Prompt Fill - Blog Posts

Alphabet Soup

summary: prompt fill. the journey of a clandestine love affair at several stages because Wally Clark craves what he can't have and refuses to keep his hands to himself. and you live for it.

pairing: grey!Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: smut. AU - modern setting. romanticized toxic behavior. cheating. slice-of-life. egregious use of the word 'baby'.

bon reading, frens

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Alphabet Soup - S

S is for the soft in-betweens. The silly, sweet, soppy moments Wally didn't expect to yearn for. Yet, here he is, coveting them like silver from the stars, stockpiling them in his heart beside childhood memories and first loves. Or, who he assumes are first loves, but the more time he spends with you, the less he's sure he ever experienced that.

Shit.

What he does know is that Janet is at Claire's lake house with the rest of the squad, a weekend away—no boys allowed, except Gabe because he makes the best blended margaritas—and Wally has the house to himself. His parents are in Michigan visiting Aunt Tal and your dad is busy with some lame staff retreat leaving you and Wally with nothing else to do but each other.

It's sybaritic, sexy, sensual, fucking supreme. First, he lures you into the house with the promise of snacks and a movie. Lowkey, innocent. He knows you know it's a scheme. Can see it in the way you stretch to expose a strip of belly and hipbone, the way you take your sweater off because it's, "too hot in here, Wally." Sure it is. And the seducer becomes the seducee because the next thing he knows you're on him, a strip-tease, a lap dance that leaves him panting, kissing him with intention. And, hell yeah, he likes this side of you. Bold. Bratty. Taking what you want when he doesn't give it to you at your pace.

He fingers you on the couch, eats you out on the coffee table, fucks your mouth at the island while the pizza burns in the oven and the smoke alarm shrieks. He can't get enough. Will never get enough. Shower. Bed. The jacuzzi tub in his parents' master suite after splitting a bottle of something worth more than his life. "God, baby, you need my cock so bad, don't you?"

It's after you and he break his fucking bed during Round Double Digits that Wally feels the shift.

You're lightheaded, wobbly-limbed and sticky from lube and come and salted-caramel drizzle, reaching for whatever article of clothing is nearest—Wally's shirt that falls to your thighs—and you say with uncertainty, "I need something to eat, if that's okay?" Like Wally wouldn't take care of you unless it's to make your body sing for him.

He's on his feet in seconds, boxers on, scooping you into his arms as you giggle and squeal in delight. He carries you toddler-style down the stairs to the kitchen, places you on the counter, and searches the fridge for something to throw together. You joke as he cooks, talking about this and that, and Wally laughs, responds, engages. You stimulate his brain, challenge him, tease him, and then he feels it. A tiny thing at first, warm, subtle, but it swells into holy shit, she's perfect so fast it makes his head spin.

You're witty and smart and confident. Wally never let himself notice that before, and now he can't un-notice it. He wants to learn more, know more, gobble up every piece of you he can until he's satisfied.

You eat his food, compliment him, snuggle into his side for the movie he puts on to fall asleep to, his hand stroking your hair, back, side as his eyes droop. He doesn't mean to do it, is hardly aware of himself, but he nuzzles into your hair and kisses your forehead. Softhearted and tender. Like a boyfriend.

Half-asleep, you sigh contentedly and burrow closer, but now Wally's wide awake. Staring at the ceiling, freaking the fuck out because this wasn't supposed to turn into something more than an easygoing, no-strings way to blow off steam.

Double shit.

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MASTERLIST

also available on AO3!

A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z

Alphabet Soup

summary: prompt fill. the journey of a clandestine love affair at several stages because Wally Clark craves what he can't have and refuses to keep his hands to himself. and you live for it.

pairing: grey!Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: smut. AU - modern setting. romanticized toxic behavior. cheating. egregious use of the word 'baby'.

bon reading, frens

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Alphabet Soup - K

K is for the kisses Wally drew a hard line in the sand against. Told himself he wouldn't hand them out like conversation hearts because this wasn't that. Kisses were too intimate. Too loving. Too sentimental. Too, too, too. And he managed to avoid them the first few times he had you alone.

He kissed your neck, shoulders, tits, thighs. Anywhere and everywhere else. He wasn't an unaffectionate monster, he deigned to give you a peck on the cheek after he ate you out on Janet's birthday. But he wanted to save his kisses for that special connection. That right person.

Hell, he doesn't kiss Janet. Not really. Not unless it's for their audience. Sweet dry stamps on the lips with smiles. Fast as the flash of a camera. Romance wasn't part of the deal and Wally respects that to his soul because the thought of kissing Janet for real makes him hate his reflection.

But, in the bed of his friend's truck at the lookout with you beneath him, he gets ideas. Lips candy pink and pouty, eyes glazed as honeycomb, a delectable feast in the afterglow. And what the fuck, why's his heart running a fucking marathon in his chest?

You stare up at him, gaze flickering between his eyes then skating down to his lips where it lingers. He feels himself lowering his head, hovering closer, breathing shallow and deep by turns. Licks his lips, tongue grazing yours, and, shit, you taste like the cherry pie he bought you at Daisy's on the way up.

Just once, he told himself. Then twice. Then one more time for the road, except he couldn't stop thinking about it until he crowded you under the bleachers at lunch the next day when he was supposed to be running drills. He stole four, five, six more before the bell. Frosted cherry and something else. Something distinctly you.

Now he's hooked and doesn't know what to do as you enter Janet's bedroom to announce dinner. It's Wednesday, the evening Wally dedicated to run lines and rehearse blocking for their next performance after the game tomorrow. Head cheerleader leaps into the arms of the Devils' star running back. The crowd oohs and aahs as envy bleeds from the stands. Their social net worth skyrockets.

Wally can't peel his eyes away from your lips.

Janet says something sharp and you say something snarky, and Wally watches your mouth shape the vowels like ambrosia. How your teeth press an indent into your bottom lip that Wally wants to trace with his tongue to stop yourself from lodging something catty at Janet's next hostile remark.

Wally suffers through the meal, your mom and stepdad making idle conversation and dumb jokes as he hides his semi under a cloth napkin, staring at you as you suck whipped cream off your thumb at dessert. Fucking. Tease. He knows you're not doing it on purpose—he doesn't think so, anyway. You're not calculated like Janet is—but it fucks him all the way up and he can't stand without embarrassing himself for another ten minutes after you're excused.

It's 10PM when he says goodbye to Janet. Your mom and stepdad are already asleep, door to the third floor shut, and your room is right there. He plays it cool, raps once, doesn't even let you answer before he opens the door and slides in, closing it behind him quietly. You sit up, and—damn you—put the lollipop down on the plastic, eyes asking a question Wally answers by closing the distance and tackling you to your bed.

"Do you have any. fucking. idea..." He licks into your mouth, groaning when he tastes spun sugar and vanilla cola, kisses you like he needs it to live, and gropes your ass as he leans up and settles you in his lap. It should worry him that he doesn't even want to fuck. He just wants to kiss you over and over again, drink you up until there's nothing left and he's free of whatever spell you put on him.

He pulls back, chest heaving, eyes blown, frowning when you chuckle.

"You said you were never gonna kiss me," You remind him, such a cruel little minx. "But that's all you've done for three days."

And he wants to pin you down and fuck that smug tone out of your voice. Later. Right now, just one more taste. One more kiss. One more and another and another—shit.

Lids heavy, eyes dark, panting, "I lied," he admits although it wasn't a lie when he took kisses off the table. "Fuck, baby, what've you done to me?" He murmurs, more to himself than to you, but you grin victoriously all the same.

He finally pins you down. Finally fucks that smug tone out of your voice. At least, he thinks so. He doesn't actually give you a chance to speak, his lips on yours until you get too sleepy to tease him again.

🧿___________________________

MASTERLIST

also available on AO3!

A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z

Alphabet Soup

summary: prompt fill. the journey of a clandestine love affair at several stages because Wally Clark craves what he can't have and refuses to keep his hands to himself. and you live for it.

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: smut. AU - modern setting. romanticized toxic behavior. grey!Wally Clark. cheating. egregious use of the word 'baby'.

bon reading, frens

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Alphabet Soup - D

D is for Wally's dirty, depraved, debaucherous mouth. The things that spill out of him when you and he are alone together; when he's two knuckles deep and has you mewling in pleasure, begging him to fuck you like an animal as he deliberately ignores you.

"Not yet, baby," He takes your nipple between his teeth, flicking the tip of his tongue against it, "I wanna play with you first."

He should make this quick, but it's been three days since he's tasted you and he's jonesing for a fix. Janet's downstairs with Claire and Chloe, talking cheer routines and new uniforms. They don't know Wally climbed the trellis into Janet's room, fell through the window, and snuck across the hall. As far as anyone knows, you're alone, a virgin saint surrounded by homework while you watch Gilmore Girls for the fortieth time.

"God, baby, you're so wet for me. Did you miss me? Did you miss the way my cock fills you up?" Wally whispers dark and husky in your ear, a second finger joining the first, tips nudging your sweet spot. He moans when you bear down, back arching, pretty lips parted on a blissed sigh. "Fuuuuck~, that's it, baby girl, show me how good I make you feel. Show me how much you like it when I play with you."

The way your body responds to his touch drives him wild. Your legs spread wider, your hips rolling as you fuck his fingers, your nails digging into his skin, and Jesus, he's never seen anything as beautiful as you. Flushed, wanton, made just for him.

"You're a needy little thing, aren't you baby..." Wally growls low in your ear, words hot and breathless, his other hand cupping and caressing your tit, "So soft and perfect for me, fuck." He removes his fingers and the frustrated keen you release makes him throb in his too-tight jeans. In a move that impresses even himself, he strips out of his remaining layers and positions himself between your legs, grinds his hard cock against your pussy as he grabs your hand, laces his fingers through yours, and pins it above your head.

His other hand trails down your side to your thigh, hikes it up so your leg is wrapped around him. Wally's words are a promise and a threat, "I'm gonna have you baby... I'm going to make you mine..." And you whimper so sweetly, a heavenly chord that drives Wally insane as the heat between you and him builds to an inferno. "My beautiful girl," He pants, thrusting into you before you're ready, his eyes rolling back as your hot, velvety pussy surrounds him.

There's nothing in the world he needs more than this. More than you. The thought should scare him—he's getting too attached—but he's too consumed by lust and sensation to care. How you chant and mew his name, how you cling to him as he fucks you. Slow at first, taking his time, and then faster, harder, sharper, more desperate. He bites and licks and sucks your throat, wants so badly to leave his mark, but he can't. Won't. Not yet. Maybe not ever. (Maybe in round two or three or tomorrow morning.)

"You like that, baby?" He pants, heat coiling in his belly. "You like how my cock feels inside you?" A kiss, a bite, his tongue licking into your mouth as you keen and meet his thrusts. You're so tight around him, he's going to lose his mind.

When he comes, it's with your name on his tongue, in his head, in his fucking soul, though he refuses to acknowledge it. He doesn't comment when you burrow into his side, warm and soft in the afterglow, your breath on his skin like serenity. He strokes your hair, closes his eyes; inhales, and smiles proudly at the musk of you and him and sex all over you.

"My pretty baby doll," He murmurs against your lips when he claims them in a deep, hungry kiss moments later. "My perfect girl," which makes you blush, sex drunk and pliant in his arms, "I wanna feel you ride my face, baby, do you want that?" He coaxes, rolling over you, hands everywhere, lips everywhere, gaze heavy-lidded and dark.

"Janet's gonna come up any minute," You warn him and he chuckles.

"Like I give a fuck," A teasing stroke of his fingers through your folds, soaked, slick, messy from his come and yours. He doesn't tell you he locked the door. Doesn't tell you Janet thinks Wally's at Braden's house anyway and won't suspect a thing. Doesn't point out how he turned up the volume on your TV to muffle the sounds he pulls out of you.

Five minutes after he convinces you, you're humping against his mouth as he tongue-fucks you to a blackout release.

🧿___________________________

MASTERLIST

also available on AO3!

A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z

Alphabet Soup

NSFW alphabet challenge (request) pairing: grey!Wally Clark x fem!reader premise: the journey of a clandestine love affair at several stages because Wally Clark craves what he can't have and refuses to keep his hands to himself. and you live for it. (Janet and Wally are dating to increase their social value. Meanwhile, Wally wants to get closer to her step-sister. You.) warnings: smut. AU - modern setting. romanticized toxic behavior. cheating (not on you). egregious use of the word 'baby'. all oneshots for this collection will be linked as they come out.

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A is for the addiction Wally develops once he sets his sights on you. He's feral with it. Can't get enough of your skin under his fingertips; your shapes fitted against his; the sounds you make when he takes you apart with his teeth and his tongue and his dirty fucken mouth. So different from the public persona he sheds the second you're behind closed doors.

B is for bad ideas. Like the one that crept in behind his eyelids the instant he noticed you, cute and soft and sweet as a kitten. God, he wanted to do something about it right there. In front of the roomful of people between you, no fucks given. Wally's impulsive on a good day and reckless on a bad day, and you inspire too many fantasies that he can't not want to live out.

C is for competency, control; the single-minded intensity Wally has for every task. How he moves with a perfect combination of aggression and grace on the field, catching the ball from the QB. Touchdown. How he folds over the hood of your car and fiddles with cables and tightens bolts and fixes the rattle in the engine. How he holds his own desire at bay to bring you to the edge, over and over and over again until you sob. How he makes you come as soon as he slides home, grinds in, measured and slow, making it last as long as he wants before taking pity on you and fucking you into the mattress.

D is for Wally's dirty mouth. The things he rasps at you as he takes you apart with his fingers, his mouth, his cock. "You feel so good, baby,"—"fuck, I love the way you taste,"—"I want you to come on my tongue,"—"that's it, fuck, yeah, don't stop, baby, just like that, so good for me, such a good girl..." His fingers dig into your hips as he guides you in his lap, up-down-grind-repeat; his lips on your throat, teeth in your skin, marking you up so everyone knows you belong to someone. Belong to him.

E is for the effort Wally finds himself making to see you smile. It's stupid, he thinks, because it's not like he loves you. He's horny and putting out isn't part of the deal he and Janet made at the end of Junior year. But then he sees some jackass try to touch you, making jokes Wally doesn't find funny, drawling that he'll treat you special and make you see God as you shove and kick at him. Then you start crying and Wally sees red. Steps in. Pummels the guy's nose into his skull so hard, Wally's knuckles are scraped and bloody when he caresses your face and kisses your forehead. Promises to drive you home from the party. "Fuck that guy, baby girl, he won't touch you again."

F is for the way Wally shamelessly flirts with you. The back-and-forth you and he have when surrounded by people. Dark and husky, leaning in close with his back to Janet who's too busy with her drones to care what Wally's up to. You're fierce and funny and you flirt right back once you're comfortable enough, but Wally's had a lot of practice and knows how you get you hot with the right inflections. Eyes dark and heavy, lips brushing your ear, breath ghosting your skin while his fingers trail over your hip, "I bet you'd look better on your knees for me, baby."

G is for the God-given talent Wally has. You know the one. That one he weaponizes when he wants you to stop being stubborn, be a good girl, behave. He spreads your legs, kisses down your body, then delivers his bribe; tongue-deep inside you, making out with your pussy it's like a gourmet dessert de la crème. He could spend hours there if you let him, moaning when you grind your pretty pink kitty against him, so close, Wally, oh God—it's all he needs to sustain himself.

H is for how Wally holds you down against the mattress; up against the wall; in his lap as he sits back on his haunches, one arm banded around your waist, the other braced behind him as he rolls his hips up, sharp thrusts and deep grinds into you, "That's it, baby, keep bouncing on daddy's cock...just like that...fuck." His big hand clasps your thigh when he flips you onto your back, pushing it up as far as your flexibility will allow, spreading you open for him, wanting to get as deep as he can, wanting to make you scream his name and forget your own.

I is for the intensity of Wally's stare as he watches you from across the room, his eyes tracking you as you laugh with your friends. He strips you in his mind, licks his lips as you expose your thigh when you cross your legs. A flash of pink lace, the panties Wally asked you to wear, that make his jeans tight and his lids heavy. He cups himself through the denim, casual, sprawled on the opposite couch, gaze smoothing up your legs to your hips to your collar, fucking you with his eyes until you notice and give your friends an excuse to follow Wally to the bathroom.

J is for the jealousy Wally has to keep tightly contained in his bones whenever he sees another guy approach you. Like Jacob from Pre Cal, who flirts with you as if he doesn't know you belong to someone else. Wally is too obvious, he's aware, glaring daggers at the retinue of possible others who dare step into your space. Careful, collected, Wally has to smile like he doesn't notice them as he struts over and positions himself at your back, hands on your hips to drag you against him, ass fitted into the cradle of his pelvis. He watches in satisfaction as the dipshits take their leave with their tails between their legs.

K is for how Wally kisses you. The variety of ways. Pushy and ruthless when he's agitated; too much energy and no outlet. Or soft and slow when he just wakes up, liquid smile and heavy eyes, hand cupping your jaw like you're something precious. He nips and tugs your lips with his teeth when a teammate makes a comment just this side of not fucking funny, Gary and Wally isn't allowed to do anything about it. Sometimes, his kisses are sharp, honed, exactly what you want to feel so he can get what he wants. Always, his kisses are stolen. Behind locked doors, in dark corners, wherever he can snatch them from you without getting caught.

L is for the feeling Wally is terrified to label. The one that blooms in his chest whenever you touch him, smile at him, say his name, move, breathe, exist. Shit. It's warm and tingly and drives him to distraction because this is just a fun way to pass the time, to make things more interesting; he can't want you like that... But he does.

M is for the mess Wally makes of you when he fucks you in an alley or an empty classroom or behind the stadium. Thick cock slamming into you until you come at least twice, your panties around your ankles, his jeans at his thighs, pounding into you as he grips your hips so hard you bruise. He pulls out just enough to paint your pussy with his come, smearing it through your wetness with the tip of his cock, letting his spend and your juices trickle down your leg. And when you're forced to wipe yourself off with your ruined panties, he pockets them before you can throw them away, smug and satisfied.

N is for the fact that there's nothing Wally won't try with you, do for you, take from you. He wants everything you have to give. Is determined to taste every inch of you, from top to bottom, back to front, he doesn't care, he wants it all. He's never been this consumed by someone, thinks it'll fade the more he fucks it out of his system. It doesn't work. There's always a next time, and a next, and a next. And every time he leaves wanting more.

O is for Wally's inability to be subtle when you're around. Overt, obvious, open stares of lust when you walk into a room regardless of who else is in it. His heartbeat quickens, his breathing shallows, and he feels like a mutt in rut. All dark eyes and desirous smirks, hands grazing your body when you get close enough. He thinks he's slick, secretive, getting away with murder. But the truth is, he couldn't hide how he feels about you if someone put a gun to his head.

P is for the pleasure Wally takes in pampering you. He's a gentleman like that. What makes you happy makes him happy and, fuck, he loves to dote on you. From opening car doors to surprising you with your favorite Starbucks order. Showering you in presents he thinks you'll fill out perfectly for him. His pretty little passenger princess; a precious paper doll that he dresses up like a gift just to unwrap immediately with greedy fingers.

Q is for the question Wally wants to ask but can't. The one that makes things official. That ties him to commitment and expectation. Ignoring that you're the only place he's getting his dick wet, he's not ready for that. Until he catches himself smiling—soft and fond and affectionate—when you send a text that has nothing to do with where you want him to fuck you next. And, ah hell, maybe he does want to ask. Too bad he doesn't have the nerve.

R is for how riveted, rapturous, fucking obsessed Wally is when you ride him. No matter what he claims—"your turn to do all the work, baby"—he can't hold back, always fucks up into you, flushed, panting, hands clenching your hips and stroking your thighs and squeezing your ass. He watches your body, sweet liquid movements as you ride his cock like a goddess, and comes faster than he otherwise would. But that's fine because Wally has the refractory period of a fucking nympho.

S is for those soft, sweet, silly moments that you share. The ones he coaxes out of you during the domestic lulls between fucks. He invited you over for the weekend, Janet at some friend's lake house and Wally's parents visiting his aunt one state over. Perfect timing. And it is all hard thrusts and pinned wrists and love bites on your thighs, but then it's jokes over pancakes. Forehead kisses as he holds you in the shower. Hand-holding while you walk to the gas station for snacks, his thumb sweeping the back of your hand like he loves you. Sentimental.

T is for the toys Wally loves to tease you with. He's not afraid to introduce other means of stimulation into the mix. He'll do anything if it makes you shake apart for him; if it'll make you whimper and beg for more before you plead for him to stop, too much, Wally, it's too much, I can't as he presses the vibrator against your clit. He never listens, too enraptured by the expression of pleasure on your face, the way your body responds for him, fuck, yes, "that's it, baby, come for me again, show daddy how good you feel."

U is for how uncharacteristic, unpredictable, underutilized Wally's control has become since he started this with you. He was the image of dark and dominant behind closed doors, but, three months in, he can't keep himself in check. If he has you—against a wall, in the backseat of his car, in bed, in the shower, in. on. against—his control snaps as soon as you make a single sound of wanting pleasure. He goes feral for those noises. They're his complete undoing. And he'd surrender everything you asked for just to hear them one more time.

V is for the voice notes you and Wally swap when you and he aren't together. When he hasn't had a chance to sneak away from Janet or football practice or homework in too long and he's desperate for release. He strokes himself to the tempo of your whimpers and sighs, fucks his fist when he gets to the edge before slowing down and switching voice to video. He loves to show you what you do to him, how heavy and flushed and thirsty he is for you. "Your pussy sounds so nice and wet...now show me how you want me to fuck you, baby."

W is for every whim and want Wally indulges. Of yours. Of his. Mostly of his. Gluttonous and gourmand. You want to taste caramel on his cock? Go for it, baby. He wants to get messy with whipped cream? Okay, daddy. He wants to tease you with vibrating panties while you're trying to eat at that new place on Lasher? Okay, daddy. He wants to tie you up and spank you because you came before he said you could? Fuck, yes, daddy! ... Good girl.

X marks the spot Wally hammers into at exactly the right angle when he's feeling generous. And he always feels generous with you. He's addicted to the way you look when you come. Because he did that. He made that happen. It's empowering and euphoric and he can't get enough even though he should've by now.

Y is a word followed by 'not'. A question you ask when Wally hoists you into his arms and pins you to the wall with his hips after one of the leads in the school play asks you out. He grinds against you, cock throbbing, head angry, and reminds you who you belong to; why you can't say yes to Alex Greenberg even though it's all pot kettle black. Still, as he tears your panties at the seam and fucks you with abandon, desperate and aggressive, he makes a convincing argument.

Z is for how it ends. With her, not with you, because Wally's too far into the addiction and wouldn't last a day without getting his fix. He needs you. Wants you. Fucking shit, he loves you. So it's goodbye Queen Bee Janet and hello to her silly, sexy bombshell of a step-sister. Wally has no regrets, his hand on your ass as he walks you into Homecoming, fist-bumping his friends and saluting the principal. He loses his crown and doesn't care at all, too wrapped up in you to notice. Hands on your hips, brow against his, fitted perfectly against him like a puzzle piece.

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above and below are the links to the complete collection of Alphabet Soup. you can also find all related content HERE as well as reformatted chapters on AO3.

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A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z

For the kiss prompts, I would like to request another Fivesoka please! 💙

35. A kiss against a wall

Ah I had so much fun with this prompt and it got loooooooong! Thank you so much for the request. This fic inspired a ton of Fivesoka fix it head canons so I can safely say I WILL be writing more about these two in the future :)

This fic is set during TCW after Ahsoka leaves the order, but she returns sooner than she does in canon because Anakin has called her back... because reasons... This is also a fix-it scenario because well, Fives lives <3

Without further ado, full fic below the cut for some spiciness :)

Reunion

Pairing: Fivesoka

Word count: ~2,800

The halls of the Resolute were still and silent, the night cycle having taken effect several hours ago. Ahsoka felt as though she was a spectre, wandering the halls in search of some solace from the prickling discomfort that had settled into her bones after stepping aboard the vessel.

She did not regret her decision to return to the war effort. When she’d received Anakin’s call, she’d felt the gravity of his words even worlds away. He’d been rather cryptic about why he needed her to return, but she knew it was important.

After she’d arrived, she’d tried to entreat some answers from him to assuage the growing sense of dread in her gut but Anakin had been firm in his stance. All he would reveal was that he planned to tell her tomorrow, when Obi-Wan arrived with his fleet. He told her that his information required 'coordination', and the plan would require a 'precise execution'. He would reveal nothing more.

Ahsoka smiled wryly against the cool trepidation in her heart. She’d never seen Anakin so organized, nor so grim. Whatever was happening must be serious, but she trusted Anakin without question. She would wait until the briefing tomorrow, but that didn’t mean the wait would be an easy one.

She’d intended to retreat to her quarters and meditate before attempting to rest, but her feet had led her away from the officers’ quarters, in search of something else entirely. There was one person whom she’d been unable to reunite with since her return. Sadly, she couldn’t seek him out directly, for it would look rather odd of her to single one clone out over all the others. And a reunion amongst the other troopers was not the same.

Fives had been there, a part of her welcoming committee, so to speak, but they hadn’t said a word to each other. Ahsoka had barely glanced in his direction, and he’d stood at attention as procedure and protocol dictated. Beyond a subtle flare in his Force signature, he’d betrayed nothing, and Ahsoka was grateful for that. Up until now they’d kept their relationship a secret, and she intended for it to remain that way, for the time being.

Passing through another set of blast doors, Ahsoka realized she was indeed in the bowels of the ship now. She’d made her way down to the storage levels, and the hallways were lined with various alcoves, leading off towards other storage rooms housing more supplies. With a sigh, Ahsoka continued her walk, drumming her fingers against her thigh. When she's last been down here it had been for entirely more enjoyable reasons, accompanied by the one who's presence she yearned for now. She smiled at the memory, pretending it didn't color her cheeks with a pleasurable blush.

As she passed the next alcove the Force crackled with warning, and Ahsoka was ready for the hand that shot out of the darkness, intending to catch her unawares. She allowed the assailant to grab her, but twisted away easily at the last second, spinning and catching the attacker across his chest with a glancing blow. Then she pounced on him and shoved him into the wall, with her forearm across his chest to pin him. She made sure to keep her strikes measured though, as she had a good idea who her mystery attacker was.

“Whoa there Commander, take it easy,” Fives’ familiar drawl filled her heart with warmth, and she couldn’t help the way her face broke out into a happy smile. “I just wanted to say hello.”

“Since when does hello require dragging someone into a dark, abandoned hallway?” Ahsoka quipped, leaning into Fives a bit and enjoying the fact that he’d chosen not to wear the top half of his armor for this clandestine meeting. His chest was warm against hers, and his goatee tickled the skin of her arm beneath his chin as he looked down, fixing her with a mischievous smile.

“I had to find some way to get you alone,” Fives rumbled, his smile transforming into a self-satisfied smirk as he obviously caught the way Ahsoka was already looking at his lips. Ahsoka cursed her eagerness but could not deny she was hungry for a kiss. It had been too long. Their separation had been of her own making but still, she missed him dearly.

As Ahsoka leaned in, tilting her head up, Fives bent his head to meet her, but stopped short of pressing their lips together. His breath was warm against her face, and when his bottom lip brushed her top lip it was all Ahsoka could do to prevent herself from grabbing his face and pulling his mouth to hers.

Frustrated, she murmured, “What are you waiting for?”

Fives chuckled and his hands settled around her waist, one slowly travelling up her side to grasp her shoulder. He moved ever so slightly, brushing his lips against the side of her mouth, his thumb tracing her hip bone beneath her battle dress. Ahsoka couldn’t help the soft sigh that escaped her lips, and she relaxed into his touch, practically falling against his chest.

As soon as she relaxed, Fives sprang into action. He grasped her shoulder and shoved her backward, flipping them around so that she was the one pressed into the wall, and he now towered above her. Ahsoka tried half-heartedly to escape, but ended up with her hands pinned as well, one beside her hip, and the other alongside her head. Fives pinned her hips with his, trapping her with the full weight of his body and ensuring every inch of their bodies were pressed together.

“That,” he rasped, grinning triumphantly from ear to ear. “I was waiting for that.”

And then he kissed her. It was passionate and rough and wanting, and Ahsoka couldn’t help the whimper that left her lips as deep desire flared brightly through her lower abdomen. Fives deepened their kisses quickly, swiping his tongue against her bottom lip, to which she gladly parted her lips, meeting his tongue with her own.

His grip on her wrists loosened and Ahsoka pulled her hands free, roaming her hands over his body and exploring every inch of him. She ran her fingers through his hair – shorter than usual, she noted – and over his shoulders to his waist, and then back up his chest. She could feel every muscle through his blacks, and once again basked in the warmth radiating from his body. She was always so cold when she was in space, but she was never cold when she was with Fives.

One of Fives hands gripped her waist tightly, pulling her hips against his as he slipped his knee between her legs, while his other hand worked its way up her body, enjoying her curves as he met them, before tracing the chevrons of her lekku with his fingertips. His lips travelled across her jaw and then down to her neck, kissing and sucking at her skin hungrily.

Ahsoka tried to stop the breathy moan his actions tore from her lips but found she could not, and Fives seemed only to kiss her more vigorously for it. She ran a hand over his head again, wanting to fist her fingers in his hair but was disappointed as she noted again that it was too short to do so. Instead, her hands travelled back down his body, before attempting to slip beneath the bottom of his shirt.

The second her fingers met the skin of his abdomen he grabbed her wrists again, wasting no time in pinning her arms above her head. He stretched his body out over hers, pressing her into the wall and ensuring they were nose to nose. His eyes danced playfully, and he didn’t even bother to fight the grin that split his features so pleasantly.

“Really Ahsoka?” He drawled. “Undressing me in the hallway of all places?”

Ahsoka made an indignant noise. “Do you want me to stop?”

Fives hummed low in his throat and kissed her deeply, rolling his hips against her as he did so. Ahsoka gasped and he pressed his tongue into her mouth again, kissing her for some time before they were both forced to come up for air.

“Of course I don’t,” he mumbled against her lips, and then kissed along her jaw to her lekku as he spoke next. “Though glad to know you care about what I want.”

His words snapped Ahsoka out of the lustful bliss she’d fallen into, and her eyes popped open, brow markings furrowing in confusion.

“What?” she murmured as Fives lavished her right lek with kisses, tracing the pattern of her chevrons with his tongue. “What are you talking about?”

Fives pressed a few more kisses to her shoulder as he murmured, “Didn’t seem to matter what I thought when you left.”

Ahsoka stiffened beneath him, the guilt of her departure settling deep into her gut, like a ball of durasteel chained around her sternum. Seeming to sense the change in her mood Fives pulled back. He released her hands which she dropped to his chest, and he placed his hands on her shoulders, holding her carefully and averting his gaze.

“I’m sorry, I… I didn’t mean it like that.” Fives swallowed and then looked her in the eye. His eyes were stormy and sad, and Ahsoka could see the depth of his pain as she stared into the deep brown hues.

“I just wish…” he started before swallowing and stepping towards her, getting as close to her as was possible. “I just wish you’d said goodbye.”

Ahsoka’s heart broke in her chest at the cadence of his voice, so hollow and empty. She cradled his face between her hands, stroking his cheeks sweetly.

“I didn’t want to leave you,” she whispered, searching his face and trying to convey the depth of her contrition. “I’m so sorry, Fives.”

“No, no,” he shook his head and took a deep breath. “I know I’m being petty. I know there was far more to it than just you and I. But I…”

He sighed and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against his chest. “I really care about you, Ahsoka. And when you left without a word... and then I’m left to find out from an announcement from the General, without any contact or explanation.” He shook his head, brow furrowed tightly. “I know you had your reasons but-“

“I hurt you,” Ahsoka said quietly, nodding and caressing his cheek softly. “I know I did. I’m so sorry, truly, Fives.”

Fives nodded. His eyes still held sadness, but he smiled softly at her, reaching up to trace the white markings on her cheeks. Ahsoka smiled back, enjoying the way his fingers skimmed over her skin.

“It’s alright.” Before she could protest, he was shaking his head and speaking again. “Really, Ahsoka. It’s alright. I know there was more to it. Things are not often what they seem.”

His voice faded out and his eyes took on a faraway look as he rubbed his fingers absentmindedly over his right temple. His frown concerned her and Ahsoka looped her arms around his neck, holding him a little tighter. She could feel the muted distress in his Force signature.

“What is it?” she whispered, scratching her fingers over the back of his head gently. Fives dipped his chin and kissed her forehead. He took a deep breath.

“A lot’s changed since you left. The General will tell you more tomorrow.”

Ahsoka raised a brow marking, her curiosity flaring again as it seemed even Fives was privy to Anakin’s cryptic ‘news’.

“So I’ve heard,” Ahsoka said. “But no one seems willing to tell me what’s really going on.”

Fives shuddered in her arms, furthering Ahsoka’s concern. It took a lot to frighten him, and the way he pulled her tightly into his arms and peppered her montrals with desperate kisses had her heart hammering in her chest with worry. Before she’d suspected the news was serious. Now she knew something was wrong.

“Fives-“

“I can’t say more, meshla,” he murmured against her skin, continuing to kiss every available inch of her. “Please don’t ask. The less people who know, the better. I trust the General, and Rex. They have a plan.”

Ahsoka wanted to protest, to entreat Fives to honesty, but the resolve in his Force signature made her hold her tongue. Ahsoka cradled his face between her hands and brought his eyes back to hers. Behind the resolve, she could feel his distress thrumming in the Force between them, and she sought for some way to reassure him.

“I’m with you, Fives. I won’t leave you again, no matter what happens.”

Fives smiled, his eyes softening in a way she’d rarely seen before. He kissed her once, sweetly and softly before pulling back and fixing his eyes on hers.

“I love you,” he answered, softly and firmly, without any bashfulness nor uncertainty. “Whatever comes next I want you to know.”

Ahsoka was overwhelmed with feeling. She felt her insides go numb but at the same time she was convinced her skin was on fire. She wanted to cheer or shout or say anything at all, but she couldn’t find her voice. So, she kissed him hard, wrapping her arms around Fives’ neck and pulled him to her. Fives returned her affection, pressing kiss after kiss to her mouth as his hands explored her body. His hands slipped beneath her backside, and he lifted Ahsoka up, trapping her body between his own and the wall behind her. Reflexively she wrapped her legs around his waist holding him tightly as they kissed.

Fives hitched the skirt of her battle dress up above her hips, slipping his hands beneath it to touch the bare skin above her leggings. Ahsoka shivered with desire and dropped her head to nibble her way down his neck, huffing in frustration when the collar of his blacks got in the way. She changed directions, kissing up the side of his head and flicking her tongue over the shell of his ear before biting it gently. Fives growled quietly and pressed kisses to her lekku and shoulders.

“Kriff,” he muttered. “I want you. So much.”

Ahsoka nodded and pressed kisses into his hair again as he sucked a mark into the soft skin of her neck below her jaw.

“Yes, Fives,” she groaned softly, but shook her head as his left hand skimmed down over her breast and towards the waist band of her leggings. “Wait, wait. Not here.”

“Where?” Fives muttered between kisses, returning his hand to her breast again, his touch distracting her in the most pleasant of ways.

“My quarters,” she murmured between kisses. “Twenty minutes.”

“Twenty?” Fives exclaimed incredulously, pulling back and raising a teasing eyebrow. Ahsoka laughed and grinned.

“Fine, fifteen minutes,” she amended. “Just make sure-“

“No one sees me,” Fives nodded. “Sure thing, Commander. I know the drill.”

Ahsoka scoffed and slapped his shoulder good naturedly. “Don’t be so smug.”

“Hmm. You like it when I’m cocky,” Fives countered, adjusting his hands beneath her thighs, having yet to let her down from her perch between himself and the wall. Ahsoka rolled her eyes.

“Do I? Please tell me then, what else do I like? Since you seem to know so well,” Ahsoka harrumphed, though she kept her tone light to let him know she was teasing.

“I know exactly what you like,” Fives rumbled, leaning in until their lips were almost touching. “But I’d rather show you, than tell you.”

“Maybe you should do both. That could be fun,” Ahsoka murmured before she realized what she was saying. Fives snorted and grinned, finally taking a step back so she could drop down between him and the wall, settling back onto her feet with a deep blush coloring her cheeks.

“That can be arranged,” Fives drawled, grinning from ear to ear. Ahsoka shook her head but smiled, straightening out her dress before making for the door.

Before she left, something tugged at her heart, and she looked back over her shoulder at Fives. His words from earlier thrummed in her ears and in her heart, the magnitude of his feelings warming her from the inside out. She knew the feelings in her heart matched his, and he deserved to hear it.

With her heart hammering in her ears, Ahsoka turned back and took Fives’ hand in hers, holding it gently and running her thumb over his knuckles.

“Fives,” she murmured softly, meeting his eyes with a smile. “I love you too.”

Fives didn’t grin, nor chuckle, nor did he say anything at all. Ahsoka blushed as he smiled the softest smile she’d ever witnessed from him, and very slowly he brought their joined hands up to his lips. He pressed a kiss to her knuckles while holding her gaze, and Ahsoka felt her heart and stomach attempt to switch places as butterflies careened between her chest and abdomen.

“Go on,” Fives murmured, jerking his chin towards the door. His words were brusque, but his eyes were loving and kind. Ahsoka kept her eyes on his until she exited the room completely, her heart soaring in her chest as her world seemed to fall into place. The Force still swirled with malcontent, and Ahsoka knew things were about to get worse before they got better. But come what may, she knew with Fives at her side she could handle any hardship the Galaxy decided to throw their way.

If still doing the kiss roulette, 35 or 43 Rexsoka? Pls and thanks.

Thank you so much for the request! I decided to do both prompts in one fic, so this one got a little longer than intended. I really hope you like it thought <3 This fic is set sometime during the later half of TCW and I want to make clear that this is an aged up, adult version of Ahsoka! If i ever write her during TCW I always age her up :)

Full fic below the cut!

Reasons

Kiss Roulette Prompts: 35 - a kiss against a wall & 43 - a bloody kiss

Pairing: Rexsoka

Word Count: ~1600

Warnings: blood, minor injury

Rex shoved Ahsoka against the wall, covering her body with his against the shower of shrapnel that followed the deafening blast from the Separatist cannons. Every nerve in his body was on high alert, and his muscles were tense, ready to jump and move again if need be. The shrapnel, gravel and debris pinged and clattered against his armor, and Rex pressed even tighter against Ahsoka, ensuring she was entirely shielded from the aftermath of the blast, knowing she wore far less protective equipment than he did.

Her hands were clutching his chest plate, and he listened to the sound of her breathing, muffled behind the ringing in his ears from the blast. Her respirations were clear and even, and Rex matched his breathing to hers, slowly calming his racing heart.

When it had been silent for long enough that Rex was certain another blast was not coming, he relaxed marginally and chanced a glance over his shoulder. Sure enough, the spot in the square where they’d been standing was now a crater, and various chunks of debris as well as troopers unlucky enough to be caught in the blast littered the area.

Rex couldn’t tear his eyes from the bodies, strewn at awkward angles throughout the square as they were. He fought the urge to run to his brothers, desperate to search for survivors, however small that possibility that might be.

“They’re…” Ahsoka coughed as the dust in the air tickled her throat, interrupting her words. “They’re gone, Rex.”

As she confirmed his suspicions, Rex let out the breath he’d been holding, shoulders slumping under the weight of his despair. His entire squadron, gone in one moment. He wished for the chance to mourn, but they needed to move, and they needed to do so quickly. They still had a shield generator to destroy so General Skywalker could move his troops through the main streets and into the legislative buildings were the Seppies were holed up, and now they needed to do so without the rest of their strike force.

With a sigh of resignation, Rex turned back to Ahsoka to suggest they do exactly that, but he found his words remained trapped within his throat at the sight of her.

Ahsoka was dabbing with her bare hand at a laceration on her forehead, just below her headband. As scalp wounds were wont to do, it was bleeding profusely, and the blood easily escaped her half-hearted attempts at tamponade, running down the right side of her face. It marred the beautiful white markings on her cheek, and stained her lips a bright red.

Rex was no medic, but he’d tended to his fair share of wounds. Theoretically, he knew this wound was superficial. Theoretically, he knew that the scalp was a very vascular part of the body, therefore although the blood loss looked impressive, it was likely not serious. Theoretically, Rex knew Ahsoka would be just fine.

But in reality, Rex tore his helmet from his head, letting it bounce haphazardly across the ground as he dropped it unceremoniously. He grasped her chin with trembling fingers and turned her head, pressing the gloved fingers of his other hand firmly against her wound, trying to stop the bleeding.

“Rex, please, it’s fine,” Ahsoka grumbled, trying feebly to free herself from his grasp, but he held her fast, pressing her into the wall more securely to prevent her from escaping.

Refusing to take no for an answer, Rex indicated to his belt with his chin. “There are a couple of bacta strips in the side pouch. Grab them for me.”

“You’re overreacting,” Ahsoka bemoaned with a roll of her eyes, but she did as he bid her, grabbing the bacta strips and handing them to Rex. “I’m fine.”

“You will be,” Rex agreed gruffly. Then more softly he said, “Please, just let me help you, ‘Soka.”

His gentle plea effectively silenced any further protests from Ahsoka. He made quick work of treating her wound, appraising his work briefly once he was done.

“There,” Rex stated softly. “Good as new.”

Ahsoka rolled her eyes and laughed softly, laying her blood-stained fingers gently against his cheek. Her smile was sad, as how could it not be in a world filled with war and death, but her words were light, buoying his heart against the darkness and fear.

“My hero. You saved my life and patched me up,” Ahsoka told him with a subtle wink, a little impishness making it through the sadness in her smile. Rex cradled her face in his hands, his eyes reflecting her melancholy, but also her resolve. They couldn’t linger long, but Rex took the chance to be with her now, if only for a moment. The reality of war had taught him to savour such moments. Nothing was permanent. He could lose her as easily as he’d just lost all of his men.

“Mmmhmm. And just how will you ever repay me?” he quipped, leaning down while losing himself briefly in her beautiful blue eyes. Ahsoka smiled fully, her gaze drifting down to his lips.

“I can think of something,” she murmured. She stepped closer, and Rex watched as her eyes fluttered closed. His own were half lidded.

“Hmm. Something nice, I hope…” he replied.

Ahsoka’s lips brushed his. “Very nice, I promise.”

Before Rex could respond, she kissed him. Her lips were soft and sweet, and Rex cradled her face gently between his hands, swiping his thumbs lovingly over her cheeks. All he could feel was her. She invaded all of his senses, sweeping him well away from the horrible reality of war, if only for a moment.

But as she deepened the kiss, the tangy, metallic taste of blood slipped through the blissful haze the movement of her lips had lulled him into.

Suddenly, he could hear the distant blaster fire, mixing with the even more distant clanking of battle droids. He could smell the scorched earth from the cannon’s blast and felt the dirt and dust upon his skin and hers.

The wounds on his heart opened anew as he thought of his men, dead in the square behind him while he stood, alive and well, kissing his Commander.

He should stop it. He should end things as regulation and expectation dictated. He was not a mere man, entirely susceptible and beguiled by the affections of a woman, even a very beautiful one such as Ahsoka.

But that was entirely the problem. This wasn’t some irresponsible dalliance, distracting him from his mission, his purpose. This was love. It was the desperation for a connection with another being, fighting for life amongst all the death.

Ahsoka was his whole world. The clones were bread to fight for the Republic. They didn’t need a reason to do so. But all the same, Rex knew Ahsoka had become his reason. He fought, day in and day out, for her.

Desperately, he deepened the kiss further, slipping his tongue into her mouth as he pushed her a few steps back towards the wall. Gasps left both their chests as they crashed harder than Rex had intended into the solid structure.

He couldn’t stop, and he didn’t want to, so he continued kissing her and touching her, pressing their bodies as close together as his blasted armor would allow. Ahsoka returned his passion with vigor, her fingers hooked around his chest plate, holding him close while her other hand scrapped against the back of his head.

They kissed without a thought for anything but each other. Rex didn’t even bother to stop for a breath until he could go no longer without one.

When he broke the kiss, his chest was heaving, his oxygen starved lungs begging for relief. Ahsoka’s breathing was similarly labored, and she clutched tighter at his armor, unwilling to let go.

“I love you,” she whispered, her voice breaking. Rex opened his eyes then to find hers filled with tears, which slowly slipped down her cheeks, creating tear tracks through the dried blood that still marred her beautiful features. Rex blinked away the blurriness from his own vision and held her tighter.

“I love you too, ‘Soka.”

They held each other for a moment more before Ahsoka let out a long sigh, breaking through the emotional veil of desperation, fear and love. Rex stepped back, standing at attention, while Ahsoka peeled herself from the wall, brushing her hands over her battle dress in an attempt to clear it of any dust and grime.

Bending down, she grabbed Rex’s helmet from the ground, studying it briefly before holding it out to him, He accepted it from her, but hesitated before placing it upon his head. Ahsoka pressed a hand to his cheek and tried to smile, although her eyes were still troubled by a stormy darkness, dimming her shining blue hues to a muted grey.

“Please don’t die,” she bid him, her voice breathy and desperate, as it seemed she too must have tasted their mortality and found it rather jarring. Rex leaned forward to press a kiss to her forehead, before pressing his own against one of her montrals.

“I go where you go, cyare. I have no plans to leave your side.”

“See that you don’t,” Ahsoka ordered before stepping back, her posture and expression morphing into that of his battle-hardened Commander once more, although the affection in her eyes remained.

“Yessir,” Rex agreed, nodding before securing his helmet upon his head. Taking a deep breath, he deferred to her, ready to jump back into the fray, as his duty bid him. “Lead the way, sir.”

Ahsoka nodded and they slipped around the wall, keeping to the shadows as they pushed on towards their objective. Although weary and worn, war left no rest for any but the dead, and Rex was not about to join them. So, he followed his Commander without question, staying close to her side as she bid him, and keeping her even closer to his heart.

Excited to see you doing these too! How about 19 for crosslo

Thank you so much for this ask! Sorry for the delay, but life has been so busy. I had the most fun writing this and I did take a little liberty with what it means to be "underwater" but I hope you enjoy! There is a little bit of spiciness in this one, so I'm putting the full text below the cut :)

Falling for You

Kiss Roulette Prompt 19: A kiss underwater

Pairing: Crosshair x oc (Arlo)

“Look, Cross!” Arlo called, wiping the sweat from her brow with one hand while extending the other out before her, pointing to the clearing at the end of the long jungle trail.

Crosshair shook his head, little droplets of sweat flying from his brow as he did so. Picking the hottest day of the year to go on a hike through the jungle on the far side of lower Pabu hadn’t been the finest idea, but it seemed it had all been worth it to Arlo, as she continued to point emphatically into the clearing before her, a broad smile on her face.

Stepping up to meet her, he peered beyond the thicket of tropical trees and bushes and was pleasantly surprised by the oasis that awaited him. There was a large pool of water in the middle of the clearing, fed by a beautiful waterfall, skittering over the rocks a few meters above the pool and cascading down into the clear green-blue water below.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Arlo observed, already wandering across the clearing to the water’s edge, where she promptly sat down and removed her hiking shoes. Crosshair padded up behind her, folding his arms over his chest and regarding her dubiously.

“What are you doing?” he questioned, raising an eyebrow as she pulled the hairband from her golden locks next, allowing her hair to cascade down her back, and then she stood.

“I’m going for a swim of course,” Arlo replied evenly, pulling her shirt over her head. “If I spend a minute more in this heat, I’m going to melt.”

Crosshair stared openly as she threw her shirt to the ground and made quick work of the buttons on her pants. To his surprise, she didn’t stop there. Next came her bra, and then her underwear, until she was standing before him completely naked, without a hint of self-consciousness whatsoever.

He must have worn his shock on his face, because Arlo gave him a suggestive wink before wading into the water. Crosshair watched her with interest. Though they’d been together for years, she never ceased to catch him off guard from time to time. Arlo was a confident woman, but this was bold, even for her.

Huffing a short chuckle, he watched as she continued to make her way towards the center of the pool. When the water reached her waist, she turned back towards him and regarded him with a saccharine smile on her face.

“Care to join me, love?” she asked, eyes wide with false innocence as her hands boasted temptation, drawing his gaze from her face to her chest as she played with her hair, the long golden strands having fallen over her shoulders.

“It looks cold,” Crosshair grouched, even as he set his pack on the ground, fighting the smirk that warred with his scowl for dominance upon his lips.

“Hmmm,” Arlo murmured, flicking her hair back over her shoulders. “I find it rather refreshing.”

“Indeed,” Crosshair drawled, kicking off his boots as he pulled his shirt over his head. Arlo merely giggled softly, dragging her fingers playfully through the water at her hips, watching him with a heated satisfaction in her eyes. Crosshair allowed himself to smirk then, happy to know she liked what she saw.

After he finished divesting himself of his clothes, he followed her path into the middle of the pool. When he reached for her, Arlo stepped back but caught his hand in hers. Tugging on it gently, she led him across the water towards the waterfall.

She looked like something out of a dream, a water nymph, leading him towards what could only be both his pleasure and his doom. Crosshair was enchanted and couldn’t help the smile and laugh she pulled from his lips as she placed her free hand into the waterfall’s path, grinning and giggling as the water splashed across it.

“It feels nice,” she assured him as she backed under the silvery falls, tipping her head back as the cool water slid down her face and neck before trailing down the rest of her body. Crosshair eagerly stepped into the waterfall with her, letting out a sigh of satisfaction as she finally allowed him to hold her.

With his hands encircling her waist, he stepped forward, until her body was pressed against his. The warmth of her skin was a delicious contrast to the coolness of the water running over his body.

“Kiss me,” she murmured. Or at least that’s what Crosshair thought she was going to say. His lips were already on hers, and she kissed him back eagerly, falling into his embrace.

Why?

Summary: Although he is a man of few words, Crosshair is rather curious. Arlo loves answering his questions.

For @summer-of-bad-batch Prompts: Injured (Week 2 Main Prompt) and Forget I Asked (Week 3 Alternate Prompt)

Fandom: The Bad Batch

Pairing: Crosshair x Original Female Character

Rating: T

Word Count: ~5,100

I was finally able to get something posted for Summer of Bad Batch! Yay! I combined a couple of the prompts, as they both worked well for this fic. This fic belongs to a longer series for Crosshair and my OC, Arlo. A link to the other fics in the series can be found here in my series, Cross My Heart and Help Me Heal.