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kaminocasey · 1 year

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Must Love Massiffs

Summary: You meet an unexpected person at the park who happens to have a massiff just like you.

Pairing: Sergeant Hound x GN!Reader

WC: 1.6K

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI; Name calling.

A/N: If you can't tell, I got this idea from the romcom "Must Love Dogs" starring Diane Lane and John Cusack lol. I'm a diehard romantic. Always. Anyway, I'd not written anything for Hound yet, so here we are! <3

Your day hadn’t started off well. First, you got let go from your job at the bank that you had worked at for the last six years. Then, you spilled your coffee all over your new leather seats of your speeder. And finally, your massiff, Zio, had gotten out and ran down your street toward the park so now, you’re chasing after her trying to make sure she doesn’t scare someone or get run over.

A great fucking day, right? Just the absolute best. What next?

“Zio!” You call out, losing her out of your sight.

“This fucking massiff.” You grumble. “I knew I should have taken the lazy tooka home…”

You grumble, but you love Zio with your entire heart. Normally, she’d wait for you to put her leash on, so the fact that she ran out the door like that kind of worries you.

“WOAH! DOWN BOY!” You hear someone in the park shout. “DOWN GRIZZER!”

You turn around and start running immediately, seeing Zio sniffing out another excited massiff and his Coruscant Guard owner.

“Zio, down!” You yell, a little afraid that this guy could hurt Zio or even arrest you.

You really didn’t know much about the Coruscant Guard other than they were basically glorified detectives and worked closely with the chancellor, senate, and Jedi. People you didn’t really care much for. “Do you mind?” The clone snaps at you in a rude, modulated voice. “Don’t you know what a leash is?”

You glare at him, pulling Zio back toward you, leashing her. “Obviously that’s what I was trying to do, thanks.” “This is a leash-only park.” The Corrie tells you, ignoring your comment.

“Yeah, I know, asshole.” You finally get her to sit. “She ran out and I’ve been chasing her for six blocks. You gonna arrest me or something? Because if not, I’ve got places to be.”

You get a look at his intricately decorated helmet. It’s different from any Corrie helmet you’ve ever seen. It actually looks really cool, but you’re not gonna tell this asshole that. It has grey and white jags with a red V that goes down over the visor from the top. It’s interesting. But unfortunately, the helmet belongs to a dick.

“Okay, great.” You nod when he says nothing, walking Zio away. “Let’s go, Zio.”

When you get to the edge of the park and let Zio do her business there, you look back at the Corrie and he’s still watching you with a tilted head. Whatever. You turn back around and then head home once Zio is done.

“You’re rotten, you know that?” You talk to her, shaking your head.

She looks back at you slightly, clearly pleased with herself.

“Sorry, girl. It’s been a long day…” You sigh.

When you get home, you let Zio off the leash and feed her dinner then go and sit down on the couch.

Now what? Job hunting… that’s what.

When Zio is done scarfing down her dinner, she comes and lays on the couch with you, putting her head on your lap, sweetly, as you search the holonet for the help wanted ads.

“It’s impossible to stay upset with you, you know that?” You pet her scaly skin and she rolls over so you can rub her belly. “I think you do actually know that.”

The next day, on your walk with Zio you can’t help but wonder if that Corrie from yesterday will be there. Not that you particularly care, you just want to steer clear of him.

You sit down on the park bench, pulling out your book after you make sure to clip Zio to the bench.

“Zio, sit.” You tell her.

She does and you give her a treat, patting her on the head and then open your book. While you read a couple chapters of your book, she lays at your feet, enjoying the warm Coruscant sun on her scaly skin.

“Good girl.” You pat her again and then go back to your book.

“Um, excuse me.” You hear a familiar voice that you were really hoping to not hear.

This time the voice wasn’t modulated, though. With a roll of your eyes, you sit your book down and look up at the Corrie. Except you were expecting a regular looking clone. Not an incredibly handsome bearded one with longer blond highlighted hair that’s pulled back out of his face.

To say you're stunned is an understatement. You’re practically speechless and you know your jaw must be on the ground.

“Hi.” He smiles. “We met yesterday?”

You look down at his massiff, you think his name was Grizzer, he’s got on his leash. Grizzer sniffs at Zio, who seems uninterested today. Maybe she was unimpressed after yesterday.

“I remember. Are you here to arrest me today?” You look up at him with a straight face.

“Actually, I came to bring you this.” He offers you a cup of caf. “We got off on the wrong foot.”

“Yeah, you were a bit of an asshole.” You nod.

“I was… I’m sorry.” He continues to hold the caf out for you. “It was a bit of a rough day yesterday.”

“Yeah, me too…” You take the cup from him and scoot down the bench a bit as a way of asking him to sit. “Sorry about that.”

He nods and sits a little bit away from you, giving you space, and clips Grizzer to the bench. Zio sits up again, staring at Grizzer and the Corrie, still deciding if they’re a threat.

“No uh, helmet today?” You ask him, taking a sip of the caf, which is black.

You reach into your bag for a few sweetener packets and then put the empty packets into your jacket pocket to throw away at home.

“Sorry, I didn’t know how you took it.” The Corrie apologizes.

“No worries. I always keep sweetener packets on me for when strangers offer me caf.” You smile finally.

“Really?” He asks with a raised eyebrow.

“No.” You chuckle.

He lets out a laugh, which you unfortunately can’t help but notice is nice and makes you smile a bit more.

“But yeah, no helmet today. I was um… hoping I’d run into you today and I didn’t want you to see me as a threat.” He admits.

Oh. “That’s very… thoughtful.” You nod.

He pats Grizzer on the head and then looks at you again. “I’m Hound.”

You tell him your name and he smiles.

“It’s nice to meet you. Again, that is.”

“Likewise. And this is Grizzer?” You nod at the massiff which is still sitting with his tongue hanging out, still watching Zio.

“Yeah. My good ol’ boy.” He rubs Grizzer’s head again. “Zio, right?”

You nod, touched that he remembered her name. “Yeah.”

“Well, it’s really good to meet you both.” He grins.

You both sit there and sip your caf in comfortable silence, watching as your massiffs both lay back down, not missing that they’re pointed toward each other.

“Is it okay if I ask why you had a rough day?” Hound asks after a while.

“Oh… I lost my job… and then spilled caf in my speeder… and then this brat got out.” You nod down at Zio before looking at him again.

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” He tells you.

You can tell he’s genuinely sorry. You shrug, though.

“I’ll figure it out.” You look out at the park.

“What did you do?” He asks.

“I worked at a bank as a teller for the last six years.” You sigh. “It wasn’t the greatest job in the entire world, but I’m fluent in many languages and I enjoyed seeing different people every day, you know?”

“Well… um… I know that my commander was looking to hire a receptionist for the chancellor.” Hound tells you. “If that’s something you’d be interested in?”

It’s sweet that he’s thinking of you like this, but you hate Palpatine. The man is a creep and gives you extremely bad vibes. Anytime you see him on the news, you can’t help but think that he looks like he’d be a villain in a movie.

“Yeah, no. I hate that guy.” You smile. “But thank you… seriously.”

“So do we.” Hound shrugs. “Hate him, that is…”

You admire his honesty. You’d not dealt with many clones so you don’t have much to compare him to, but you’re surprised you’re enjoying Hound’s company.

“He doesn’t care about the clones… just wants us to win his war.” Hound finishes his coffee and looks down at Grizzer.

Your heart breaks for him, this man you don’t really know. Him and the other clones. You’re not ignorant. You know that people don’t treat them like the human being that they are. It’s not right.

“Well, I better get home. I have to get cracking on the job hunting.” You tell him, not making a move to get up.

You don’t exactly want to leave, but you really do have a bit of a busy day planned.

“If you’re not too busy in the morning… There’s this great breakfast spot near the Senate Dome that allows Grizzer in… I’m sure they’d let Zio in too?” He asks, taking a sip of his caf.

“Are you asking me out on a date?” You ask him.

“Yeah, I am.” He grins. “Even though you think I’m an asshole.”

“Used to…” You laugh. “But yes. Breakfast sounds nice.”

You pull out an old business card, write your comm channel on it, and give it to Hound.

“Send me the details.” You smile, unclipping Zio and standing up.

Hound does the same with Grizzer. “I’ll send you the deets.”

You chuckle. “Can’t wait.”

Turning with Zio, you start walking but hear Hound say “Grizz… did I really just say ‘deets’? Maker, I’m such a di’kut.”

You can’t help but chuckle to yourself as you continue walking home, already looking forward to the next morning.

TAGS: @grievouus @brynhildrmimi @madameminor @dumfanting @rain-on-kamino @misogirl828 @rexandechosandwich @corona-one @tecker @ladykatakuri @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @twistedstitcher27 @zoeykallus @maulslittlemeowmeow @littlemousedroid @arctrooper69 @rexxdjarin @agenteliix @padawancat97 @hated-by-me @sleepingsun501

#sergeant hound #tcw #the clone wars #tcw hound #coruscant guard #corrie guard #tcw sergeant hound #tcw grizzer #massiff #tcw massiff #hound x reader

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rinwritesfics · 2 months

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Four Hours

Plot: You meet Hound while awaiting jury duty and hit it off.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1076

Author’s Note: Inspired by a four-hour wait for jury duty last year. @diviluscorner, I did it! Finally.

You sighed, shifting again in the uncomfortable chair in the hallway that was both dim and sharply lit by artificial lights. First, your entire week is upended by the call, and then they ask you to sit for most of the day to see if you’re even needed. Four hours to wait? The thought of it was exhausting, let alone the process.

As if things couldn’t get any worse, a massif with a brown harness and leash stopped to sniff, then sit at your feet. The creature’s tongue lolled out as it looked up at you as its handler caught up.

The Corrie Guard handling this reptilian creature turned to you and you froze. This one was different from the others with the fabric hanging from his helmet with sharp grey teeth painted on it. Were you about to get in trouble? Oh, stars, what did the massif think he smelled on you?

“Are you alright?” the Corrie Guard asked, his voice distorted partially by his modulator.

You chuckled nervously. “I’m fine. I just don’t relish the idea of waiting four hours to see if I’m needed or not for the jury.”

He tilted his head. “Four? That’s pretty unusual, even for this court.”

“Ugh, when one of you guys notices, that means it’s extra special,” you laughed in an attempt to seem calm. “If it wasn’t, I’m sure you wouldn’t tell me that.”

He laughed, too. “You’re right. I wouldn’t.”

You both fell into silence for a moment before he spoke again. “Got something you’d rather be doing?”

“Rather than waiting? Yeah. I’m not good at sitting on my hands and waiting. I like to be busy, and these chairs are very uncomfortable.”

“And what do you usually do?”

“I’m a mechanic, down at Grand Old Republic Motors.” You shrugged.

He laughed again. “You must see a lot of our faces down there, then.”

You grinned. “Yeah, I do actually.”

“I take it that’s why you’re not afraid of talking to me?”

You laughed. “Well, I’ll admit, I did think for a second you were going to confront me about something. Even my sighing.”

“Of course not. Just because it’s a right to be judged by peers, doesn’t mean the system jurors are chosen through doesn’t have its snags.”

“Sure does.”

“I’m Sergeant Hound, by the way.”

You smiled. “Y/N. I think Commander Fox has mentioned you a couple times. Something about a grizzly getting his teeth around a fuel injector?”

Sergeant Hound sighed. “I was scrubbing the floor for weeks after Grizzer got himself into that mess.”

“You, I take it?” you asked the massif in front of you in amusement. He was sitting at your feet and wagging his thick tail. His tongue lolled out again and he looked ready to play.

“He’s the group’s massif, and there are a couple of them but he only listens to me, so he kind of is mine.”

You grinned. “He seems like the goodest boy.”

The sergeant nodded. “He likes to think that, but he also has a chaotic streak in him.”

The two of you talked off and on, him coming back every so often to check on you during his patrol, but eventually you were called back in. By the time you found out you had been excused and were leaving, you saw no sign of Hound, which made you a little sad. You’d run into a few Corrie Guards, as well as other battalions at your employment, but something about Hound was special. You left the building, a little forlorn at missing saying goodbye.

A couple days later, you were almost hanging upside down underneath a customer’s small personal craft, working on replacing a new manifold.

“Y/N, you’ve got another visitor!” called your boss. Usually, the visitors were part of the clone battalion. Your boss was a little biased, but hid it pretty well – other than pushing them onto you on top of your other duties.

You groaned, wanting to shout about being busy.

“Am I always meeting you when you’re in distress?” asked a voice. It was definitely a clone voice, but not what you’d expect any of them to say.

You struggled out from under the craft with the manifold in-hand and your eyes met his. This one you didn’t recognize. His hair was a little longer than the others, so his curls were better formed, and he had a gray tattoo spanning both sides of his lower jaw like a row of sharp teeth. The only things that disrupted the tattoo were four long thin scars across his right cheek and a goatee.

“Uh, hi.” You stared at his tattoo, then realized – “Sergeant Hound. It’s nice to see you.”

He grinned. “Just Hound. How did you know?”

“Your jaw matches your helmet.”

He chuckled and said, “Guilty.”

“What can I do for you, ‘just Hound’?”

He laughed again. “I just wanted to come visit. I didn’t get the chance to say goodbye the other day. My shift was over and then I came in the next day and figured out you didn’t get put on a case. I guess I missed you, is all.”

You blushed. “Missed me, huh? You didn’t know me for long.”

“Actually, my brothers talk a lot about you.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I was one of the only ones who had never gotten the chance to meet you.”

“Well, I guess that means you’re not as rough on your speeder as they are.”

“I’m also one of the youngest, so give me time,” he chuckled.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He looked away and rubbed the back of his neck again. “Look, I don’t know if this is too sudden, but could I take you to dinner?”

You smile. “You came here to ask me on a date?”

“It’s fine if you say no -”

“Hound. I’d really like that.”

“Oh, thank the Maker. I know I told you Grizzer’s pretty specific as to who he likes, but even he was a little confused when we left and didn’t see you.”

“Oh, I see, you’re setting me up with your massif. Guess Grizzer will get the goodnight kiss.” You winked and his eyes widened.

“Wait, that’s not what I meant -”

You tossed your head back and laughed. “I’ll be done in four hours. Think you can wait that long?”

He grinned. “I think I can wait four hours with you.”

Taglist (open!): @trixie2023

Hound Concept Art:

#tcw hound #tcw sergeant hound #tcw hound x reader #rinwritesfics fic

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boggsart · 11 days

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After 21 failed, and/or thrown away design attempts, i present the popo 👮🏻‍♂️🚓 I struggled a lot with this one, and words cannot truly express how much i hate how it turned out, but it is what it is, so moving on lol

You can check out the models from a closer look here

3rd poster in the line, 3 more to go ✨

Clone Force 99

501st

104th

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taglist: @callsign-denmark @techwrecker @dahscribbler @lightspringrain @dreamsandrosies @brainless-tin-box @thecoffeelorian @luzfeather @burningfieldof-clover @99tech99 @theglitterdark @fangirl-goes-nova

#star wars #star wars fanart #clone wars #clone wars fanart #tcw #tcw fanart #clone troopers #coruscant guard #commander fox #commander thire #commander thorn #sergeant hound #game design #game dev #3d modeling

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roachsauce · 9 months

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average day at the corrie hq

#star wars #tcw #commander fox #commander thorn #commander stone #commander thire #sergeant hound #cmo otho #my cmo oc!! its him!#hes the embodiment of the ‘im dr.practice. mal practice’ meme #his greasy hair and unpleasant disposition has captivated me #unseen under the table grizzers chewing on foxes boots #(also please ask me about otho i love him so much)#my art

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marbled-polecat · 1 year

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Grizzer humoring Hound and his silly kissy face.

#sergeant hound #grizzer the massif #grizzer #tcw #the clone wars #one small change au #one small change #puppy kisses #my art

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voidartisan · 3 months

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It's a bit overdue, but, another semester has passed, and so I present

Incorrect Quotes from AJ's Real, Actual Life

Aayla: If you were stranded on a desert island and could only bring three objects, what would you bring? Quinlan: One 500 lb. block of uranium. No further questions. Anakin: DID YOU HEAR ABOUT THE FISH LADIES????? Obi-Wan: ... Obi-Wan: ...elaborate. Padme: I may or may not have had a crush on a literal otter, but in my defense, he had a Scottish accent. Obi-Wan: Actually, I think I have one of those fold-out seats in the back. Ahsoka: Well you could have told us that BEFORE we stuffed Rex in the trunk Fives: He was an interm--- intermur--- intermule-- Echo: Intermural? Fives: Amen. Jesse: Hallelujah, praise the Lord--- Obi-Wan: I'm going to get some ibuprofen. Anyone else? I've got the good stuff. Fives: Shaak Ti is my favorite council member. I can't wait for her to die so they can name something in the Temple after her. Echo: Rex: *attempting to suppress laughter* Fives: Wait that come out wrong--- bby!Aayla: *crying* Quinlan: Que pasa, Mufasa? Jesse: I volunteered Fives for latrine duty. Echo: Dang. That's messed up. Echo: I also volunteer Fives for latrine duty Kit Fisto: He doesn't deserve this. Mace is the mitochondria of the Order Jesse: I'd better be getting paid for this. Jesse: I want... two mung beans Jesse: Never had a mung bean Anakin: I'm an idiot, not stupid Kanan, addressing the Ghost crew: If you would like, you may drizzle some of my queso on your tacos. However, if you steal all of it, I will ugly cry in your room for the rest of the night. Fox, sighing: Will someone teach our favorite dingbat to sleep on a blanket? Thorn: I sleep on blankets all the time! >:( Fox: I was talking about Grizzer. Thorn: Oh. Hound: I also assumed you were referring to Thorn Rex, looking Jesse dead in the eyes: Get. Thee. Hence.

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imarvelatthestars · 10 months

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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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