#tcw drabble

[frostycatblr-fandom-files]

Protecting Little Brothers

Warnings and Information: Third installment in the NTMY,B universe which are [NTMY,B] & [IHNM,OAB] respectively, but this time, we���re focusing on clone oc: Scruffy. Reading the first installments will make this make more sense, so be sure to go give those a read first or check them out some other time!

Scruffy's penchant for not looking where he's walking leads to a very scary time for certain brothers. While he was only clinically dead for a few minutes at most, it feels much longer than that for everyone involved, and those introduced. Vague descriptions of blood, nausea and injuries. Star Wars and real-world swearing. Temporary death by explosive device. And you're probably not supposed to use a bacta tank that way, but kriff it. Scruffy meets the ghosts of Canvas's brothers and receives some very important instructions. Some minor expansion of Faro, Gunnar, Cryfar and Fluke's story and my takes on Clone Culture. No Mando'a here, just maybe lots of tissues. My usual use of italics.

Word-count: 3,782

How could he be so careless? Again? 

"SCRUFFY!"

He never watches where he's walking. In some ways he's still a plastoid puppy with two left feet. 

"LOOK OUT!" The COs warn him. Some are pulling other brothers away while one, the Captain maybe, tries to nab him by the back of his armor, racing after.

A tripwire. He should've seen a damn, glowing tripwire. He's thrown back ten, maybe twenty feet with the force of the blast. The pain is white-hot. The planet around him is swimming in and out of focus, vision growing darker than the dusky sky above him. 

"No-no-no-! Scruffy!" Canvas. Canvas is screaming across the field, booted feet tearing up the golden grass with every step. He's faster than he'd ever think possible for a brother who once took an hour to eat a small ration pack. The hard, white shell of his helmet is plucked from his head and thrown behind him along with his sniper rifle  in the grass as he races to make his brother's position. "Scruffy!!" His vision is so hazy now, but he sees the unfettered panic in Canvas's eyes when he drops to his knees. "No-no-no-no-no! Please don't- Don't leave me, brother!" 

"H-hey, 'Vas I-I'm going to b-be fine… don't worry." he rasps, hearing the clamor of the COs calling in all available medics to convene on their position. Sounds like the Captain had been thrown as well. "They're c-callin' the m-" Something heavy and metallic claws its way up his throat, interrupting him and painting his brother's knees in crimson when he's thrown on his side so he can't choke on it. 

Canvas's voice is fading fast. "O-over here! Hurry! He's-!" 

Back on Kamino. Scruffy is suddenly back on Kamino in one of the massive training rooms, flat on his back. Sitting up slowly, he expects to find he's got company for a moment. That he's in a massive training exercise in his sweat-slick training uniform and he's a cadet again, that one of the Trainers will be along down the training floor and sharply telling him "That was sloppy, CT-××××! Get up! Again!" but the order never came. He found he was alone in this room. 

Strange. Maybe he'll find someone out in one of the halls. "Hello…?"

Except that's too empty, too. All of Kamino is. Kamino isn't supposed to be empty... Growth jars. The halls. The mess. His old bunkroom. There's nary a Clone to be found. It's just him. As far as he can tell. "Hello?"

There's a steady pull just behind his navel that seems to direct him to another part of the cloning facility. He's not sure what the long-necks called this place officially. Doesn’t really give two banthashits what it is, either; Scruffy prefers the nicknames and in-jokes he's heard from older brothers when he'd been caught snooping around the area once or twice as a very young cadet by the brothers who were a part of the Kaminoan security unit. 

"Hey: CT-×××× to command, it's just a trainee out of his bed. We'll take care of it. Aww look, someone's found an excuse to wander into the Build-a-Brother lab."

"Can you blame him? There's something… so calming about the nurseries. But you're not supposed to be here, little brother. C'mon. Back to bed before the long-necks get angry."

"Hello?!" He's getting desperate and unsettled. Kamino isn't supposed to be desolate and silent, his mother-world was always bursting with brothers even before the Clone Wars started, traversing Tipoca City was like swimming in a living sea of identical faces and voices. There was unspoken comfort in that uniformity as a cadet. There was always someone who may not have been the brother you were looking for, but would help you find the brother you needed. 

Needed. Oh what he needed was to find someone. Scruffy has to understand what's going on, why the pulling sensation is getting stronger when he enters the next section of the nursery. Why his chest feels so heavy with rhythmic pulses of pressure. He can't be dead, can he? 

"HELLO?! Will someone tell me what the kriff is going on?!"

"Hey-" calls a particularly brusque voice, but a brother's voice, unmistakably, "Cut that out. There's no need for yellin'. Not in here." Scruffy stares at this brother who seems to have blinked into existence in front of him, wearing armor just like him. There's a scuff mark and three "blaster-blooms" that mar his armor kit. Two in the chest and shoulder plate, and one in the kidney armor. Scruffy remembers that damage in the kidney armor. The ruined flesh beneath it. The BX droid commando's fluke shot. The injury that this brother shortly succumbed to not too long after he had gotten his Name. 

Scruffy can't believe it. "F-Faro? That really you? Where's the oth-" If Faro's here, would the others of Canvas's batch be too? Fluke? Gunnar? Cryfar? Maybe they're somewhere in this section of the embryo lab with him, hiding in another row of machinery ordinarily containing little, growing brothers sleeping in their jars. Someone sighs when he turns around to look behind him, flashing them the ring of paint around the neck of the back plating of plastoid. More have joined him and Faro. "... it's not him. It's Scruffy." 

"Who's-?" asks a third.

There's a fourth new voice, patient with the third while trying to mask the bitterness of disappointment. "Scruffy's the one that kept falling into the pits like you, Cry." 

"Oh, right-right-right..." the third one replies.

Scruffy turns back around, finding a frowning Fluke, confused Cryfar, and the last brother, Gunnar. Scruffy never had much of a chance to get to know each of these brothers. He would've liked to. There were as much his brothers as they were Canvas's batch, "his" brothers, and he… Scruffy was never as close with his batchmates. He loved them, sure. Scruffy loved all his brothers. But the three remaining brothers of his batch weren't quite as close as he would've liked. That kind of closeness didn't interest or suit them. 

"A batch isn't a bond for life, Scruff… you know that. I don't need you to coddle me." 

"C'mon, of course I do know that, but-"

Fluke approaches Scruffy at long last, laying a comforting hand on the deep injury cut into the plastoid chest plate by the explosive he triggered stepping through the tripwire. "I hope that was quick and you didn't have to suffer… C-can I ask-? Wh-where's-?" 

He doesn't know. "Hopefully he's… Oh Maker, hopefully Canvas is okay…" He faded so fast. One moment he was listening to the sound of Canvas's voice becoming more and more submerged before… nothing. He remembers trying to blink the haze from his eyes, and when he next opened them, he was on the gridded floor of the training center instead of the golden field. 

"Canvas?" It's a chorus of confused, delighted voices.

"Did he choose his name?" Faro inquires, his stoic expression brightening with a sense of curiosity. "Fluke, you were with him longest, did he-?"

Fluke shakes his head solemnly. "No…he still hadn't found or chosen a name before I died." Fluke says grimly. "Besides, I would have told you he found his Name. Or had come to Be Named."

They keep talking around Scruffy, excluding him from their conversation. "Dank farrik. Right, no, of course." Faro grumbles before his face is like stone again. Gunnar shooed Fluke off, pulling Scruffy aside to speak by a more "private" row of machinery. Scruffy grimaces seeing the jars up close. 

They shouldn't be empty. Even if this was the afterlife, if he was dead, this dreamscape of Kamino shouldn't be so empty… where are the little brothers? Where are the future soldiers and heroes of the GAR?

The grimace is noticed, and Gunnar tries to console him. "Hey, it'll be okay Scruffy… the longer you're here, the more you'll kinda get used to it. Details will start to fill in and it won't be so bad. We can see 'em… all ten fingers and toes. I've been here the longest between the four of us. I remember being scared too." Gunnar says, gesturing to his batchmates before gingerly laying a hand against the glass. "Hard to believe we were ever that small…" 

"G-guess so." Scruffy forces out between stunted breaths. He can't see the brothers inside these jars, and he's suddenly feeling this wave of dread the longer he looks. His eyes scrunch up before he has to duck his head urgently. He feels… nauseous. Lightheaded. Do ghosts get nauseous and lightheaded? What the hell is going on? Gunnar notices the distress, and thinks he's just not taking the news of being dead so well. Fluke certainly didn't; sobbing for leaving their brother behind on his own. Faro had been silent for weeks, stewing with worry over Fluke and… Canvas. His batchmate finally had a name! "So… he went with Canvas, eh?" That was not the thing to ask perhaps, but it was the first thing that came to mind. 

There's pressure in his chest, or maybe on his chest. Like he's being sat on by a Reek. Scruffy can't breathe. He's going to be sick, he's going to be sick- 

"Far!" Gunnar cries as Scruffy falls to his knees, trying to clear his throat, cough, something, to relieve some of this pressure on his rib cage.

"What, Gun?"

"What's going on with him? You think he's-?"

Faro comes closer, stooping down to Scruffy's level as he's on his elbows and knees, gasping desperately as he tries not to dry-heave. "Yeah. I think they're trying to bring him back." 

"They can do that?"

"For the lucky ones, Gun. For the people who go before it's their time. It's not his. I think… I think someone still needs him." 

"The Republic needed us and we-!" Gunnar shakes his head sharply in self-regulation, apologizing for losing his temper. "Sorry. Guess some sentiments never change and make my temper flare… Wanted to tell off the General like a real idiot, for kriff's sake. I'd have knocked my own head clean off too, Faro." 

"Here. Sit up, Scruffy." Faro's steady hands pull him up to his feet best he can before he's scrutinized by Canvas's batchmate; there's a familiar aura around him, lurking in the depths of his eyes. A rich, deep brown that reminds Scruffy of the mud from their first campaign together. How Canvas and Fluke used to poke around in the older trenches after rainfall, looking for bugs together. Faro's way of keeping them out of trouble. 

"I'm going to speak with the Captain or Commander about seeing if we can't borrow something a little more permanent than filmsi… Would be nice to know what kind of friends you two are finding in the mud by looking everything up one of these days, and we'd need records to do it. Maybe I can convince one of them to use a spare datapad. Or, something." 

"Hey look, this one's green!" 

"You two bucket-heads didn't hear a word I said, did you?" 

The tired eyes of the oldest brother of Canvas's batch looks at him, softening at last when he's satisfied with his study. "Can I ask you something before you go, Scruffy? One oldest of the batch to another?" Of course Faro would figure out Scruffy was the oldest of his batch. You could always tell. Somehow, you could always tell. Sometimes it was the posture, the way they carried themselves. Or the way they kept their brothers in line. A nurturing aptitude. Extra compassion and patience. A helpful and reassuring disposition. A sacrificial nature.

Scruffy wonders what gave it away. "An-anything." Plastoid clacks together, and for a moment the weight in his chest abates as he's encircled in a hug by one Clone-brother. Then another as Gunnar joins in. Cryfar and Fluke don't hang behind for long. "Ask me anything…" he promises once he’s been surrounded by these brothers bearing scuff marks he’s become very familiar with by proxy.

"How or when did our brother get his Name?" 

"When the CO tried to ma-make him a spacer. He was so lost without you, he wasn't doing well. He adopted all your scuff marks. We got worried about him and thought… It's something they said to him. Well he adopted all your scuff marks and eventually painted them in Our color and the CO said he'd eventually paint his in the colors of Another General after he was transferred most likely and he'd look like a paint canvas when he was talking to him and… H-he liked the word." Scruffy explains, feeling all arms tightening around him with every little gasp to alleviate the sensation. We're here, we have you, the gesture seemed to say. Something he never got from his own little brothers much. They didn’t care to be coddled or taken care of the way Scruffy often offered. There was nothing wrong with that. They were allowed not to want their older brother to offer comfort and help and security. 

“Hey. I’m gonna be okay. Medic made sure the cut’s gonna heal up.”

“Oh… good. That’s good to hear, Stick.”

“Have you checked on the one brother yet? How’s he doing?”

“He’s…”

“He’s not doing well, is he?”

“No…”

“You should go take care of him. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine, Scruff, I promise to let you know if anything changes. He needs you more than I do right now.”

The scene around him was fading out. His body felt like it was being pulled in all directions and nothing would hold him down much longer. One by one, Canvas’s brothers released him except for Faro. Faro held this brother close, sheltering him for a moment longer. The medics nearly had him back, they figured. It wouldn’t be long. It wasn’t his time. The galaxy had other plans for him. 

Faro did too. “Promise me something, Scruffy...”

“Anything.” Scruffy swore. Anything at all. He’d swear by the seas of his mother-world and his own blaster if asked. He’d swear he’d always watch where he was going from now on. No more getting so distracted he forgot to look ahead while keeping his eyes trained on the sky looking for more birds to show Canvas, or more sweeping the treeline for spotting scrap wood for Carver, or finding weather-worn rocks to give to Cairn to add to his collection of “proper” rocks. 

“Keep looking out for our baby brother.” Faro requests. It all snaps into place for Scruffy. Canvas was the youngest of his batch. Now he was the last of it. The last brushstroke. No wonder his two older brothers, Faro and Gunnar,  seemed… so worried about him in particular out of the other three from the moment they stepped off the gunship and heard the COs murmuring to themselves. Never scolding him for his lack of adherence to the rules because Canvas made sure to try to follow them to the letter as a Shiny. Never needing to remind him to stick close because he followed so obediently after them. Of course… he should have noticed Canvas was the baby of the batch… (But, maybe he did, deep down.) “Canvas still needs you. Can you promise me that? Can you promise me you’ll protect my little brother for us?”

“I always look out for my little brothers. Brother looks out for brother. I-I promise. I promise I’ll protect him. I’ll protect your little brother, Faro…” he vows fervently. Faro, satisfied with this answer, nods gently before he tries letting go of Scruffy (but Scruffy still holds tight). He trusts this brother to keep his word. Scruffy had never rushed Canvas to find his Name or Be Named, even telling other Clone brothers to back off if he thought that Faro hadn’t heard someone harassing his batchmate. (“He’ll find his Name when he’s ready, leave him be, brother.”) Scruffy had seemed to be concerned about this little brother, just like Faro's batch, when he realized he didn’t have an answer to their questions. It seemed they’d gotten close since they’d died and Canvas was the last survivor of their batch. Maybe Scruffy needed Canvas as much as Canvas probably needed him.

“Thank you, brother.” Faro says before Scruffy slowly fades away in his arms, once again encircling him in embrace around his lower body this time. “Thank you.”

Scruffy comes around slowly, gently, feeling most of his body enveloped in a sense of weightlessness. Nothing below his feet provides any resistance when he tentatively stretches out one leg. He must be in a bacta pod. He tries looking around him, to get a sense for what's going on around him. What's hooked up to him? A couple of leads fixed to the fingers of his left hand that he feels dragging through the solution when he flexes his fingers, so maybe a pulse-OX and heart monitor. There's the breath-pipe and mask attached to his face of course, but there's… two of the oxygen tubes in here feeding in from the top? 

What the hell? His clouded eyes follow the second tube, finding the tense, scrunched face of… 

Canvas. 

His arms are anchored around his lower body, the same area he'd been held by Faro after he made a brother's oath. The promise to look out for Faro’s little brother. Their little brother… Canvas was his little brother, too.

“Commander…?”

“Yes, Carver?”

“What happens to the brothers who lose all their batchmates, Sir? Is it… common for them to be “adopted” into another group, or do they…?”

“...It’s entirely up to that unpainted brother, Carver. Believe us,” he said, nodding to the Captain not far away at the time, “we’re very worried about him too. We’re… trying to find some methods to keep this man safe. There’s an idea that seems promising, but we’re not sure he’d go through it alone. If we sent two people-”

“I’ll go with him, Commander. I’ll go with our brother. It doesn’t matter where.”

“Scruffy…”

“I mean it… uh, Sir!  I’ll go with him.”

The bacta levels are dropping now that the sensors have picked up that the occupant within has begun to show a prolonged period of consciousness. He knows he should brace his legs to support his weight ordinarily, but he’s got Canvas practically glued to his side, head tucked under his chin with one cheek planted snugly on Scruffy’s chest. He’d probably been sedated in order to “allow” him to stay with Scruffy, a smart act of mercy from an understanding medic-brother. Some brothers grow very close together, practically joined at the hip and you have to let the other brother stay so you can take care of the sick or injured one.

The glass shell of the bacta pod opens, allowing three people to step in and support the brother-pair coming out of the medical slumber. It looks like a medic and his Commander, but who was the third who stepped behind them? “Easy, easy,” his Commander urges when he tries craning his neck over his shoulder and feels an unpleasant pull, “you need to take it easy, Scruffy. You’re pretty lucky to be alive. We’re on the Jedi cruiser.” the CO promises, keeping his hands on both brothers as the medic removes the equipment. It finally allows Scruffy to talk without obstruction, though his mouth feels full of thick cotton.

“Wh-what do you mean, Sir? A-are you telling me I didn’t die?” 

The medic-brother’s face flashes with an expression that tells him “ah, so he knows” all too plainly. “We were lucky to get you back. You were clinically dead for a couple of minutes, but we managed to get your heart restarted.” He nods his head to the mysterious third person behind Scruffy and Canvas, arriving with a dinged up supply crate wide enough to comfortably seat two.

“We?” Scruffy could guess that the field medics were a part of the effort, naturally, but… Who’s behind him? Had Canvas been involved, too? “Who’s-”

“Hey, Scruff.” the mysterious third announces themselves, finally stepping into Scruffy’s line of sight. It’s his batchmate. It’s the little brother with a silly sense of humor similar to Scruffy’s who named himself Stick. “Turns out the scrawny little Shiny who couldn’t complete a push-up in a full armor kit can do some pretty impressive chest compressions now.”  Scruffy stares at him incredulously, almost missing the moment Canvas stirs against him.

“Stick…? That really you, little brother?”

Stick grins broadly at his batchmate. “Sure is.”

“D-did you-?”

“Sure did,” Stick confirms, bobbing his head once before growing a little more timid, “I was near one of the medics when the call came in for help. When I realized that my batchmate was behind the man-down call, I… found myself running after to help so Canvas wouldn’t lose you. So… I wouldn’t lose you. While I was waiting here with the medics on the cruiser for you to wake up for… a-about half an hour…  I realized I’d rather have you embarrass me by trying to take care of me like I’m a cadet all over again than… be gone.” Scruffy is having a hard time wrapping his head around the words coming out of his batchmate’s mouth, surprised by the confession that Stick cared about him still. He thought Stick was still stuck on the adamant sentiment that Scruffy embarrassed him to be around from the last time they’d talked. 

He’d been sent back by the galaxy, Sith’s hells, maybe even the Force itself for all he knew, to protect one little brother now awake and blubbering in his arms. Maybe he’d been sent back to protect a second brother, too, if he wanted to reforge his relationship with his batchmate. Kamino’s rains, just how badly had he been hurt? Well, no matter. There was time to suss that out later. “Hey, it’s okay, little brothers…” he hums softly, taking Canvas and Stick under each of his arms, “it’s okay. I’m still here.” 

“Count yourselves lucky, boys,” the Commander replies with a solemn voice and a nostalgic smile that speaks to his storied past, “not every day we get to keep those so devoted to protecting little brothers from death itself. We’ll give you some time to comfort your little brothers.” Scruffy wants to thank his CO for this small mercy and act of compassion for their situation, but he’s silenced with a merely mouthed shush you. That comfort isn’t just for them. 

You’re someone’s little brother too, Scruffy, he’s reminded.

We’re not just protecting the Republic. We’re protecting our little brothers.

[FFF Masterlist] [Clone OC Masterlist] [PREVIOUS] [NEXT]

[foxika]

I wonder if you'd mind taking a brief survey?

so i finally started severance. sleepy fox on his own below

[freesia-writes]

I don't have it in me to write full scenes, so here are some fun little drabbles of what it might be like to party with some of the boys on New Year's Eve! PLEASE feel free to add your own and use the tag #2024cloneNYE

Shoutout to @lornaka for the sweet helmet art. Find other dividers like these here.

Tup - Tries to take you somewhere neat to see fireworks, holding your hand and glancing at you sheepishly every now and then, but gets lost along the way. Is simultaneously frustrated at himself and nervous at what you’ll think of him until you pull him into a side alleyway to show him some fireworks of your own. 😎

Jesse - Is so delighted to be spending the evening with you that he nearly gets into three different fights with troopers at the bar because he's just so dang excited. Dances your ass off then takes you out for street food, where he does get in a fight with a handsy vendor. Gives you the best kiss of your life at midnight. 🥴

Fives - Tells you to wear a disguise. Dies laughing when you show up and he is wearing a simple poncho while you have donned a huge fake mustache. Sneaks you both onto a large cargo freighter that is scheduled to depart from Coruscant a bit before 00:00, so that as it’s slowly lifting into the sky, you get a bird’s eye view of the fireworks all around you. Of course, he now needs to figure out how to get you both off the ship without being caught. 🥸

-=-=-=-=-=[SORRY BABES, no Corrie dividers!!]=-=-=-=-=-

Fox - Shows up at your apartment in sweatpants and cracks up at the side of you as you open the door, as you are in sweatpants as well, even though you both had said you were going to “go celebrate” together. But you both knew exactly what you meant by “celebrate”, and you watch crappy holofilms while snuggling on the couch, dozing off until the sound of fireworks rouses you. You gaze blearily out the window, watching the flashing colors as you’re nestled into his arms, then you both drift back to sleep after a feeble “whoo!” 😴

Howzer - Dresses to the nines to take you out to dinner but feels awkwardly self-conscious about it until you distract him by coaxing him into sharing stories about his squad, which light him up immediately. Then he’s got nothing but soft admiration for you, insists on two desserts, and walks you to your front door to finish the evening with a tender kiss. Comes running back to knock on your door about 10 minutes later when he realizes it’s just now midnight and “he kissed you too soon.” The oversight is quickly remedied. 🤭

Hardcase - Finds out where they're setting the fireworks off from and sneaks you in. You both tuck in a tiny little corner between a huge metal structure that holds the firework launchers, and when they start going off, it's so loud that you can't help but squeal. Hardcase also yells in delight, catching the attention of nearby employees, and suddenly pretends he's escorting you off the premises after you'd been discovered sneaking into the area. 😂

Gregor - Grabs some wraps at a food truck and takes you to some random little park where a galactic Mariachi band (they exist, ok?) is playing sweet beats. Dances with zero shame, with and without you. Drags you up a nearby hill to see fireworks and produces a bottle of champagne seemingly out of nowhere. Forgot glasses though, so you take swigs out of the bottle and choke on the bubbles and foam. Spins and dips you at midnight and finishes with the sweetest kiss.

Tag List?! Are y'all even here anymore!? 😂

Join the tag list by commenting for the discord server link or filling out my form.

@techhasmjolnir @falconfeather23435 @ladylucksrogue @padawancat97 @baddest-batchers

@anxiouspineapple99 @yunggoblin @littlefeatherr @cw80831 @all-mights-babygirl

@totallyunidentified @lightwise @moonstrider9904 @clonemedickix @dangraccoon

@nursekyra @callsign-denmark @heidnspeak @stardusthuntress @lune-de-miel-au-paradis

@ivyyyyy @kashasenpai @followthepurrgil @littlemissmanga @littlemissbshine

@crosshairscrustysock @lamiliani @skellymom @burningnerdchild @galaxyofthoughts99

@sweeticedtea @starrylothcat @mxkyrie @reader6898 @eyecandyeoz

@trixie2023 @vrycurious @youreababboon @photogirl894 @subbing-for-clones

@yve-barr @salaminus @ezras-left-thumb @etod @dhawerdaverd

@techsgalaxy02 @shadowphantomreaper @violatiger8 @flowered-bicycles @nursekyra

@eternal-transcience @somewhere-on-kamino @plotlessvoid @morerandombullshit

[padawan-snack-packer]

[Giving friendship bracelets, Jedi Edition]

✨Note: This is just for fun, pure chaos, and maximum love for all our Jedi faves! These headcanons are soft, silly, and based on vibes, not strict canon—consider this an intergalactic arts-and-crafts hour where feelings are allowed and glitter is the sixth form of lightsaber combat. 💫 Please imagine these with love and an alarming number of beads!

🌈 OBI-WAN KENOBI You present it to him like, “Master Kenobi, I made you something.” He smiles politely. “How thoughtful.” He opens it and freezes. It’s pale blue, copper, and gold—very tasteful—and the beads spell “KENOBI-WAN KENOBI.” He exhales slowly. “You… added the hyphen.” You nod, very proud. He stares at it for a full minute and finally says, “Well, I suppose that’s—charming.” Wears it under his glove. Touches it when he’s stressed. If anyone asks, he just goes: “It was… a diplomatic gift.”

🌈 ANAKIN SKYWALKER He is SO SUSPICIOUS. “Is it cursed? Does it track me? Is it laced with humility??” You just hand him a black, gold, and red bracelet that says “ANNIE” with a heart. He short-circuits. “Who told you that nickname??” You shrug. “The Force.” He’s flustered, loudly says he’ll never wear it… But Obi-Wan later catches him putting it on in the mirror and whispering: “Annie’s got style.” Starts making bracelets back. They’re terrible. They say “BADASS” and “HOT JEDI.”

🌈 AHSOKA TANO She cries. Fully. No warning. “Wait—this is for me??” You hand her a bracelet that’s orange, white, and blue, and has little star and leaf charms. It says “SNIPS 💫” in glitter letters. She gasps, tackles you into a hug, and immediately makes you three bracelets back. Later: “I made one for Rex too. And one for R7. And one for that cool loth-cat I saw once.”

🌈 PLO KOON “Padawan. This is a… delight.” You made him one in burnt orange and cream, with a bead that looks like his goggles. It says “SPACE DAD.” He holds it very delicately like it’s an ancient artifact. He will not wear it—he suspends it from the dash of his starfighter like an air freshener. Every youngling in the Temple wants to make him one now. He has a whole tree of bracelets hanging from his quarters.

🌈 YODA You were scared to give it to him, but did it anyway. It’s forest green and says “LIL GUY 🐸.” He takes it. Stares. Nods solemnly. “Great power this holds. Mm.” You’re not sure if he understood or if he’s just trolling. He’s wearing it in full public view the next day like it’s a medal. Younglings follow him like he’s a friendship bracelet deity now.

🌈 MACE WINDU You expected to get Force yeeted. You made him one in purple and black with bold blocky letters: “BAD MF.” He looks at it. Then looks at you. Then puts it in his pocket and goes: “No one sees this.” A week later you catch him meditating with it wrapped around his saber hilt. If you say anything, he will deny it to his grave.

🌈 BARRISS OFFEE You give her a calming indigo and silver one with a tiny crystal bead and “BALANCE” spelled in runes. She nods respectfully. “I will meditate with this.” You later find her in the library just holding it. Has deep thoughts about friendship. Also probably journals about you like “this being is unironically healing.”

🌈 LUMINARA UNDULI You give her one with earthy greens and a bead shaped like a tree. It says “SPACE MOM.” She chuckles. “You’re incorrigible.” Wears it tucked neatly into her robes, only letting it peek out when she’s with other Jedi who also got one. Forms a secret Jedi Bracelet Society. Initiation requires a craft night.

🌈 KIT FISTO “COOL!!” You hand it over—sea green, black, with lil sparkly beads that say “BIG SMILE ENERGY.” He fist bumps you, then immediately makes you a necklace of shells. Everyone’s like “Kit, is that regulation?” Kit: “Regulation of good vibes, young one.” Doesn’t take it off even during battles. Claims it makes his lightsaber stronger (??)

🌈 SHAAK TI You approach carefully, unsure if this elegant, powerful Togruta would be into little string crafts. You: “So I… uh. Made you something.” She tilts her head. You offer a crimson, silver, and white bracelet with spiraled beads and one that looks like a lil tiara. It says “✨SOVEREIGN VIBES✨” She chuckles, low and warm. “I will treasure this.” Wears it proudly on her upper arm like a royal armband. Will absolutely deflect blaster bolts with the power of love and embroidery floss. Whispers “Thank you, little one,” like you gifted her a kyber crystal.

🌈 AAYLA SECURA You hand her a bracelet in azure and bronze, with tiny flower beads and the words “💙 COOLER THAN U 💙.” She smirks, turns it over in her hand, and says: “You get me.” Wears it immediately. Flashes it at Anakin like “see, I have friends.” 100% joins Kit Fisto’s chaotic arts and crafts night. Makes you a matching one that says “CHAOTIC PADAWAN ENERGY.” Teaches you secret Twi’lek bead symbolism. You now speak bracelet code. You’re bonded forever.

🌈 DEPPA BILLABA You go soft on this one. It’s calm green and light yellow, with little pearl accents. It just says “HOPE.” She holds it gently, like it’s made of light. “Thank you. This means more than you know.” Caleb Dume sees it and immediately asks you for one too. You make him a tiny baby-sized one that says “NOT A MENACE” (he is a menace). Depa wears hers on tough missions and says it gives her strength. Caleb chews on his. This is fine.

🌈 JOCOSTA NU You nervously approach. “Master Nu, I uh—made you a bracelet. Don’t ban me from the Archives.” It’s aged gold and dusty blue, with tiny book charms and a single bead that says “SHHH.” She raises an eyebrow… then laughs softly. “You are ridiculous. Thank you.” Immediately reorganizes the banned Holocron section with it on her wrist. Also makes you a Library ID with “CRAFT MASTER” as your Jedi title.

🌈 LUMINARA UNDULI (part 2 because she deserves it and I love her) You give her a new one. Forest green, matte black, and a golden sun bead in the center. It just says “💚💀💚” She raises a brow. “What… does this mean?” You: “Balance. Inner peace. Also you’re cool as hell.” She hums and nods. “Acceptable.” Meditates with it daily. Accidentally starts a new Temple aesthetic called “morbid peace.” Younglings love it.

🌈 TERA SINUBE You hand him a soft pastel blue and silver bracelet that says “COOL OLD GUY.” He beams. “It’s been a long time since someone made me something like this.” Tells every youngling who’ll listen. Wears it on his cane. Claims it improves his balance. (It does not. But he believes it and that's what matters, besties.)

🌈 BONUS ROUND – YOUNGLINGS You hand out mini bracelets like Oprah and they LOSE THEIR MINDS. One says “TINY CHAOS.” Another “FUTURE MENACE.” One simply reads: “💥💥💥” They trade them like Pokémon cards. You walk into the Temple like: “My impact is felt. My glitter reign is eternal.”

Conclusion: You have personally created a new Jedi Order custom: Bracelet Offering Ceremonies. The High Council is confused but too emotionally stunted to stop you. Yoda’s got ten. Ahsoka’s wrist is full. Obi-Wan pretends not to care but has them in chronological display order. The Temple is glittery now. Kit Fisto hosts craft night. Mace Windu has a friendship charm on his saber. The galaxy is healing 💖

You have won. The Force is strong with your rainbow chaos 💫

PS: I'll have the Clones Edition for this asap!! Lemme know if you want others versions as well or if you have headcanons or requests!

[kometqh]

𝐖𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐘𝐨𝐮

Captain Rex x f!reader

Word count: 702

Warmings: None. Just a little angst.

A/N: this was eating at my brain all day after seeing a YouTube short. Might write a tiny part 2 might not as I wait for my brain juice to allow me to continue with my other WIP’s (smoot) :) this is also very much unedited, it’s just my brain unicorn farts at 1am.

The night was overwhelmingly bleak. Clouds gathered in clumps, blocking out the millions of stars in the sky. Rex felt anxiety tugging at his heartstrings, playing them cruelly with cold, nimble fingers. He hadn’t seen her in years. He’d put on weight, developed more frown lines, more grey hairs. Gregor had always made fun of him, laughing about Rex needing to start skincare. Would she even recognise him?

A harsh, cold wind pushed past him. Icicles pricked at his skin, ushering him to turn around and never look back. He was too old for this, what if she'd moved on? Started a family?

No. She promised that she would wait.

She was a woman of her word. As loyal as his late brothers. Deep down he knew that she would wait, whether it be days or months or years.

As his shadow fell upon the front door, the clouds parted and a glint of moonlight shone on his back. Finally, some light.

Raising his fist, he hesitated. Did she still live here? What if Gregors intel was outdated?

Kriff it. He had nothing to lose.

He knocked three times, the sound hollow against the wooden door.

He waited, observing his surroundings. The roses had wilted. Her roses were never wilted. She was sharp and precise. Observant. Blood pumped faster through his veins, anxiety boiling over in the pit of his stomach.

Minutes passed and there was still no answer. A cold breeze sent goosebumps down his spine.

He knocked again, to no avail.

“What’s going on?” Rex muttered to nobody in particular, his brows furrowing. Where was she?

His legs moved before he was aware of what he was doing.

The back gate had been taken over by wild vines. The wooden gate tore through the plants, snapping and ripping them in the process. Groaning, the hinges protested against the sudden oncoming force, as though they hadn't been moved in years.

‘I’ll have to fix that later.’ He thought with a small smile.

The garden looked worse than Rex could've imagined. Wild brush and prickly weeds had covered the previous vegetable garden, and more ivory vines twisted and grasped at the structure of the house.

One foot after the other, he trudged through the mess left behind by Mother Nature. When did this happen?

The moonlight had now disappeared behind yet another herd of thick, heavy clouds. Rex cursed as he struggled to see anything. It seemed that the vines and the brush were doing everything in their power to hold him back, grasping and pulling with all their might.

Questions ran rampant, clouding his mind in tandem with his feelings of fear and uncertainty.

What happened? Where was she? Why hadn’t she come to the door?

She couldn't have left. This place meant the galaxy to her.

Rex promised her that they’d grow old together, watching the sunset on the porch, or relaxing in front of the fire pit. He promised her they’d start a farm, buy their own chicken coop and build a barn for some small goats. Did she grow tired of waiting for her soldier to return?

He stumbled upon his answer shortly after.

Hidden deep within the confines of nature was his answer.

A single stone tablet.

Deep down he knew, yet he found himself unable to rip his eyesight away from the engravements on the stone.

‘A beautiful soul rests, a kind and bright life that had been taken too soon.’

His mouth was left agape as his stare bore into the stone, reading the words over and over again, his mind running with all the different possibilities and outcomes. That stone hadn’t been there when he left. That grave hadn’t been made.

And as his sight landed on the neat, faded lettering of your name, he felt his soul shatter into a thousand little pieces.

A cold breeze tugged past him, whispering unheard promises, confessings of love and sincerest apologies that would go unnoticed under the tears streaming from his eyes and the desperate sobs as he grasped at your grave.

Cold, ghostly arms embraced his warm form in the middle of the night, transparent tears mixing with his until the early hours of dawn.

[petrifiedforests]

In the eye of the beholder

Written and knitted (more info on that under the cut) for @waxerboilmonth week 1: "Something is different."

"I've got some gold paint left over if you need to touch up some of that too," Waxer said and stuck his tongue back out between his teeth, as he repainted the gold lines on his helmet.

He was lucky that he'd just lifted the brush for the next coat when Boil slammed his bucket down on the bunk with enough force to make it bounce.

Startled, Waxer looked up and came face to face with an irate Boil.

"Wax, I need you to have flight squadron delta scrubbing the fresher floors with their toothbrushes," he demanded. "Or… or the toilet seats!"

"Wha-?" Waxer didn't even get to finish his question before Boil had picked his helmet up again and thrust it towards him.

"Look at this! All paint pots were like that!" he gesticulated wildly. "They contaminated every single one when they painted that twi'lek nose art."

Waxer looked. Well. That was certainly a different color than usual. Very vibrant. Exactly the garish color the deltas had picked for the twi'lek's skin if he had to guess.

"It's not that bad," he tried, even if it really was.

"Not that bad?!" Boil threw his hands up. "It's kriffing pink!"

Knitting background info:

These are about 6,4 cm / 2.5 inches on each side and my first foray into colorwork.

As such, the tension is too high in some places and too loose in others, warping both of them even after blocking (= wetting the piece and pinning it in place until it's dry).

Boil's helmet is a pain in the butt to simplify because half of his paint is only visible from the side. I've included the black silhouette anyways.

All that being said, I am happy with how they turned out because obviously the first time you try something new it's not going to be perfect and needs to be practiced.

[rex-meshla]

Rex-Meshla's Masterlist ✨

Shadows of the Force

Captain Rex x F!OC

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9

Steel Meets Silk

ARC Commander Colt x F!OC

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

Clone Drabbles

Commander Wolffe

Brat Summer

Testing Limits

Testing Limits —Part 2 (NSFW)

ARC Commander Colt

Take What You Need (NSFW)

Commander Fox

An Unusual Assignment

Captain Howzer

Stolen Nights and Shared Dreams

[orangez3st]

Drabble Challenge May 2025 by @thedrabblecollective Day 7: Lotion | Masterpost

coruscant guard, the true professionals

✧ Star Wars | CG Commanders & Delta Squad | 20 BBY ✧

Inside the briefing room, Stone gestures to Sev’s DC-17m. “That kinda Deece ever jammed in the middle of a firefight?”

“Never,” Sev answers.

“Never?”

“Dismantling and cleaning your Deece is therapeutic. You should try it sometimes.”

Thire rolls his eyes. “You’re saying as if we don't do that.”

“Tell you what,” Thorn grins mischievously, “If you ran out of lube, lotion is your go-to.”

Scorch chokes on his spit.

Sev snorts. “You tell Fixer that. He'll go on a rampage.”

“Tell me what?” Fixer marches in, with Boss.

“Oh kriff,” Thorn cringes, hiding behind Thire.

Fox facepalms. “Stop embarrassing us.”

A/N: Awh you know me I'm predictable. I haven't exactly written the Corries before! I'm afraid that if these guys met, the level of silliness in that room can't be helped 😭 and I have to use one of the prompts for the upcoming event. Will reblog by that time!

Credit: bottom divider by @/enchanthings

[firemeyr]

Marshal Commander Fox would be twelve years old in two minutes.

It said so on his medical record. CC-1010 had been decanted at exactly 16:05 standard time, 10:05 local time.

And now it was 16:03 as he guarded over the senate. He stood above the small alcove carved out for reporters within the voting chamber, above where his younger brothers stood watching sentients with shuttering cameras and crumpling notepads. The chamber echoed with the voice of the Bothan senator.

16:04. A message appeared in the top left corner of his helmet’s HUD, right next to the clock. A CSF Captain was at their headquarters, according to Shyro, and was demanding to see a commander. Fox hated CSF.

He bit back a sigh. He was the closest commander to their base at the moment, he knew that. He also knew that he had put the rule in place that stated he should be the first option for all outsiders demanding a higher up. 

Fox stepped away from his ledge, already sending a message to the current lieutenant on Press Guard duty.

16:05. Fox was officially twelve. 

It was 17:23 before he even realized that. 

The senate still needed guarding.

[euphoriacafe]

When the war felt like it was so close to being over you stood in front of the map overlooking the plan. You were tired.

Your eyes zoned in on the part of the section that would be your responsibility and all you could feel was anxiety spreading through your body.

You were so out of it that you didn’t even realize that everyone left the room leaving you by yourself. The air in space was cold making things almost worse for your anxiety.

Suddenly, a warm comforting hand is placed onto your shoulder giving a light squeeze. You looked to the side and saw Obi Wan give a concern gaze.

“Is everything alright?” His voice was quiet not wanting to draw any attention from outside the room. You nodded slowly looking him before looking down momentarily then returning your eyes to the map.

“Yes I’m fine… I’m just… taking a breather that’s all.” Your voice was quiet and tried to sound calm.

“Are you sure you are ready for this mission… you could always go back to the Jedi Temple?” Obi wan insisted as his hand that rested on your shoulder slide down the side of your arm slowly and gently.

You nodded your head with a quick “Yes. I’m fine Obi Wan.” Your eyes never leaving the map but you enjoyed the small touches he was playing onto your arm.

He came closer from behind you—his chest was now pressed against your back as he looked down onto your shoulder then he bent down a little bit letting the side of his head brush against the side of your head. His eyes trying to scan where you could possibly be looking.

His hand slid further down your arm to your hand and rubbed his thumb against your knuckles. “What are we looking at?” He asked softly his eyes never leaving the area you stared at.

You felt a small shiver- the hairs on your arm standing up as his other hand brushed on your other arm gently.

“I’m just reviewing the map…my area to be clear.” You added softly yet you tried to clean your throat. Your body welcomed his body to be molded into yours. He was so smooth with pressing his body closer to feel your energy.

“Is there an issue with it?” He questioned softly still rubbing your knuckles with his thumb.

“I just…I don’t want to go alone- I understand I’ll have the troops but- I don’t feel ready to be alone…i- I don’t want another loss.” You spoke quietly as your eyes fluttered closed for a few moments from your last mission of disaster.

“I can come with you.” He spoke quietly into your ear. “You’ll never be alone as long as I’m right beside you.

[arcsimper5]

Clone reactions to meeting Grogu:

Rex: *looks him over, visibly confused* I thought jedi couldn't have sex?

Fives: omg omg omg omg omg omg we need to keep him, he's the new 501st mascot, he can ride on my shoulders, I NEED HIM.

Echo: You're cute, which, given nature's cruelty, probably means you are dangerous. *backs away slowly*

Jesse: WHAT IN SITH HELLS IS THAT? KEEP IT AWAY FROM ME!

Kix: *eyes suspiciously*... There is no way you're older than me.

Tup: *repeats nonsense babbling back at him while sitting cross legged and doing arts and crafts*

Dogma: It's LOOKING AT ME. WHAT DO I DO?

Cody: *stares for several minutes*... Can you hold a blaster?

Waxer: *running away with him in his arms while being persued by numerous jedi* NO! CHILD IS MINE!

Boil: You're one weird looking critter... You play sabacc?

Wolffe: *holding him up to Master Plo* General, I humbly request that this be your new padawan. Yes, I know he can barely understand basic, and that he is fundamentally useless. That's why he'll fit in with us. No I'm not being harsh.

Fox: Aw, shit! HOUND! IT GOT OUT OF THE BOX AGAIN!

[tealmist55]

For the fluff prompts… “I’m never going to leave you again. I promise.” For Fivesoka 🧡💙

- @queen-of-mandalore

Thanks for for the request! 💙🧡

As you already know, this drabble ended up with 0% fluff and 100% angst. Since I’ve been doing cloud themes for the fluff drabbles, I figured a lightning storm theme was appropriate for this one. 😆 Enjoy!

Word count: ~780

Warning: Major character death

It’s also here on AO3.

⛈️ Don’t Leave ⛈️

“She left.”

Fives’ heart pounded as he struggled to process Rex’s words, each beat creating more cracks, bringing him closer to breaking.

It wasn’t the fact that Ahsoka left that hurt. He understood. The Jedi had betrayed her and she’d nearly been executed because of it, so of course she couldn’t stay. It was the fact that she left without saying a word. No goodbye; she didn’t even inform him of her departure, he had to hear it from Rex over a day later.

Still, he clung to the hope that she would reach out. Maybe she just needed some time to recover and then she would contact him. But rotations passed and he heard nothing. He missed her constantly, but he gradually began to realize that whatever was between them was over. Once he accepted that, he knew he would never hear the words his heart wanted to hear, but he at least wished he knew she was safe.

He was tempted to try to find her. Coruscant was far from a small city, but he knew her and he knew how to find people. But what if she didn’t want to see him? If he found her, only for her to reject him… he wasn’t sure his heart could handle that.

His next ARC mission came before long and then it was a matter of trying to forget. Trying to erase from his memory all of the moments they’d had together, talking, cuddling, kissing, everything. More than likely, he’d never see her again. He just hoped, at the very least, she’d have a good life away from the Jedi and the GAR… and him.

It took months, but eventually he was able to vacate her from his mind and move on with his life. Not that he had much in the way of a life; it was really just an endless cycle of missions and battles and risking his own safety. But it was better than dwelling on the life he’d wished he’d had with Ahsoka.

In his last moments though, he did think of her. He was drugged, disoriented and losing his grip on reality. Everything was falling apart. The chips, the chancellor, Tup… Fives already knew that he wouldn’t be coming out of this alive. He heard his brother’s voices, saw the red and white of the Coruscant Guard as they closed in, and then there was a flash, followed by a searing pain in his chest.

As he fell, suddenly all he could think of was Ahsoka and, as the darkness claimed him, she was his only thought.

“Fives!”

He thought he would have died already, but blurry thoughts were still floating in his mind. He thought he heard her voice.

“Fives, stay with me!”

Her voice was different than he remembered. It was strained and high pitched and her words shook as she spoke.

“Fives, please!”

Was she crying? He’d never heard her cry before.

“Please…” she said again, her voice weaker.

He had no grasp of where he was or if he was even alive or conscious, but his heart pulled him towards her.

“‘Soka.”

He wasn’t sure any sound actually came out, but then he heard her gasp.

“Fives, I’m here.” He thought he felt her squeeze his hand.

He tried to open his eyes, but the darkness was still pulling on him, weighing him down. So he focused on his hand, summoning as much strength as he could to curl his fingers around hers.

She squeezed his hand even tighter and now he felt her leaning over him, hugging him awkwardly, her cheek next to his.

“I’m right here, Fives,” she said by his ear. “I’m so sorry I left. I’m never going to leave you again. I promise.”

He wanted to sob with relief, only he still couldn’t move his body. That was all he’d wanted; to be with her. It hadn’t even mattered where, as long as they were together. Suddenly it felt like he didn’t need to fight anymore and he felt his grip on her hand loosening as he faded farther from his body again.

“No, no, no, Fives, wait!” Her voice was rising in pitch again, her words coming out faster. “Please stay with me.”

He would. He always would stay by her side, but he’d have to tell her later. The darkness was folding over him now and she sounded far away, as if she were calling to him across an abyss. Her next words were so distant, he barely heard them.

“Fives, I love you, please don’t leave me!”

I love you too, ‘Soka, his mind said, but he was pretty sure she couldn’t hear him.

Then she was gone and he felt nothing.

Dividers by @/saradika

@snips2112 @aknightreaderr @ladylucksrogue @queen-of-mandalore @snarkyfina @cyarikacyare @solodoodless @detectivecrash @marvelfulcrum8108

[z-socks]

Who's Older?

We all love our Domino Twin boys, but a very important question remains: who's older? TW: very brief clinical mention of fetus termination “That’s Bantha osik and you know it!” 

General Anakin Skywalker couldn’t help but sigh as he caught wind of the argument still going on. Fives and Echo had been at it since leaving Saleucami and appeared to have yet to resolve the matter. He cast a look at Rex who seemed so exhausted he almost felt bad for making him deal with it. But these were his men and they couldn’t risk a petty disagreement getting in the way of their next mission. 

“Alright, boys, what’s the problem?” Anakin asked, approaching the ARC troopers with Rex only a few steps behind him. 

“This di’kut thinks he’s older than me,” Fives accused, shoving his shoulder into Echo’s. 

“I am older than you,” Echo insisted. 

Anakin stared at them in disbelief. This is what was causing such a stir? 

Rex sighed beside him. “Not this again,” he muttered. 

The ‘again’ worried the general. If this was an ongoing issue, he’d have to put an end to it once and for all, no matter how trivial and petty it was. 

“Echo’s number is lower. I think that makes him older,” he offered. 

The three Clones stared at him. 

“Or not?” 

Rex stepped in. “Our numbers come from our growth-jar tree designation. But not all infants on a tree are decanted at the same time. Like, if a fetus is terminated, the jar is emptied and a new embryo takes its place.” 

Well that was all very informative, but not helpful in resolving the matter. Anakin crossed his arms. “Why does it matter who’s older?” 

“It’s a matter of principle. We’re twins, sir,” Fives answered. 

Anakin raised a brow. “Is that some kind of joke?” 

“No, sir,” Echo replied. “Split zygote. A rare but not impossible anomaly.”

Fives cut in, “Like Rex’s hair.”

The captain glared at them.  

“All that means is Echo here got moved to a different jar,” Fives went on. 

“Thereby making me the oldest.”

“Transfer is not decanting!” 

“I left the jar first!” 

“To go to another jar!” 

“Okay, okay, stop!” Anakin sighed, understanding Rex’s exhausted look from earlier. “Echo, Fives is right.” 

“What!?”

“Ha!” 

“If we’re going from decanting-“

“The general agrees with me!” Fives cheered, throwing an arm around Echo’s shoulders and tussling his hair. “You lose! I’m right! Ha! I won! Against you. In semantics!” 

Echo growled, shoving out of Fives’s grasp and grappling for him, the argument turning into a physical fight until Fives escaped and ran off, Echo running after him, still belaboring his point, now with rather colorful language. 

Rex rested a hand on the general’s shoulder. “Rule number one, sir. Don’t pick a winner.” 

Anakin shook his head. “It’s a dumb argument.” 

Rex offered him a small smile. “Just hope you never have twins, sir.”

[clonemando]

Fluffcember: Day 1- Roasted Marshmallows

Original Post here

Fandom: Star Wars- The Clone Wars Rating: T Pairing: None Tags: Palpatine dies, Vehicle fire, Thorn needs a nap

Thorn was frozen in shock, staring at the flaming vehicle in front of him and Fox while his partner searched frantically through his armor for something, although Thorn couldn't imagine what could help this situation.

Making a noise of success, Fox pulled out a little plastic bag and picked up a long metal rod off the ground stuffing something white to the end and that was when Thorn realized what was happening.

"Fox! The Chancellor is dead! Is now really the time for roasting marshmallows?" He snapped and Fox grinned offering him another rod.

"It's the best time, obviously."

[kartaylirnaak]

Woven Together

Cody/Echo/Fives/Rex

A mix of Gen, Teen, Mature, and Explicit | No Archive Warnings

Summary: They all know why Echo is a mess of scars that never healed properly, even if he can’t remember anything from that mission.

Rex never forgot.

—

Moments in the lives of Cody, Echo, Fives, and Rex as they continue to fight, just this time for themselves.

Tags: Everyone lives, clone rebellion, canon divergent, poly clones, slice of life, light-hearted, light angst, fluff, introspection, hurt/comfort, injured Echo, humour, sass, clone identity, disabilities, drabbles of different lengths

Read on Ao3 Here

@cloneshiprarepair

Spicy tags under the cut

Spicy tags: Exhibitionism, brat taming (mention), thigh high boots, Dom/sub, anal fingering, multiple orgasms, anal sex, hand job, rough handling

[rex-meshla]

Brat Summer

Commander Wolffe x Reader

You'd think working with Commander Wolffe would mean a constant stream of orders, all barked in that gruff. But no, that’s not how this goes. Not this summer, anyway.

"Not bad" he mutters as we finish a sparring drill under the hot afternoon sun, his voice low and gravelly, but his smirk gives him away. “You’re almost getting the hang of it. Almost”

"Oh? That's funny. I'd say you're almost keeping up, Commander" I shoot back, giving him a look. It’s a game we’ve played a thousand times, but this time, the heat in the air makes it feel like more.

"Maybe I should push you a bit harder then" he says, stepping in closer, that spark in his eye growing.

Classic Wolffe. He loves a show of authority. Probably thinks it'll throw me off.

I just cross my arms, smirking. "Bring it on"

He chuckles, a low, almost growling sound, and then he closes the gap between us, stopping just close enough that I can feel the warmth coming off him. "You'd love that, wouldn't you?"

"Oh, you bet" I say, nudging him in the chest before he can lean any closer. "But don't go thinking you're the only one calling the shots here, Wolffe"

He raises a brow, amused. "You think you're in control?"

"Absolutely" I say, poking his chest just to get on his nerves. "I know it drives you crazy, but you wouldn't have it any other way"

“Real confident, aren’t you?” His hand hovers near my waist, his lips twitching up in that knowing smile. “Maybe I just keep you around because you give me something to laugh at”

I roll my eyes, refusing to break. “Laugh all you want, but we both know you’d be bored without me” I lean in, voice dropping, just to tease him. “Face it—you like having someone around who can actually handle you”

“Handle me?” He scoffs, eyes flashing, a mix of irritation and amusement. “If I wanted to, I’d put you in your place in two seconds flat”

"Oh, sure" I say, cocking an eyebrow. "Any day now, Commander. Still waiting for you to actually do something about it"

His mouth quirks, and he leans in, his voice dropping, almost challenging. “Careful what you wish for”

“Promises, promises” I say, meeting his eyes with a smile that dares him to take that last step. “I’ll believe it when I see it”

And that’s all it takes. His hand finally lands on my hip, warm and firm, pulling me that final inch until there’s no space left between us. His other hand brushes up my back, fingers pressing lightly, and he dips his head, gaze locked on mine with an intensity that’s nearly electric.

“Still sure you can handle this?” he murmurs, his breath warm against my cheek.

For a second, words fail me. His dark gaze, his hand on my hip, his hold on me—all of it sends my pulse racing, each beat louder than the last. “More than sure” I manage, my voice softer than I intended, but he’s left me no room for anything else.

A short laugh rumbles low in his chest, his eyes glinting with satisfaction as he dips his head, his lips brushing mine with a teasing slowness. The kiss starts soft, almost experimental, but the next second, it deepens, fiercer, like he’s done waiting, done playing games. My hands slide up to his shoulders, and it’s like the rest of the world melts away, leaving just the heat of his mouth on mine.

As the kiss deepens, his fingers find their way to the back of my neck, pulling me in closer. There’s a hunger to the way he holds me, something raw, brash, and yet, somewhere in the fierceness, he’s careful too, like he’s been waiting for this just as long as I have.

I can’t help but smile against his mouth, letting a laugh slip out as I pull back for a breath. “That’s the best you’ve got, Commander?”

His eyes narrow, that usual sharpness softened by something else. Something almost like pride. “You’re really asking for it, aren’t you?”

“Maybe” I say, fingers trailing down his chest, feeling his breath hitch under my touch. “Or maybe you just have to work a little harder to keep up”

That challenge lights up his face, and in an instant, he pulls me back in, his lips brushing mine again, this time with a fiercer edge. He murmurs against my mouth, “Careful what you wish for, brat”

______________________________________________________________

I hope you've enjoyed this little drabble. You can find more here.