it sucks. But to basically be insulted in your own home? That’s an entirely different story.

There’s a huff in between Jaxjo’s barking that accompanies the Corrie’s shifting body language. One of his hands settles on his right hip and he dips his chin a bit, perhaps to look at you more directly? “If I could come inside, ma’am, I’d be able to explain better.”

“I’m not under arrest or something, am I?”

And you could almost swear you hear him laugh, but that would be ridiculous. And rude. Impertinent, even. “No, ma’am. Now may I come inside?”

He’s tall. You noticed it last night, but you notice it again when he’s able to stand in comparison to your furniture and appliances. And he’s fucking built, too. I mean, it’s ridiculous. His thighs alone are enough to make you do a double take. Not that you’re intentionally looking, of course, but you do have eyes. They almost bug out of your head when the helmet comes off.

It strikes you then that you’ve never seen a clone without their helmet on, not up close. You’ve always been aware of a flash of brown skin and usually dark hair from what you’ve caught on the news or when you happen to pass by the barracks, but Maker, you never thought they looked this good. Angular brows above kaf-colored eyes, a long, broad nose, pursed lips, and a beautifully rounded jaw and chin decorated with greyish black tattoos that echo the massiff design on his helmet. Between that, his dark hair that’s grown just long enough along the top to start coiling, and the thick trunk of his neck, and it’s a wonder you’re still standing. He’s gorgeous.

You’re spared the embarrassment of getting caught oggling him, though (for which you send a prayer of thanks to anyone listening), because he’s busy studying your front room. “Where’s Jaxjo?” he asks. Right. Back to business.

Your head turns in the direction of the alarmed barking that’s slowly morphing into a restless whine. “Uh, he’s in my room. I didn’t want him getting too riled up and slipping out. Why-”

“I’m a specially trained massiff handler. I run the CG’s K-9 unit.” He pauses for a moment to peel off his gloves and toss them onto the back of your sofa where he’s balanced his helmet. You make an effort not to look. “Which means I’m also in charge of handling massiff incidents with the public.”

“But there wasn’t an incident,” you sigh. “He didn’t bite anyone, or hurt anyone, he was just scared. You even managed to calm him down.”

The trooper raises an eyebrow. “As his handler, you should be able to control him yourself.”

And there’s that spark of irritation again, quickly blossoming into a full flame as heat spreads across your face and chest. “I can. I didn’t realize there was going to be an unplanned fireworks display or I would’ve kept him home yesterday. But there was. He got out, I chased him down, and I would’ve been able to calm him down eventually, but you just happened to beat me to it.” It’s not a lie, but it’s not the entire truth either. You’d been worried sick last night about Jax’s behavior. You just don’t want this guy to know that and it’s making you angry.

The trooper’s hands move to settle on his hips as his ribcage steadily expands and deflates. His head is tilted toward the floor as he listens to Jaxjo whine. He thinks for a moment, chewing on the inside of his cheek before finally glancing in your direction once more.

“I’m sure your boy's a good one, ma’am, and I can tell he means something t’ you. But you’re also concerned about his behavior and that means I’m concerned, too.” Can he see right through you? Surely you’re not that transparent. “Why don’t you let him out and I’ll see what we’re working with?”

Woah. There’s no we. There’s you and Jaxjo, and that’s it! However this man is able to see through your frustration and pinpoint exactly what’s bothering you, you’ll probably never know, but just because he’s wearing Corrie red doesn’t mean that he can just waltz in here and claim concern over your massiff’s behavior! You have half a mind to give this trooper a piece of it when his hand reaches into your line of vision and settles on the back of the sofa, just inches away from where your elbow brushes the fabric, and you still. You swallow. You look up.

His voice is gentle when he speaks, thoughtful. “I’ve been working with K-9s for years now. I can tell when something’s off and respectfully, ma’am, I picked up on it from you.”

It’s like the entire planet comes to a screeching halt. You almost can’t find it in you to be mad when he’s speaking so softly. Instead, you feel dazed and more than a little helpless.

“He’s a shelter rescue, isn’t he?”

Kriff, is this guy psychic or something? Maybe he has Jedi mind powers.

“Yeah, uh, I got him from the shelter about a year ago.” Your voice is all congested from the effort of holding back your tears, but the Corrie is polite enough not to mention it. “He’s just scared, that’s all. He was a stray before I got him.”

He smiles a bit, it’s little more than a quirk in the corners of his mouth, but the way his cheeks dimple causes the light to catch on a scar you hadn’t noticed at first. It’s a grouping of three faint, jagged lines that run from just below his eye to his jaw. Massiff claws.

“I’ve worked with ones like him before and they’re not lost causes. I might be able to help,” he prompts. His brows have angled upward and it gives his entire face a softer look. “May I?”

Jaxjo whines again and starts scratching at the door. He’s a good boy, really. He tries his best. He just has some issues you haven’t been able to figure out yet. It hurts that all the work you’ve put in over the past year hasn’t fixed it all like you thought it would, but now there’s an opportunity to make things better. Someone who knows more about massiffs than you do and is willing to help.

In the end, though, is there really any question? You’d do anything for your little guy.

You nod and offer the trooper a half-hearted smile. “Sure. Thank you.”

He’s amazing. They’re both amazing. Hound works hard and Jaxjo works even harder, and you’re truly proud of them both. It’s been nearly three weeks now of retraining and reinforcement. Jax has learned that some people are safe, people like Hound and his fellow troopers in the Guard, he’s remembered that even when he’s afraid, you’re there to protect him, and most important of all, you’ve learned that the Coruscant Guard isn’t as bad as you always thought it was. Even if they technically work for the Chancellor.

It’s also been three weeks of seeing Hound in a new light. He charmed the pants off Jaxjo and without even meaning to, he’s nearly charmed yours off into another dimension. Maker, he’s funny and smart and incredibly patient. He has this specific way of smiling that’s reserved and comforting, and it never fails to make your heart race, even if he’s just smiling at another massiff. And despite all his strength and the intimidating aura his armor, tattoos, and scars give off, he’s really one of the sweetest people you’ve ever met.

So of course, you had to go and fall for him. Of all the inconvenient, idiotic, irritating things you could’ve done, you just had to catch a glimpse of the man beneath the persona and decide that he was the one you wanted. Stupid. In what world would he ever fall for you, the woman who was a nervous wreck upon your first meeting, the woman who couldn’t properly train her own massiff, the woman that he only met because his buddy had to give you a citation? Not to mention, the man is so handsome that he’s painfully out of your league. He ought to be arm candy for some rich holo star or a beautiful senator, not, well, you. It’s a lost cause. Totally doomed.

You want to ask him out for kaf. There’s a place about five minutes from your apartment that makes the best kaf on the planet and the owner’s known for being friendly with the clones. (You’re pretty sure her name is Beanie, but that could be just a rumor.) Hound’s bound to be the most comfortable there, it’s in a public area so he doesn’t feel trapped in your place and you don’t have to track him down by the senate or the barracks. It’s a great idea and you know if he says yes that it’ll be a nice time. You hope, at least. You really, truly hope it will be. You’re just not sure that he’ll say yes.

It takes the entire training session for you to work up the courage to ask, which only serves to distract you when you should be paying attention. Your mind keeps wandering to every possible ‘what-if’. What if he says no? It’ll be embarrassing and he might not help with Jax’s training for much longer, but you’d be okay in the end. It wouldn’t kill you. What if he says yes? Well, you’ll probably forget how to speak and make a fool out of yourself, but it’s nothing he hasn’t seen already. What if he ditches you at the café? What if he shows up? What if he enjoys himself? What if you enjoy yourself? What if your hands touch when you reach for the napkins and he looks into your eyes and then he leans in and-

“...ink your buir’s stopped paying attention, eh boy?”

Jaxjo wiggles his rump and snuffs in Hound’s direction, which is enough to properly pull you back to the present. You blink the romantic haze from your eyes and give your best apologetic smile; Hound simply laughs.

“Sorry, just thinking. I’m paying attention, I promise.”

You receive a disbelieving eyebrow arch in response. “Must be serious. You’re not usually this distracted.”

You take a moment to compose yourself before you blurt out a goofy response. The last thing you need is to spill the beans before you’re even sure if he notices you’re a woman. So you watch the way Jaxjo forces his snout under Hound’s palm, how his tongue lolls out over his fangs and his eyes perk up when Hound gives him a good scratch by his ear hole. He’s so good with him. You’d even go so far as to say -

“You’re good for each other.”

That sends both of his eyebrows rocketing up. “Yeah?”

Your heart goes all warm and fuzzy. Dumb. Stupid. Embarrassing. Crush. Dammit. “Yeah. He responds really well to you and I can tell you’re really good with him. He trusts you.” I trust you, is what you leave unspoken.

“Well, he’s got a good role model,” he says after a moment. “I hope you’re not trying t’ give him to me because-”

“No! Kriff, no, of course not. I just... I dunno, I noticed.”

Hound smiles and his dimples go straight to your heart. “He’s a good boy.”

“He is.”

The room goes quiet apart from Jaxjo’s panting and the wild thumping of your heartbeat. He probably can’t hear it. Probably. Sure would be embarrassing if he could. Or if he could see it jumping out at your throat. You lay your palm flat against it just in case.

“Is that what you were thinking so hard about?”

“Yes” is what you mean to say. “No” is what comes out.

“Then what?”

You gesture vaguely. “Oh, just...” Anything, literally pick anything! The flexing of the muscles in the back of his hand catches your eye. For kriff’s sake, anything but that! “You’re probably gonna be leaving soon, once he’s properly trained.” Okay, okay, that’s good. Viable excuse. Good job. And then your mouth runs away with you again. “And I’ll miss having you around.”

Death would be a less painful option than whatever fresh hell your current reality is. You make a frantic attempt at backpedaling by clarifying that you and Jax would both miss him and all the very professional advice and help he’s given you, but the more you speak the more your ears start to burn and you start to fold in on yourself. This is quickly turning into a transport wreck and there’s seemingly nothing you can do to stop it.

Normally Hound’s laugh would be enough to make your cheeks burn and your stomach go all fluttery, but right now it only makes you feel like an idiot. You squeeze your eyes shut, focus on being a totally normal person who knows how to have a totally normal conversation.

“Heh. Sorry about that.” Like you just bumped into him in the lift or you accidentally cut him in line. You can’t look him in the eyes. Totally normal. “My tongue got all twisted up. That was silly.”

Jaxjo whines when Hound steps around him. You’re close to whining yourself, you’re so embarrassed. You want to go hide in the bathroom for ten minutes and simply never speak to another soul ever again. Surely that will solve everything.

“What d’you think, Jax? D’you think your buir’s being silly?”

Hound’s smiling that terribly fond smile of his and you know he’s looking at you, trying to catch your eye, but you refuse to glance any higher than his nose. That beautiful nose. You’re not sure why it does something for you, but it certainly does. You can’t help wondering what it would feel like pressed into your cheek if he kissed you.

He takes another step and now he’s standing right in front of you, towering over you, the breadth of his shoulders taking up your entire field of vision. He’s so close that you have to tilt your head back to look at him. Except you’re not looking at him. There’s a spot on his cheek where one of his scars meets his tattoo that has your attention.

“What does that mean?” you ask. “Buir?” It’s a poor replication of the way he says it.

“Parent. Mom for you, cyar’ika.”

Maker, why is his voice so soft all of a sudden? And he’s so close! You can smell his cologne, musky and masculine, and it’s so intoxicating that you have to fight to keep your eyes from rolling back. What is this man doing to you?

“Do you think about that often?”

When did your throat get so dry? “About what?”

The lump in his throat bobs when he swallows. “Me leaving.”

Danger! Danger! There’s a siren going off in the back of your head. All that bravado you’d been saving up since the start of the session is oozing out of your ears. He’s getting way too close to the truth of the matter and now that he’s there, you’re not sure you want him to know. You’re sure he’s just playing with you now and it should make you mad, it does, but then... he smells so good and his skin looks so soft and you really, really like him, and won’t he just give you a chance? Would that be so bad?

“No.”

“Are you sure?” Hound’s exhale hits your cheeks. “Because I’ve thought about it.”

He doesn’t mean it the way you do. He can’t. You want him to. Does he?

A surge of adrenaline gives you enough courage to look up through your lashes and properly gauge his expression, and you swear your knees go weak at the sight of his pupils blown out and his brows knit together in the softest expression he’s ever made. You might even venture out to say he looks nervous.

“I’ve been dreading the day he doesn’t need me anymore.” His voice is trembling a bit, but its timbre is low and rough and that stunning accent of his seems thicker now. “Then I won’t have an excuse t’ come see you anymore.”

Oh. The realization hits you so hard that you have to take a step back, lean into your sofa to keep from toppling over. He wants to be here, he comes to see you on purpose. He... likes you? The way you like him?

Your hand settles at the hollow of your throat as you attempt to find the words to express yourself. “Hound, I... I hope I’m reading you correctly. I mean, I hope-”

“Do you need me t' spell it out for you?” he breathes.

Fuck, maybe you do. You nod. “Maybe?”

He smiles, his cheeks dimple, your stomach devolves into flutter-bys as he rests a hand on the sofa backing right by your waist. He’s caging you in, slowly but surely. You’ll let him. His scent and his chest fill your senses as he crowds around you until you’re completely pinned to the furniture and the only other place to go is into him. Your mind starts racing because he’s so impossibly close and he’s even more beautiful, and what if he can feel your stomach against his, what if he can see your every pore and stray hair, and what if he likes you and what if he doesn’t?

“I’d like t' kiss you.”

Finally, blessedly, you smile. “I’d like that, too.”

His touch is feather-light on your cheek, but you can still make out the callouses lining the palm of his hand, the scent of leather and sweat and blaster residue. Jaxjo huffs. And then Hound kisses you. He’s warm and soft, just like you imagined he would be, and the taste of him is pleasant. There’s a hint of kaf lingering on his lips that you absently chase after with your tongue, but he takes it as a cue to open up for you. Your tongue stutters for a moment and he starts to pull back once he senses it, but you can’t let him pull away, not when this is everything you want, when he’s here and willing and so, so sweet.

Your hand cups the back of his neck as you surge forward and sweep your tongue into his mouth, up and over his teeth until it rubs against his and he sighs against you. It’s all a blur after that. His fingers wind up fisted in your clothes and your hands are pressing into his chest, smoothing over his shoulders, rubbing over the shaved section of his hair, and you can’t stop a single one of the happy, contented little sounds that he manages to pull from you.

Until Hound suddenly lurches into you and you both go toppling over the back of the sofa. Hound winds up going literal head over heels and lands in a very undignified pile at the base of the sofa while you end up half on, half off the cushions with your feet dangling over the top. Jaxjo’s happy little face pops up between your ankles. He’s all eyes and tongue and drool, and the very picture of feigned innocence.

You finally find your courage between bouts of laughter when you tilt your head so it’s hanging off the sofa and dare to nuzzle Hound’s shoulder with your nose. His eyes are twinkling when he looks at you.

“Hey,” you chuckle.

“Hey.”

“You wanna know what I was really thinking about?” He nods and you think you feel one of those fireworks go off in your chest. “I was thinking maybe we could go get kaf sometime, just the two of us.”

There’s a spark of mischief in the look he gives you. “What, no Jaxjo?”

You roll your eyes. “Jaxjo, Shmaxjo. I’m not interested in him.”

His hand settles along your jawline, gentle and sensual and blush inducing. “But you’re interested in me, huh?”

“Shut up, maybe I am.”

Hound smirks, probably the first true smirk you’ve ever seen on him. “Good,” he says before granting you another kiss. “I’m interested in you too, cyar’ika.”

“And what does that mean?”

He noses at your forehead and huffs a laugh just substantial enough to stir your eyelashes. “I’ll tell you over kaf sometime.”

prompt: fireworks 🎆✔️

@clonexreaderbingo

taglist: @dystopicjumpsuit

#arf trooper hound #sergeant hound #sergeant hound x reader #sergeant hound x you #hound x reader #hound x you #star wars #tcw #cfb2023 #my first venture into the corries!! i haven't read much hound stuff but i think i did p good!#tried to give him my own twist since i'm not sure what all the corrie guard headcanons are #his appearance is also inspired by barb wire era tem and the fact that i'm a goner for stupidly handsome men with nice hair

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rare-clone-fic-exchange · 7 months

Text

Blindsided (Hound x reader)

Summary: When you're tackled by a massiff on your morning commute, you never could have predicted it would end in a date.

Pairing: Sgt. Hound x reader

Rating: M but minors DNI

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: Grizzer being the bestest girl; reader nearly gets stood up but it works out in the end; Hound being somehow suave and put together and also a mess; suggestive/fade-to-black; first kisses

A/N: This one is for @idoubleswearimawriter ! Hope you enjoy, babes. This was super fun and I know am an Official™ Hound simp. I hope I did him justice!!

“Grizzer! Ke’mot!”

The harsh command shouted across the busy Coruscant square makes heads turn, yours included. Just in time, too—there’s a flash of muted browns and a streak of pink before you’re tackled to the ground. Your belongings scatter, and you just manage to avoid cracking your head on the steel walkway. Dull pain blooms everywhere else, though. For a moment, anger flares inside you. Who let their pet off its leash?

Then, a warm, sandpapery tongue licks the side of your face. Giggling, you hold your hands up to ward off the obviously dangerous attack, anger fizzling into delight. You push yourself into a sitting position to find yourself face-to-face with a very wiggly massiff who, upon realizing you’re not hurt, turns her entire body to thump her rear against you. The look she gives you over her shoulder seems to be pleading: C’mon, give me scritches! And who are you to deny such a request?

Glancing around, you discover with belated embarrassment that you’re the center of attention. At least bystanders are beginning to lose interest and drift away, resuming their commutes. A single person being knocked prone by a K-9 massiff is barely enough to result in petty gossip on Coruscant.

Hang on, K-9? You do a double take—sure enough, on the massiff’s harness are the two letters emblazoned in bold white font.

“Am I in trouble, huh, girl?” you ask the massiff.

“Grizzer!”

Snapping your head up, you locate the source of the gruff voice. Cutting through the crowd like a vibroknife is one of the Coruscant Guard; helmeted, but the design is unlike any of the other troopers you’ve observed from afar. The side plates extend down, painted in the visage of a snarling massiff; a red stripe runs down the center of his visor. He halts a few feet away, fists planted on his hips.

You clack your jaw shut, realizing you’re staring. “This your dog?”

The massiff, Grizzer you assume, whines quietly. She takes her weight off of you but remains close as she snuffles at your pockets.

“Grizzer,” the trooper repeats, his voice cold and unforgiving through the vocabulator, “gev.”

Reluctantly, Grizzer trots to her handler, her head hanging low, tongue lolling between her teeth. She settles at his feet, her eyes trained on his helmeted face.

The trooper raises his head so his visor fixes you with a blank, impersonal stare. “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” you say. A groan slips from your throat as you stand, pain flaring in your tailbone, but you wave away the concerned way the trooper takes a step forward. “I’m fine, just took me by surprise.”

“She’s normally well-behaved,” he says. “I don’t know what got into her.”

Chuckling as you rub your sore coccyx, you shrug. “Whatever it is, I promise I’m not carrying anything illegal.”

“I should hope not,” he says, “otherwise I’d have to arrest you.”

Your laugh turns awkward. “It might just be the massiff treats in my pocket.”

“The—what? Why do you have that?” The tone of his voice is incredulous and suspicious, like he’s never met someone else who carries the specially formulated treats.

“I work at an animal rescue,” you explain.

“Right,” he says. “Understood.”

Silence slithers between the two of you for a long, uncomfortable moment. Your skin prickles where you imagine the trooper’s gaze to be trailing over you.

You clear your throat. “Right. Yes. Well, I should—”

“Of course. I’m sorry—”

“It’s alright,” you assure. Plucking your bag from where it fell from your grasp, you give the trooper a little wave, then glance down at the massiff. Fishing a now-smushed treat from your pocket, you toss it to her. She snaps it out of the air with lightning-quick reflexes. “Keep an eye on her.”

“I will,” he says with a curt nod.

And that’s that. You gather the rest of your belongings and watch as the trooper leads the massiff away without a second glance. Sighing, you turn away, putting the incident from your mind as you hurry to work.

---

A week later, standing in line at your favorite caf shop, you huddle beneath your umbrella as rain cascades from the sky. It’s your day off, the first one you’ve had in weeks, and of course the weather has to be shitty. You’re doing your best to not let it affect your mood. You don’t want to spend the day wallowing. But, you reflect with a sigh, moving with the line, that’s easier said than done.

The wind is cold as it whips through the narrow street, but the rain is colder where it mists onto your exposed face. Shivering, you turn your head away from the breeze—

And catch sight of a familiar duo. Motionless beneath the neighboring shop’s awning, stand Grizzer and her helmeted handler. You glance away, hoping your moment of ogling went unnoticed. By the time you reach the front of the line and order your usual hot drink and pastry, you think you’re in the clear.

“Five credits,” the barista says.

Fishing in your pocket for your money, you fail to notice the armored presence sidle up alongside you until he speaks.

“Bill that to the Chancellor’s office,” he says.

Behind the counter, the barista pops her bubblegum and gives a shrug, while you gape at the trooper.

“I— What—?”

“I never said sorry last week,” he says, like that explains everything.

You frown. “You did, though.”

“Did I?” He rubs the back of his neck, and the gesture makes your stomach squirm pleasantly for some reason. “Hah. Coulda swore I... Well. Grizzer didn’t apologize, now did she?”

Arching an eyebrow, you fix him with a level, deadpan stare. It’s cute, actually, the way that he’s trying to be nice, and while his technique is certainly interesting, you’re unsure of his actual motivations. He fidgets under your gaze. Fiddling with the loop of Grizzer’s leash, he drops his head.

“Thank you,” you finally say, putting him out of his misery.

Cradling the umbrella in the crook of your arm, you accept your items from the barista with a grateful smile. The trooper hurries to get out of your way as you step out of line, not wanting to make yet another scene. At your hip, Grizzer nuzzles you, an intelligent light shining in her eyes.

“Oh, ah.” You fumble for a moment but you manage to get your pastry tucked beneath your arm so that you can lean down awkwardly to give Grizzer a pat on her head. “Hey, girl. I don’t have any treats on me today. You been good? Have you tackled any more strangers?”

She pants happily and licks your hand. You snort.

You can feel the trooper’s gaze heavy on your face while you lavish affection on the massiff, and you suppress a shiver. While you’ve never really interacted with the clone troopers much, you’ve heard second- and third-hand accounts of how helpful the Coruscant Guard is in particular. Clearly, they train well not only in combat but also in manners, if your mystery man is any indication.

“What’s your name?” you ask, still keeping your attention on Grizzer.

“Hound,” he says, and his tone makes you think no one has ever asked him that before. No civilian, anyway.

“Hound,” you repeat, a smile ghosting your lips. When you give him your name in return, he nods once.

“I should let you get back to your day,” he says.

You’re about to agree, about to make some lame joke about how he’s probably got more important duties than babysitting you, but something makes you pause. Maybe it’s the way that Grizzer leans her body against your leg, or maybe it’s the butterflies that continue to beat against the insides of your stomach after Hound’s display of shyness a few moments ago, but you find a giddy kind of warmth well up in your chest.

So instead, you say, “Do you— I mean, are clones given time off?”

His helmet snaps to you; you have his full attention. “Why do you ask?”

“I was just thinking that...” You chew at the inside of your cheek, suddenly bashful. “Oh, I dunno. I was hoping maybe I could buy you a drink to say thank you.”

“You already said it.” His voice sounds reserved, cautious.

Throwing your own caution to the wind, cold as it is, you flutter your eyelashes, ignoring the way your heart pounds in your chest. “Sure, but I didn’t tell Grizzer, did I?”

He seems to get the hint. “Oh. Well. Yes. I mean, no. I mean— Kriff. Yes, clones get time off. I’m off duty tonight, around 7.”

“Great.” You smile at him, wide and genuine, and he seems to relax. “I’ll meet you at Dex’s at 8, then.”

---

Eight o’clock comes and goes. You’d arrived to Dex’s early to snag a good booth, not one that would give the impression that this is anything more than a light-hearted get-together with a man whose face you’ve never seen (because no, you don’t count the fact that they’re clones—they’re unique individuals), but also not one so close to the front door as to give the idea that you want an easy escape route.

The server droid had only waited so long before prompting you to order or get out. So you ordered. May as well make the most of the situation, right? At least, that’s what you keep telling yourself as you pick at your meal. Normally, Dex’s is one of your favorites, a guilty pleasure. But tonight, the comfort of the greasy food does little to quell the sting that pulses through you with each beat of your heart.

Foolish. Stupid, silly, naive of you to hinge any expectations on this meeting. It had been a spur of the moment decision, certainly not one that you’d normally entertain for yourself, so why does his absence leave such a bitter taste in your mouth?

Not wanting to go back to your apartment, though, you sigh and spend a few hours scrolling on your datapad. Grateful you’d thought to bring it with you, you’re able to catch up on the latest holoforums you’re a part of. By the time the clock reads 10, you sigh, locking the device and leaving a handful of credits on the table for the server droid.

At least the rain has let up. Where the ground is still slick and puddled with rainwater, you trudge through, splashing yourself. The sky remains heavy with pregnant clouds, oppressive in their proximity to the city.

The bright neon lights of Dex’s sheds illumination for dozens of feet, and you’re still within that radius when a voice calls your name. You pause, frowning. Again, your name echoes to you, and when you turn, your eyes widen at the sight awaiting you.

Hound—because it can only be Hound, being the only clone trooper you’ve ever talked to—jogs through puddles, his heavy boots thudding on the permacrete ground. Gone is his armor; instead, he wears a tight-fitting black tee (is that a tattoo you see peeking out on the inside of his bicep?), muted green combat pants, and, draped over one arm, a black leather jacket. His dark curls coil nearly to his shoulders, bouncing with each step as he stumbles to a halt in front of you. Panting, he peers up at you through his eyelashes, hands on his knees.

“Hound?” you ask, equal parts confused, bewildered, and hurt.

“I’m so sorry, mesh’la,” he says. Without the filter of the helmet, his voice is deep and rich, with the barest hint of gruffness, an old engine turning over for the first time in years. “Huge security incident right before my shift ended. I couldn’t get away.”

You wait until he catches his breath to respond. Once he stands up straight once more, his weathered and lined face pinched with concern, you sigh.

“S’alright,” you say.

He shakes his head. “Next time, I’ll need your comm so I can let you know.”

“Next time?” you say, the barest hint of a grin tugging at your lips.

“If you want there to be one,” he immediately says. “Kriff, I— I’m not good at this.”

Warmth surges through your fingertips at his admission. Shaking away the funk you’ve been in for the past few hours, you offer him your hand. “C’mon.”

He blinks at your outstretched palm. “What?”

“Come on,” you say again. “I don’t think I can sit in Dex’s any more tonight, but I’ve got food at home if you’re hungry.”

Tentatively, like he’s afraid you’ll explode into smoke when he touches you, he reaches for your hand. His skin is rough and hot against yours, his fingers calloused from years of training. Adding to the texture is a massive scar that travels from his palm all the way up to the outside of his forearm near his elbow; he must see the way your eyes widen when you spot it because he chuckles breathlessly.

“I, uh, got that from a training accident,” he says. “Over-eager massiff puppy.”

Nodding, you can only tug him along with you as you lead the way back to your apartment. If he were anyone else, you’d never even consider bringing him home like this; but he’s a member of the Coruscant Guard. And besides, you’ve already thrown out any expectations for this to be a normal night.

The air is humid and thick as you walk, both a promise and a reminder of rain. Your skin feels sticky. Next to you, Hound seems lost in thought, impervious and oblivious to the world around him.

You nudge him gently with your shoulder. “Credit for your thoughts?”

He blinks at you. “Sorry. Just... can I be honest with you?”

“Sure.” You keep your eyes facing forward, perplexed by his question.

“I’m glad Grizzer clobbered you.”

You laugh, loud and genuine, your head thrown back. And once you start, you can’t stop, the giggles bubbling up your chest without end. Tears dew at the corners of your eyes. Hound digs his heels in and stops walking, pulling you to a stop as well.

“I’m s-sorry,” you gasp out. “That’s a very apt word for what she did. And not at all what I expected you to say.”

His wounded expression softens slightly. “Well, what did you expect?”

Hiccuping, you shrug. “I dunno. Not that, though. I apologize for laughing. Please, continue.”

He squints at you like he’s unsure of whether he should believe you, but then he sighs. “Alright. I was saying, that I’m glad she did that, because then I wouldn’t have been able to meet you.”

That sobers you up. Biting at your bottom lip, you smile, but say nothing, sensing there’s more he wants to say.

“My vod’e—brothers, they teased the hell outta me for letting Grizzer get loose,” he says. He rubs the back of his neck, the same gesture that first endeared him to you earlier today. “But if it means that I got to buy someone as attractive as you their coffee, worth it.”

“Technically, you charged it to the Chancellor’s office,” you remark, smile turning wry.

“Have you never heard the phrase ‘it’s the thought that counts’?”

You snort. “Point taken.”

The two of you begin walking again, palms still pressed together. Against your skin, his heat is a comfort, holding at bay any chill the night air seems determined to impart. You sneak a glance at him. In the yellow glow of the streetlights, his tanned skin glows, ethereal, beautiful.

“Hey,” you say, voice soft, “I’m glad I met you, too.”

The look he gives you makes your breath catch. Swallowing against the sudden lump in your throat, you tug him along, walking faster. Your apartment isn’t far from here, and you want as much time as you can afford getting to know this man.

---

You make him a quick dinner, nothing fancy, but he wolfs it down with voracity and gumption, a look of bliss scrawled over his features. As you lean your forearms on your kitchen counter, you can’t help the small spark of attraction that kindles to life deep in your belly. He looks so...at peace in your small apartment, tanned skin glowing in the incandescent lights caged above the kitchen island.

A thought occurs to you, and you startle into action. “Oh! I almost forgot!”

Hound hums his curiosity, mouth still full of food.

“I promised you a thank-you drink,” you say over your shoulder. Rummaging through your cabinets, you snag two dusty shot glasses and a half-empty bottle of dark whiskey. You rinse the glasses, then, with only a few spilled drops, pour two shots.

Hound places his empty bowl in the sink. He crooks one eyebrow at you. “When was the last time you drank this?”

Squinting in thought, you pause with the small glass perched between your fingers. “I...honestly couldn’t tell you.”

“Well,” he says, a warm, teasing smile ghosting over his features, “suppose I should feel honored.”

Clink. Knocking back the shot, you shudder at the burn of the alcohol as it slides down your throat. It settles with comfortable heat in your stomach. Hound grimaces, sucking his teeth.

“Kark,” he mutters. “I can see why you don’t drink it often.”

Chuckling, you shake your head. “C’mon. I’ve got some sweets we can wash it down with.”

You retrieve an unopened box of chocolates and rip open the packaging as you lead the way to the sofa. You settle into one corner of the plush couch, and Hound curls into the opposite corner; you perch the chocolates on the cushion between you. He looks...good, relaxing into your couch the way he is.

Emboldened by the strong alcohol now coursing in your system, you gesture to the sweets. “Wanna play a game?”

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“The rules.”

You snort. “The rules are that you only get to eat a chocolate if you answer a question the other person asks. If you don’t answer, you don’t eat.”

Hound’s eyebrows twitch upward as if in curiosity. “What kinds of questions?”

Shrugging, you gesture vaguely around the room. “Whatever you want to know.”

“I already know what your job is and where you live,” he muses. “And what pastry you like. What else is there to know?”

You narrow your eyes at him, trying to decide if he’s being facetious or if he genuinely just has no interest in learning more about you. Kriff, have you misread this entire situation? Your palms begin to sweat.

Then his face breaks into a sly grin. “I’m kidding. C’mon. Ask me a question.”

“Dick,” you mutter, giving him a playful glance. Then, you sigh. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Really, that’s what you want to know?” He rolls his eyes, giving an exaggerated head roll to go with it. “Of all the questions you could possibly ask—”

“It’s a perfectly acceptable question!” you interrupt, outraged. “Let’s see you ask something better then!”

He huffs. “Fine. What was the name of your first massiff?”

Suppressing an eye roll of your own, you sigh and pluck a chocolate from the box. “Spike.”

“How original.”

“I was a child!”

“So was I.” A grin plays at his lips.

“Yeah? What did you name yours?” you challenge, then pop the chocolate into your mouth.

He’s silent for a few seconds too long, his eyes looking everywhere but at you, and a victorious grin curls over your lips.

“You named yours Spike, too, didn’t you?”

“Maybe,” he grumbles.

Laughing, you nudge the box of chocolates towards him. “Technically, that was a question.”

He inspects the box. Once he chooses his first sweet and bites into it, his eyes slide shut and he groans in appreciation. Your core pleasantly lurches at the sound.

And so the game goes. You swap stories about your youth: his training on Kamino, your upbringing in the Coruscanti upper levels. You tell him about your dreams for the future, and he muses, however briefly, on what the end of the war might bring for clones. At some point, the chocolate supply dwindles, until there’s only one left.

Mostly you talk about massiffs. His eyes light up when he recounts memories of Boomer, Tusk, and Spike, and his early days with Grizzer. His enthusiasm and passion for the creatures is infectious; you find yourself entranced by the direct gestures he uses, the sweep of his tongue over his lips when he pauses between sentences, the sparkle in his eye when he recalls a particularly feisty massiff. In your chest, your heart pounds. You’ve never been able to resist a man who is good at his job and passionate about it to boot.

“There’s that look again,” he says softly, drawing you out of your thoughts.

Heat flushes up your neck to your face. “What look?”

“The one you just gave me,” he says with a teasing smirk.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Which is, of course, a lie. If you had to guess, you were giving him bedroom eyes.

“That so?”

You hum in affirmation.

His topaz gaze holds your own for a few moments longer than necessary. The uncomfortable, embarrassed heat in your face morphs into something more pleasant, more aroused. Letting your gaze wander, you catch the shallow breaths he takes, the way his tongue darts out to wet his lips yet again, the fist he clenches along the back of the sofa. When you meet his eyes again, they’re darker.

“Hound?”

“Yes, mesh’la?”

A shiver dances up your spine, his voice taking on a rumbling quality. “One more question for you.”

“Ask away.” His gaze searches your features.

“Can I kiss you?”

He blinks at you, full lips parting in surprise. Then, quicker than you can react, he snatches the very last chocolate in the box and stuffs it in his mouth. “Yesth,” he lisps around it.

Heart leaping up into your throat, you carefully set the now empty tray of sweets on the coffee table, then crawl across the couch cushions to him. He watches with half-lidded eyes and shifts to face you, stretching his legs beneath your form. Straddling his hips, you gently, uncertainly, rest your hands on his broad shoulders. His hands find home at your waist—not low enough to touch you anywhere you don’t want, but their solidness and warmth make you shudder with delight.

“If that’s okay, I mean,” you breathe out. This close, you can see the flecks of darker brown in his golden eyes, and count the freckles on his nose.

“Please,” he murmurs.

Tilting your head down, you brush your lips against his, testing. A groan rumbles out of his chest; his arms slide around you in an enveloping embrace, hugging you closer. His mouth moves against yours softly yet no less intensely for it. You whimper, head spinning.

When you pull away, you don’t move very far, Hound’s arms still wrapped solidly around you. He gives you a soft, timid smile—so unlike the gruff, sarcastic trooper who’s been trading quips with you all night. Rubbing your thumb over his cheek, you return the smile.

Ignoring the surge of need in your lower belly, you sigh. “I need you to know I don’t normally do this.”

“I believe you,” he says, tone as quiet as yours. “But I want you to.”

Searching his eyes, you find nothing there but sincerity and the beginnings of lust. Capturing his lips in another kiss, you give yourself to this strong, stolid, snarky man. He carries you to your room, undressing you reverently, lavishing your skin with kisses and praise. His hands are everywhere, grabbing, squeezing, feeling you; in return, your own hands roam his toned body, delighting in the rippling muscle beneath his skin.

And when he slides home within you, you both sigh, fingers twined together. He draws you, slow and languid and breathless, to the edge again and again, murmuring sweet praises in your ear.

After, pressed to his sweaty skin, chest heaving with exertion, you kiss each of his fingertips. Under your ear, his heart beats loud and steady; slowly, its rate lowers as you both unwind. He trails his hand over the expanse of your back. Rubbing in methodical strokes, his touch lulls you to the brink of sleep.

You startle yourself awake. “Hound?”

“Yes, mesh’la?” he murmurs.

“Remind me to give Grizzer extra treats,” you say, voice thick with sleep.

He chuckles, the sound rumbly and smoky beneath your ear. “I will, mesh’la. Go to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Mmkay.” Yawning, you curl tighter against his side, and drift to sleep, your dreams filled with playful massiff pups and Hound, the steadfast trainer.

---

Mando'a:

Ke'mot - "halt!" (used as 'heel' for Grizzer)

Gev - Stop it! Pack it in! (more severe a command than ke’mot for Grizzer)

#rare clone fic exchange #rare clone fic submission #hound x reader #tcw hound #tcw hound x reader #x reader #reader insert

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mariacrow · 9 months

Note

i probably wasn’t super clear with my last message and i’m sorry! i meant i’d like bayverse hound x reader. i’m dying for content here 😭😮‍💨

Let’s take a little break from TFP and write some Bayverse, shall we? ;)

Hound x reader

✪ headcanons ✪

2nd person

any pronouns

platonic relationship

development of a romantic relationship

no NSFW included

You’d definitely be the first one from the crew to catch his optic

He’s a talkative, extroverted mech in general but he’d probably dedicate all of his attention and best quotes to you

He’d tend to make cheesy wrecker jokes and make you laugh all the time, humor is definitely his love language

He’s never afraid to put you in battle, he thinks you’re brave. Even if you’d doubt in yourself or underestimate yourself in any way, he’d be the first one to encourage you

You two would become an epic duo, he’d even call you a true wrecker

He’d tell you everything about Cybertron and war but he’d mostly focus on epic battles he took place in

He would carry you around all the time, let you sit on his shoulder, play with his beard etc

He has a weird thing for your tiny hands playing with his bushy beard. You’re probably the only one who he allows to touch it

He’d give you nicknames such as “brat” or “rascal” or “little wrecker”. When he’d feel kinda soft inside he’d use “doll”.

When you’d get injured he would express his concern through aggression hence he’d yell at everyone to hurry up and help you as he’d desperately try to help you as well

While taking care of you, he’d comfort you in his own wrecker way which would mostly be swearing while telling you how brave you are

Hound: don’t leave me now, you little rascal! You’re the bravest little wrecker I’ve ever met! We need to show those shitheads what we’re really made of, ey! Get up!

He loves you as much as he loves his gear

When you’d place a tender kiss on his face plate he’d go “awwwh!” and rub his cheek plate and get all flustered in his own chunky bot way

He doesn’t know any other ways of expressing his feelings but this is just enough for you to realize he absolutely adores you

He finds stargazing too romantic so when you’d want to do it with him he’d be like:

Hound: ah miss me with that romantic scrap! Makes me want to puke.

But once he’d give it a chance, he’d realize how much he’s been missing. He’d actually enjoy some silence with you in his servos

When you’d sleep together you’d be his personal little teddy bear. He’d be careful not to squash you though. You’re the only one he’s so gentle with

Despite not being a romantic soul, Hound is a mech with a good spark and a chill personality. Also a gentle giant in your case

Dividers belong to @chachachannah 🪖

#transformers #transformers x reader #transformers bayverse #tf bayverse #bayverse transformers #transformers hound #tf hound #hound x reader #autobots #tf headcanons

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pinkanonwrites · 2 months

Note

The human kink realization got me thinking. Would this unlock anything in Jazz or hound? Bc I know jazz is very infatuated with human culture hehehe and hound lowkey wishes he was human. Would they be inspired to any new kinks after meeting humans? Your the expert ur word is law

*Putting on my grad cap for my scholarly seminar* Why thank you, anon! Hopefully these headcanons will suffice.~

I think both Jazz and Hound have a particular fondness (obsession) with just how soft humans are, especially in comparison to Cybertronians. I've waxed poetic about it before, but there really is nothing that soft on Cybertron. Both of them are pretty open about it with their partners, but where Jazz is mostly just appreciative and affectionate Hound is about full-on body worship. He's enamored with every part of you, trailing over your body with exceedingly gentle digits.

I also think while Jazz is more of a switch, Hound prefers to be the submissive one when it comes to humans. He doesn't realize it's a kink (and probably never will unless someone points it out to him) but there's something deeply and primally appealing to him when he's being dominated by someone significantly smaller than he is. He could never be physically overpowered by you, but your demands are more than enough to have him bending to your will. You tell him how and where you want him and he's ecstatic to oblige. Besides, he's not the type to want to resist you anyway.

Jazz may have a slight dacryphilia kink? I don't think he enjoys making you cry, but seeing you so overwhelmed with pleasure that the tears beading in the corners of your eyes start rolling down your cheeks? Yeah, that has some appeal to him. He's not particularly sadistic, but he loves knowing his partner is feeling good.

#transformers #transformers x reader #x reader #hound #jazz #hound x reader #jazz x reader #pink chat #anon #valveplug #nsft

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zoeykallus · 10 months

Note

Um hello my queen of fanfic of clones! I have a request if you’re willing to take it.

It’s a Hound x Reader (whatever name you prefer) if you're comfortable with this. Anyways, Hound and Reader broke up, in the beginning, but they were together until Reader was accused of a crime that she didn’t commit now Hound broke up with her since he doesn’t believe her and has the Coruscant guard supporting him. But now after she is proven innocent, she’s released but she doesn’t want to get back together with Hound again. And now after a few months, the reader finally gets her life back on track until she accidentally runs into one of the coruscant guards or Hound, but she just tries to ignore them since she doesn’t want to associate with any clones or the republic, especially the Coruscant clone guards, and… well, that’s for you decide the rest, your majesty! it’s angst (but with smut?)

But do please take your time my queen! And I hope you have a wonderful day/evening/night!

Aloha!

That's a lot of things to stuff into a one-shot. Not sure if I got all that right, let me try. 😅 I wrote much more than I wanted to.

Hound x Fem!Reader One-Shot - Wrongfully Accused

Warning: Hurt/Suggestive/Angst/Smut/Strong Language/Dubious Consent/18+

You are sitting in your cell. You are waiting to be released. New evidence has come to light that clearly proves you innocent and puts another person under suspicion. Your defense attorney has already informed you of this. From now on, everything is just a formality, fill out a few forms, then you are rightfully free again.

But still, bitterness gnaws at you. Not only because you spent the last few months deprived of your freedom in this cell, but also because not even Hound believed you. Influenced as well as encouraged by his brothers in the Courscant Guard, he broke up with you, severed all contact.

Part of you wonders if he already knows about the new evidence, if he already knows that you will be released today. You tell yourself you don't care, you tell yourself you don't want to see him or anyone else from the Couruscant Guard ever again.

They knew you, and you once thought that they knew you well enough to know who you were, to know that you were telling the truth. But you were mistaken. Especially, Hound disappointed you. How much you adored and desired this man, how wild your time together had been….

The fact that your relationship had been so intimate and affectionate up to that point is like an additional weight pulling you down, an amplifier of your pain.

The pain that sits somewhere deep in your chest, a throbbing echo of what felt like a searing sting the day Hound turned his back on you, you ignore as best you can. You realize that you will be thinking about all this for a long time, that it will occupy you for a long time and cause restless, sleepless nights.

You mumble softly to yourself, "Fuck you, fuck you all".

The moment when the cell door opens and you see your lawyer and two guards, you are finally filled with a wave of relief. Privacy, freedom of movement, being able to determine your own life, all that you will now have again.

It feels a little surreal to sign the release forms. After a few weeks in here, you didn't think you'd ever be released. Your lawyer tells you that you'll get a pretty big compensation for the inconvenience and that you can get your old job back. You have no interest in the latter, since you worked in the Couruscant Guard office and don't want to see any of them again.

The severance pay is big enough to keep you afloat for a long time if you don't find something new right away, so that's the least of your worries at the moment. As you leave the building, say goodbye to your lawyer, and stand out in the open for the first time in months, you take your first deep breath in a long time.

Couruscant is busy as ever, lots of traffic, the planet keeps spinning as if nothing has happened. Then you hear a soft whine, a happy short bark, and look to your right. Your heart skips a beat as you see Hound standing a bit off to the side with Grizzer. You can't see his face because he's wearing his helmet, but his body language looks like he's indecisive, like he doesn't know whether to walk toward you.

You grit your teeth, feeling again the disappointed rage you are now familiar with. Ignoring Hound, you keep walking, but then you hear the little whine again. Grizzer likes you very much, and you like him too, you will miss the animal very much.

You stop, turn around once more, and walk towards them. Ignoring Hound completely, you crouch down and cuddle Grizzer, who is immensely happy and wiggling happily, trying to lick your face.

"I'll miss you, Grizzer," you say softly, leaning your forehead against the animal's, who holds thoughtfully still as if he knows you're about to say goodbye.

Hound doesn't say a word, you can feel the restlessness coming from him, but he is speechless. When you finally walk away, leaving them both standing there, you hear Grizzer whimpering softly once more and feel your heart break again.

You are not in a hurry to find a new job, as mentioned the severance pay is plenty and you enjoy your regained freedom in peace for the time being. Occasionally you meet a clone of the Couruscant Guard, but you ignore them every time, walk past them even if they greet you or try to talk to you. Most of them have a guilty conscience.

Hound has tried to call you a few times, leave you messages, even tried with handwritten messages. You didn't listen to or read any of them, ignored everything that came from him, hung up immediately when you realized he was on the other end of the line.

But if there's one thing Hound is, it's stubborn and unyielding. Once he gets his mind set on something, he bites into it like Grizzer into his favorite toy.

The doorbell rings. Annoyed, you put the wine glass down on the glass table and turn the music down a bit, having just enjoyed a drink. When you open the door and see Hound, you immediately want to close it again.

"Wait!"

You hesitate.

"What do you want?" you ask, grumbling.

With a sigh, Hound slowly removes his helmet and tucks it under his right arm. His hair is a bit disheveled. You've missed his face, those eyes, the fine lines in his striking face. But you don't move a muscle.

He says softly, "Grizzer misses you. Won't you come over sometime, maybe join us for a walk in the park?"

You sigh.

You say dryly, "I miss Grizzer too, a lot, I just don't like who he hangs around with."

Hound scuffs his foot on the ground, finally he says, "The evidence was clear, what was I supposed to believe?"

You growl, "You should have believed me. Because you should have known me. The evidence was faked, by one of your men who actually committed the crime!"

" I know that now, too," he says bitterly.

"You didn't even hesitate," you say just as bitterly.

Hound defends himself, "I did my job, did what was expected of me"

"I don't give a shit about your job and your supposed responsibilities. As my partner, you had an obligation to me too. You dropped me like a hot potato".

Hound swallows and says seriously, "I'm sorry, very sorry. I was overwhelmed with the situation, torn. I did what I thought was right at the time, which unfortunately was wrong, I can't undo that now unfortunately"

You think bitterly of all the tears you shed, the suppressed cries of rage you let out in your cell that night, and your expression stiffens. Hound senses that you're about to close the door in his face and pushes in before you can.

"Hey!" you exclaim indignantly, watching him close the door behind him.

"I'm not going to let you keep ignoring me," he says defiantly.

You growl, "Screw you. Get out of my apartment!"

Hound remains stubbornly standing.

"You don't just miss Grizzer, you miss me too," he says, folding his arms in front of his chest.

"My, you're full of yourself," you say dryly.

Hound unknots his arms again and sighs.

"You were right, I know you very well, I may have acted against my better judgment before, but I still know you. I know that you miss me…. as much as I miss you."

Of course, a part of you still misses him, a lot, but he doesn't need to know that.

You sigh, "Just get out of here, Hound. This between us is over. You've ended it, and now I draw the final line"

All of a sudden, he drops his helmet and lunges forward, grabbing your head with both of his strong hands. He stifles the startled cry you want to let out with a kiss. In the first moment you are completely stiffened, do not move. You are torn between anger, indignation and longing. His lips are so warm and soft, the smell so wonderfully familiar. A tingling sensation moves under your skin.

Still, you finally brace your hands against his chest, pushing him away from you.

For a moment he tries to hold you anyway, but he finally gives in and lets you go again.

He sees the face smack coming, but he doesn't fight back. The song in the background is off, a small pause occurs between the last song and the next, the slap sounds especially loud in the sudden silence. The sound of slap seems to echo from all surfaces. His cheek is red, a distinct red imprint of your hand on it.

He doesn't say a word, just looks at you.

"I'm sorry," you say softly, "But you shouldn't have done that."

He grits his teeth and finally says, "I have other things I want to do with you."

He slowly walks towards you, you slowly back away from him. Finally, you bump into the back of your sofa, and he stands so close to you that no hand's width fits in between, you can feel his body heat. He just stands there, he doesn't touch you, but his presence is so intense that you feel hot and cold.

He leans forward a little, puts a hand on the left and right of you on the backrest of the sofa, so that you are caught between his arms. You avoid his gaze, looking to the side. Hound kisses your temple and mutters, "I'm sorry about everything."

Part of you wants to be defiant, talk back, step on his toes. Another part of you wants to rip off his uniform, see and feel the man underneath in all his glory. Then there's a third part of you that doesn't know what to feel at all.

His lips move from your temple down to your cheek, each touch a little firework in your neural pathways. Slowly, you turn your head back in his direction. Your heart beats wildly in your chest as your lips touch again. This time you return the kiss, letting him in.

Your tongues meet in a velvety collision, and a soft sigh escapes you. Your fingers automatically claw at his armor. He kisses you very intimately, very long and tenderly.

A pulse arises between your thighs, which open almost automatically for him as he unzips your pants and lets them slide to the floor. You kick the garment aside and willingly stretch your arms upward as he removes your shirt over your head.

You look at his face, you recognize his dilated pupils, the lust in them, but also a hint of uncertainty. His heart is beating up to his neck. One arm wraps around your naked center, the other's hand caresses your cheek, and he kisses you again.

There is so much longing in this touch, his and yours.

Your fingers move to his codpiece during the kiss and remove it. Your palm strokes the bulge in his pants. He's hard, and glowing warm.

"Wait," he murmurs into the kiss, breaking away from your lips.

You look at him questioningly. He set this up, why is he hesitating now?

"What is it?" you ask, a little breathlessly.

Hound swallows and says, "There's no point to any of this if you don't forgive me. I can't sleep with you and then leave."

You frown reluctantly.

"I don't know if I want to forgive you," you say honestly, "You left a very deep wound."

Again he swallows, you can see it in his face. Your fingers grab the collar of his Blacks and pull him back towards you.

"Then why do you want to sleep with me?" he asks uncertainly.

You laugh softly.

"Well, I was in jail."

He shakes his head, sighs, wants to pull back, but then your hand slides into his pants and grasps his hard length. His thighs tremble slightly with excited tension. You stroke him a little, teasing him.

"Fuck," he says softly, almost in a whisper.

You smile and say, "That's exactly what we both want right now. So let's just do it and think about everything else later."

You look at him, he is torn between his horniness, his insecurity and his desire to gain your forgiveness.

"You want me to forgive you? Then make an effort," you tease him.

He pulls your hand out of his pants and gives you a sharp look before pulling down your panties and pushing you over the back of the sofa. Startled, you let out a small sound.

"Hey…"

Hound comes around the sofa to the other side, pushes the coffee table aside energetically, kneels in front of the sofa and pulls you towards him. His head is between your thighs, he has a wonderful view of your wet flower. He takes a deep breath and murmurs, "I missed that scent."

His mouth suddenly moves to your pussy, his tongue twitches over your pearl, so fast, so skillfully. You've almost forgotten how good he is at this. Within seconds, your thighs are trembling in his strong hands. You let out moans and curses as his tongue massages your clit and your pussy twitches hungrily around nothing.

Hound lets go of you just before you can climax.

"Don't stop, not now," you protest indignantly, but then you see him pull down his pants and his hard length peeks out from behind them, and you fall silent.

"I want you to cum on my cock," he growls in arousal, guiding his tip to your wet hole.

He is hungry, very much so, but he is careful, taking his time. Almost agonizingly slow, he penetrates you, every muscle in his body tense. The feeling is indescribable, heavenly, he fills you, and you missed this feeling so much.

His cock twitches in your pussy, then he starts to move. His thumb rubs tenderly over your clit. He immediately feels you tighten as your whole abdomen tenses in arousal.

"Good girl," he says breathlessly.

"Faster, harder," you growl impatiently at him.

Hound complies with your request. The lewd sound of bare skin slapping bare skin fills the room, mixed with your gasps and moans. He looks at your face as it contorts in arousal.

You both cum almost simultaneously. Your pussy tightens with a violent pulse around his cock as he thrusts his seed into you. The orgasm hasn't quite subsided, a gentle pulse still reverberating in your nerves, your pearl, as a surprising, overwhelming wave of emotion sweeps you away.

He's still inside you, not quite softened yet, as you start to cry.

Hound holds his breath for a moment, looking at you, startled.

"What's the matter? Did I hurt you?" he asks gently, finally pulling his cock out of your pussy.

You don't answer him.

He hurriedly gets wet wipes from your bathroom, cleans you up and lays you properly on the sofa. He doesn't really know what to do, you cry and sob quietly, your shoulders shake.

Hound grabs the blanket that is over the back of your chair and covers you with it. He takes off the gear, but keeps the blacks on as he carefully lays down with you and takes you in his arms.

He kisses your shoulder, your neck, your face, mumbling apologies over and over.

"You must never let me down again," you suddenly say sternly, drying your tears with a tissue he hands you.

He lowers his eyes in shame, but then he looks at you and nods seriously.

"Never again," he confirms.

Softly, you say, "It will never be the same again, we both know that."

Hound swallows, but then nods again and says, "I don't expect miracles. The wounds I left behind need time and attention to heal. This process is worth every effort to me. You are worth every effort to me."

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

@rintheemolion

@andyoufollowyourheart @clone-whore-99

@brynhildrmimi @kaliel2310

@misogirl828 @tech-deck

@meshla-madalene

@chxpsi

@thebahdbitch

@nahoney22 @ladykatakuri

@darkangel4121

@ttzamara

@arctrooper69

@padawancat97

@agenteliix

@allsystemsblue

@palliateclaw

@either-madness-or-brilliance

@ortizshinkaroff

@andy-solo1

@hunterssecretrecipe

@heyitsaloy

@greaser-wolf

@extrahotpixels

@hated-by-me

@hunterxcrosshair

@malicemercy

@bebopsworld

@echos-girlfriend

@cpnt616

@dangraccoon

@jediknightjana

@pb-jellybeans

@antishadow2021

@sleepycreativewriter

#star wars #clone x reader #hound x reader #hound x you #clone wars #star wars the clone wars #star wars clone wars #star wars fanfiction #star wars headcanons #star wars tcw #suggestive #smut #clone smut

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the-bad-batch-baroness · 8 months

Note

Greetings and grats on 300+!!!

May I request:

• Hound (special appearance Grizz?)

• romantic

• gn!reader

• sfw

• 300

• prompt: 9 - "Help me."

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

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

Kiss Me

Hound x GN!Reader

Pairing: Hound x GN!Reader

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

Word Count: 300

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What?" Hound takes a nervous step back.

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

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

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

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

Event Masterlist

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A03

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ppnuggie · 6 months

Text

　　　　　　TRANSFORMERS x gn reader

　　　　『　hound ,, drift ,, rewind ,, first aid ,, gender neutral reader 』

　　-> household activities

　　— fluff ,, sfw ,, crack ,, comfort

　　— just some small household activities to do with the bots <3 these are headcannons ,, there’ll be scenarios in a separate post to these tho ! :3

- hound + folding clothes

| • hound has always found your clothing interesting ,, even if theres never really anything interesting about it

| • cybertronians dont have clothes to put on when they get cold ,, or to wear when they want to show off a new look ,, or for different sportive activities

| • it intrigued him ,, how you could easily change your outer look and find a new one

| • the most cybertronians had with that was mods and paint jobs ,, maybe a different limb if they got injured

| • he isnt too sure how to fold socks or shirts so you let him fold your pants whilst you do those

| • no matter how many times you show him how to fold socks hes still amazed and when he tries to do it he somehow fails

| • hound likes how they all look neat put up and folded ,, how it takes up little space no matter how many clothes you have

- first aid + cooking

| • he only asked you to show him how to cook because he sees you do it often

| • its a foreign thing to him ,, after all energon is liquid and if its not than its crystal like and inedible

| • not only that but first aid wants to do something nice for you which he cant due to him always being in the medbay ,, and even when hes off of work you're usually asleep

| • it gives him time alone with you that usually results in no interruptions ,, him growing closer to you ,, and a wonderful bonding and learning experience

| • on days you accidentally sleep in he usually makes you breakfast so you dont miss it or have to worry about being late

| • do compliment him :( he loves it and it makes him happy

- drift + dishes

| • he would find you doing your dishes one day ,, after you didnt text him after some time ,, so he would go find you in your room doing your dishes

| • he'd question you about them ,, since cybertronians only have cups and cubes to clean and even then it doesnt take too long

| • drift would offer to help ,, using his mass-displaced form and help with rinsing drying the dishes off so the job would get done faster

| • whilst in the midst of focus ,, you may get an idea and decide to splash a little water at him

| • little did you know that would start a little war between you two ,, with you both splashing water back forth at each other

| • its safe to say that the ground ,, counter ,, and both of you are soaked afterwards

- rewind + gardening

| • he offers to help you when he finds you taking care of some plants you've brought aboard the lost light ,, something about oxygen and carbon dioxide

| • he doesnt remember too much of what you said about it ,, just that you have them

| • rewind has a lot of knowledge in his database ,, though theres not a lot of organic things in there since he's dedicated his life to dominus ambus in a way

| • he'll be interested ,, standing over you as you pot the plant ,, switching the soil and putting a bit of fertilizer in the pot

| • rewind will ask questions about it ,, camera rolling to store away the information in his database

| • he'll learn about them ,, that they make oxygen from carbon dioxide ,, how its a cycle between you and the plant

| • since you breath in oxygen and breath out carbon dioxide ,, how the plant takes in carbon dioxide and releases oxygen ,, its somewhat interesting to him in a way

| • he'll definitely help if you let him ,, feeling how foreign the soil is under his digits is and how mushy it feels when watered

| • its quite the learning experience for him

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krypticcafe · 3 months

Text

"drenched" - hound / gn!reader (blurb)

a/n: just a snippet of something I've had in the drafts for a while. idk if people would want to see me write Hound / Reader so I'm using this to see if it gets any positive reception.

"Hound!" You yelled over the pouring rain, darting towards the shooting range that was void of people except him. No response. You knew he could hear you, even through the rain, he probably knew you were there the moment your shoes splattered the puddles beneath you with those canine senses of his. So this was how his were gonna act.

"Hound!" Hissing, your tone was laced with venom and disdain, "The hell are you doing out here, lieutenant?! Do you even know how cold it is right now?!"

Hound' finally tore his gaze from the range, watching you storm towards him while glaring daggers. You were in such a rush that you didn't even grab an umbrella or a coat. Meanwhile, he was just in his everyday wear, all soaked from being outside for who-knows-how-long. Setting down his gun, he stood there without a word like a deer in headlights.

Honestly, what were you expecting from him, going out to train in this weather? Of course he would, that dumbass. You had to bicker with him every time you found him in the gym instead of staying in the infirmary like he was supposed to (he had a bullet wound in his side, for fuck's sake). He once came to you with his head bleeding out in the middle of the night, scaring the shit out of you just to return something you didn't even remember lending him. All he had to say for himself is that he had a "small headache" to describe a concussion from nearly getting blown to bits by a grenade. Of course, you shoved him into the infirmary to treat his head and if anything, your near heart attack.

"You know, there's recklessness, and there's outright stupidity. Care to explain yourself and tell me which one you are?"

As to be expected, he had no answer. Your question caught him off guard, and he didn't exactly have a way with words. Wasn't the first time you scolded him like this, and it wouldn't be the last. Maybe this was how Price felt with you all.

"Why do I even bother?" You huff, turning your heel to walk back into base before you got soaked as well. Once inside the building, you hear another pair of squeaky footsteps and the dripping of water behind you. Glancing over your shoulder, you bit back a frustrated groan when you saw that mask looking right back at you. The moment you didn't hear the door immediately close, you already had an idea who it was anyways. Eye twitching in irritation, you turned with your arms folded and your brows furrowed.

If you weren't so annoyed with him, you would've found the way they stood there like a drenched puppy almost laughable.

#x reader #gn reader #gender neutral reader #call of duty #cod #cod x reader #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty modern warfare 3 #cod mw #cod mw2 #cod mw3 #hound x reader #hound cod #cod oc #cod oc x reader #oc x reader

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nahoney22 · 1 year

Note

Hi there!

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

Do you mind if I request something for the celebration?

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

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

Remember to drink water and unclench your jaw :D

3000 Prompt List Follower Celebration

Hound X GN!Reader

word count: 1k

SFW

Prompts

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

• “shut up and kiss me already.”

Warnings: none, mutual pining and fluff

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Masterlist

Prompt List Requests

Tags: @nunanuggets @andyoufollowyourheart @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @captxin-rex @cwarssimp @jesseeka @ashotofspotchka @oohyesplease @megafrost4 @theroguesully @equalityforcats @mustluvecho @misogirl828 @ladykatakuri @jambolska-grozdova @chxpsi @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @rain-on-kamino @either-madness-or-brilliance @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @the-good-shittt @therealnekomari @autumnleaves1991-blog @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @tinyreadersmur @rintheemolion @seriowan @agenteliix @kaminocasey @blustalker @s1st3r @taskfork-archive @by-the-primes

#hound clone wars #hound clone trooper #hound x reader #hound x you #star wars #clone wars #nahoney22 writes #Corrie guard #coruscant guard

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starliights-shining · 5 months

Text

For you @montyuh , you're my favorite on this silly sight( i know it wrong dont care)

Hound building you a house somewhere in the middle of nowhere. Suprising you with it as a gift, somewhere he can live his life with you. You two will get a dog, he brought it up as a form of defense when he's not around. A "i'll stop worrying if you take him with you everywhere." agreement. It works, he's a little hound dog, big floppy ears and a green collar. You'll always joke about him being your little hound. Sending the Mech picture of you and the dog on little 'date nights'. He thinks it's cute. So cute that he starts to feel a little jealous over the puppy, spending all his time with you and even taking his place as a cuddle buddy. He won't let it linger, happy to see you happy and safe. His lover and their little Hound.

#stars talking #transformers #transformers x reader #tf x reader #tf #tf hound #hound x reader #hound #transformers hound #g1 hound #montyuh #tf hound x reader #transformers g1

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dystopicjumpsuit · 10 months

Text

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

Rating: Mature/18+/Minors DNI

Pairing: Sergeant Hound x Fem!Reader

Wordcount: 2.8k

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

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

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

Masterlist | Sign up for my tag list

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nods, so you shuffle and deal.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are these for?” he asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Daddy?” you ask with a tiny smile.

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

#1000 words of smut #dystopicjumpsuit writes #star wars tcw #hound x reader #hound x you #sergeant hound x reader #sergeant hound x you #sergeant hound #clone trooper hound #dj's fic migration

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rare-clone-fic-exchange · 7 months

Text

The Sweetest Constant

Pairing: ARF Trooper Hound x Fem!Reader

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

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

Word Count: 2260

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

A few notes/translations before we start:

Centaxday - second day of the Galactic Standard Calendar week

Zhellday - fourth day of the Galactic Standard Calendar week

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was Zhellday when you saw him again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And you’re Hound, right?”

He chuckled. “You remember me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Kriff! I’m sorry Hound!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Charged to the GAR?”

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

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

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

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

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

#rare clone fic submission #rare clone fic exchange #anxiouspineapple99 writes #hound x reader #sergeant hound #arf trooper hound #coruscant guard #hound x f!reader

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