#clone trooper charm | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

johnstacoshield · 1 year ago

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Fives x Fem!Reader

NSFW Ahead Minors DNI 18+!!!

A/N: To all the girls who wish they lost their virginity to a clone trooper - this one’s for us.

Tags/Warnings: Loss of virginity, Best Friends to Lovers, Alcohol, Gambling, Lil bit of angst, Fluff, Smut, Oral Sex (F! Receiving), Vaginal Fingering, Slow burn (technically), Love Confessions, Happy Ending!!

Summary: Since the moment you were transferred to the 501’st as a Civ Medic you and Fives gravitated towards each other and over many months of friendship you can’t help but slowly fall for the charming ARC Trooper. The tension only increases when he finds out just how inexperienced you are.

Word Count: 9.8k

(For clarification, the italics are flashbacks)

The data pad read ‘Order for Civilian Medic Transfer’, which is really just a nicer way of saying ‘You can’t do anything about this, so just accept it and suffer’.

You had no choice when you were inevitably rotated between legions, untethered. Your newest order was to the 501st, and you find yourself standing in an empty Medbay; it’s quiet. Too quiet. You’ve either been fortunately assigned to a legion that didn’t see much action, if that were even possible, or you were stood in the eye of a hurricane.

Your eyes are caught on the tattoo across the scalp of the head medic, ‘A good droid is a dead one’ and you suppress a smile at the sentiment. It’s why you were needed - clones weren’t fond of droids, even those programmed for medical purposes.

“New?” The clone asks, eyes focused on a datapad. You weren’t, not by any means, you had been rotated countless times over the duration of the clone wars. But, you already begin preparing yourself for the usual gruff demeanour that often greeted you, although you were better than a droid, to many clones you were still just a ‘Civ’, despite the many sleepless nights of studying and GAR medical training.

“No, sir, transferred from the 104th.” You keep your words short, formal, but the clone medic’s eyes light up in recognition.

“Under Commander Wolffe?” He asks, a hint of surprise in his tone as he actually looks away from the datapad.

“Briefly,” you admit, recalling how just a few days before the commander in question practically growled at you when you had to check his eye. You lasted a week there. “I was with the 212th before that.”

The head medic eyes you with a curious look, waiting for you to elaborate, so you continued, “Typically Civ medics are just seen as temporary by the head medic, until a clone medic becomes available.” You explain, perhaps a bit too fast. How many times could you fit the word medic in that sentence? You internally groan, but he gives a small hum of acknowledgement, whether it was in agreement or disagreement of your statement, his face didn’t betray him either way.

“Go get yourself settled, and then report back here in an hour.” He says with a slight sigh, passing you the datapad, a blinking spot on the screen indicating where your bunk is - at least this time you weren’t in the shared barracks. “We’ve only just got back from being planetside on Coruscant for a week.” Ah, that answers the question of why it had been so quiet then.

“Thank you, sir.” You nod, picking up your small pack of personal belongings, it wasn’t much, but it was the only anchor you had when you were transferred around so often.

“Kix is fine.” He nods, giving you a genuine smile. “Welcome to the 501st.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The small room is thrumming with energy that’s been ignited from an evening of drinking following a particularly rough mission for the men. Contraband in the form of amber liquid that burns your throat and fuels bad decisions, is grouped together on a small crate you’ve been using as a makeshift table for the evening.

You’re currently sitting on the floor, leaning against a crate next to Fives as he divulges details to you about their most recent mission. Details that you probably aren’t supposed to know, but he tells you anyways, because ‘what are friends for if not to impress’, he had once told you with a sly wink.

You knew most of the other Civ workers in the GAR weren’t as close to the clones they served with as you were. In all of the legions you had been bounced around from, there was a clear divide between the small number of Civ members, compared to the clones. But in the 501’st, those theoretical lines were blurred, or probably didn’t exist at all, with how Fives’s arm settled around your shoulder. He always had been the most friendly out of his brothers.

Your attention is drawn away from the warm expression of your friend, and you groan as you catch Jesse and Hardcase standing side by side, comparing their lengths.

“Put it away, for the last time they’re all the same size!” You call out with a laugh, making Fives frown and whip around as he’s been interrupted from your conversation.

“Know from experience with clones?” Jesse sends you a drunken wink as his hands sloppily stuffs the offending body part back into his blacks.

“Medical experience with clones.” Your face almost hurts from smiling as you shake your head, before turning back to Fives. It’s faint and fleeting, but a look of annoyance crosses his features. You’re not awarded the opportunity to ask about it though, because he’s already delving into another over-exaggerated story of how he took out a whole group of droids on his own.

You wouldn’t really care if they all weren’t true, you just enjoyed hearing him talk. The man could make even the most boring senate conversations interesting, you’re sure of it. So you smile, hooked onto each of his words, cursing the way your heart beats too fast when he reaches out to push away some hair that's fallen from the usual tight bun you have to wear it in. His fingers graze the skin of your cheek, leaving a burning trail.

It’s a small gesture that doesn’t even break the rhythm of his conversation. The touches are natural, instinctive on his part. He’s always touching you - you know to him it means nothing more than that, but your tell-tale racing heart screams at you that you wish it did.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Once you had returned from being settled in, Kix had directed you to some neatly stacked crates containing new medical supplies to restock the old ones. Your sluggish movements remind you just how little sleep you’d managed on the transport here from the 104th, your body was still aching from the hours spent laying on the durasteel floor between containers of explosives. Not the best sleep you’ve had, and surprisingly not the worst.

“Hey Kix, can you tell me if this looks infected?” A voice pulls you from your thoughts, alerting you to the attention of a topless clone trooper, something that no longer phased you given how many entirely naked clones you had treated. Upon seeing you, the clone goes from being relaxed to formal instantly, clearing his throat as he fumbled to get the top half of his blacks on.

“You,” he clears his throat, his voice now adopting the typical ‘trooper at attention’ tone as he pulls the clothing over his head, “Are not Kix.” His top blacks are on backwards, and he runs a finger along the collar which now presses uncomfortably to his flushed neck.

“No, I’m not.” You agree with him, suppressing a small smile at how he looks caught off guard, from his surprised expression you may as well be a battle droid standing in the medical bay.

“May I?” You gesture to his top, and he reluctantly removes it once more, taking a seat on a free bed. You see his issue, a common rash splaying across his shoulders from where his armour has been rubbing his skin through his blacks.

“You’re the new medic?” He sounds more nervous than you are, his jaw tensing when you run your fingers along the rash, checking for any signs of infection.

You give a small hum, confirming he’s correct as you step away. “And you are?”

“Echo. I, uh.. Wasn’t expecting a Civ?” They never do.

“Not infected, by the way, it’s just irritated.” You seek out a steroid cream, which you conveniently just restocked. “Here, use this twice a day, and keep the area as dry as possible.”

He gives you a short, formal nod before he redresses, correctly this time, and leaves the room with his face almost as red as his rash.

You’ve moved onto another crate when you catch the movement from the corner of your eye, somebody passing the door to the Medbay. You think nothing of it until you see the figure again, this time he slows slightly to glance inside the room.

He walks past a third time - and then a fourth.

On what would be the fifth time you poke your head out slightly to watch him walk almost to the end of the hallway, just to turn around and begin his lap back past the door. He stops in his tracks when he sees you looking curiously at him, but quickly recovers even though he’s been caught, and strides back towards you. You catch a glimpse of a tattoo on his temple, but it’s his grin, framed by neatly trimmed facial hair, that seems to distinguish him from other clone troopers you’ve come across. It’s cocky, confident, and warm. Especially warm when he takes hold of your hand and presses it to his lips in a greeting that makes it feel as though you’re trapped in a boiler room, overheating.

“I’m Fives, and you are?”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You were settled between Echo and Fives, the three of you with empty cups waiting for the next round of the game. Each round you had to take a shot based on your answer to the question, which so far had ranged between ‘If you’ve been shot by a droid’ - which Rex groaned at, and ‘If you ever fucked a girl in the 79’s fresher’, which made several of the men cheer.

Your heart sinks a bit when Fives drinks at that one, recalling the night just over a month ago on Coruscant.

You had all been there together, his arm slung around your shoulder in the booth as you both laughed at some fleeting joke made by Jesse. You had grown closer, close enough to the point that he got teased relentlessly by his brothers for calling you his ‘best friend’ whilst under the influence of some strong pain medication in the Medbay.

You left to get some more drinks from the bar when Sinker approached you, a spark of recognition in his eyes. You were trying to focus on ordering the drinks, blushing as you attempted to turn down the Sergeant who was whispering over-sweetened things in your ear at how he wished you’d stayed with the 104th for longer.

You smiled in thanks when Echo came to help, claiming he saw that you may need help with carrying the drinks. You were grateful for the assistance, laughing with Echo under the usual volume of the crowd until you caught sight of your best friend, stumbling through the crowd towards the fresher, his hand intertwined with a beautiful Twi’lek girl.

You remember how Echo looked at you as he realised the reason behind your tightened jaw and hoarse voice when you excused yourself for some air. You couldn’t stand the sympathy in his eyes, the eyes that looked identical to those of your best friend, the man you were in love with.

So much for being unattached.

“It wasn’t that good.” Fives nudges your knee with his own, pulling you from your thoughts. A casual smirk plays on his lips and you’re about to laugh off the comment, ready to deflect the attention from your friend, when his twin interrupts you.

“Yeah, cause you couldn’t get it up!” Echo slurs as he leans against you, clutching his cup as some of the amber liquid sloshes down your chest before he apologises and wipes the stain above your breast with hazy eyes. Fives catches his brother's wrist, pushing it away from your chest lightly, and your mind races at Echo’s statement - Fives hadn’t slept with the Twi’Lek girl?

“Shut up, Vod.” Fives grumbles, his fingers tightening around his own cup as he looks away from the two of you. A blush, that must just be from a mix of alcohol and annoyance, creeps up to his face. Thankfully as most of these questions have been related to battle or women, you’ve barely drank, so you can at least try to be rational and push away thoughts that creep into your mind of how you think Fives would take you against the wall of a fresher stall. You can ignore the contemplation on if he would show restraint, or if he would make the walls shake.

“How about this - take a shot for how many people you’ve slept with,” Jesse calls out to the small group of you, an intoxicated grin on his face. Several hands reach for the last remaining bottle at once, ready to fill their cups, each of their owners immediately wanting to show off to the rest of the room's occupants.

“No!” Kix’s hand is the fastest to snatch the liquor away, holding it close to his chest plate. “We are not looking after you all in the Medbay with alcohol poisoning!” He gestures between you both, and Jesse bargains, coming to a compromise for 1 shot for every certain number, but the specifics of the round are drowned out by your own heartbeat.

Your body stills and you look down to your half full cup. It would be easy to drink, to lie to yourself and those around you. You don’t even have to drink more than once and yet you just continue to stare at your reflection in the liquid, it’s as if the cup were judging you.

“You know you’re supposed to at least drink once, right?” Fives whispers in your ear.

“Yeah, just got distracted trying to work out which of your brothers are definitely exaggerating,” You nod, taking a sip from the cup as you avoid his eyes that burn you more than any liquor ever could. You place the empty cup at your feet and lean your head against Echos, managing a small smile at how he’s snoring against your shoulder.

Fives gives a small hum of thought, finishing his own drink before placing the empty cup next to you, allowing his finger to linger on the rim for a moment. Your gaze is focused on the way the traces of liquor coat his fingertips, making the battle-calloused skin glisten. You close your eyes, trying to fend off the thoughts of how the whiskey tainted fingers would taste on your tongue, and the mental image of them coated in something sweeter than the alcohol.

“Remember the first time I dragged you here?” Fives’ amused tone forces your eyes open, his warm hand settling on your knee and he taps his fingers rhythmically, almost to the same beat as your unsteady heart.

It had been just over one standard month, one of your longest posts so far, and you were already finding yourself anxious that you could be transferred away at any moment. If you had told yourself just over a month ago that in your new assignment with the 501st that you would wake to two half-drunk troopers in your room, begging you to come play Sabbac with them, you would have diagnosed them with battle induced psychosis.

“Well, not with us-” Fives starts, rummaging around the small closet for something you could wear over your sleeping vest.

“For us.” Echo finishes, practically pulling you out of your bed with an eager nod as Fives approaches you with something in his hands.

“Hands up, sweetheart.” In your tired state, you obey thoughtlessly, allowing Fives to slip the sweatshirt over your head. His fingers trail down your sides, eliciting goosebumps across your skin as he pulls the heavy fabric down over you, and between the contact and his name for you, your heart skips a beat. It nearly stops when he winks before turning away to get your shoes.

Clone Troopers were often flirty, but over the last month, Fives seemed determined to earn the title of being the biggest flirt. Regardless which of his brothers got sick or minorly injured, he was always the one pulling them through the door and would then spend the entire time sweet talking you. Just last week, Rex had nearly concussed himself on a pipe and looked like he wanted to hit Fives who didn’t stop talking the whole time you examined the injury.

“And why do you need me to play for you? I’ve never even played before,” You swallow thickly, sliding your feet into the shoes as the twins guide you from your room, both of their hands on your back, ushering you down complex hallways that all look identical.

“Fives got caught cheating, so we both got banned,” Echo rolls his eyes, placing the blame on his brother, who begins telling you the rules of the game, which they are playing a slight variation of given that they only had items to bet, not credits. You had reluctantly allowed them to bring a full bottle of rather expensive vodka you had purchased last time you were on Coruscant.

“You did not wake up the new medic just to get her to play for you.” Jesse groans, and Rex begins apologising to you for his brothers, ready to scold them for waking you up, but you raise your hand to stop him.

“It’s no bother.” You shake your head, remembering Fives and Echo’s advice to act confident - so really you just had to ask yourself ‘What would Fives do?’

“You know how to play?” Kix asks, surprised by your sudden change in demeanour. He had been used to you keeping your head down in the Medbay, following orders, not showing up with a bottle of alcohol to bet on and Fives’s arm slung around your shoulder.

“Oh please, I’ve been playing Sabbac longer than some of you have been out of the tube.” You feel Fives give your shoulder a proud squeeze at your lie as he places the bottle of vodka on the makeshift table, and you both take a seat, “Deal me in?”

After several rounds of you finding your feet in the game, Fives drops his hand to your waist, giving it a squeeze - he’s signalling to go in for the kill. You turn your head slightly to look into his eyes, and he gives a slight nod that doesn’t go unnoticed by your opponents, he’s making it look so sure you’re going to win, but in reality your cards weren’t good.

You and Rex were down to the last cards, everyone else had folded. Either of you could have the winning hand, but if one of you backed out now before your cards were revealed, you could at least keep your own stake in the game. It was about the bluffing now, and thankfully you were good at that.

“Well, Captain?” You and Fives lean backward in sync. You press the cards to your chest, hiding how they’re on the verge of shaking from Fives’ grip on your waist, but also to hide your tell. It’s a small, barely noticeable movement, your forefinger running along the edge of your thumbnail - a nervous movement that Rex hasn’t noticed past your arrogant smile that perfectly mirrors Fives’. “What’ll it be?”

There’s a short beat where the room is silent and you hold the gaze of the Captain, all of the others staring between you both like it’s an intense standoff. He looks away first, tossing the cards down with a huff as he backs out, giving the win to you; he actually had a good hand.

“Oh and by the way, sir,” You lay your cards down, revealing that you had already gone bust, over the number limit to win. “I’ve never played Sabbac in my life.” You grin at the shocked expression on his face that melts into a warm smile and you’re enveloped into a hug from Fives while Echo reaps your winnings from the table.

After you all decide to have a drink from the bottle you bet with, the tiredness catches up to you, and you struggle to stay alert with the alcohol that casts a haze on your mind.

“C’mon, I’ll take you back.” Fives nudges you, picking up the half-full bottle of vodka as he pulls you to your feet, shaking his head in amusement when he tugs a bit too hard and you fall into his chest. “Already falling for me, sweetheart?” his voice is low, something that can only be heard between the two of you in the room full of his boisterous brothers.

You roll your eyes in amusement, a defence against how the whisper makes heat spread throughout your body. You take a half step back, placing the empty cup on the crate as you exchange a short goodbye with Echo.

“I’m gonna walk our lovely medic here back to her room, I’ll be back soon,” Fives gives a mock salute as you both make your exit and you try to ignore the whistle from one of the men as Fives chuckles, shaking his head. “Animals aren’t they, Mesh’la?”

You hadn’t known this side to any of the clones you’d served with, albeit you were just a medic, none of them had ever been this relaxed around you. The entire time you had been in the GAR, it had been lonely. There was no one to celebrate with after battle, no late night conversations between friends, no one to just sit with and cry when you weren’t able to save a life. But walking through the corridors with Fives somehow made it all worth it.

“You did great, sweetheart, I’m impressed.” Fives brings the bottle to his lips, taking a swig of the clear liquid as you stop outside of your door. “You’re just full of surprises aren’t you?” His tongue darts out to lick the vodka off his lips and you can’t help but let your eyes linger there after the action. His gaze is already meeting yours when you look up, heat flickering in his eyes like the flame of a candle - he’s caught you staring.

Fives’ hand comes up to hold your waist once more, his grip tighter now, drawing you closer like you were a flower he wanted to admire. The scent of vodka from his breath intoxicates you, and you find yourself hypnotised, leaning closer. You don’t know what causes it, but at the last moment he freezes, his hand falling from your waist to press the panel outside your door, opening it.

“Goodnight.” He gives a tight-lipped smile before stepping away, walking back down the corridor in the direction of the barracks. Despite the heavy sweatshirt and warmth of the vodka in your blood, you feel empty as you enter your dark room. You find yourself lying awake in your bunk as you work through a mixture of disappointment, embarrassment, and something that ignites an ache between your thighs.

He stopped himself from kissing you, and you didn’t know why.

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You know your way back, he doesn’t need to walk you, yet he always does. It’s been almost 8 standard months since you were transferred to the 501st, you could practically navigate your way around blindfolded. So, you know you're about to turn onto the corridor your room is on when he speaks.

“You didn’t drink.”

Your mouth goes dry, it’s like you’ve just eaten a whole pack of ration crackers while sitting in the Tatooine desert with no water. The lights above feel harsher, as if you’re under a spotlight on the Medbay examination table, and Fives is the one inspecting you. He’s peering at you from the corner of your vision, gauging your reaction to his statement.

“What are you talking about, Fives?” You shrug in an attempt to appear nonchalant, but unfortunately due to his metabolism he was as sober as you, meaning he was just as observant. You couldn’t brush off his attention when he places a hand on your shoulder, stopping you in your place just as you round a corner. From here you can see the door to your room, the third from the end. It’s taunting you at how close you were to getting away with the secret you’d been keeping against your chest.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” His free hand grasps your chin between his thumb and forefinger, directing your attention to him. You swallow as he draws your face closer, eyes raking over your features as he gives a small shake of his head. “You didn’t drink.”

“Yes I did.” Your voice is impressively steady, you’re good at bluffing. Fives already knows this, but he knows you better, and his eyes dart down in search of something. Your fingertip presses against the edge of your thumb in a movement that Fives had catalogued in his brain since that day you beat Rex at Sabbac.

The credit drops. You can see the moment it registers in Fives’ brain as his jaw goes slack, his grip on your chin loosening.

“Are you a- mph!” Your hand covers his mouth and you push him to the wall before he can shout aloud what you’ve kept unsaid for your whole time in the GAR. Fives was an ARC trooper, he could easily push you away, but his muscles seem to weaken against your grip. You feel the resistance in his body melt under your touch, as his eyes soften just above where your hand covers his mouth.

“I know you’re a loud mouth but please,” Your voice is low, urgent, as you give him a warning look, your face burning from embarrassment as he’s just come to the realisation of why you didn’t drink. You didn’t have any number to drink for. You can see him linking it together in his head - why you turned down flirtatious advances from his brothers, why he walked you back alone after every late night. It was why your body was so responsive to every small touch and honeyed word from his lips; like a flower chasing fleeting sunlight in the late afternoon. “Just this once, Fives, keep your voice down.”

Fives gives a short nod down at you, assuring you he’ll be quiet. His fingers loop around your wrist, tugging your hand from his mouth. You unsuccessfully try to ignore the way his lips had felt against your skin, you’re so caught on the small patch of wetness on your palm that you miss the clench of his jaw and flash of emotions in his eyes.

“You’ve really never..?” He trails off, the words settling into the small gap between you, they’re not taunting or teasing, they’re simply disbelieving. Even though he’s released your wrist now, it’s still suspended in the air, as if you’ve been frozen in carbonite. You’re afraid to move away, that it would be just like all those months ago, that the moment would be shattered and lost.

Your breaths are mingling together, you’re like an asteroid orbiting, drawing closer and closer to his planet, bracing for impact. Fives is unblinking, waiting for the answer he already knows, but needs to hear for himself.

“No.”

Something stirs in the depths of Fives’ eyes and there’s a tension you could almost reach out and grasp from the air. Your body acts on its own, hand breaking free from its frozen stupor to find interest in a small scar on his jaw. You remember treating the small cut, he never even flinched, but you had let him hold your hand anyways. ‘It’s for comfort’, Fives had told you, accompanied by the usual sly wink that made it all the more difficult for your free hand to remain steady when you cleaned the cut.

Fives’ eyes slip closed when your fingertips graze against the shining scar, his breathing becoming carefully controlled. You recognise the pattern, it’s the same pace it was during the times he would take you to the training rooms, his body pressed to yours as he taught you to shoot. He would chuckle into your ear when your hands would shake, causing you to miss.

Your hands are steady now, no signs of the trembling are evident when you raise your attention higher. Your finger traces its way over the inky ‘5’ on his temple, and you’re about to move it away but you find yourself held in place, fingers still pressed against the tattoo.

Fives’ constant touches were always casual, fleeting, and meaningless. But this? This was deliberate.

His gloved hand is circled around the bare skin of your wrist once more, keeping your fingers pressed against his temple. After a short, breathless moment, he moves your hand, but not to push it away this time. He pulls it closer, making your fingers trace across his cheekbone, against his warm skin all the way on a deliberate path to his mouth.

Fives’ lips ghost across your fingertips and in contrast to his rough exterior and battle scarred skin, they’re soft. Just above the point of your fixation is his heavy stare, focused and serious, like you’re his target in the heat of battle.

Your heart is thrumming against your ribcage like blaster fire and you wonder if he can feel the pulse in your wrist through his gloves at the sheer force of it. There’s barely any space between the two of you, and it only lessens with every beat of your heart.

“Just… stay still for a second, please,” Fives’ eyes burn into yours and he’s like a black hole orbiting you, pulling you in with his gravity. “Can you do that for me, sweetheart?” His voice is a strained whisper, just cosmic background noise, all you can focus on is how his breath fans across your lips.

His eyes close again when you nod, and you allow yourself to slip away into the same darkness as he consumes all of your senses.

The touch is light, a soft brush of his lips against your own, and the gentle contact has a shiver running through your body. His hand has placed your palm back to his jaw, covering it with his own as he pulls you in deeper. The second kiss is more confident, the swipe of his tongue over your lower lip has the world around you dissolving into a meaningless void as he becomes the centre of your universe.

Before you can part your lips for him, Fives pulls away, just enough so he can look at you. There’s a dazed expression on his face, like he’s been concussed but is strangely happy about it. The momentary bewilderment melts away into an unusually shy smile and he’s about to kiss you again when you’re interrupted. There's laughter echoing from the direction you just came and Fives pulls back further, a suddenly serious look taking over his face.

You’re filled with a strange sense of deja vu when he steps away, your heart already sinking. Before you can open your mouth to apologise for getting carried away, to try and repair whatever strain the kiss could have put on your friendship, you’re being pulled along by his gentle grasp. Fives is making urgent paces down the short walk to your door, slamming his free hand to the control panel to get you both away from whatever prying eyes may have stumbled upon your private moment.

The door whooshes down to swallow you both in the darkness of your room and just like all those months ago, your back is pressed against the cool durasteel door. Only this time, you’re on the other side of it.

You immediately miss the warmth his body has been providing you with when he walks over to your desk, fumbling in the darkness from your lamp switch. Your lips still tingle from where his own were pressed against yours, and you swear you can still taste him.

The room is poorly illuminated from the dim bulb, but it's enough to highlight the figure of Fives leaning over your desk and you take in the full sight of him. He’s still wearing his armour from the waist down, but his upper half is only dressed in his tight blacks, and the lamp casts shadows that accentuate every ridge of muscle. It’s times like this where you’re reminded the man in front of you isn’t just your best friend, but also a highly decorated ARC Trooper, a man who spends most of his days in battle.

The serious look doesn’t leave his face, even when he’s moved back in front of you, blocking out the rest of your room with his large frame. At some point in the darkness, Fives has removed his gloves, allowing you to feel the rough skin of his hand as it cups your face. His thumb tugs at your lower lip, smearing saliva across the swollen skin as he teases the sensitive flesh. You can make out the apprehensive desire in his eyes as he marvels down at your mouth, before looking up to meet your gaze once more.

“Kriff, I…” His voice is light, and there’s an uncertain, almost desperate edge to it before he swallows it down. “Sweetheart, do you want this?”

It would be easy to lie to the both of you and back out. You never expected to meet anyone when you enlisted into the GAR straight from your medical school. Back then you had wanted to be a doctor, it was expected of you by your family, you sacrificed your entire social life to work for it.

You were never given the luxury of free-time, how could you ever have met anyone when all you did in your later teen years, when all your friends were partying and meeting their partners, was study? It was never a case that you didn’t want to be with anyone, but life simply prevented you from it. You were in your third year when the war broke out, two more years at the university and you would have graduated, but instead you decided to take your study credits and enlist as a medic. In less than a standard rotation from the moment you notified the university, you were on a transport to your first assignment.

You had let your work and the war rob you of so many experiences, you wouldn’t let them take this from you too. You wouldn’t let them take him from you too.

“Yes, Fives.” You nod, allowing your hands to rest on his broad shoulders. You’re sure of this, sure of him.

“Tell me to stop,” There’s a hunger in Fives’ eyes when you say his name and his lips press back to yours in a kiss that’s over far too quickly. “At any time, tell me to stop.” He’s holding your face still, unmoving until he has your consent.

“Okay.” There’s no reluctance in your tone, just a breathless need that makes Fives’ jaw tick.

Fives exhales, his shoulders relaxing and your eyes close again in anticipation, awaiting his kiss. But instead you feel the heat of his forehead press to yours, as if he’s anchoring himself against you, just for a moment.

“Okay, sweetheart.” His mouth is instantly on yours, his right hand still cups your jaw, but his left slips around your back in search of the zip on your uniform. He makes quick work of pulling the zipper down to loosen the material from your skin, and both hands travel down to your hips, tugging at the edge of the fabric.

“Hands up.” Fives’ voice is low in your ear as he presses a kiss to your hairline, and you raise your arms, allowing him to slip the top from your body. He discards it on the floor, not wanting to waste any time that could be spent with his hands on your exposed skin.

Fives is slower this time. Each movement is purposeful when he guides you both towards your small bunk, his tongue slipping past your lips in a kiss that makes you dizzy as you taste him in your mouth.

When the back of your knees meet the edge of your bunk, Fives’ lips begin to trail down your body. His path starts at the soft skin of your now exposed cleavage, and continues down past your bra, over the smooth skin of your stomach. There’s a soft scrape when his armour makes contact with the floor, he’s dropping to a kneeling position with his lips hovering over your abdomen. You look down at the man kneeling before you with his fingers hooked in the waistband of your uniform leggings, and you can’t help but smile. Fives pauses momentarily, sending a wink up at you before he tugs the fabric down, exposing the flesh of your legs.

“Lay down.” Fives whispers, and you can feel his warm breath tickle your stomach.

You settle backwards onto the bunk, allowing Fives to remove your leggings entirely, along with your shoes. You’re left in just your simple, black GAR issued bra and panties. It’s nothing special by any means, but Fives eyes you as if you’re an oasis he’s stumbled upon in the middle of a month-long battle. One meant only for him.

You let your eyes slip closed as you hear the familiar noise of his armour being removed, clattering to the floor. It’s something you’ve heard many times when he’s come to relax with you on an evening and you find yourself counting each piece removed as a distraction until bare fingers brush your knee. It’s a comforting touch to draw you back to him.

“Open your eyes, sweetheart, look at me.” Fives is sat just between your legs, bare aside from tight boxers that leave little of his anatomy to the imagination. You already knew what clones looked like naked, you had treated enough of them to not be phased by any part of their body. But a clone on a Medbay table was different to your best friend whose lips were pressing to the soft flesh of your inner thigh. “Is this okay?”

He inhales against your panties and you attempt to swallow your embarrassment and nervousness at the sight of your friend between your legs with only a thin layer of fabric between you. The sight of his ever-present smile between your legs sends a flood of heat through your body before it concentrates in your lower stomach.

When you don’t reply immediately, he pulls back slightly, giving the thigh he’s hooked over his shoulder a light squeeze. His brown eyes are filled with concern, searching your expression for any hesitation.

“You still with me?” His thumb traces patterns against your skin, each movement only encouraging the fire in your body.

“I’m still with you,” You nod, watching as something lights up in his eyes. “What are you-“

Fives immediately silences your question with an action. His wet, open mouth presses to your thigh again and you feel yourself exposed to him when he hooks a finger in your panties, pulling them to the side.

“I’m taking my time with you Mesh’la.” His hot breath fans over your now exposed cunt and you fight the urge to clasp your legs together, you’ve never felt more vulnerable lying in your bunk, entirely bare to the person you trust most and it’s a vulnerability that makes your heart race as if you’re under attack.

Fives seems to sense your nervousness as he holds your knees firmly apart with his shoulders and free hand, keeping your legs open for him to litter small kisses on your inner thighs, all the while keeping you exposed for him.

“Focus on me, Cyar'ika.”

Before your apprehension can get the better of you, Fives is licking a slow, experimental stripe up your slit, parting your folds with his tongue. His eyes are on yours the whole time, studying the awed look on your face and gasps of pleasure when his tongue runs over your clit.

Fives shakes his head, grumbling something under his breath. Before you can decipher it, he’s using one hand to lift your hips from the bed while his other practically tears the panties from your body, leaving you in just your bra. Strong hands move to grip the top of your thighs and pull you to him so he can secure his mouth to your core without obstruction, filling the room with wet, desperate noises as he laps at your cunt.

Your hands twist in the thin bed sheets, desperately searching for something to ground you as his tongue delves inside you. His mouth is attached to you like you’re his last meal before an execution, the first drop of water after a mission on a desert planet, something he’s denied himself for far too long.

One of his fingers circles your entrance and your eyes snap open, finding him already looking up at you with a question in his gaze, asking for permission. You can only nod, not trusting your ability to speak with Fives’s tongue dragging slow circles around your clit.

Your head slumps back to the floor when he proceeds with your consent, the sensation is entirely foreign as you feel his digit sink into you, testing your tightness. Your own fingers were nothing in comparison to his, even just the one is beginning to stretch you.

“Fives…” Your breathless plea encourages him and your teeth sink into your lower lip as he adds another finger to stretch you further. You let out a small whimper at the slight burn and he slows his movements slightly to allow you time to adjust.

“Shh, Mesh’la,” He changes the angle slightly, massaging his fingertips against the walls of your cunt as they search for a particularly sensitive spot. Your body jolts, arching towards him when he finds it, and a moan escapes you. “That’s it, relax.”

The heat in your core is building as you grow wetter, making it easy for him to work his fingers into your tight hole, only adding to the growing pleasure building in every part of you, begging to escape. He presses his thumb to your swollen clit, one goal in mind.

“Need to make sure you’re ready for me, Cyar'ika.”

Fives withdraws his fingers from your gushing cunt, his hands instead moving from under your thighs and securing themselves back to their original position on your knees, keeping your trembling legs open as he continues to suck lightly on your clit when you reach your climax. Your body shakes, set alight with pleasure that’s only intensified by the way his head rests against your thigh, looking up at you as if committing the moment to memory.

When you finally relax against the bed, the pleasure having temporarily robbed your body of energy, you expect him to be done and move onto the next step. Instead, he lets out a low chuckle and begins circling your clit with his thumb once more.

“Do you think you can give me another one, Mesh’la?” His soft smile contrasts his words, but his eyes gleam with mischief when you whisper a small ‘yes’ in response.

He’s using just his fingers this time, two of them working you in a scissoring motion, stretching your walls as his other hand slips between you and the mattress. His fingers expertly find the clasp to your bra, freeing you from the last item of your clothing.

His pupils are dilated, drinking in the sight of your writhing body, now entirely bare for him. He leans back slightly, taking in every detail, something between a smile and a smirk on his lips when his eyes focus on his own fingers pumping in your tight hole. The moment he feels your orgasm hit, cunt tightening around his fingers, he descends on you once more. Teeth pulling at your nipple, his thumb secured to your clit as he lets you ride out your orgasm, your hips attempt to grind up against his hand, chasing pleasure.

The world is falling back into place around you when he shifts his weight on the bed, and you hear the final piece of clothing hit the floor.

Fives is kneeling in front of you, a hand on each of your knees as you take in the sight of his bare body. His large cock makes the breath hitch in your throat, but he presses a soft kiss against your lips, prepared to ease the tension that threatens to overwhelm your body. His eyes are filled with a warmth that reassures you when he pulls back to press another kiss against your forehead, “You can take it, Cyar'ika, I’ll go slow.”

Fives settles his hips between your parted thighs, hooking one of your legs over his waist to keep you open beneath him. Soft lips ghost over yours and you feel the head of his cock settle against your entrance.

“Are you ready?” His thumb brushes along your jaw, a loving reminder that it’s your best friend above you, the person you trust the most. The same man who you would stay up with late at night after every difficult battle, who you would always pick up an extra ration bar for, the man you were in love with.

“Yes.” Your eyes slip closed as you press your lips back to his.

The initial pressure of his cock entering you gives way to a sharp pinch that causes you to suck in a sharp breath through your teeth. Despite all of Fives’s efforts to prepare you, the unfamiliar pain seizes your body in an uncomfortable grasp.

“Relax for me, Cyar'ika.” He murmurs the assurance against your mouth, forcing his own breathing to slow, unconsciously prompting you to calm down. A hand presses to the underside of your thigh, pushing it upwards as he rolls his hips into you, he’s only halfway inside and you try to force yourself to relax around his impressive girth.

“That’s my girl.” He groans into your neck as his hand drops from your thigh to drag precise circles around your tight clit. The added layer of stimulation makes you gush around the half of his length inside you, making it easier to take his cock, but he doesn’t push any deeper. Instead he rocks his hips in a shallow motion, allowing you to adjust to this size first.

“Shh, don’t worry, Mesh’la,” He strokes your hair, continuing to press soft kisses of assurance to your mouth as he works your clit in time with his shallow thrusts. “It’ll be easier once you cum with me inside you, then you’ll be more relaxed for me.”

Fives’ hips pick up their pace, but he still limits himself, expertly watching your body's reactions to his cock. He’s continuously ensuring he doesn't go too fast, too hard, too deep. It’s a balancing act, one he seems to be perfect at with the way he already has the beginnings of another orgasm taking grasp of your body.

“Fives!”

You’re grinding helplessly against him now, one hand on his tanned chest and the other grasping at the short hair on the back of his head. Between Fives’s whispered words of adoration in your ear, you can make out the wet noises as he thrusts inside you, each movement causing more of your wetness to drip between your joined bodies, smearing you both with your arousal.

You’re hooked onto his words like a lifeline as he guides you through the experience.

“Kriff-” He shakes his head as he takes in the sight of you cumming around his cock. But it’s not lust in his eyes, it’s something far more intense. “I promised I wouldn’t do this..” His voice is strained, like he’s trying to keep the words inside of him.

Before you can even catch your breath fully to ask what he means, your world is spinning when he pulls you upwards, slotting himself underneath you so you can no longer try to read the emotions in his face. Your back is now pressed to his chest, his body supporting you to stay upright and he’s hooking his right hand under your knee, spreading you apart.

His chin rests on top of your head, the position allowing him a full view of your body as his cock enters your cunt from behind; it’s more than before, but still not the full length. Your right arm curls up around behind you to hold the back of Fives’ neck, needily pulling him closer in the moment as you writhe against his body.

“Look at that, Cyar'ika,” You feel the rumble in his chest just as much as you hear it, and it draws your attention down to your joined bodies. He shifts slightly to support your head as you catch glimpses of his cock disappearing into your tight hole in a series of shallow, restrained thrusts. “Look how perfectly we fit together.”

His eyes remain locked on your body, the way your chest heaves and cunt tightens, dripping down his cock as you cum once more, you’re already losing count. From what you were always told by friends when you were in University, losing your virginity was supposed to be a far cry from this. In fact you don’t think a single one of your friends had cum when losing theirs, and yet here you were, the room almost spinning from the pleasure Fives had given you.

Fives chuckles at the blissful look on your face as he pulls his hand from your clit, allowing you to relax against his larger frame. “You are really something else, Cyar'ika.” He’s slower this time when he rolls you both over once more, cradling the back of your head as he rests you back onto the pillows.

He resumes his original position above you, thumb tracing the curve of your cheekbone. His eyes are full of adoration when he looks down at you, and there’s no trace of the painful stretch from earlier when he slides the full length of his cock inside you this time.

He’s been so focused on your pleasure that his own has been forgotten, but you see the evidence of it. He’s coated in a sheen of sweat that makes him appear like one of those glossy paintings in the art galleries on Coruscant. He’s an artwork, beautifully crafted, every muscle in his body coiled tight in restraint as his hips grind against yours.

It’s your turn to touch him this time, to appreciate every bit of the vulnerability in his face as he presses his forehead against yours and you angle your face upwards to steal a kiss. A tortured moan escapes his lips as his thrusts only increase in speed, he’s clinging onto you like it’s his sole purpose.

“Where?” His breathing is ragged against your neck.

You make a confused noise in response and he curses something in Mando’a.

“Where do you want me to cum, Mesh’la, hm?”

You‘re speechless from the pleasure, but thankfully your body answers for you, already locking your legs around his hips to keep you joined together.

“Alright, Cyar'ika, inside it is.” There’s a soft rumble of amusement against your throat before his mouth finds yours again. One hand tangles in your hair while the other grips your hip, both of them seeking to drag you closer. You’re two stars colliding in the void of the universe, no longer orbiting each other, instead becoming one as your light drowns out all darkness around the pair of you.

His name is falling from your lips, cries of it suffocated against him when his tongue slips into your mouth. Fives empties himself inside you, his cock unloading a flood of warmth that already overspills, leaking from your cunt with every slow movement of his hips. He pulls back, an unreadable emotion in his eyes before he buries his face in your hair, distracting himself by stroking at your burning skin. You stay there as you both begin to calm, hearts beating in sync with one another as your bodies remain joined.

He’s breathing heavily in your ear, an affirmation that you haven’t died and ascended to some afterlife when he drags his hips away from yours, leaving you empty as he stands up.

“Where are you going?” You hate yourself for sounding so needy, but with his cum leaking from between your thighs, how could you not. You knew it was common for men to leave straight after sex. You’ve caught some of the boys’ one night stands sneaking out barely ten minutes after they had been brought to the barracks, hair messy and clothes dishevelled.

“Relax, sweetheart, I’m not leaving.” He winks at you before disappearing into the small fresher joined to your room. You hear the water running for what seems like far too long, before he returns with a warm washcloth.

“Gotta clean us up before we make a mess on the bed, I’m not falling asleep in a wet patch.” He settles back between your legs, whispering soothing praises as he cleans your combined fluids. He’s thorough, making sure there’s no trace of him left before he presses a kiss to your inner thigh and discards the cloth into your laundry basket.

“C’mere.” He settles down next to you, lifting an arm to allow you to curl up against him and he pulls the bed covers over your waists. “You did so well, sweetheart.” He presses a kiss to your forehead, basking in a moment neither of you want to end. It’s sweet, intimate, and perfect.

Yet you can’t stop yourself from asking the question.

“What did you mean when you said you promised you wouldn’t do this?”

He pauses, an awkward smile tugging at his lips, you’d never seen him nervous like this, a blush creeping into his cheeks that he can’t even blame on the sex. “Caught that did you?”

You nod, biting the inside of your cheek. Your cards were on the table, it’s only fair that his should be too.

“I suppose it’s only fair given that I didn’t let you get away with not drinking.” There’s a nervous edge to his laugh as he drags you closer to him, like he’s afraid you could disappear at any given moment.

“Do you remember the first time we played Sabbac, you kicked Rex’s ass, and I walked you back to your room?”

You nod slightly. The memory still plagued your thoughts on sleepless nights, it embedded itself in a playlist of embarrassing moments that liked to keep you awake. Yet, it also featured on the list of thoughts that had your legs twisted in the bed sheets as you imagine what would have happened if he did kiss you that night.

“I wanted to kiss you, but I couldn’t.” He sighs regretfully, admitting the truth he had been fighting against all of the months since that night.

“I think you’d only been here for what - a month?” You feel his laugh against your cheek as it rumbles in his chest. “And I couldn’t get you out of my damn head, I even made Echo fake being sick once just so I had an excuse to come to the Medbay and talk to you.” You remembered, and now felt slightly bad for insisting you give Echo all those unnecessary virus and anti-nausea shots.

“I needed the excuses to see you, because if I didn’t, and I saw you without them, it’d mean something that I’d been avoiding.” He trails off, trying to find a way to put it into words, it wasn’t something he had ever been good at. But he would try, for you he would try.

“The rest of the boys found out because I called you my girlfriend once when Kix gave me some of the heavy stuff in those green syringes.” He laughs, shaking his head and your mind begins to put the pieces together, that’s why they teased him so often about it. “They all promised they wouldn’t tell you how I felt though - I wanted to be the one to tell you.”

He drags a hand down his face, his jaw tenses. “And then I got jealous when I saw that Sergeant from the 104th talking to you, how he had his hands on you,” He shakes his head, an irritated look playing on his face, both at the other trooper, and his own actions on that night. “Thought I blew my shot, and I tried to cover it the only way I knew how.”

Your mind recalls him and the Twi’lek making a beeline for the 79’s freshers, how just a month ago you ended up crying in the alleyway, it was like taking a blaster bolt to your chest. No amount of Bacta could fix the pain that night, but you had certainly tried to heal it with whiskey.

“But I didn’t do it, and it’s not like Echo said, not because I couldn't,” He pulls himself back from you, but continues to hold you, to keep you in the moment with him as he explains what happens, a regretful look on his face. “It’s because she wasn’t you, Cyare.”

He presses his forehead to yours, closing his eyes and your fingers trace over the tattoo again, just for a moment, just until he finds the strength inside of him; the strength to override his programmed instincts to be a loyal, unattached soldier and nothing more.

“I promised myself I wouldn’t…” Fives trails off, opening his eyes. He needs to see your reaction, whether it’s good or bad, he needs to know. “Fall in love with you.”

You wonder if this is what the Jedi feel with the force around them, but instead of the whole world, you just feel Fives. The warmth of his skin under your fingers, the certainty in his eyes, the utter devotion for you in his voice as he fights against every form of conditioning he’s received.

“Fives, you idiot…” His expression is concerned at first until he sees your teary eyes and beaming smile. “I love you too.”

You had loved him since the moment he kissed your knuckles on your first day in the Medbay, every interaction after that only strengthened the bond between you.

Fives smiles down at you, his quiet laughs tickle your skin with warm air as you’re lured back into his embrace. He laughs disbelievingly, shaking his head as he allows his body to press back against yours, a perfect fit.

“We have so much time to make up for, sweetheart.”

You never want to lose this feeling, his lips marking your body, peppering reminders everywhere that you’re his, you have been since the moment that fateful order flashed up on your datapad. You’re anchored, attached, tethered to him - whatever word you want to give it, you’re his.

#arc trooper fives x reader #fives x reader #arc trooper fives #star wars #clone wars #Arc trooper fives smut

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areyoufuckingcrazy · 2 months ago

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Hello! I had an idea for a Kix x Fem!Reader where she transfers into his medbay but she stands out because she remembers every clones name. Regardless if she hasn’t even met them she has read all the files and committed them to memory and he’s like astonished but also touched. Maybe his brothers are like “if you don’t make a move I will” Hope this is good! Have a good weekend! ♥️

“First‑Name Basis”

Kix x Reader

Hyperspace thrummed beyond the transparisteel ports while Kix tried to tame the Resolute’s perpetually crowded med‑bay. Bacta monitors chimed, troopers squabbled over whose scar looked “coolest,” and Kix’s gloves were still sticky with drying crimson when the hatch whispered open.

A quiet but confident voice announced, “New med‑tech reporting, sir—[Y/N].”

Kix flicked off his gloves, surprised. “You picked a kriffing busy shift to arrive—welcome.”

From the nearest cot, Hardcase crowed, “What d’you bet she faints when she sees my arm?”

You crossed to him without blinking. “CT‑0217 Hardcase—through‑and‑through blaster hit, distal humerus, yesterday. Dermabind’s due for a swap.”

Hardcase shut up so fast Fives snorted.

You pointed down the line:

“CT‑5597 Jesse—rib bruise, de‑pressurised plating on R‑3. Three‑hour ice intervals.

“CT‑5555 Fives—fragment nick, upper thigh; you’ll pretend it doesn’t hurt until it infects.”

“CT‑0000 Dogma—scalp laceration, eight stitches. Stop picking at them.”

Each trooper stared like you’d grown a second head.

Kix folded his arms. “You read our charts?”

“Memorised the battalion manifest on the shuttle. Names separate patients from barcodes.”

A low whistle: Jesse grinned around a pain‑killer stick. “Kix, vod—if you don’t lock that down, I’m escorting her to 79’s myself.”

Fives elbowed him. “Brother, that’s my line.”

Dogma muttered, “Show some discipline.”

“Show some charm,” Fives shot back.

Kix cleared his throat, ears reddening. “Settle, vod. Let the medic work—unless you want a protocol droid doing your stitches.”

⸻

Kix found you re‑stocking kolto packs. “Most rookies need a week to learn nicknames; you quoted service numbers.”

“You’re not rookies—you’re veterans. Acting like it matters.”

His voice softened. “We spend our lives as copies. Remembering us by name… that’s a rare kind of medicine.”

Across the bay, Hardcase bellowed, “Kix! She fixin’ your ego yet?”

Jesse added, “Timer’s ticking, sir!”

You hid a smile. “I still need orientation, Kix. Maybe… a tour of the ‘cultural hub’ I’ve heard about?”

Kix’s grin was pure relief—and a little wonder. “Med‑officer‑ordered R&R, 79’s cantina, 2000. Mandatory.”

Hardcase whooped. “Ha! Called it!”

⸻

Blue and gold holo‑lights flashed off clone armor stacked by the door. Fives tried teaching you a rigged sabacc hand; Jesse heckled from behind; Dogma nursed one drink like it was contraband; Hardcase danced on a tabletop until Rex appeared, helmet tucked under his arm.

Rex eyed the scene, then you. “Heard the new medic can ID every trooper in the Legion.”

“Only the ones who’ve been shot today, sir,” you said, straight‑faced.

Hardcase cheered. Jesse rapped knuckles on the table. Even Rex let a ghost of a smile slip before nodding to Kix: Good find.

Jesse leaned close while Kix ordered drinks. “Take care of him, cyar’ika. Our medic patches everyone but himself.”

You watched Kix laugh, shoulders finally loose for the first time all day. “Count on it,” you said, lifting a glass.

Across the cantina, Hardcase elbowed Fives. “Told you names matter.”

Fives clinked his mug to Jesse’s. “Here’s to finally being more than numbers.”

And—for a few riotous hours beneath 79’s flickering lights—every soldier of the 501st felt like the only trooper in the Grand Army, thanks to one medic who never forgot a name.

#kix x reader #tcw kix #clone medic kix #clone trooper kix #clone wars kix #tcw kix x reader #clone medic kix x reader #clone trooper x reader #clone wars #star wars #star wars fanfic #star wars the clone wars #clone x reader #501st battalion #501st legion

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eclec-tech · 2 years ago

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We're FOURTEEN sales away from unlocking this freaking stunning Lornaka Wolffe charm!

The Cowboy and Sheriff bundles contribute to the numbers for the stretch goals and are the bundles that get this exclusive merch!

Sales END Monday at midnight! Yes, THIS MONDAY! If you are getting one, GET OVER THERE!

Pre-orders for @wildwestzine are open for a few more days (until Nov 20) and it's currently 29 19 orders away from unlocking this Wolffe acrylic charm I designed as their second stretch goal!

Check out this awesome charity project here: forafistfulofcredits.bigcartel.com

#this charm is double-sided grumpy goodness #look at him #there's even a tiny wolf on his hat #where are all you wolffe simps #commander wolffe #tcw wolffe #clone trooper wolffe #the wolfpack

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bigbadbatch · 2 months ago

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Reputations | Fives x Reader Friends to lovers • taken but yearning • slow burn tension • soft regrets

You're spoken for. At least, that's what everyone thinks. But it's hard to keep pretending when he's always there— and the way he looks at you like you’re the only one in the galaxy.

----

Clone Wars era | reader-insert | angst, banter, and emotional confusion | featuring just a little too much Fives - eventual smut but it's a slow burn so.

Chapter 1: Gorgeous

“Still nothing?”

The bluish glow of the holo-call reflects off Kylei’s face, her features drawn tight with concern. It only makes the pit in your stomach worse.

“Nothing,” you say, voice flat, trying not to let it shake. “I’m sure he’s just… busy.”

Kylei scoffs, loud and ungraceful. “It’s been a month. No comms. No holos. Nothing but radio silence. Babe, I think it’s time to call it.”

You shift on your couch, curling your feet under you and hugging a throw pillow to your chest like it might keep your insides from crumbling. “He wouldn’t just ghost me. Something must be going on.”

Rylan, your boyfriend of nearly a year, was stationed on Alderaan three months ago. At first, the distance hadn’t seemed so bad. You kept in touch—daily comms, sappy holos, little messages between his briefings. Then the calls slowed… and stopped altogether. Two weeks ago, you’d even commed his base commander in a moment of desperation.

“Currently in a meeting,” the officer had told you curtly. “But I’ll let him know you reached out.”

Still nothing.

Now Kylei’s looking at you like you’re breaking in real time. Maybe you are.

“Do you think I did something wrong?” you whisper, more to yourself than her.

“I’m coming over.”

“No!” You sit up straight, stopping her with a raised hand. “I have work in an hour. I’ll be fine. I need to get ready anyway.”

Kylei doesn’t look convinced, but she backs off. “We’re going out tonight. That’s an order.”

You salute with a sad smile. “Yes, General.”

She returns the gesture with a mock scowl and flicks off the holo. The light disappears, and so does the illusion of comfort. You stare at your comm unit one more time out of habit, even though you already know—he hasn’t reached out.

A sigh escapes your lips as you stand and get ready. Pressed uniform greys, hair up, expression neutral. You're good at that. Holding it together. Pretending. You take one last look in the mirror before stepping out the door and heading to GAR Headquarters.

—

The mood inside is different—familiar and comforting in a way your apartment no longer is. It’s not cold or sterile like some parts of Coruscant. Here, the headquarters buzzes with organized chaos. Voices carry, boots echo, datapads hum with quiet life. This is where you feel useful. This is where you belong.

You cradle a stack of datapads against your chest as you make your way to the main briefing room. Another long day of mission simulations and risk assessments. As a strategist for the Grand Army of the Republic, it’s your job to think ahead—to see threats before they happen and make sure others don’t have to feel the kind of helplessness you’re feeling now.

You work with various units, but lately you've been split between the 212th and the 501st. The difference is stark. The 212th is precise, professional—quiet, even. The 501st? They’re chaos and camaraderie and charm wrapped up in scuffed armor. And in the case of one ARC trooper in particular—dangerously charming.

You settle in at the round table just as the doors hiss open.

“Morning,” Captain Rex says with a curt nod.

“Morning,” Echo adds with a warmer smile.

You return it. “Good to see you both. Aren’t we missing—”

The door whooshes open again. “Sorry, sorry! I’m here!”

Fives.

He moves like he’s got a sunbeam trapped behind his ribs—fast and bright and impossible not to look at. He grins at you, all teeth and dimples, and your stomach does that awful fluttering thing it always does when he’s around.

You give him a quick nod, hoping your face doesn’t betray you. He slides into the seat beside you like it’s his second home.

It kind of is. You’ve noticed that. No matter how early he arrives or how late he’s running, he always ends up in that chair. Next to you.

Six months ago, Fives and Echo joined these briefings after being promoted to ARC troopers. In that time, they’ve become more than colleagues. You’d like to think they’re your friends. Fives especially. You’ve shared late-night caf during long campaign planning sessions, exchanged glances that lingered just a moment too long, laughed over inside jokes that neither of you bothered explaining to the others.

But he’s never crossed a line.

He flirts—but only in the way that Fives flirts with everyone. Teasing. Playful. Safe.

Sometimes you catch him watching you when he thinks you’re not looking. And sometimes—when you're feeling especially foolish—you let yourself wish he would cross that line. If things were different… if you weren’t technically taken…

You shift in your seat and force your attention back to the mission reports. Focus. Breathe. Be professional.

But beside you, Fives leans back in his chair with that signature smirk, nudges your boot lightly under the table, and says, “Hey, Gorgeous. You ready to tear these numbers apart?”

Your heart does a little lurch.

“Born ready,” you say, and try not to sound breathless.

Because the truth is—no matter how badly things are falling apart with Rylan, no matter how long the silence stretches, you aren’t ready.

Not for what it might mean to let go.

And not for what it might mean if you don’t.

The briefing flies by in a blur of tactical reports and holomaps, the minutes slipping through your fingers faster than you realize. When you finally glance up from the datapad in front of you, the session is wrapping and the three troopers are already on their feet.

Rex thanks you with a nod, already deep in conversation with Echo about flank positioning. Echo offers you another quick smile before trailing after him, his voice disappearing down the hall.

But Fives lingers.

He doesn’t rush. He never does with you.

“Hey,” he says, stepping closer, voice low and easy. “I know I’ve asked before, but I’m not giving up on getting you out of this office at least once. Come out with me and the boys tonight.”

There it is—that grin again. The one that makes your pulse skip like a scratched holo-track. You nearly blush, caught off guard by the invitation and the casual way he leans on the edge of the table like he belongs there.

“I… actually have plans tonight,” you manage.

He groans dramatically, throwing his head back with a grin. “Yeah—with me. Or us, rather.” His hand gestures vaguely, as if the whole battalion is included in this mythical night out. “Come on, please. One night. If not tonight, then just say you’ll come out with us sometime. We’re well-behaved, I promise. Mostly.”

You chuckle despite yourself. “Okay, Fives. I promise. Just… not tonight.”

He studies you for a beat, like he’s trying to decide whether you mean it. Whether you’re really busy… or dodging him.

“Rylan in town?” he asks, and the question comes too casual to be innocent.

You hesitate just long enough for it to show.

“I still haven’t had the pleasure of meeting him,” he adds with a smirk, crossing his arms over his chest.

You look down at the datapad you’ve already shut off. “No, not tonight. Just going out with a friend—Kylei. I think you’ve met her?”

The smirk fades just a little. Fives nods, slower this time. “Yeah. Gotcha.”

Something unreadable flickers behind his eyes before he schools his expression back into something breezy. “Well… guess we’ll try again some other time.”

You offer a soft smile. “I’m holding you to that ‘well-behaved’ part.”

Fives lets out a laugh, light and low, and gives you a mock salute as he backs toward the door.

“With me? Always.”

Then he’s gone, striding out of the room with the kind of effortless confidence that makes your heart ache and your stomach twist in ways you wish it wouldn’t.

You’re left standing there, the room quieter than before, like the air shifted the moment he walked out.

And maybe it did.

—

Kylei is a bombshell. Always has been, always will be. She struts through your hallway in a sparkling silver dress that barely reaches mid-thigh, catching the light with every step like a walking disco ball.

Meanwhile, you’re holding up a navy wrap dress in front of your body, already feeling overdressed—and underconfident.

Kylei takes one look and groans. “Ugh, no. Absolutely not.”

Before you can protest, she’s barging into your room and yanking open your closet doors like she owns the place.

“Kylei—”

She ignores you, flipping through hangers with ruthless efficiency. “You have good taste, you just don’t use it.” Her fingers pause on a slinky black number tucked way in the back.

She pulls it out with a victorious gasp. “This. This is the one.”

“No way,” you say instantly, shaking your head. “That’s not a bar dress, that’s a... regret dress.”

“That’s a show him what he lost dress,” Kylei says, tossing it onto the bed. “You’re wearing it.”

You hesitate. You’d never even worn it around Rylan. It had felt too bold, too loud. Too much.

But maybe that’s what tonight calls for. Something louder than the ache in your chest. Something bolder than the silence he left behind.

Lips pressed in a tight line, you slide into the dress. The fabric clings in all the right places. It’s daring. It’s sleek. It’s a version of you you’ve only ever imagined being.

Heels come next—wobbly, but they match—and Kylei gets to work on your hair. She fluffs and pins and smooths until she steps back with a proud grin.

“There she is,” she whispers like unveiling a masterpiece. “Now let’s go.”

You hesitate again. “Where are we even going?”

“Just a bar-club hybrid I heard about from a friend. You’ll like it,” she says, already halfway to the door. “Trust me.”

You arrive outside of the club a short speeder ride later. The building pulses with sound, neon lights flickering across the dark street. A glowing teal sign hums above the door:

79’s

Something about the name tugs at your memory.

You frown. “Wait… 79’s. That sounds—”

“C’mon!” Kylei grabs your wrist and yanks you toward the entrance. “I need a drink, and so do you.”

You barely have time to protest before the doors slide open and the music swallows you whole.

The inside is a sensory overload. Lights flash in rhythmic waves across the room. A DJ spins a mix of upbeat tracks over heavy bass, and the scent of spicewine and fried food clings to the air. The place is packed—and not with the usual Coruscanti nightlife crowd.

Clones. Everywhere.

Some in civvies, others half-dressed in off-duty armor pieces. Helmets on the bar, boots kicked off, drinks in hand. They’re laughing, flirting, dancing—so many of them, blending seamlessly with civilians who clearly know this is the spot to meet a trooper or two.

Your stomach twists.

Of course. 79’s. You’d heard the name in passing from GAR personnel—it’s the off-duty bar where clones unwind between missions. You’d just never connected the dots.

And now you’re here with the ghost of a relationship haunting your every move.

Kylei doesn’t notice your hesitation. She grabs your hand again and weaves you both through the crowd toward the bar. The music is too loud to talk over, but she orders you both drinks with a wink to the bartender.

You take yours without question and sip, hoping the burn will dull your nerves.

It doesn’t take long—three minutes, maybe—for Kylei to strike up a conversation with a cute Twi’lek in a leather vest. They're laughing, already halfway through their drinks, her body language open and easy. She’s in her element.

You… are not.

At least the music is good.

You let the beat pulse through your chest, sinking into it as best you can. Eyes closed, you down the rest of your drink in one long pull, willing the warmth to burn away your nerves. The buzz in your limbs makes you feel loose, maybe even confident.

Or maybe that’s just the alcohol lying to you.

You don’t hear him approach—but you feel it.

A warm presence at your side. Close. Confident. Familiar.

“Well, look what we have here.”

Your eyes fly open.

“Fives?”

He grins, and Maker, that grin should be illegal. “Looks like you decided to come out with me after all.”

You can’t help but laugh, surprised and flustered all at once. “Pure coincidence.”

“Mmhmm.” He lifts a hand and flags the bartender with practiced ease. “What are you drinking?”

You glance down at your empty glass. “No idea. I didn’t order it.”

For a second, something flickers in his eyes—surprise, maybe even something bordering on protectiveness.

“People buying you drinks already?” he says, voice low. “Then I definitely owe you one.”

You smile as he hands you something darker than your last. Stronger too, by the smell of it.

“Where’s your friend?” he asks, eyes scanning the crowd.

You turn to look, only to spot Kylei halfway into her new Twi’lek friend’s lap, laughing as she twirls the straw in her drink.

You smirk. “Occupied.”

Fives chuckles. “Then come join us—Echo’s just over here.”

His hand lands gently on the small of your back as he guides you through the crowd, and the heat that blooms in your chest has nothing to do with the drink. His touch is easy, but grounding—like he does it without thinking.

You slide into a booth tucked into a corner of the bar. Echo greets you with a bright grin and a quick side hug. Two other troopers sit beside him, deep in some rowdy story, gesturing wildly with their hands.

Fives settles in next to you, and the booth suddenly feels much smaller. He throws one arm across the back of the seat—casual, but close. The press of his thigh against yours is warm, steady.

You try not to smile.

It’s friendly. You think.

Conversation starts to swirl—jokes, war stories, teasing remarks that make you feel like you belong. The drinks keep coming, and little by little, time slips away. You're lighter now, floatier. Giggly. The edges of everything feel a little softer.

At some point, you realize you’re leaning into Fives more than you meant to. His arm is still behind you, and he hasn’t pulled away. If anything, he’s leaning closer too.

You could stay in this moment forever.

Until someone else tries to crash it.

A large Togruta man leans over the booth, crowding into your space. “Need another drink, beautiful?” he asks, eyebrows waggling as his grin stretches too wide.

Before you can react, Fives straightens beside you.

“She’s taken, bud,” he says firmly.

And then—he barks.

A sharp, playful bark, followed by a low growl like a protective Loth-wolf. It’s ridiculous. Completely absurd. And it sends the entire table into chaos.

The clones burst out laughing. Even you can’t help it—you double over with giggles, the tension gone in an instant.

“You’re such an idiot,” you manage between laughs, swatting Fives lightly on the arm.

He just grins, pleased with himself. “What can I say? Gotta keep the strays away.”

The moment is golden—bubbly and warm. Until Echo’s voice cuts through.

“Gotta protect your honor,” he says with a smile. “I’m sure Rylan would appreciate it.”

The name lands like a weight in your lap.

You go still. The smile slips from your face, and you feel the shift in Fives too—his arm drops from your shoulders, the space between you stretching.

“Yeah,” you say softly.

Neither of you looks at each other.

Before the silence can settle too thickly, Kylei stumbles up to the table, her glittering dress catching the light.

“What’s with all the barking?” she slurs, bracing herself on the edge of the booth.

The table erupts into laughter again, the tension dissolving beneath the noise. You manage a shy smile, your voice barely above the music.

“Ready to go?” you ask.

She nods dramatically, already digging for her comm.

Fives stands and slides out of the booth, offering you his hand to help you up. You’re a little too quick on your feet—and nearly tumble into him.

He catches you, hands firm on your waist, steadying you with ease.

“Let me grab you lovely ladies a speeder,” he says, glancing at Kylei with a wink.

But his eyes find yours again before he steps away.

And there’s something there.

Something unsaid.

Something you’re too afraid—and maybe too buzzed—to name.

In the hush of early morning, the streets are quieter, the music from 79’s now a distant thrum. Speeder lights glow soft against the pavement, casting fleeting shadows as one slows to a stop in front of you.

Fives hails it with a raised hand and a soft whistle, and Kylei stumbles in without hesitation, already kicking off her heels as she sinks into the seat. You move to follow her, still riding the last waves of the night—light, tipsy, a little overwhelmed.

Just as your hand brushes the doorframe, fingers wrap gently around your wrist.

You stop, breath catching.

Fives is looking at you. Not grinning. Not smirking.

Looking.

“Let me know when you get home safe, yeah?” His voice is soft—low, almost intimate.

You nod, unable to form words. He holds your gaze for one more second before he lets go, and gently closes the speeder door behind you.

As the vehicle pulls away, you sit back in your seat and realize your whole body is buzzing. Your heart’s pounding like you’ve just come off a battlefield, not a night out.

Kylei is already halfway asleep, head leaning against the window with a small, contented sigh.

You stare straight ahead, the city lights blurring past outside, and wonder: Why does he have to be like that?

Why does he have to be so gorgeous?

Why does he have to look at you like you’re something worth waiting for?

Why does he make you feel more seen in a moment than Rylan has in months?

By the time you get home, the buzz has dulled but the thoughts haven’t. You and Kylei collapse into your apartment, deciding without discussion to call it a sleepover. She tosses a blanket onto the couch and is out within minutes.

You lie in bed, staring at the ceiling.

You lift your wrist and open your comm, fingers hesitating just a second before you type.

Thanks for the fun night. See you tomorrow.

You send it before you can overthink it.

Your heart flutters as the message goes through.

And this time, you don’t check to see if Rylan bothered to check in.

—————————

#clone wars #star wars the clone wars #fives #arc trooper fives #fives x reader #clone troopers #tcw #tcw fanfiction #friends to lovers #taken but yearning #slow burn #mutual pining #jealousy #unspoken feelings #touch-starved #soft fives #taylor swift #star wars

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uwingdispatch · 1 month ago

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Clone trooper baddies, I made a few new goodies for y’all!! I added Cosy, Wolffe, Fox, and Gregor to my bandana collection as well as my tote collection. And I’m having a sale this weekend so these are all currently 10% off!

The bandanas come in 3 sizes, and I can’t emphasize enough, the size small is really meant for babies and pets. You could also tie it on your ponytail or on a bag as a charm. But definitely look at the measurements! Which are the last image on the carousel on the Etsy listing!

These totes are a super sturdy canvas. I use mine for post office runs, groceries, books—I love them! So I wanted more folks to be able to get them with a pattern that represents their comfort character.

These items join Rex and the Bad Batch in the collection, which have been in the shop since the holidays.

Shop is here. Enjoy! 💜

#star wars #the clone wars #the bad batch #captain rex #commander wollfe #commander cody #commander fox #coruscant guard #clone commando gregor #clone trooper gregor #star wars rebels #republic commando #revenge of the sith #attack of the clones #star wars prequels #small artist #small shop #support small business

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ct7567329 · 1 month ago

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Sixth's Time a Charm

Touch Me Like It's Treason ~ Chapter 1

➜ Captain Rex x F! Jedi Reader

➜ Chapter Summary: Trained under Master Mace Windu, you’ve always held yourself to the highest standard of the Jedi Order. Each and every minuscule flaw was pointed out and quickly corrected. You were the poster child of the ‘perfect Jedi’, but you were yet to command a Battalion of your own. Being continuously thrown into ‘temporary reassignments’, it was only a matter of time before you’d have your turn with the 501st.

➜ Word Count: 3.1k

➜ Chapter Warnings: None

➜ A/N: Posted at bottom!

Touch Me Like It's Treason Taglist

Touch Me Like It's Treason Masterpost

Chapter One on Ao3

Your transport rattled as it slowed into the Republic fleet, turbulence jostling your spine straight against the seat's crash webbing. You kept your eyes forward, hands folded in your lap. A familiar storm churned in your stomach. It was the churn you always came when you arrived somewhere new. This was your sixth reassignment in the last eight months. At this rate, you wouldn’t be surprised if your next eight months consisted of more temporary deployments, high turnovers, and even higher casualties. This time, it was the 501st.

Outside the small viewport, the Resolute came into view. You couldn’t help but wonder how many of them would be dead by the time you left. The hum of the transport engines had barely faded when you found yourself surrounded by the stark reality of the 501st. The hangar of the Resolute reeked of sweat and blaster lubricant, otherwise known as the smell of war machines and soldiers who didn’t quite have the luxury of hope. It clung to every surface like a constant reminder that this was a frontline, not a sanctuary.

You ran your fingers lightly over the fabric of your robe, feeling the slight roughness beneath your fingertips. You had trained under Master Windu, whose discipline was as unyielding as his conviction. He demanded perfection, often at the expense of kindness, and that rigor had shaped you into the type of leader you were. Yet even that strength felt brittle here, surrounded by men who lived and died by the sharp edge of battle.

What did it mean to be a Jedi General? Was it simply a title, an order from a Council you sometimes doubted? Or was it the quiet weight of lives hanging in your balance? You thought of the faces you’d seen in the infirmaries. All the Clones whose loyalty had been repaid with wounds, some mortal. The war was a relentless tide, and you somehow were deemed worthy enough to stand at the helm. Behind the title, you struggled to keep that ship afloat.

Your gaze flicked to the Clones drilling in the distance. They were synchronized, efficient, and utterly committed as always. There was something deeply beautiful about their discipline, a raw and earnest brotherhood that reminded you of the Force itself: unseen but unbreakable. Yet you wondered if that very discipline also chained them, if beneath the armor and training there lurked fear, buried beneath loyalty and obedience.

The transport finally powered down with a mechanical hiss. You stood and descended the ramp before the engines had finished winding down. It only took a few seconds before troopers started to notice. Not many Jedi walked among the clones without command robes or regalia, especially those trained by the Council members. Your lightsaber was clipped low, half-shielded by your robe - as if your appearance didn’t give you title away itself.

A few helmets turned as you passed. Being too preoccupied with drills, you received mostly nothing more than subtle glances, their expressions unreadable through the visors. One clone nudged another with his elbow, muttering something under his breath. Their helmets turned away from you just as quickly as they turned toward you. You didn’t need the Force to know what they were thinking. Jedi rarely arrived unannounced, and when they did, it usually meant there was serious trouble.

Especially when Jedi showed up alone. You didn’t have a battalion to call your own. Not even a small squad. At least most other Jedi had that luxury. When others showed up unannounced, at least the Clones were greeted with familiar faces - not just a new face that could only mean doom and gloom.

But with each new assignment, you tried to break the cycle. By your fourth temporary assignment, you ditched - as the 91st called it - your resting bitch face. And by the next, you greeted the men with a smile. For the sixth time, you decided to look over the 501st roster the previous night in a desperate attempt to memorize names.

You felt confident enough that you could name at least twenty of them, perhaps even identify the commanding officers, but beyond that, it was just too big of a task to take on in one night.

Just thinking about the reprimanding Master Windu would give you, if he knew you did that, made you wince. He would for sure see it as some sort of unnecessary attachment to the Clones, when really, it was just your way of showing them that just because a Jedi shows up alone and unannounced, doesn't mean the angel of death came knocking on their door.

You sighed, slowly turning your neck to scan the hangar. The Resolute was large, but the hangar felt even bigger somehow. The constant motion of crews, droids and troops, all moving with intention. There were hundreds of tasks being performed at once, all in a seemingly perfect rhythm. You'd hate to ruin that harmony.

Fully immersed in your surroundings, you didn't even notice the ARC Trooper approaching you. His helmet was tucked under his shoulder, his armor marked dark blue with one painted handprint on his chest plate.

“General,” he addressed you in a neutral, yet polite tone, "Captain Rex sends his apologies. He’s just finishing a training session with the new men.”

“No worries,” you replied, desperately trying to put a name to his face, “I wasn’t necessarily expected here.”

He glanced at the ship you arrived in, then back at you as if searching for words.

The silence after was just long enough to prompt you to help him out, "And your name is?" you finally asked, extending out your hand.

The ARC Trooper pressed his lips together, seemingly taken aback by your question, as he shook your hand, “They call me Echo, sir.”

You placed your other hand over his, “It's a pleasure to meet you, Echo.”

Echo nodded once, slowly, as if he wasn't sure how to interpret your gesture, then gestured toward the corridor that led deeper into the ship, “Rex requested that I bring you to your quarters. General Skywalker would typically handle this, but the Chancellor-

“I know,” you winked, cutting Echo off, “my arrival is usually the result of the Chancellor's spontaneous requests.”

Quite frankly, it was getting annoying. You’d been sent to fill in for other Jedi when the Council needed a warm body to patch a gap, soothe unrest, or boost morale. You never stayed long enough to be anything more than a shadow. A forgettable placeholder with a lightsaber.

You’d been with the 327th for just over two rotations when General Secura was suddenly recalled to Coruscant for diplomatic posturing. Your Master said it was one of the Chancellor’s whims again. You were dropped in her place like a borrowed part with no context and no connection. Simply just expected to pick up her command mid-stride. The men had been respectful, but still hesitant. Bly’s squad had begun to warm to you, just barely though. Only one of his troopers had started calling you “sir” with something close to fondness, even. Then the moment Aayla returned, you were pulled without notice. There was no debrief or farewell. It was like you were never there to begin with.

It was the same with the 104th. You’d been sent in when Master Plo Koon was called to Coruscant for some classified Jedi Council initiative. It was the kind of errand that never came with a real explanation, as always. You were dropped in with a small wave of reinforcements, Wolffe hadn’t said much to you, but unlike the 327th, his men were sharp, cautious, quiet, and surprisingly kind once you’d learned their rhythms.

You’d finally started earning that rare nod of trust. You even got a subtle glance from Sinker during a heated skirmish, and a soft “We’ve got you, General” from Comet when you nearly stumbled in a blast zone. They didn’t treat you like a replacement. They treated you like someone they might start to rely on.

Just when you began to feel like you belonged, the Council recalled Master Plo mid-campaign. Without so much as a word, you were reassigned. Again. With no explanation and no chance to say goodbye.

You never even found out how that campaign ended.

Each new assignment was beginning to feel like a wound you weren’t allowed to let scab over - peeled open again just when it started to heal. You weren’t asking for permanence. You just wanted something to mean something. Some Jedi got lucky, because as a whole, you knew the Council didn’t value connection. It valued control. You were growing tired of being the ghost in everyone else’s story.

You followed Echo down the corridor in silence. The Resolute buzzed with distant energy, but this wing was quieter since it was reserved for officers, commanders, and those who needed space to think between battles. Your steps echoed faintly against the floor, followed by the steady, practiced rhythm of Echo’s.

Echo didn’t speak again, nor did he need to. His presence was efficient, polite and professional enough. Pretty much exactly what you’d expect from an ARC trooper. He stopped outside a plain durasteel door and keyed in the access code with a few taps of his.

“Here you go,” he gestured, leaning his head towards the door, “Briefing’s tomorrow at 1100.”

You clenched your jaw, carefully choosing your next words. You weren’t sure if Echo was the joking type yet - so you chose against it, “See you then.”

That was all. No welcome, no small talk. Just the facts. He didn’t linger at your door for him.

You waited until the sound of his steps had faded completely down the long hall before you stepped inside and sealed the door..

The room was small, but typical for Standard Republic officer quarters. You dropped your travel bag beside the bunk lazily. The datapad on the small desk was already unlocked and powered on. Someone had already set it up - probably your itinerary, no doubt. You didn’t check it though. Instead, you stood in the middle of the room and let the quiet soak in.

This was the sixth room like this in eight months. Sixth new battalion. Sixth round of learning names, adapting to a new rhythm, and trying to be useful without stepping on command structures too tightly wound to tolerate disruption. You were tired of learning how not to belong.

You sat on the edge of the bunk and leaned forward, resting forearms on your knees. You didn’t close your eyes. Meditation felt useless right now. It was far too formal, and far too quiet for a mind so loud.

There’d been the 91st. The 41st. The 327th. Then the 104th. The 212th after that. Each time, you arrived as reinforcement. A Jedi voice in a space where the lead General had been pulled away for one political reason or another. They never said it aloud, but it always felt like cleaning up someone else’s mess, stepping into armor you weren’t meant to wear.

And every time, just when you started to find your footing - when the men stopped calling you ‘sir’ with stiff detachment, when one or two let something personal slip into a sentence - you were reassigned and gone again, as if you were never there. No attachment was the Jedi Code. But no roots? No permanence? That was something else entirely. Something much colder.

You curled up on the small sofa provided in your quarters, wrapping your robe around you for warmth. After going through this cycle five times, you assumed the sixth time would be a breeze, but for whatever reason, you couldn’t help but feel that you wouldn't let go of this reassignment as easily as the others.

The morning came too soon.

You weren’t sure when you’d fallen asleep. Honestly, you weren't even really sure if you had. The hours passed like lightspeed, slipping by before you no matter how badly you wanted them to slow, hoping it would come with sleep. One minute the overhead light was dimmed to its night setting, and the next, the pale glow of your chrono blinked gently at the edge of your vision, signaling it was almost time for the briefing.

You cracked your half-shut eyes open to the low hum of ventilation and the sterile silence of your quarters. But, it wasn’t peaceful. It felt painfully hollow.

Your back ached from the angle you'd curled into on the small couch, your robe twisted beneath you in a tangle with a thin sheet. You rubbed your face slowly, dragging your fingers down over tired skin. The sensation grounded you, but only just. You still felt displaced. Not in space, not even in purpose, but just somewhere between presence and absence.

It wasn’t the worst first night you'd had in a new command, but it was close. You sat up slowly, your muscles protesting your every movement. The lights overhead adjusted automatically, blooming brighter as your body began moving across the room. You continued to bask in the silence until the chime of your holo shattered it.

Briefing at 1100.

Location: Command deck conference bay 7.

Personnel: General Skywalker, Commander Tano, CT-7567, ARC-5555, ARC-1409, CT-5597, CT-6116, other relevant squad leads.

Anakin and Ahsoka weren’t even here and your name didn't even make the list. You let the screen time out and go dark.

With a deep sigh, you pulled yourself upright and stripped off your outer robe, folding it neatly over the back of the chair. You tossed on your same Jedi garb as always - a brown skirt and a dark blue top, but you switched your belt. Well, after the 91st you did. After that assignment, you began switching your belt to match the color of the armor of the troops you were working with. The hope was that it would make them feel seen and therefore, see you. But it never seemed to have the intended effect.

You clipped your lightsaber side to your dark blue belt like a weight you were only half aware of, and made your way for the door. Except, you paused in front of the small wall mirror and tried to assess your reflection with your Master’s eye. You looked presentable, neutral, and detached. You looked like a Jedi. You didn’t look like yourself.

Your hair was slightly uneven from the restless night, but you didn’t bother fixing it beyond running your fingers through the worst of it. They weren’t going to care what you looked like. You weren’t here to impress them, just step in for Anakin and Ahsoka, then disappear.

Just like always.

As you laced up your shoes, you could have sworn you felt your stomach twist. It was nothing more than a quick subtle burst of nausea in your gut, but it wasn't anything sharp, overwhelming. Just a queasy kind of disquiet. Probably just a symptom of sleep deprivation mixed with the anxiety that had knotted behind your ribs since you stepped onto the Resolute yesterday.

Though, maybe it was hunger. You didn’t think you were hungry, nor have you been since the previous day. The mess hall would be open by now, and part of you thought about forcing yourself to go. Even if it was just to sit there so the others could familiarize themselves with you.

But the idea of walking into a full room of clones and being the only Jedi there, alone, and a stranger trying not to intrude made your jaw tighten. You weren’t ready for that yet. Maybe tomorrow.

You grabbed the datapad, slid it into your belt pouch, and left your quarters without another looking back.

The halls of the Resolute were busier now, but not chaotic. The Clones moved with purpose, like they had a mission assigned that you didn't even know about. They passed you without staring, but you felt the way the air shifted when they walked by - it gently brushed against your shoulders like wind. You got a few nods but no smiles. You didn’t expect any.

A pair of men, painted in blue, walking past stopped their conversation when they saw you coming. One gave a firm “General,” and you returned the greeting with a nod, but they didn’t resume speaking until they were well past you.

You weren’t offended. It just confirmed what you already knew. There was a disruption in their order. An unknown variable dropped into a tightly run system. And that just so happened to be you.

You walked slowly, letting yourself settle into the background of the corridors. You took the long route to the command deck, choosing not to rush. There was no sense in arriving early just to sit in silence and remind everyone you didn’t have a clue how the 501st liked to have things done.

The Resolute was one of the nicer Venators you’d served on. Between the countless maintenance droids making sure every last detail of vessel’s mechanics were impeccable to the officers actually reviewing their logs, it was a nice change to see how cohesive everything here seemed to function.

By the time you reached the corridor that led toward the command briefing bay, you relaxed yourself enough to pass as composed. At the very least, you looked that way on the outside.

Inside, your thoughts still hadn’t found a clear rhythm. You felt stretched thin, like the edges of your purpose in the Order and this war hadn’t finished forming yet. You exhaled softly as you approached the doors.

A few troopers were gathered in the corridor, arms crossed and deep in conversation with each other. One glanced your way, then looked down at his boots.

You stepped aside for a moment, just out of the flow of foot traffic, and stood there with your hands behind your back. The first question they would ask is when Anakin was coming back. You didn't need to be a Jedi to know that, but you thought about how nice it would be if they actually asked for your name first. It never happened before so you didn't expect it now and with nothing left but to face it, you turned towards the briefing room.

The door to the briefing room hissed open, but you didn’t move right away. There was still time before it started. No one would notice if you waited another thirty seconds. You stared straight ahead, spine straight, wearing your best Sabacc face.

The war didn’t pause for long, but these next thirty seconds, you could afford them.

➜ Next Chapter

➜ A/N: Story time - I thought queued this post for June 21st (Saturday), but thanks to @bigbadbatch , I learned it never went up :( When I checked what went wrong, I queued this chapter for JULY 31ST. I am so sorry for not realizing sooner! I do try to avoid queuing posts, but I spent the weekend crossing off a bucket list item and going to Galaxy’s Edge (post fiancé breaking up with me gift to myself), and wasn’t online at all (pictures to come ofc). Thank you ALL for your patience and may the force be with you!

➜ Tags: @bigbadbatch @bunny7567 @fireballoveraltanta

#clone x reader #tcw #clone wars #captain rex #captain rex x reader #clone wars fanfic #rex x reader #clone captain rex x reader #captain rex smut

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batchedzine · 9 months ago

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🍪Second Stretch Goal UNLOCKED🍪

We are thrilled to announce that we have sold enough physical copies of Batched to unlock our second stretch goal!!

This means that everyone who purchases a Full Batch Bundle will receive the bonus merch of one 2.5” Acrylic Charm of Delta Squad! This adorable charm was designed by @chocomars

Not only will Full Batch Bundle purchases include this Delta Squad Charm, but they'll also receive a 3x3" Clone Trooper Soda Die Cut Sticker, which was our first stretch goal. So many goodies!

We are already well on our way to unlocking our final stretch goal of an enamel pin, so get your orders in ASAP and help us reach that pin!

Preorders for Batched close October 31!

🧁Preorder here!🧁

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vodika-vibes · 2 months ago

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Don't Worry, I Have You

Summary: Working alongside Trick has always been hard. You’ve been crushing on him for months now, but you know he’ll never reciprocate. But when you’re sent undercover as a stripper at a local casino, things change. A lot.

Pairing: Clone Trooper Trick x F!Reader

Word Count: 1612

Warnings: Trick is flirty, Reader spends almost all of the story in lingerie for story reasons, heavy implications but nothing detailed

A/N: What's this? Two stories in one day? I had an idea and needed to get it out. This story is going to be rated adult, though there's no smut. If I did a sequel, it would be smut tho.

Click HERE to be added to my taglist

“Yeah, I have a question,” You say as you hold out the skimpy lingerie sitting neatly in a wrapped box as if it was a bomb about to blow up in your face, “Why do I have to go undercover as the stripper?”

“The lingerie won’t fit any of us.” Your General replies with a bland smile.

“Oh, I can make it fit one of you.” You snark as you eye the flimsy material, a feeling a dread swirling in your stomach, “I’m IT, I don’t do undercover work.”

“Look, you’re the only woman on the team. They’re expecting women strippers. It has to be you.”

“Ah...But—” You trail off and pick up the panties that had been picked out for you. They’re sheer and lacy and white and you kind of want to cry. You don’t wear stuff like this. “Please don’t make me do this.”

“We don’t have any other option.” To give him credit, your General does sound apologetic, “And you won’t be alone.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that I’m going to be in the casino as well,” Trick interjects smoothly as he steps into the room, a scowl on his face as he smooths the material of his black button up shirt, “And you’re not the only one who has to dress up.”

“Dressing up I could handle. This is dressing down. Way down.”

He offers you a tiny smile, “You’re going to be fine. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

And, while you still don’t like it, you stop arguing. If Trick promises that he’ll protect you, then he will.

With you no longer complaining, the mission brief continues.

The plan is simple. Trick will go in first and take a seat in the VIP room. He’s a talented enough gambler that he can get in there under his own skill. Once he’s in place, you’ll join the rest of the Escorts and Strippers serving as waitstaff in the VIP room.

Trick will try and charm information from the Mob boss he’ll be playing cards with, and you’re job is to liberally ply everyone in the room with alcohol. As soon as the high rollers are distracted the rest of the team will infiltrate the Casino to get the needed intel from the secure room located under the Casino.

It’s a really simple plan.

Which means there’s absolutely no way it’s going to work.

But, you’re trying to be more optimistic.

You make a face at yourself in the mirror in your private quarters as you adjust the strap of the bra so it’s not digging into your shoulder.

It fits, at least. There are no embarrassing gaps to indicate that the bra is too big, and nothing is spilling out of the cups to indicate that they’re too small.

And the set would almost be cute. You know, aside from the sheer and lace.

You turn in the mirror and scowl at the panties. They not a thong. But they’re only just not a thong.

A sudden knock on the door has you start slightly, “What?”

“It’s me. Can I come in?” Trick says from the other side of the door, and you release a sigh.

You really don’t want him to see you looking like this. Not when you’ve been nursing a crush on him for months now. Not when you know that he’ll never feel the same, the consummate soldier that he is.

But you suppose he’s going to see you like this no matter what, you suppose. “Yeah. It’s open.”

The door slides open and Trick steps into the room. He only has the door open long enough that he’s able to enter, and then he shuts the door tight behind him. Then he looks at you, and his breath hitches.

“You look—” He trails off, his dark eyes flicking quickly down your body, “Good.”

“I feel ridiculous. And really exposed.”

“Well, you are really exposed.” His eyes flicker to your chest again, “Really, really exposed. That bra is really sheer, isn’t it.”

“You’re not helping.”

“Sorry, cyare.” He tosses you a sheepish grin, “I can’t help but look.”

“Well stop. It’s embarrassing.”

“You have nothing to be embarrassed about.” This time his gaze drags down your body slowly enough that you can feel your entire body burning with embarrassment. “In fact, I think I just found the star of all of my fantasies for the next...oh...forever?”

“You can leave whenever you want!” You blurt, your face burning so hot that you’re surprised you haven’t burst into flames yet.

His gaze drifts back to your face, and he grins, “Alright, I’ll stop teasing you. For now.”

“How magnanimous of you.”

“Turn around, I have something for you.”

You eye him suspiciously, but this is Trick, so you immediately turn so you’re back is facing him. “What do you have for me?”

“You aren’t going to be able to wear an ear piece or a mic like you normally would in this situation, so we put our heads together to make you something that will help keep you safe.”

You turn your head slightly to look at him as he steps right up behind you, “Safe? I though we were going to be in the same room?”

“Yeah, well—” His calloused hands gently turn your head so you’re focused on the mirror again, “No plan survives the first encounter with the enemy, right?” Carefully, he drapes a delicate looking necklace around your neck, and he starts to fasten it, “The others will be wearing their armor, and my clothes are made from armor weave. You’re the only one who is really exposed.”

“If you’re trying to talk me out of this you’re doing an amazing job.”

He sighs softly, his warm breath fanning across the back of your neck, and he reaches around you to tap the pendant hanging just above your breasts, “This,” Trick explains, “Is a tracking device. There is also an alarm installed inside it.”

You peer down at the delicate looking flower pendant, “In that?”

“Yeah, if something happens, or if you feel like you’re in danger, push the stem of the flower up. It’ll trigger an alarm that will come to my comm. And I will come and get you.”

“What if I have to do that and it ruins the mission?”

His fingers move from the pendant to slide against your throat. A strangely intimate motion that should make you uncomfortable, but doesn’t. “Your safety is more important to me than the mission. If we can’t get the intel today, we’ll find another way.”

You release a shaky breath, “Alright. I’ll remember.”

Trick’s fingers linger on your pulse point for a moment, “Sweets, your heart is racing.”

“I’m being sent into a Casino filled with drunk gangsters dressed in lingerie. This is the human equivalent of being draped in raw steak and placed in a den of starving nexu. I’m a little nervous.”

“I won’t let them hurt you.”

You swallow hard, “You said yourself, no plan survives the first encounter with the enemy. If I’m in another room and I’m not able to signal for help—” You trail off for a moment, “I could get really hurt, Trick. And as much as I trust you, I don’t think I trust anyone enough to be completely calm in this type of scenario.”

He’s quiet for a long moment, clearly thinking on your words. His fingers lightly tracing your collar bone and then the strap of the bra before moving back to your throat.

“I’m changing the plan, slightly.” He finally says.

“How so?”

Trick rests his hand against your throat, not holding or restraining you in anyway, “When you come into the casino, find me in the VIP room. I’ll find a way to get you sitting on my lap.”

“Won’t that ruin the mission?”

“I don’t care if it does. I’d rather you safe and I’d rather you feel safe.”

You stare at him in the mirror for a moment, and then you slowly nod, “Alright.”

Trick smiles slightly, “Good girl.”

You make a face at his comment, “Why are you being so nice to me?”

“I’m always nice to you!” He almost sounds offended at your comment.

“You are, but not like this. I’m just trying to understand. It’s what I do.”

“I—” Trick trails off and the fingers of his free hand trail down the strap of your bra to trace the lace of the cup, “Ask me again, later.”

“Later when?”

“After the mission. When you’re not wearing this,” His finger slides under the bra strap. Trick’s gaze remains locked with yours for a moment longer, and then he steals one last look at your barely clad body, and finally steps away from you.

“...alright then.” You agree slowly, trying not to think about how gentle his smile is as he looks at you or how his fingers twitch like he’s fighting the urge to draw you back into his arms.

“Now, let’s get you something to cover you up while you head to the Casino. A dress, maybe?”

“Uh, oh. I have a wrap dress that I can wear. It’s...somewhere in here.”

Trick laughs softly, “I’ll find it. You put on your make-up and do your hair.”

“Right,” You turn towards your vanity, and then pause to look at him, “Trick? When you came into the room you said that I look good. D’you mean it?”

“Sweetheart, you look perfect.”

And finally a broad smile crosses your face as pleasure fills your heart. Maybe, just maybe, you have a better chance with him than you thought.

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#star wars #zero company #clone trooper trick x reader #trick x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #f!reader fic #18+ fic

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eatommo · 1 year ago

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Hotshot [c.f.99]

CW: Poly!batchxreader, group sex, exhibitionism, oral sex (m&f recieving), double penetration, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, vaginal and anal creampie, multiple partners, cumshots, anal sex, ass eating, spanking, praise, authority kink, cucking? kinda?, implied recording of sex, mention of weapons, mentions of aftercare, overstimulation, post season 7 pre omega, dom/sub dynamics, allusions to subspace, slight degradation, shower sex, mutual pining lots of kissing, no clonecest, liberties for hunter's tattoo, reader has hair long enough to pull, reader gets picked up and carried, i probably missed something let me know!

A/N: 5.6k of pure smut, absolutely no plot here. All mistakes are mine, repost and let me know what/if you like <3

As you climb the steps to the Marauder, something about this mission feels different. It's been months since you've been away from the boys, and almost as long since you cared.

Since running away from the clutches of the empire and charming your way aboard the ship you've become an asset to the team even in just your companionship, but it was also nice to have someone around who wasn't a clone. It made it that much easier to do recon, and also that much easier to infiltrate a group because your face wasn't spread across every corner of the Empire.

However, the longer you stayed with them, the more you valued what made them different. You learned who to go to for help with blaster trouble, and even learned to overlook Crosshair’s slights during your target practice. You’ve also learned that Hunter was sensitive to flowers and strong scents and that he had the best-smelling soap aboard the ship (and never seemed to mind when you used it). Tech, on the other hand, was always great at making you feel included, but was always, always going to double-check anything you did to the ship ‘just in case.’ Echo might've been one of the most interesting people to talk to, during his work with the 501st and the glory days of working alongside some of the most powerful Jedi in the galaxy he saw many planets and cultures that you had only dreamed about. Wrecker, well, he was a big softy despite his talent for demolitions and overall penchant for violence, he was the first to volunteer to take you out and stretch your legs in a nearby city and to help you bring home rations (and a sweet treat or two) for the rest of the crew, and has even carried you home from cantina trips a time or two.

They were closer than any other troop you'd seen, all depending and working so tightly and neatly together you'd think that adding you to the mix would complicate things but all you seemed to do was fit in like sand in the desert. You fell into a routine, they'd leave you at the ship during more dangerous jobs, typically with Echo or Tech at your side to assist with any repairs as you kept the inside of the ship in order, and kept a close eye on any equipment and prepping rations and meals as they became available.

After a stop on Batuu, in which you fought every urge to procure a Loth cat, instead letting Crosshair buy you a long thin vibroblade to appease you. “I haven't given up by the way.” You shout over your shoulder, as you settle into your seat before the others.

“I've thought so.” Tech, his voice more amused than anything. “Let us not berate the woman so that she uses that thing on us, shall we? We are cleared for takeoff.” Wrecker chuckles at the idea of you brandishing the thin blade to any of them. You could hold your own for sure, but you were no ARC trooper.

You settle aboard, staying seated until you reach the upper atmosphere, locking your cloak away with your blade, settling back into the seat near the cockpit, and resting your head against the wall.

“If you need rest, my bunk is open,” Wrecker whispers his words and his voice contradicting each other. He's gruff but his speech is soft like he's afraid to startle you, he's cleaning his blaster but leans forward to speak softly to you. “It's still the biggest bunk.” He smiles and with his helmet in his lap, you can see the intense scaring over the side of his head, and your fingers twitch at your side begging to caress it.

“I'm fine thank you.” You beam at him surprised by the crack in your voice and not wanting to seem ungrateful for the gesture. “I’m quite content out here.” Wrecker blushes, as if embarrassed he even brought it up.

You can hear the audible judgemental breath of Crosshair even from your position behind his back, as he examines his rifle, something amiss and there's a thick tension in the room you can't quite place. Glancing around as they settle in for take-off, none of them seem to want to meet your eyes.

“I didn't expect you all to get so shy, I thought maybe you were starting to warm up to me.” You let your voice trail off, a hint of a tease that cuts into the thick tension in the air for a brief moment. Before Hunter sharply stands up and lets his feet carry him towards you.

Last night’s mission for Rex was messier than any of you had expected and used up the last of your bacta supply. Hence the trip to Batuu, and what you thought was a tense conversation about purpose or authority between the group. You’d overheard something about keeping secrets when you’d greeted them at the ship’s ramp and the pinched nerve in Hunter’s jaw encouraged you to keep your mouth shut. Since the tension between each of them has been as taught and dangerous as a tightrope. As the long-haired clone approached you, you sat straighter, already apologizing for being difficult before he cut you off.

Leaning down until he is practically whispering in your ear, "We are programmed to be professional first and foremost. And we are not always so shy."

Just sharing your space with him has your body reacting to him, vibrating in both fear and a sneaking feeling of arousal. His breath is hot and you turn to look into his dark brown eyes, eyes you should be so familiar with. “I am not an officer, I do not bite, and there's no reason to be formal.” the sentence comes out as a squeak, and you try to hide embarrassment flashing through your cheeks.

He smiles, his voice dips lower but is so soft you swear you can feel his words caress your skin, “Easy hotshot, we might like a woman who bites.”

Oh, oh wow. We.

In an instant, everything and all your feelings about them shift and change. You spent the last few rotations convincing yourself it was normal to feel bubbly around them, they'd saved you, and they were providing for you. This feeling, the unmistakable pull of longing and need in the pit of your belly, would complicate things.

Hunter stands and departs the conversation with an ease you envy. You take a deep breath and compose yourself just to look up and see the rest of the crew watching you, like a wounded animal, you catch just a glimmer of a blush in Echo’s face.

Rex mentioned they were a tight-knit group he seemed shocked you fell in line with them, but hell you didn't expect this. Each of them is in their thoughts as you glance around the ship. Echo and Tech are busying themselves with the controls, but you can see Echo worrying his lip, and Tech turning his head to glance at you every few moments as if wondering what will happen first. Or rather who?

Crosshair stares at you, blankly like he's trying to read every line in your smile or every wrinkle in your clothes, your eyes click together and he smiles like a lothcat with a womprat in his teeth. “You're not intimidated by us?” It's almost as if he's as shocked as the fact itself, there's a cutting edge to the statement like you should be, and then a corner of his mouth turns up. “You like being here,” he tests the statement as if tasting the fact on his tongue, “with all of us.”

You smirk, doing your best to match the heat in his stare, “I am grateful. I've never felt so important or wanted,” you swallow thickly letting the heat in your body you know Hunter can sense, speak for itself, “At least, not yet.” You shift in your seat glancing up at Hunter who is glaring hungrily at your chest as if he could hear your heart leap in your chest with every passing moment.

You glance up to the stars ahead of the ship, Tech looks like he's preparing the ship to jump to light speed. The return mission, at its worst, should only take a few days and even less of that is travel, normally you're not one for long lightspeed trips but this time you wonder if it will be too short.

The way the crew looks at you makes your skin tingle, not sure if you’ve ever been paid this much attention before. As the ship lurches into hyperspace, you let your head lull back to catch Hunter's attention, peering up towards his face as your chin hovers just a foot away from his codpiece.

Doing your best to keep your breath even, a part of you wishes to stand and kiss him, but this time it’s your turn to feel shy. You stand, brushing your chest across Hunter’s’ and waltzing over to lean against the control panel of the ship and the two quieter clones on this ship.

The moment Tech realizes you’re moving towards him his posture is stuck straight, but Echo only leans slightly towards you as you pass your hand over his shoulder. Standing at the front of the ship has only allowed them all to stare at you, your heart skips a beat. You see Hunter’s eye twitch, he is reading you like a book.

“Well,” you speak slowly and eloquently, playing into their curiosity, “How should we pass the time?”

“Come here.” the room's attention snaps to Crosshair, whose red-hot gaze is marring into your skin. Silence falls over the craft as Crosshair lifts a hand and gestures toward his empty waiting lap. Slowly, Echo, Tech, and Wrecker turn again towards you but Hunter stays strong locked into some silent dialogue with his brother.

You feel as if it is entirely dangerous to cross the space between the two. Yet your feet carry you without worry, and neither of them breaks until their vision is obstructed by your body. You turn facing the softened expression in Hunter’s eyes, and slowly lower yourself onto Crosshair's lap.

Placing your hands on his knees to steady yourself, you lean back until your head is resting on his chest and his breath is hot against the shell of your ear. “Good girl.”

His whispers send shivers down your spine and Hunter sinks to his knees in front of you, as Cross removes your shirt from over your head and the rest of the Batch descends upon you like wolves.

As Hunter’s face presses against the softness of your hip, Tech's teeth graze your neck and Wrecker's hands smooth over your nipples, you're overwhelmed at their strength. These are battle-hardened soldiers, Crosshair runs a calloused finger down your spine, and you're reminded how soft you are. Your skin is plush and comforts all of Hunter’s senses as the boys proceed to lose themselves upon you, you're reminded of the comfort they provide for you, a safety net you never knew you craved and the appetite you never knew could become so hungry.

Your canvas pants are ripped down the leg by Wrecker and Hunter’s combined efforts, the sound almost drowned out by a collection of panting wanton noises, and the scraps hit the floor out of sight.

Hunter noses across the top of your panties, letting his breath fan over the sensitive skin of your pussy as you feel Cross shift his hips and push his hard cock into your ass. All of them are in full armor, save for the helmets, yet you lie strewn out before them slick pooling in your panties as they take turns pulling pleasure from your body like they serve no higher purpose.

It's Wrecker who pulls himself from his flight suit first, and you can't remember ever having such a physical reaction to something like this before. You reach out on instinct, fingers not wrapping completely around his girth and teasing the pink tip until it begins to leak into your palm. He towers over your head as whimpers and shudders wrack through his body as though he's never been touched.

You catch a glimpse of Echo, standing slightly off to the side, watching with his pupils fully dilated as he follows the path of Hunter’s mouth on your skin his face flush with crimson. Tilting your head back you turn towards Crosshair and give him a deep kiss, letting him lick into your mouth feverishly. Hunter’s fingers trace over your seam delicately over the thin fabric of your panties as they grow transparent with your desire.

Wrecker’s cock is thick and heavy in your hand, and you clench wantingly around nothing, his hips brush into your hand with a tenderness you long to experience. Crosshair snakes a hand up your chest and cradles the thin skin over your throat, chasing Tech’s glancing kisses away, but taking the opportunity to encourage you to grind your hips against his cock.

In a few mere movements, the men surrounding you have altered your state of mind and each passing touch coaxes you further into submission. Tech shifts and lets his breath ghost over your nipples, you turn your head and catch Hunter in a deep kiss noting how different he tastes and feels against you. You let your thumb swipe over the leaking tip of Wrecker's cock, and fight the urge to stuff your fingers in your mouth to taste.

Hunter breaks the kiss and steps away, letting Echo take his place between your legs but not before using his dagger to cut the hip of your undergarments and stuffing them into one of his pant pockets.

You blush at the obscenity of it all, but it quickly soothed away but the cool metal of Echo’s headpiece brushing over your thighs. Wordlessly Crosshair adjusts the seat so your pussy is presented to Echo, leaning more onto your back and looking up at the boys devouring your form.

His mouth is hot, licking softly over your clit as you relax with Crosshair stroking the pulse point in your neck. You’re slick with arousal and he doesn’t hesitate to lick it up teasing your entrance with the tip of his tongue.

You writhe, letting yourself melt against him, fighting to stay concentrated enough to play with Wrecker’s balls tugging and rolling them beneath your fingers. Eager to pleasure every one of them.

Echo’s glove ghosts over your sex, teasing your entrance with a digit, the leather smoothly gliding over your skin. Hunter and Tech each take to stroking down your thighs and holding them in place, “Easy, meshla, we will take good care of you.”

Your mind is swimming, when did this start? Tech steps a hair closer to your face, tilting your jaw up with his free hand, and slips a finger past your lips. You suck lightly, sure to match the pace at which you’re stroking Wrecker. You get a praising hum, and Tech surprisingly is the second to drop his pants and pull himself free. Stroking himself to the rhythm of you teasing him with a curl of your tongue.

It's the tangled moan of you around Tech’s fingers that breaks Crosshair, his pants unbearably tight and each little movement of your hips making him clench his jaw to stave the noises that die in his throat. He lifts you to your feet, and removes his pants, letting himself spring free. You have to admit you expected the armor to be harder to take off.

You stand on unsteady feet, in an attempt to turn your head towards Crosshair, Hunter captures your chin in two fingers locking your eyes together. “Echo.” A chuckle reverberates between them, all seemingly on board with whatever plan this could be. Echo slides flat onto his back looking up at you and the rest of the boys. The realization is enough to make you shiver. Your pussy clenches, still empty, but a dripping mess sticks your thighs together. Hunter’s eyes are burning through your resolve, there’s an intensity you’d come to respect that now sends a spike of fear through you. “Sit.”

You go to protest but are quickly shut down and you look around at the men surrounding you eagerly but patiently waiting for you to follow his instructions. Swallowing thickly over the lump in your throat, you sink to your knees and hover a few inches from Echo’s waiting mouth. From your knees they tower above you, all but Hunter free from their confines. You get a good look at the three cocks, all weeping and swollen pink across their tip, beautifully complimenting the darker-tanned skin of their shaft.

Each of them was different, which only slightly surprises you, Wrecker being the thickest, but both Tech and Crosshair meet him in length. You can feel each breath from Echo’s mouth, knowing you're probably close to dripping across his chin. You lower slowly, afraid to hurt him, until he licks the seam of your entrance savoring the hot flesh and you seek his tongue sitting on his face in earnest. His mouth brings welcome waves of pleasure as he suckles on your clit.

They pump themselves slowly, enjoying the view of your tits bouncing with each shiver. You start to move your hips in small circles while reaching to palm over Crosshair’s balls and stroking up over his shaft squeezing a bead of precome from the tip. You open your mouth and glance between them, expecting to see some kind of hierarchy emerge but they take a half step toward you together.

You opt for taking Tech into your mouth, but only because he's in the middle, letting yourself drool around him as you suck on the thick knot of his cock head, before turning and spitting the excess saliva onto Crosshair’s cock coating it with slick to make your fist glide against him nice and quickly. Tightening around the base and working more of those beautiful precum drips from his leaking tip.

You snap back to Tech’s cock, tasting the sweat of his skin, and the desire for your body grows with each passing second as he throbs needfully in your mouth.

Echo is teasing your clit with calculated movements of his tongue, licking around it in sharp purposeful circles, and sucking on it every few passes. Enough to make your brain fuzz up each time his lips seal around you as Tech nudges the back of your throat to earn a gag.

You pull off him again, this time gathering the drool in your mouth to cover as much of Wrecker's cock as you physically can. His cock is so heavy it sways low on his hips thick and so hard your body is already aching for the sting that will accompany the stretch. You use the thick spit to pump him slower, allowing yourself a moment to admire what has to be the largest you'll ever get the chance to worship.

The slick sounds are broken with an “Atta girl.” in the shape of a deep growl from Wrecker’s chest. He reaches and gathers some drool from your chin and brushes it over your lip and you open instinctively, just as Echo uses his tongue to prod at your entrance. His praise is as wholesome as his affection for you.

Hunter has taken a seat across from the rest of you, watching as if analyzing each movement of your legs as they quiver from the ravenous pleasure and your throat tightens around the length of Crosshair's shaft. His thin fingers find purchase at the back of your neck, urging you to sputter around him and the sick squelch just barely audible beneath your moans.

Echo swiftly plunges two fingers into your pussy, crooking them and stroking deliciously at your g-spot and forcing you to pull yourself away from Crosshair to let your head drop as you fight for composure. “Let yourself enjoy it little one. It won’t be your last.” Cross takes the tip of his cock and taps the tip to your tongue.

You swear, body humming and teetering on the edge before losing yourself to one hellishly explosive orgasm. It shocks you, body shaking and toes curling against the cool floor as your body burns in the aftershocks Echo works you through it with some tentative kisses to your entrance, and he encourages you to sit up so he can slide out from under you.

So much of the room is spinning you don’t notice Tech sitting in front of you until you’re kissing him. His tongue finds yours in a syrupy sweet and methodical kiss as you fight to catch your breath. Wrecker moves behind you, running his rough hands down your back and palming the flesh of your ass, striking it with a loud slap.

Tech swallows your gasp, pinching your nipples and pulling them as Wrecker bends you at the waist until you’re scrambling to your hands and knees sucking Tech into your mouth with a compliant and satisfied hum.

Hunter speaks up, “Turn around.” The trance is broken for the briefest of seconds, and you don't have time to think before they’re turning you so you’re faced with Wrecker’s huge cock and Tech teases your entrance with the tip of his cock. The passive command that Hunter has over all of you gives you goosebumps, his authority even stronger than the ache they share for you.

You sink to your elbows, propping your ass up on display and practically begging for Tech to fuck you, pushing back onto the head of his cock, all while blinking away tears as Wrecker’s size makes your jaw ache. The larger man splays his hand across the back of your head, inciting your thick moans as you work as much of him as you can fit.

Tech’s hips pitch forward and he’s splitting you open in one fluid deep thrust until your ass is nestled against his hips and he grunts at the eager squeeze of your sex around him. You work your hips in sync with your head the drag of his cock along your walls is unlike anything you’ve ever felt. He shifts from both knees to one, allowing a deeper thrust to kiss your cervix with a hiss of pain-laced pleasure. He sets a pace, hips meeting yours in synchronous harmony, and the three of you get lost in each other's pleasure.

You’re briefly aware of Crosshair stroking himself above you and Hunter is still watching with bated breath as you service his brothers, wondering if you’ll let each of them have a turn or if they’ll need to give you a break.

Tech snakes a hand around to press a firm thumb against your clit, and a rush of fluid hits the floor of the cargo space that permeates his senses. The sickly sweet smell of your release coats his tongue and he chokes the head of his cock through his clothes to stop him from cumming before he even gets to touch you.

Your vision is white, and you’re vaguely aware of the spend running down your thighs. When Tech pulls himself free with a grunt you feel the hot ropes of his cum on your back you whine, feeling ashamed that you long for him to finish inside of you. You clench around nothing and sit up to look at Wrecker who brushes a hair out of your face. You kiss him, softly at first, unsure of his comfort with the taste of his precome in your mouth, but he growls and lifts you by your waist, licking into your mouth as he helps you hover over his cock.

You take advantage of the break, wrapping your arms around his neck and taking the weight off your knees in favor of straddling him. Even in his lap, you’re looking up at him. Letting gravity do some of the work, you adjust to let him prod at your entrance and sink slowly onto him, the slick warmth of your pussy a welcome substitute for your pretty mouth.

His chest rumbles beneath yours, groaning as your pussy flutters around him. You kiss him through a grimace, “Take your time.” He whispers against your mouth, low enough you’re not sure the others hear him. Heart swelling at the compassion, you let him slowly rock his hips against you, easing his way into your heat and keeping his hands splayed across your hips to support you.

It’s a slow process, each inch accompanied by breathless and muffled moans followed by kisses and words of endearment. “You can take it mesh’la.” You’re nearly there, body so in tune with his every word you nearly forgot your showmanship.

Crosshair is to your right, one hand gripping the base of his cock as precome dribbles and hangs just out of reach from your eager tongue, muttering something in a language you don’t understand.

You swear you can feel the throb of Wrecker inside of you, and he presses his mouth to your forehead as he pistons his hips slowly angling your body in a way so that he’s moving you along his shaft effortlessly.

Breathless and spent, you let him. Being filled by him is almost overwhelming, each push and pull feeling like he's going to split you in half. He mumbles and groans into your hairline, speaking nonsense in between bitten-off praise. When his fingers find your clit you all but cry, shaking your head in protest, “Please- I can't.”

It's Hunter that answers your cries, “You can.” His voice hoarse with need and restraint, “Be a good girl.” Your brow furrows, in concentration, tossing your head back in near agony at the overstimulation.

Wrecker leans forward and presses his mouth to the column of your throat sucking on the thin skin and leaving a pink welt in his wake. You feel as if you could explode, not able to hear the sounds of your screams as you shudder and writhe under his touch, against his skin and your body falls slack with the overwhelming pleasure.

He lifts his face and you catch a pleased smile, like a loth-wolf with its prey in its teeth. As he throbs and fucks his spend deep into your core. They all see the muted smile tug at the corner of your mouth as Wrecker cums inside you.

He holds you for a moment, kissing over the reddish blemish on your throat and waiting for you to make eye contact with him before slipping free with a tangled whimper from both of you.

Wrecker wraps your legs around him and stands on sturdy legs, you cling to him, resting your cheek on his shoulder hyperaware of the wetness between your thighs. He sets you on Hunter's lap, in your euphoria, he’s lost his pants and sits still in a pair of soft cotton underwear, stark black against his tanned abdomen. It’s now that you notice his tattoo, so familiar with the portion on his face you never notice how the tattoo bleeds across the entire left side of his body.

The lines are both clean and elegant, highlighting the rich flawless tone of his figure. Gorgeously broad shoulders with rippling cords of muscles supporting your cheek as you rest your head lazily and admire him. Placing a lingering and exhausted kiss to the stretch of skin between his shoulder and neck and relishing the warmth of him against your sweat-soaked skin, in the extra cold air of a ship in hyperspace.

He runs his fingers through your hair, scratching lightly and working every line of tension out of you over a few minutes. You distantly hear the sound of the fresher’s shower being turned on. Crosshair is gone, and you fear a pang of regret and pity.

Your breath is coming easier by the time, Hunter carries you towards the sound of the water. Crosshair meets you both under the water’s spray refreshing your senses and soothing the ache of your muscles. You get settled on your feet between them, legs feeling like they’re made of sand, Hunter’s body is pressed tightly to your back, anchoring and steadying you as you greet Crosshair with an inviting kiss.

He welcomes your touch, all but overtaking your space completely as you get pressed between the two of them and lost to the feeling of their bodies against yours, Hunter nestled into the small of your back and Crosshair’s cock leaking and purple with need against your belly.

The steam only adds to the dreamlike quality of it all, tendrils wafting off the ground and highlighting the sight of your ass pressed against him. Hunter doesn’t want to hurt you, but each passing second without fucking you is making him lose his sanity. As if he might just sink into the floor with the weight of his need crushing him entirely.

He nibbles at your earlobe, earning a low whine from your chest. You tilt your head in invitation for his affection, kissing up the column of your neck and tasting the water on your skin tangled with the smell of his brothers. He makes eye contact with Crosshair, and they communicate silently as they spin you around and switch roles.

Hunter licking into your mouth and letting his hand run down to your hip and pull you to him. Expecting the press of Crosshair to your back, you’re startled when you feel the graze of his teeth on your ass. His palms run over the smooth skin, kneading the flesh and watching it move in response to his touch.

Crosshair splays a hand on the small of your back, urging you to lean forward. You glance over your shoulder as he spreads you open and licks a stripe across your asshole. The feeling sends a shiver down your spine, you hear a chuckle as he presses the pad of his thumb into you and watches you with a hungry stare.

Hunter distracts you, kissing you slowly and running his hands soothingly down your back as Crosshair preps you to take him until he’s working two fingers in and out of you and sucking a bruise into your hip to match the one adorning your throat.

You nibble on Hunter’s lip, and bury your hands into his hair, tugging at the root living for the whimpers you get out of him. Crosshair kisses his way up your spine, standing straight, and this time you see them. There’s a small nod of agreement and both of them turn their full attention to you, “You gonna let us fuck you cyar’ika?”

Without hesitation, you nod. You’re not able to explain, how you were able to wrap your arms around Hunter as he hoisted you up his waist and you sank down onto his length. Maybe it was adrenaline, maybe it was the way he demanded your submission through the tone of his voice. No, you thought, it was the way he sounded like he was begging you, he commanded your attention but the way he used his authority had you believing that you, and what he asked of you, was the most important thing in the galaxy. You wanted nothing more than to give him everything he asked for and more.

They give you a moment, Hunter biting his lip as your cunt squeezes him like you haven’t already come three times already. You throw an arm around Crosshair’s neck opening your legs just enough for him to slot himself against you and slowly push into you with the cant of his hips.

He goes incredibly slow, sawing his hips back and forth and relishing in the feeling of Hunter’s cock also nestled deep inside you making you impossibly tighter and the friction of your walls against him.

It feels like too much, pain and pleasure mixing in an enchanting cocktail of stimulation, yet still the familiar tug of an orgasm stirs in your belly. You suppress a sob at the idea of coming for a fourth time around the both of them. They hush you, nuzzling against you and pressing righteous and thankful kisses to your skin, “Look at you, pretty girl.” Crosshair’s voice is so low and drawn out that it takes every last shred of your concentration to hear what he’s saying, “You look so good taking everything we give you.”

The inflection acts like a highlight reel, your body remembering along with your brain the feeling of being the center of attention during your first orgasm. The complexity of your second. The white-hot stretch of Wrecker using and worshipping your body filling you to the brim during the aftershocks of your third. Hunter whispers against the shell of your ear, “Good girl.” Reading the signs of your body and feeling the crest of your orgasm build around him, and pulling you over the edge with his praise.

He presses his forehead to yours as he follows close behind, senses overwhelmed and fighting the bend to his knees as they buckle with the intensity of his climax.

Crosshair pumps into you from behind, lifting one of your legs slightly and changing the angle so he can thrust deeper grinding into you, and urging you to lean more heavily on him to keep the three of you from collapsing as he stills and spills into you.

The three of you pant in silence, ragged breath lost in the noise of the water hitting the metal floor of the fresher, you wordlessly separate. The endorphins running through your bloodstream turn your muscles' pain into a blissful ache you never want to forget.

#polybatch #poly!badbatchxreader #poly x reader #the bad batch x you #the bad batch x reader #tbb hunter #tbb crosshair #the bad batch spoilers #clone force 99 #the bad batch #tbb wrecker #tbb echo #tbb tech #tbb #star wars fanfiction #star wars #mandoa #no clonecest

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squad-724 · 8 months ago

Text

Oof I’ve had a couple rough weeks at uni, have padmecker artwork I’ve been slowly working on. It’s an illustration for a short fic of the two of them, a twin piece to @electrikworm ’s fic

“There.” Padmé sighed as she put down the stylus, a moment ago used to correct the few words of her next speech on the Senatorial Ball she was organizing with Bail and Riyo to warm her colleagues up to the clones. A small tactic to make them look more sentient and humanoid than what they officially were written as in the law. One step closer to the bill that would recognise them as citizens of the Republic.

She straightened up in her seat, her back cracking in a few places, making her wince. No matter how much the chair cost, five hours of no movement will make her body ache. And because of the non-stop debates in the rotunda she had no time to prepare it earlier; the ball was the next day.

Padmé took her time, finishing sipping the cold caf she got delivered back when there was still sunlight, watching the lights of the Planet That Never Slept flicker in the distance. She knew how they looked up close, both on the triple zero and in lower levels she so rarely visited; only going there for her rare dates that she still had to hide from the public. If the media learned about her relationship with a clone, the whole rights bill could be compromised.

Sometimes she didn't care, wishing to be able to take Wrecker to one of the fancy restaurants, let him taste all the amazing foods she could get him, to walk around in broad daylight, visit museums and opera. She wished she could spoil him as much as he deserved.

But it would have to wait. Padmé knew she would make sure he and his brothers could soon walk around as fully free citizens.

“You done?” The senator almost jumped out of her seat as a male voice came from the doors to her office space.

“On the moons Anakin you scared me,” Padmé let out a sigh of relief, and the jedi laughed at her reaction. “What are you still doing here, you were supposed to leave hours ago.”

“Eeeh, I think I should give Rex a little room to breathe. He almost strangled me after I threw him down that hole two days ago.”

“And you don't want to spend the night on observation with Kix.”

“And I don't want to spend the night on observation with Kix, and Rex WILL rat me out in an act of revenge.” He walked over to her balcony doors, grabbing one of the donuts she kept on her desk, her favorite one she kept for last. “I'll sleep at Snip’s new apartment, apparently she got a great deal from the landlady that had a good family history with the Order, and didn't need a down payment. I'll see you at the ball.” He waved her goodbye and jumped down the balcony. Padmé knew he called R2 to come pick him up, just as all the times he decided to have that dramatic of an exit. One day he would fall and break his neck, and that would be karma for stealing the best donuts.

There was nothing more Padmé wanted than to sleep. But she desperately needed to shower, and knew Clone Force 99 was about to enter the Coruscanti atmosphere in a few moments.

She met the squad only a few months back, the four clones called as her escort during a mission. At first she was surprised at the differences from normal troopers, but soon learned about their mutations and special enhancements that were made to them.

Each one of them was unique and interesting, but it was Wrecker who caught her eye, his eyes that kept looking at her with awe when he thought she didn't notice, but also the difference between his pure show of power in opposition of how gentle he was with her.

He had that charm and authenticity that all her previous suitors lacked, speaking his mind and not carefully picking lines of dialogue they practiced before each meeting. He was himself at all times, and who he was was a man of big heart. And Padmé couldn't deny him the beautiful musculature and tanned skin.

And now, after three weeks of a comms-out mission, he and his brothers were coming for a personal debrief with commander Cody, and to crash at her flat for a few days.

She already stocked her fridge with food, readied her three guest rooms with a fresh set of beddings and towels. Yeah maybe she was playing favorites with that, but no one deserved being pampered like these four. Especially Wrecker.

As she waited for the clones to arrive she took a quick shower and brushed her teeth, finally getting rid of the acidic aftertaste of caf on an empty stomach. Once she put on her face mask, she got a ping on her datapad reading “Be there in 5 ;)”.

Padmé got her droid to brew some tea when the doorbell rang out. All of her sleepiness evaporates in an instance when she runs to the door.

She isn't done opening them properly before a massive set of hands hauls her off the floor and into a spinning hug that ends with a keldabe kiss.

“Hi sweetheart,” Padmé breathes out, looking into Wrecker's mismatched eyes. She locks her hands around his neck, pulling him close into a proper kiss. Oh how she missed it.

“Ekhm, we're still in the doorway love doves,” a snarky voice brings them back into reality, Wrecker laughing as he moves deeper into the apartment, letting his brothers in. “Great. I'm taking the bathtub first.” A few voices of protest ring out as Crosshair bolts to the refresher.

“Sorry for the wait, there were some issues with the docking system and they didn’ want to let us down to the planet.” Wrecker finally let Padmé down, putting his bag down soon after.

“Not your fault, I just barely finished my job anyways, didn't have to wait for long.” She stood on her tiptoes to land another kiss on her boyfriend’s scarred cheek, making him blush. No matter how many times she did it, the giant clone got red after signs of any affection.

“Thanks for letting us stay,” Hunter all but collapsed on the couch, cup of freshly brewed tea in hand. He looked a little roughed up, his cheek covered in a fresh dressing, left eye sporting a bruise. “I don't think I could survive another night bunking on the ship with those three idiots.”

Padmé laughed as a choir of three voices raised up with a complaint. She sipped her herbal tea. She had missed this.

Not just Wrecker, but his whole family. How much life they brought to this otherwise empty apartment. The sound of bickering during breakfast preparation, doors opening and closing when they left for the town, repetitive whirring coming from Tech's room, muted music from Crosshair's.

“I am completely exhausted, so I'll be waiting for you in bed. I don't want to smell ANY grease or pickled feet when you join, so take a bath beforehand.” Padmé smooched Wrecker one last time, putting down her cup next to the dishwasher, before she wished the clones goodnight and retreated into her own bedroom.

As much as she complained about the costs of her sheets to Sabé, in moments like these every single credit spent on them seemed worth it. She slipped under the covers, sighing softly as the pain in her back quieted down just a little bit. She had to wake up in the morning for the last dress try on, and then get her hair done before the ball. How lucky she was that a highly experienced squad of troopers was available as her security for the event.

Padmé felt herself fall asleep just as the mattress next to her dipped significantly. Wrecker put his calloused hand on her back, sneaking it under her shirt and drawing slow circles in between her shoulder blades.

“Mmm I really need to sleep my dear, we will have the whole night to ourselves tomorrow.” she murmured into her pillow, relaxing her back under the soft pressure of his palm.

“Then sleep cyar’ika.” The trooper whispered, drawing his thumb up and down her spine, kneading the locked up muscles into relaxation. Padmé knew how firm they must have felt, and let her boyfriend smooth them out as they slowly fell into a rhythm.

“Does anything else hurt?” Padmé could feel his warm breath on her cheek. She could deny it, let him lay down next to her. But, it felt so nice to be taken care of like that.

“Right arm, think I was holding my stylus too tightly.” She didn't even open her eyes as she turned on her side, reaching out the hurting limb.

With a gentleness a man of his frame seemed incapable of, Wrecker took it, moving it to face the palm up, and began massaging it too.

He started with her finger, so delicate and small in the embrace of his giant ones. Each one was delicately pinched in between his pointer finger and thumb, joints muscles and tendons kneaded into relaxation.

Then came the palm, painfully wiry, with the muscles tensed and coiled from the long hours of no rest. Wrecker's fingers carefully massaged them, and Padmé let out a few hisses of pain before these too relaxed into comfy hums as her boyfriend helped her with the pain.

She thought it would be it, but he continued the comforting movements on her forearm, now his actions bringing her more of a relaxing effect rather than purely pain relivement.

Wrecker arms continuously moved his hands up and down her forearm, drawing circles with his thumbs, making her back shiver with pleasure. She didn't even realize how wiry her muscles got until he made them relax, his fingers digging into knots deep into her limb.

“How did you learn to do this?” She murmured, her voice partially muted by the pillow she was laying on. Wrecker’s mismatched eyes didn't leave her arm, but she definitely saw the slight smirk under his nose.

“All of us got some pains a massage helps with. I was the first to need them, my growing pains making my whole body ache until I couldn't move. That's when Tech found some texts on holonet to teach me so I could do them before sleep. Then it turned out that Hunter's migraines can be lessened if you relieve the pressure on the neck,” Wrecker's pressure on Padmé's arm became weaker and weaker, his body slowly sumping to the side. “Tech tends to fall asleep on the pilot seat and next to his workbench, and I deal with his back afterwards.”

The senator gently pulled her boyfriend to lay down, his heavy body hitting the mattress. He didn't say anything, but let out a hum of comfort, wriggling closer to her, wrapping his arms around her much smaller waist. He was very warm, making Padmé shiver.

“Mmm, I'm glad you're here.” she settled her forehead just above his heart, taking comfort in the sound of the beat. Strong, just like him.

“Wish I could stay,” one of his arms moved to the base of her skull, gently scratching her hair bulbs, often sore from the extravagant hairstyles she wore on a daily basis. The hair and dresses, what she was most known for. A beauty of Naboo, queen and senator Amidala whose spirit never yielded. Just like her looks she never did anything halfway, giving her everything into how she presented herself as how she protected the innocents of the Republic.

But there she was, her hair in disarray, wearing an old t-shirt and underwear that has been for sweet release of the trash bin for months, and Wrecker was here, calling her beautiful in the pure darkness, his arms a comforting weight. Here, she was Padmé Naberrie, spending one of her rare moments with a man that found her beauty not in the make-up, dresses or jewelry, but her genuine laugh, lacking cooking skills, and the ability to stand her ground to help him and his brothers become people in the eyes of law.

He would protect her planet, while she secured his future.

Thank you Manhattan for edits and beta reading!

#star wars #the bad batch #tbb #clone wars #star wars prequels #padme amidala #padme naberrie #wrecker #tbb wrecker #padmecker #Padme x wrecker #fluff #pure fluff

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