collectoroffics

[collectoroffics]

Read to Me

Pairing: Wrecker x F!Medic Reader Summary: Wrecker loves it when you read to him. This time, he asks you to read something spicier. Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI; Super light angst, Smut, uprotected p in v (wrap it up friends), oral (f receiving), fluff WC: 4k A/N: It's been a minute since I've written a SW fic and I started this literally a year ago but I woke up missing this gentle giant so I felt inspired to finish it. Listened to this song while finishing it.

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“That doesn’t seem like a normal data report.” Crosshair’s smoky voice is behind you as you sit on the hatch of the Marauder.

You turn and see that he’s looking over your shoulder, staring directly down at your datapad that currently has a smutty scene in the book you’re reading. 

“It’s a book.” Your cheeks immediately burn with embarrassment. “Mind your own business.”

Wrecker’s ears perk up. “What kind of book?”

Your entire body goes warm at the thought of Wrecker knowing what kind of books you read when you’re not reading to him at night. It’s a nighttime tradition. You lay in your bunk directly across from Wrecker’s and you read him to sleep. He says he loves the sound of your voice and that it helps calm him down at night. You love reading to him as much as he does. Which is why this is incredibly embarrassing.

You shoot daggers at Crosshair and he reaches one of his incredibly long arms around you, plucking your datapad right out of your hands and starts to step away. 

“Crosshair! Give it back!” You shout. 

And then Crosshair does something even more mortifying. He starts reading it out loud. 

“Jahret takes Leema in his arms and pushes her up against the wall, forcing her legs to separate with his knee between them. As a result, she grinds her already wet warmth-” 

You tackle Crosshair to the durasteel floor of the Marauder and he smirks when you land on top of him with an “oof.”

“You’re such a karking asshole.” You snatch the datapad away and start to get up, Wrecker lending out a hand in the process. 

You take his hand and give him an appreciative smile, still embarrassed as you walk away to the fresher to hide for a bit. He follows you with concerned eyes. 

“Why’d ya do that?” Wrecker lightly shoves Crosshair when you disappear.

Crosshair smirks. “You ought to have her read that book to you. I think you’ll like it better than the other stuff she reads to you.” 

Wrecker furrows his brows at his brother, confused. When he heard Crosshair reading out loud what you’d been reading made him go warm in the face, though, that much he did know. He didn’t think it was embarrassing, though. He wants to ask you, though, he isn’t sure how, without embarrassing you further. 

Would you ever read that out loud if he asked? Would that be pushing it too far? It really has to do more with how you read. He really loves going to sleep to the sound of your voice.

There’s a knock on the fresher door and you get up off the floor and open it, thinking that one of the guys needs to use the fresher. Instead, and thankfully, you’re met with your favorite pair of warm brown eyes and a kind smile. 

“Oh, Wrecker.” You feel yourself flush and divert your eyes to the fresher sink. “Sorry, do you need the fresher?” 

“No, I was just…” He rubs the back of his head, as if he isn’t sure how to say what’s on his mind.

You’ve never seen the larger man so timid. 

“Just…?” You look back up at him.

He can’t stop looking at your lips, wondering what it would be like to kiss them. He always does, though. He always wants to kiss you. Always.

“Just wonderin’ how come you don’t read that kinda book to me?” He smiles. 

You go hot in the face at the thought of reading that kind of book to Wrecker. “Oh… I mean… it’s just… Kark. I don’t know.” You cross your arms, leaning against the wall.

“Would you… ever…?” He tries to ask you, tilting his head, smiling that incredibly heartwarming smile that you could never ever say no to.

“You really want me to?” You raise your eyebrows up in surprise. 

He shrugs. “I like when you read all sorts of books to me.” 

You smile up at him. “Alright… But… we should probably set some ground rules… shouldn’t we?” 

He guides you out to your bunk and climbs in with you, pulling the curtain closed. It’s a little cramped with him so close in such a small space, but you don’t mind. You cross your legs, sitting against the wall and Wrecker lays his head in your lap.

“What kind of rules, mesh’la?” Wrecker smiles up at you. 

“Well… I mean… I don’t want you to feel like I’m taking advantage of you in any way. So maybe we shouldn’t… you know, act on any feelings this kind of book stirs inside of us.” You go absolutely hot in the face at the thought of recreating any of these scenes with him. Does he know you feel the way you do about him? Would he ever reciprocate these feelings one day? Probably not. 

“Mesh’la, you could never take advantage of me.” He reaches around and pats your knee and you smile down at him. “Trust me.” 

You nod. “Alright then.”

Pulling your datapad back up, you push one of the books that you’d not read yet that you’d been saving for a while. It’s a forbidden romance between a princess and a Jedi knight. 

At one point, Wrecker starts to close his eyes and you think he’s going to fall asleep, his breathing becoming deep and even. You didn’t get to any spicy scenes yet, so those will probably be for tomorrow’s reading. Tonight, you just enjoy the feel of the large man in your lap, smiling down at him as you trace lines over his face. When you trail your fingers over his lips, he presses a soft kiss to them and you go fuzzy all over, your chest tightening. 

You’re so gone for this man, it’s not even funny. Maybe to Crosshair, because that kriffing asshole absolutely knew what he was doing when he pulled that little stunt earlier. 

“Come here.” Wrecker’s gruff, yet soft voice tells you, his eyes still closed. 

“Hm?” You look down at him, sleepily. 

“Will you cuddle with me?” He asks. 

How could you say no? 

He lifts up his head slightly for you to maneuver between him and the wall. He rests his arm so that you can rest your head against it. You expected it to be hard and uncomfortable because of all of his muscles, but it’s not. He’s not. It’s the comfiest you’ve felt since joining up in the GAR. 

Wrecker reaches down and pulls your leg over his and it becomes even more comfortable. His arm that you’re laying on wraps around you and you move your head to his chest, which is somehow just as comfortable. It occurs to you that you probably won’t ever get to sleep this comfortably again, so you may as well enjoy it. And like he said… you aren’t taking advantage of this. Right?

The hyperspace and ship sounds lull you to sleep almost right away, and as sleep starts to take you, you think you feel Wrecker pull you even closer.

When you wake up, you find yourself still wrapped in Wrecker’s arms, practically on top of him. You realize that and then sit up. 

“Morning.” You hear Wrecker’s sweet voice and you rub your eyes, looking down at him.

“Good morning.” You smile. 

“Come back here.” He opens his arm again. 

You peek around the curtain and see that no one’s here, which means you’ve made it back to Kamino for your supply run. You lay back down in the crook of Wrecker’s arm, resting your hand on his warm chest and throwing your leg back over his own. 

You’re glad that Hunter’s not here so he can’t hear your heart absolutely racing against your chest. Can Wrecker feel it? 

Does he know how your heart beats only for him?

“Slept so good last night. Oughta sleep in your bunk like this more.” He tells you. 

You nod in agreement. “I agree. Anytime you want.” 

He smiles down at you and then looks at your hand on his chest. 

“D’you think maybe we could read more of that book. It was a really good story.” Wrecker requests.

You swallow and it sounds loud to your own ears. A spicier scene is about to come up, you know it. The princess and Jedi had gotten themselves into a tough situation where she was almost taken and now they’re hiding out and there’s a ton of sexual tension.

“Unless ya don’t want to, then we can get up and go meet the guys.” Wrecker offers, noticing you thinking.

You smile up at him. “Yeah, big guy. We can read more.”

He reaches up behind the pillow and grabs your datapad, handing it to you. You cuddle in close, getting comfortable again. His fingers trail down your arm, over your hand, until they settle on your hip. Heat courses through your veins and you try your best to keep a content sigh from escaping your lips. 

“A-alright.” You start reading again with a slightly shaky breath. 

When you get to the spicy scene, you pause for a moment and Wrecker looks down at you. 

“Y-you’re sure?” You murmur.

“Go on.” He squeezes your hip, sending electricity through your body.

You nod. “Right. Okay.”

So you continue reading, reading about how the princess gets down on her knees for Jedi . He tries to ask her if they should really be doing this but she tells him how badly she wants him. She needs him. He tells her the same. The Jedi  doesn’t stop her as she releases his length from his pants and starts to lick long stripes up it until she takes him in her mouth-

Your entire body is hot as you read and just when you think you’ve gotten used to the scene, you feel a twitch in Wrecker’s pants. It’s a normal reaction, of course. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t feeling a certain way about it as well. But still… It's hard to ignore. 

As you continue to read about the princess and Jedi knight starting to make love, it’s impossible to miss the tent in Wrecker’s pants becoming more evident. His grip on your hip tightens and you nearly combust right then. This was a monumentally horrible idea. 

When the chapter ends, you put your data pad down and lay there with him. Both of your chests are rising a little more rapidly. 

“That was uh…” Wrecker rubs a hand down his face and then clenches his hand, sitting it to his side. 

His grip on your hip never lessens, though.

“We better go find the guys.” You whisper. 

“Right, right. Yeah.” Wrecker nods. 

You start to get up to carefully climb over him, but he moves at the same time that you start to stretch a leg over the side and it causes you to fall on top of him. Your warmth lands roughly against his hardened length and you both groan loudly. 

His hands find both of your hips this time and he grips tightly. You stare at each other, both afraid to move. 

“Mesh’la…” Wrecker whispers, pupils blown wide. “Please…” 

“W-we shouldn’t…” You whisper, really wanting to give in, your hands on his firm chest, gripping the fabric of his bodysuit. 

He’s only begging like this because of his sexual frustration because of the book. It has nothing to do with you. But still… with the way he’s looking up at you… 

He tests the waters by guiding you over his length. You let out a needy whimper as your underwear rubs against your clit just right. 

“Do… do ya… want it?” His deep voice goes straight to your warmth and you can only let out a nod. 

He nods back up at you and starts to guide you slowly, painfully slow, over his length, the friction building up the most agonizing, yet delicious feeling against your clothed pussy. 

He lets out a strained groan. “Please, mesh’la… I’ll treat ya so good.” 

You believe him. Fuck… you really believe him. 

Wrecker watches as you lick your lips, completely hypnotized, needing to taste you. All of you. He doesn’t think he’s ever wanted something or someone so badly. 

As if the Force itself is dragging him upright, he pulls you against himself and kisses you with more passion than he’s ever felt toward any explosive ever. Which is a lot. But kissing you is like his very own firework. It’s explosive and beautiful and makes his heart hammer in his chest. 

When you and Wrecker pull apart, neither of you can stop smiling at the other. His smile makes you feel whole, like all of the parts that have ever been taken from you are put back together, by him. 

Both yours and Wrecker’s pupils are completely blown with lust… and something else. At least, for you it’s something else. Could he possibly feel the same way you do? 

“Will you let me, pretty girl?” He murmurs, starting to grind you back and forth over his now painfully hard length again. “Will you let me make you cum? Please… I’ll- I’ll make ya cum so good…” 

You’d let him do whatever he wanted to you at this point because Maker, he’s huge… and the sound of his voice is doing something to you. 

His cock is throbbing against your clothed core and you know that the only answer could be yes at this point, your silly rule be damned. 

With an eager nod, you can’t help but practically beg. “Fuck… Wreck… Please.” 

You could definitely come like this for him. But before you get the chance to find out, he carefully guides you over onto your back, opens the curtain and gets down onto the durasteel floors of the Marauder, falling to his knees. 

You watch with parted lips as he smirks up at you. He guides your pants and underwear down your legs, letting them fall to the floor. 

The others could walk in at any moment, you realize. But somehow… you just don’t think you care. Let them watch if they want. You need Wrecker. Now. 

He slides his hands up your bare legs, settling on your thighs and you take note of how huge they look against your own skin. 

“So kriffing pretty.” He grins before lifting your legs and guiding them over his shoulders, his large hands gripping your thighs, holding you in place.

“You’re pretty.” You stroke his hand, looking down at him.

He gives a flustered look and kisses your inner thigh, making you squirm a little bit. The way he looks up at you makes your insides flutter and you can’t help but guide his face toward your warmth. He gives you a satisfied smirk that says that he knows what you want… what you need. 

He does exactly what you need. He dives his tongue deep into your pussy, making you gasp loudly. Your hand flies to his head, holding him there. He lets out a deep chuckle against your warmth, vibrating against you. 

“Fuck cyar’ika… Knew you’d taste so good.” He murmurs before his lips latch onto your clit. 

Wet sounds below you lead you to realize you’ve never been this wet before. Not even when pleasuring yourself. 

“You- you knew? You think about it?” You whimper.

“Ev’ry night.” He grunts as he continues to taste and tease you until you’re a shaking mess.

He pushes your knees back to your chest, spreading your pussy with his fingers as he continues to eat you like a man starved.

The way his lips latch onto your clit has your back arching up off the bed and when he starts to hum, you’re immediately thrown over the edge with virtually no warning, gasping loud enough that it trails into a moan, echoing throughout the ship. 

“Maker… Knew you’d cum so pretty too…” He groans, kissing your cunt like a man in love, causing you to tremble. “Like an angel…” 

“Yeah?” You go warm all over. 

He nods, trailing his hands up and down your bare thighs. 

“Come here.” You murmur, guiding him back into the bunk with you. 

He gets back up into the bunk, hovering over you as he leans down and kisses you, causing you to taste your eagerness on his lips and tongue. You moan softly against his lips and he smirks into the kiss. “You like the way you taste?” He whispers, roughly.

You let out a needy whine, nodding. 

“Pretty girl…” He hums softly as he trails his lips down your jaw and neck, to your collarbone, making you grip his shoulders.

“Too clothed.” You complain, softly.

He chuckles softly and leans back on his knees to pull his shirt off, dropping it to the durasteel floor. You sit up slightly to pull your own shirt off. His eyes go wide momentarily at the sight of you and he comes back down to crush his lips to yours. 

“You’re perfect…” He whispers when he pulls away to sit back up to kick off his pants. 

The moment that you see his length, your jaw drops and you start to wonder if he’s going to fit. 

“I’ll go slow.” He promises you as he comes back to you, clearly reading your facial expressions as he hovers over you again. 

You nod, trusting him. You always have, and always will. Whether it’s out in the field or here in bed… 

“You still want it?” He asks, looking between the two of you.

“Yes.” You murmur, reassuring him. “Stars, yes.” 

He chuckles and kisses you again.

“Never gonna get tired of kissin’ ya.” He promises you, lifting a leg so he can get a better angle. 

“Makes two of us.” You grin up at him.

He starts to line his tip up with your entrance and the stretch around his tip alone makes you gasp.

“Ready?” He looks down at you.

“Please…” You look back up at him and he gives you his grin that makes you feel whole. Wrecker’s eyes glance back down at the way your pussy starts to take his tip easily and he can’t help the rough groan that escapes his lips. His grip on your thigh tightens as he starts to push into you a bit more. He looks to you for permission to slide in fully and you nod. “Please…” You whisper, clenching around him already.

He lets out a soft growl and pushes into you the rest of the way, making both of you let out a breathless moan. He grips your other thigh as he bottoms out. 

“Feels better than I coulda imagined…” He groans. “So good…” 

You nod in agreement, rather speechless. You’ve never felt so full just from a partner before so it almost feels like the first time all over again. 

“You okay?” He murmurs, looking down at you with a confident and knowing smile.

You nod again. “Perfect… Keep going, Wreck…” 

Wrecker pulls out just to push back in and you let out a needy gasp. He groans loudly and repeats the motion, clearly loving the reaction he can get out of you. 

One of his hands travels up to your breast to grope you tightly making you clench around him. He lets out a low growl and starts to speed up his thrusts. 

“Feels so good…” He grits between his teeth. 

All you can manage is an agreed whimper, which makes him smirk. 

“Shoulda had you read more books like that before…” He groans as his head falls back, his hands roaming to your hips to grip you tightly, basically using you to get himself off.

It’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. And heard. The wet sounds between the two of you is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before. 

“Wrecker…” You beg softly.

“What is it, pretty girl?” He lets go of your hips and falls forward over you, burying his face in your neck, kissing and licking in a way that’s going to make you fall apart.

“Let me ride you…” You murmur, almost shyly. 

Wrecker pulls away from your neck to look at you and you can see his eyes darken. Wordlessly, he pulls out of you and rolls over onto his back so that you can climb on top of him. You waste no time sinking down onto his cock which makes the two of you groan loudly against each other. 

You grip his firm chest, steadying yourself so that you can grind against his hips, the new angle stretching you in a way that you’ve never had before. 

“So… big…” You gasp as you clench around him again. 

He smirks up at you, clearly pleased with himself as his hands find your waist, guiding you back and forth. 

“Wanna see you cum again… touch yourself…” He murmurs.

You go hot all over at his command and immediately do what you’re told. Your fingers fall down to your clit and you instantly clench around him.

“Atta girl.” He praises you, his voice low with need.

You let out soft whimpers and moans as you get closer and closer to finishing again. 

“Kriff… Look so pretty on top of me like that…” His hands grip your waist in a bruising manner, like he’s trying to hold back. 

You believe him when he says it. No man has ever looked at you the way that Wrecker looks at you. Like he… loves you…

“Maker, Wreck… I’m gonna…” You gasp. “Yeah you are… Go on mesh’la… cum for me again… Wanna feel it around my cock this time.” He practically begs.

Your fingers speed up on your clit, applying a little more pressure as you chase your orgasm that you desperately want to give Wrecker. 

“W-with me?” You ask, hoping he knows what you mean.

He nods. “Yes, ma’am.” 

You groan softly as you grip his firm broad chest with your free hand and end up moaning when he starts bouncing you up and down on his cock. Your head falls back as your moans get louder, more pleading. 

“That’s it, cyare… that’s it.” He groans as your orgasm is practically ripped from your body, causing your fingers to fall away from your clit so you can cup your hand over your mouth to keep from screaming. “Where-”

“In me…” 

“Kriff…” He groans as his hips still and he fills you with himself, causing you to fall forward against his chest.

You bury your face into his warm neck as you both pant against each other, trying to return your breathing to normal. He always smells like a warm sunny beach day and it’s intoxicating… comforting… You're both quiet for a while, his fingers trailing up and down your back. It’s the most calm you’ve felt in so long that you’re not ready to get up anytime soon. You just hope Wrecker’s brothers are willingly giving you privacy. 

“How are you feeling?” He asks you, softly. 

You rest your chin on the back of your hand, which is settled against his chest, and look up at him. “Perfect.” 

“Good. You are, ya know… perfect…” He murmurs, reaching and brushing his lips against your forehead.

You go warm again and reach up to brush your lips against his. His hand falls to your lower back, keeping you in place. 

“I’ve been waiting so long to do that…” He tells you.

“How long?” You smile sweetly at him as you brush your lips against his chest.

“Since the day you joined the squad…” He tells you, sheepishly.

“Me too.” You tell him, honestly.

“You have?” His eyebrows raise in surprise. 

You nod, grinning widely at him. “Of course I have.”

He crushes his lips to yours again and pushes you over onto your back, getting carried away, which you wouldn’t have a problem with except you hear footsteps coming up the hatch of the Marauder. 

“Kriff…” He groans, pulling the blanket up over the two of you so no one sees anything, not having time to pull the curtain closed. 

You hear Hunter and Echo’s chuckle but they don’t have anything to say… yet. Crosshair, however… 

“Looks like that reading really paid off for you, Wrecker.” Crosshair smirks as he walks by, taking note of the clothes discarded on the floor. 

You and Wrecker both roll your eyes and cuddle closer. For now, you won’t let anything ruin this moment between the two of you.

Taglist: @rebel-finn @rexandechosandwich @madameminor @dumfanting @corona-one @tecker @ladykatakuri @brynhildrmimi @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @zoeykallus @maulslittlemeowmeow @littlemousedroid @arctrooper69 @rexxdjarin @padawancat97 @hated-by-me @sleepingsun501 @idledreams @redheadgirl @themcuwriter @ashotofspotchka @sunshinesdaydream @crosshairsimp73 @ariadnes-red-thread @rosmariner @heyitsaloy @starstofillmydream @high-ct5555 @echos-girlfriend @sleepywych @nekotaetae @justanothersadperson93 @aconstructofamind @book-of-baba-fett @chopper-base @palliateclaw @501st-rexster @dead-poolz @nahoney22 @where-is-my-mind-tho @jediknightjana @erishimoon @witching3 @queen-of-many-fandoms @wizardofrozz  @burningfieldof-clover

[collectoroffics]

The morning sun warmed Hardcase’s face as he ambled in the direction of Leena’s home. He fiddled with his hearing aid as his mind raced.

“Is this a good idea? Maybe I should just— no. No, I'm going to check on her. She needs someone right now.”

His chest ached as he recalled her face the other night; tear streaked cheeks and a pain so profound in her eyes he was certain he felt it too.

Hardcase didn’t pretend to know what went on behind closed doors in Leena’s marriage to Tech. Based on the information he’d gathered, the split was painful but not really anyone’s fault.

That didn’t make it easier. And Leena was so sweet. The thought that someone so brilliantly filled with life and love feeling pain so excruciating seemed criminal to him. She was so pretty too. Her smile lit up every room she was in. Anyone like that deserved happiness. It didn’t have to be him. In fact he didn’t expect it to be. The ending of her marriage was too fresh. She didn’t need some… silly guy throwing himself at her. However, she did need a friend. And that? That Hardcase could be. He could push those butterflies into a little box in the pit of his stomach and be her friend.

He stopped at one of the planters of community flowers. The blossoms were purple. Purple like that pretty lipstick Leena wore. The thought made him smile and he picked a few. He also noted which planter it was so he could come back later and plant more to replace them, assuming he didn’t forget.

He could see her door. He could do this. He, Jesse, and Fives saved their brothers on Umbara. He could definitely do this. Right?

He took a deep breath and marched up to the door before he could turn tail and run. He rapped his knuckles gently and waited.

His breath caught for a brief moment when she finally opened the door. So beautiful. And then he grinned, proudly holding the flowers out to her.

“Hey there! I came over to see how you’re doing! Thought you could use a friend. And flowers. Because those are both nice and cheer people up.”

Smooth Hardcase, he chided himself for letting his nerves get the best of him.

But then she smiled. And suddenly nothing else in the galaxy mattered because everything most exquisite was looking back at him in her eyes.

(This story was written by the lovely and talented @returnofthepineapple ! Go check out her blog for more awesome stories like this!!!)

💕💙Tag List💙💕

@legacygirlingreen @thora-sniper @thecoffeelorian @neyswxrld @somewhere-on-kamino @clonethirstingisreal @royallykt @morerandombullshit @burningfieldof-clover @tbnrpotato @keantha @returnofthepineapple @antisocial-mariposa @techs-stitches @resistantecho @kimiheartblade @dezgate @sunshinesdaydream @rex-targaryen @freesia-writes @heidnspeak @queenjiru @commanderfury @kyda-atshushi @deezlees @thebadbatchfan @justanotherdikutsimp @aknightreaderr

[collectoroffics]

The Sweetness of Slumber

Entry to @clonexocweek - 02.13.25: Intimacy | Event Masterlist

Can be read as a stand-alone | Read Dream Currents: [Tumblr] [AO3]

Summary: What happened during the 501st Umbaran campaign still haunts Rex even in his sleep. Waking up in the middle of a night, the nightmares chasing and biting at his ankles, the ocean deity Sho'cye provides all the comfort he needs. Tags & Warnings: hurt/comfort, post umbara, umbara angst, established friendship, childhood friends, romantic friendship, eepy rex, eepy sho'cye, platonic cuddles, oneshot au, separate from the bigger sho’cye-verse, references to dream currents (no spoilers) Pairing: Rex × Sho'cye (OFC Force Goddess) Word Count: 4.8k A/N: I'm so excited to include this one in the event! This has been going and up for a complete read in the links provided above if you're interested. Title is a part of one of the lines in Homer's Odyssey Book 23 when the hero had finally reunited with his wife Penelope.

𝑯𝒂𝒓𝒅 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒅𝒊𝒎 𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒔𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒔

— All I Had Was You - Paul Moody, The Field Tapes, Kyle McEvoy [X]

Shot awake, Rex's breaths break out of his chest in harsh and broken rhythm. Drowsiness bleeds away – in its place now, consciousness that's slunk in. And dread. His heart is pounding inside his chest and out his ears, drops of sweat breaking in and sliding down from his hairline as glimpses of nightmarish images glaze over his eyes once more.

No. He shakes his head. The darkness of his HQ barrack quarters, save for the low-power blue light on his work desk bathing the entire room, isn't helping. He always prefers to sleep in the dark, but after Umbara, the dimness of his room does nothing but stoke the anxiousness within him. The horror of being aware that so many of his men died…

The heels of his hands dig into his eyes, desperate for the glimpses to vanish. He grunts.

Let's give it a few minutes.

He closes his eyes and settles into breathing exercise, his shoulders heaving with controlled, rhythmic inhales and exhales.

Coruscant and its artificial sea. Not even natural. Even the rain’s made up.

It's during times like this, where his nightmares of past campaigns awaken him in the middle of the night, he yearns for Sho'cye. The ocean goddess who was ever present in their night rests when they were merely cadets back in Kamino, one of the planets where she's most powerful. The one who watched over their rest, and by extension, their dreams. She would grant them peaceful sleep, banishing their nightmares away along with the fear that follows.

Now away from her water dominion, he's never felt this much longing. 

He lets out a big, sad sigh.

If only she'd be here.

Now that his once thundering heartbeat has settled to normal, he allows his eyes to open.

Only to see a long-haired figure sitting on the side of his bed.

An embarrassing noise escapes his lips as he jumps back in shock, only reviving the uncomfortably fast heart rate yet again. I didn't feel the bed dip, I swear I was hyper aware…

A chord of melodic giggles fill the small bubble, warmth and familiarity immediately welling up in his chest and his recognition of the voice is glorious.

“Sho'cye?!”

His eyes get used to the blue dimness of his room, and he can finally see her clearly. Luminous smile that always graces her lips either in wonder or welcome. Humble, as always, with her unbound and flowing midnight ocean hair and, and…

Is that… civvie shorts and oversized t-shirt? Like those natborns wear to bed?

Sho'cye grins up at him. “You look at me as if you've seen a ghost.”

Rex, of course, gets reminded by the small yet embarrassing yelp that came out of him and the fact that she watched on. His cheeks heat up, wishing he’s got his bucket on now. “Very funny.”

Always with her quirkiness. Never changed.

He understands. Sho'cye has always been alone in the wide galaxy and she needs company. So he’d been there by her sole power, meeting up in the tropical dream realm he dubbed the Coastline when he was still a cadet, and throughout his growth cycle until he said goodbye that day… because the war had started.

“But… that's also because you're not supposed to be here,” he states wonderingly, his voice coming out hoarse.

Coruscant has no natural body of water on its surface. Or rather, topside. There's nothing of sorts. Coruscant is out of touch by her power but… she's here. In his quarters, out of all places. When his sleep was disturbed by the nightmares, out of all people.

Sho'cye doesn't reply, instead getting to her feet and crossing the room in the direction of his water canteen sitting on his desk.

“Ah, I'll–”

“It's okay!” she chirps, making her way back now with his canteen in her grasp. She smiles. “Allow me, Rex.”

His heart wells at the gesture, still in disbelief that she's here right now!. It takes everything in him not to pull her into a hug again… the last one they shared – the first time as well – was before he departed from the Coastline for an unknown stretch of time. Because the war stretches on, too. It had been warm and left him smiling for days straight, the weight in his chest lighter with refueled confidence. Such is her power.

After taking a few gulps of his water, he places the canteen on his side table. He bites the inside of his lip hesitantly, the previous thought overtaking the space in his head. Sho'cye merely looks at him, patiently waiting for him to speak because she just knows, her eyes soft. Oh her eyes. I wish I could just… see those nice sea green colors. It's been a while.

He used to admire them. Getting lost in the spectrum. Still is. The blue in his markings is a beautiful color indeed, but they're no match to her colors. But at least, his blue is also the color of the ocean as a whole, the color that one could see from a faraway view, or maybe when they treat themselves to a view of Kamino from orbit. 

Sho'cye stands there, towering over him when he's only been sitting in his cot. The distinction only makes him realize, so wordlessly, he grabs her wrist and tugs her in so she can retake her place at the side of his cot. Plopping down in acceptance, a light laugh escapes her lips – the small atmosphere momentarily filled with bliss of the reunion.

Rex's chest warms again at the joyous sound, but he's got more questions that need answering, and Sho'cye knows that.

“I sensed your distress when you were sleeping,” she starts. Oddly, she feels a little closer than before… Her expression, concerned. “You called for me.”

He'd forgotten about the nightmare at this point, too indulged in her surprise presence, but it's her presence itself, isn't it? “I just…” Well, she's right, I practically did. “Was just wishing you were here to ease my disturbed sleep,” he says, his hand coming up to the spot in the back of his neck that suddenly needs rubbing.

She smiles, blue illuminating the silhouettes of her face. “Well, I am here now.”

But her being here must’ve taken too much of her power. She said herself that her hold of her dominion ceases greatly on a planet with very little natural water. Coruscant is surely no exception. Manifesting a physical body the similar way she had been in the Coastline… while it makes him realize just how much divine power she has, it equally makes him feel bad. Coming here… just for me?

“You don't have to do that,” he finds himself saying. Even if it's technically what he truly wants (he'd love nothing but her company), her making the journey to the existence plane just for him must've taken a lot. It makes him, quite tremendously, feel bad. “S’just a nightmare. Going back to sleep will fix it.”

She raises her eyebrows challengingly, “So you don't want me here?”

“No!” Why was I even saying that? And I said it poorly! “I-I mean that you didn't have to go that far just to comfort a single clone with a nightmare.”

“But you've been harboring all these to yourself for the past week,” she insists, placing a hand atop his. She lets out a breath, eyes deeply boring into him. “I'm worried about you, Rex.”

He looks down at their hands, stacked and resting on his thin mass-produced blanket. Warmth emanates from the simple gesture, healing the longing that has been deeply settling inside him all this time. The relief and comfort bursts out of his chest like beams of light, making him sigh with the belief that it's safe now, both of us in our own little bubble.

In the darkness of his quarters, he tries not to picture the landscape of eternal midnight of that forsaken planet tinged with purple and vermillion red, eerie with fallen soldiers and death and tragic misfortune. He grounds himself, tries to cling onto Sho'cye's hold. He squeezes her hand in his, his other hand scrubbing down his face and across his buzzed blond hair.

“Our most recent campaign was in Umbara.” Rex swallows, staring dead on to their joined hands – every blink of his eyes is tempting him to just enjoy the darkness to mull and grief once again. “There was a new general. He was well-known in our ranks with the highest casualty count. He was nonchalant about the clones, Sho'cye, and he's a traitor. Had a Separatist agenda of his own and used us to turn against each other, I made us slaughter our own men…”

The hour they reconvened with the 212th was the worst. Even Fives had offered to take over to explain everything to General Kenobi because he just couldn't when Cody turned his way. His men killed Cody's men. Lieutenant Waxer died in their hands – a painful death full of betrayal. The single tear that came from the late brother's eye had him to not break down right there, his heart wrenching and all he'd wanted was to throw up.

Cody looked at him. He couldn't. Thankfully Fives had been quite to the point, as the most disturbed man out of them all, that while General Kenobi had been struggling to swallow everything that happened with the 501st, Cody pulled him aside. No words were traded, he sternly kept his gaze to the floor as his brother led him out of the vicinity, dragged him into a closed space – only right there and then, he dared to look up at Cody.

And finally, he broke down. His tears were angry, his throat hurt from snarling down his wails, his shoulders heaving and his plastoid chestplate squeaking against Cody's. Cody tried his best to muffle his little brother's cry – his distraught little brother whom he'd just want to hide from the world at that moment – and thought better of the situation, but it was the only moment Rex had broken down openly and so gut wrenchingly that it drove quieter sobs out of the marshal commander, too.

“If only I wasn't so blind following orders,” Rex's voice is quieter now, almost a whisper. He sniffs and swallows the lump in his throat. “I can't get it out of my head.”

He tilts his head to look at Sho'cye, almost regretting doing so when he spots a single tear in the midst of its path down her fair cheek reflecting in the low light. The way his heart clenches at the sight… his movement doesn't waver when he gingerly wipes it away with the pad of his thumb.

“I felt your troubled hearts,” her hushed voice says gently, “What you felt ran deep in the Force, Rex, that even I could feel it. Your trouble, your apprehension, and your fear. And Pong Krell’s true intentions bled painfully into the Force as well.”

She knew. Of course she knew.

“I just wish you were here with us. Could've saved so much trouble to prevent incidents like this from happening.”

A harsh sigh through the nostrils, his stomach churns bitterly. “The Jedi failed us in Umbara with their decision to switch my general with that snake,” he gripes, fists clenching momentarily only to remember Sho'cye's hand in his. He sighs again instead, this time laced with exhausted irritation. “And Skywalker went along. He knew, we all knew about Krell, but he just couldn't…”

“I am with you. Always,” she says, taking both his hands in hers, “And you have the Jedi Order in my place.”

“Disobey orders?” Sho'cye finishes for him, her head tilting as if saying but neither could you.

Rex shakes his head. “If only I could do just that to save my men from unnecessary deaths.”

The Commander had been the one who noticed his deteriorating performance. Unfocused during one of the discussions in the war room. Sluggish walk. Too many filler words in a whole conversation. So unlike him, and he's struggling to keep top performance. The Togrutan padawan has always been a perceptive one. It ended up her pitching to her Master, and the other day the General comm’d him to come and see the mind healers at the Temple. Knowing Wolffe's severe PTSD due to Abregado has mostly been treated by seeing those Jedi mind healers, Rex is seriously considering it, as well.

Sho'cye reaches up, brushing her finger against his cheek– oh, that's a tear. I've been crying.

“You merely thought about what was best for the campaign at the moment. You were thorough and you were confident you'd go through, and you did. That is the value of being a soldier, is it not?”

Her voice is tender as she speaks, careful as if any louder than low mutter would break him. She reaches up again, this time with both hands, and cups his face gently. A shuddered breath falls off his lips. The warmth of her palms against his skin resounds so much comfort that he needs, the remnants of his longing radiating out into the compassionate touch.

Rex leans into it, giving in, relishing in all the warmth there is against his cold cheeks. Before he can stop it, he’s already scooting closer, so she wouldn't have to reach him too far and so he would've felt more warmth radiating off herself. And yet, in all turns of events, she's meeting him halfway too with a little scoot of her own and their thighs end up brushing against each other.

Determination burns, stoking yearning fire inside his chest, so he reaches up as well, cupping either side of her head and gently tugs her in to lean his forehead against hers – a show of affection he'd known all his life and done only with his brothers.

He can't see the pretty sea green colors inside those orbs in the dark. Sho'cye is bathed in blue, the source of the light sitting low-power on one of his desks, creating a humble image, yet divine still, with the color of her ocean. 

“Remember what I said?” she begins to whisper, their little bubble belonging to no one else but them in their closeness. “You're a good man, Rex. By heart, and by soul.” Her thumb caresses his cheekbone, showing her tender care and love. “Whatever you did… it's not your fault.”

There's a shuffle of movement. At the slightest shift that she makes, his body absently takes it as a cue and moves in – his head tilting to the side and burying his own face into her shoulder for just a moment to hide from the world, his arms wrapped and snug around her waist. The position is sideways and awkward at best, but it's when she shuffles again, quietly, slowly peeling his arms off just so that she can turn around, tucks her feet under her, and receiving him back into her arms. Rex pulls her in closer, arms returning to their rightful place around her waist as his person craves more of her warmth, her comforting words, and her familiar ichor scent as he breathes shudderingly into her collar bone.

Upon his quiet wavered exhale, Sho'cye's hand rubs up and down his back, the other is cradling the back of his head. Rex sighs contentedly, her fingers lazily running through his short hair, the comfort provided is simply unexplainable. All he can feel at that moment is that I'm safe now. She's here. I'm safe.

She wipes away tracks of dried sweat. Plucking at the back of his white t-shirt he wears to sleep to relieve his skin from the fabric that sticks so air can circulate back in. Her flowing hair, the color a shade of the ocean during midnight, forms a curtain around his head when she tilts her head down to place a kiss on the top of his head, his buzzed hair probably tickling her lips and chin but she doesn't care. And another, on the skin near his hairline – her compassion oozing with full force through the gesture. His hold on her tightens.

“When you die,” says Sho'cye quietly, her lips ghosting against his forehead, “Your essence will return to my waters. In this war, you take life, but when you die, you shall give life. You're in the sea, in the lake… in the rain. You'll have your place among the stars too, together resonating harmoniously in the Force, and the Force will sing and praise how tireless you warriors are. You fought for the peace of the galaxy, and you will relish and rejoice in the peaceful arms of death that you're finally at rest.”

Growing up acknowledging as an expendable soldier who would eventually die at war, the topic of a soldier's death is always unavoidable. But a warrior's death… after so many tireless fights. Fighting gives them life. The war. Something to live for. Something worth dying for. In the end, the peaceful rest must be a luxurious comfort. Being one with nature, with her, in the very waters that surrounds their home.

Sho'cye protects them in life. And even in death.

It brings so much comfort and safety to his heart.

“I wish you were a Jedi general or something,” Rex says hesitantly. He reels away from her shoulder, looking at her in the eyes, almost trying to convince her. “We need you here and close. Could've saved so much trouble. Could've changed the entire war itself.”

“A great idea, but who would watch over all of you?” A smile breaks out in her countenance, and further in fondness as she recalls, “Back then, Rex; every day I thought about these… lives, so many lives born into the world. There hadn't been many in Kamino, so I knew I had to see for myself.” A massive shift in the balance of the Force, it had been. “Then I saw you, bred for a purpose, your minds left alone and in constant unease of what's to come. Your fate earned my utmost attention. And love.”

The amber in his eyes glimmer with life, even in the dark, as a breathy chuckle falls off his lips. He smiles almost sheepishly, “I keep forgetting you can see the future.”

“It's not exactly fun,” she indulges him happily, “I have to weave my own threads to gain what I want.” She caresses down the side of his face. “And what I want is a better future.”

The topic of such a future is for another day. If they ever meet again. Even she isn't certain to do this again – manifesting a physical body onto the existence plane and drawing so much from the Force. It isn't draining in any way, but it takes most of her focus to be here.

Rex's pleads inside his mind had been loud. Cries that called out upon betrayal. Cries that blamed himself. She'd been wanting to be with him, to comfort him, but gathering her strength to cross planes took time. And now that she's here, she's glad to be welcomed with open arms and an open heart. To be close to him… to be able to embrace him, dearest and most cherished companion.

The way her heart always falters at his mournful tears, the way she'd want nothing else but good for his fate.

Rex's hand comes off her waist to stifle a yawn.

Warmth emanates in her chest at the simple sight. It reminds her of everything that's him. She grins. “It's been a long time since I've seen you yawn.”

One of his dark brows rise – the one thing she'd find as his quirk, no matter how many times he'd explained that it's normal to have different colors for eyebrows from hair. While she adores his blond head that he'd always like to keep as short as possible, one time Rex grinded so hard with his intense training that he hadn't the time to buzz it off – it had been a little curly at the top. As what they would say; she'd pay good credits to catch sight of that again.

“What, you like my yawn?”

“I think it's adorable,” she nods pleasantly, before going to tap the spot between his brows, “The way your eyebrows pinch in the middle, I think.”

With one hand still resting against his cheek, Shocye can feel the skin under growing a little warmer. His eyes dart to the side before meekly meet hers again. “I'll yawn more often, then?” 

She chuckles. “You wish so? I can take your consciousness out in mere seconds,” she teases back, half joking. “It's the things that make you human, Rex. It's what you are, after all. You're everything human.”

He smiles, eyes glimmering in the dark. “And you're everything not.”

Her fondness of him deepens. As it always has been, for years, since their first meeting that day and onward. It doesn't take long for her fondness to blossom into something more… something she dares not to venture. But she's a being of compassion, and compassion that's exaggerated incites desire. While it's not something unfavorable… a deity and a mortal is unheard of.

Perhaps with her own selfishness, Rex should be hers, and is already hers, yet obsessive love tips the scale of balance. Instead she lets her love run free, flowing with the course of nature and only reciprocating when there's a sign. Even if there is, another obstacle would be the nature itself – the Force, herself. There must be consequences for such things.

Rex begins to scoot away from her, settling to lie down again to catch up on lost time of rest.

But she won't leave him. Not again. At least not right away. The absence of natural water in Coruscant doubles her use of power – even the water in Rex's canteen is processed – but for Rex… for them, the clones… she needs to be here.

He watches her lifting his thin blanket, eyes blown wide, taken aback.  “W-what are you doing?”

Hesitance takes root inside her for even forgetting to ask. “Do you… mind?”

“I,” he weighs for a moment – a sad look and true confusion latching onto his bronze-toned face. “I don't know.”

Her face falls, yet tinged with understanding. She starts to move away, the words I don't wish to make you uncomfortable probably tickling her tongue to be let out because he knows her like that and he knows her long.

And I never feel like so, Rex wants to say sometimes. When I'm with you.

“It's just!” he says a little loud, a little panicked when she’s just getting to her feet. She plops back down, eyes blinking curiously prompting him to continue. “It's just gonna be a little tight.” His shoulders shrug not only to defuse his awkwardness, but to cover the growing heat on his cheeks, too. “And um, this is a one person cot… y'know.”

Sho'cye tilts her head, a cheeky smile makes her eyes glitter. “I think we can make it work.” She lifts the blanket again and slips her dainty legs in, her warm skin brushing against his red fatigues. “Scoot over, Captain.”

Rex is already doing that. “I told you not to call me that,” he chides playfully, but as he does that he gets into one of those rare moments where he falls off balance and unaware of his surroundings; an ow escapes him as his head bangs against durasteel. He swiftly formulates a plan out of instinct. “I hit the wall. Sideways.”

The goddess obliges, shifting to roll onto her side – one hand slipping under the pillow and her head, elbow brushing against his. A few unsuspecting seconds later, he rolls onto his back and fits snugly into the wider space.

He smirks smugly at the ceiling. “Thank you.”

Her melodic laughter fills his ears, a hand swatting at his shoulder and remains there. He can feel her fingers slightly gripping on his shirt. A glance to the side; the blue light illuminates her hair and he finally can see the blue of her tresses, and there's a wide gleeful smile gracing her fair face. “Since when did you even get so sly?”

A grin finally breaks out in his lips. “I’m a captain. I need to,” he says, reminiscing the times during shore leaves spent with, mainly, a handful of Torrent. “But probably since hanging with the boys a lot.”

Fives and Hardcase dart past his mind.

Sho'cye hums. “Do tell me more about them one day.”

“Of course.” But could she just find out herself– nevermind she's playing human right now.

Comfortable silence envelops over them like a second fuzzy blanket. Rex wonders if it's because of her mere presence, or an extra smidge of her power. Either way, he's fulfilled, the heavier weight on his heart has been lifted. With her quite literally next to him, an unspoken promise of a good night's sleep greets him with a smile and open arms.

He turns again under the blanket, this time lying on his belly so he can turn his head sideways to face her, arms pinned down to his sides. Sharing one pillow to lay their heads, he's aware their faces are inches away from each other's. Even breathing through her nostrils, air grazes his nose and cheeks softly. He wishes they could've done a sleepover like this back in his cadet days. Probably under a tree with that red rug and throw pillows, with a bonfire of her conjuration, the Coastline skies dark with stars glittering in the blank ethereal canvas.

Her eyes bore into his, blinking.

But those days have passed. Sho'cye being physically here – this could be one and only time happening.

How he wishes post-campaign exhaustion can stretch for a bit longer.

“I wish there'd been a body of water in our Umbara campaign,” Rex mumbles lowly, lips brushing against the pillow beneath him. His gaze meets Sho'cye's in mourning, the glassy look in her eyes reflecting the feeling likewise. Wish you were there. “Could've saved us so much.”

“Me too,” she whispers, nuzzling against the pillow like he does. She casts her gaze down, as if regretfully. Rex takes her hand and squeezes it. When she looks at him, once again he wishes he can look at sea green pools instead – how he misses them, and their dreamy landscape, the Coastline. Squeezing back, Sho'cye quietly admits, “Being unable to closely watch all over you unsettles me.”

Rex hums in acknowledgement and understanding. The burden must be heavy to look after and care for them, and equally is for not being able to. As after all these years, even her admissions and smallest gestures touch his heart. A deity choosing us clones, protecting us, over any other.

Stepping over the boundary of their intimacy, Rex tries not to meet her gaze, his movement half sheepish and half daring as he drapes an arm over her waist to pull her closer to his body. Without a breath of complaint, the goddess indulges him, even twisting her body so she lies on her back and snakes an arm under his neck.

“Sorry,” he breathes into her shirt, settling his cheek against her shoulder comfortably and his body against hers. Even clothed with a civvie t-shirt (the notion remains funny and adorable to him), unlike the last time they embraced she had adorned a sundress, she feels warm against him, and always does.

“Don't be,” she murmurs above him, “I like this, too.”

His cheeks and the warmth in his chest burn brighter, the fond statement only making him bury his face further into her neck.

A hand comes up to caress his short buzz, back and forth… his eyelids grow heavier and heavier… the repetitive movement lulling him to surrender to sleep at last.

Rex uses the last couple of ounces to stay awake and make sure, “You still gonna be here when I wake up?”

“No.” She nuzzles her nose into his hairline, still sounding very much awake – protective, oozing with care, making sure he’s asleep first before she follows. “As much as I'd love to.”

He hums.

His breathing steadies. There's a warm hand – hers – on his arm, adding another gesture of protectiveness to everything; half her body under his, snug and fit in his cot, his arm around her and is clinging onto her t-shirt, and her other hand stroking his hair.

He wishes it could be just like this, instead of… everything happening out there in whatever part of the galaxy.

His consciousness is slipping away.

And before he succumbs to the sweetness of slumber, he hears Sho'cye whispers to his hair,

“Sleep well, my sweet sea blossom.” Warm soft lips, tenderly, upon his forehead. “The nightmares are no more.”

Taglist (Form): @yoursrosie @hellfiresky @filamentlights @heidnspeak

[collectoroffics]

I am so absolutely excited to be posting this.

The prequel to Unexpected, this is how it all began, how Liri and Wolffe met in all the vivid steamy detail.

You don't necessarily have to read Unexpected or the rest of the series. This can be read as a stand alone.

For more info about Liri, including fanart, as well as a SFW and NSFW alphabet with a bunch of deeper insight, check out my tumblr Masterlist.

Fanart is by @anstarwar

[collectoroffics]

JENNNNNNNN

i am coming to you on hands and knees requesting anything star wars related. what are your thoughts on Boba Fett stumbling across reader left for dead??? maybe he's in a good mood and takes pity on us 😌 honestly im fine with whatever you cook up

Hee hee hee. Oh I have some Thoughts on this, indeed I do. I'm trying not to let myself get carried away with this, because I could probably write like... 5k on this. But! Here's a little something at least.

Warnings: Canon typical violence, threats of violence, off screen violence, mention of injuries, blood, sass and swearing.

Word count: 1.3k

GN!reader

Boba Fett was not a kind man. He had not lived a gentle life. In fact, he had done things that other men would weep at, had taken lives and destroyed them. 

No. He was not a kind man. Not gentle. Not soft. 

But his time as Daimyo had, perhaps, made him… indulgent. 

He stared down at the form below him. A person, curled on their side, one arm still protecting their head and one arm protecting their belly. Good instincts, although it hadn't seemed to serve them well. 

He didn't know this person. He didn't make it a point to know everyone in town, after all. Mostly just the noisy ones. So this person in the sand, alone, away from both the town and the palace, did not have a name to go with the bloodied face. 

If they died, perhaps he'd find out, if only to know who to send condolences to. 

He knelt carefully, knees creaking and protesting the movement. He'd not been kind to his body, which his joints especially now reminded him of. 

To his surprise, there was still a pulse. Weak, fluttering, but there. 

He paused, then. He could leave. Walk away. Leave them to die in the sands. 

Almost immediately, his heart rebelled. He would not leave someone to die in these sands, as he had been left to die years before. Especially since this person was not an enemy. Not a threat. 

“Fennec will never let me hear the end of this,” he murmured to himself, briefly making a face behind his helmet. Gloved hands found secure grips on the lax body, and he lifted. It was not as easy as it had once been, but he managed well enough. “If you live through the night, that is.” 

Even loaded down with new cargo as he was, it didn't take him long to return to his speeder bike, and from there to the palace. It was an interesting balancing act, to keep himself and his passenger from tipping over into the sands, but one he managed well enough. 

To his complete and utter lack of surprise, Fennec greeted him before he'd made it even two steps inside the palace. 

“Is picking up strays going to become a habit?” Her tone lacked real bite, and she opened the door ahead of him. 

He grunted, shifting the dead weight in his arms, lowering them gently to a bed. “It wouldn't need to be if no one was left to die in the sands.” 

Fennec huffed, a sound of mixed amusement and frustration. “I'll grab the bacta.” 

–

You woke slowly, aching and stiff. But still alive.

That made no sense. 

Cracking open your eyes proved to be a monumental effort, and you winced as light hit your eyes. It wasn't even that bright, you discovered after a minute of blinking streaming eyes. Just enough to see by. 

To see that you were in a room. Not on the sands. Not being cooked under the suns. 

What had happened after you'd passed out? 

Attempting to push up to sit proved to be a painful and fruitless endeavor, and you hissed out a pained breath as you gave up and laid back down. 

“I wouldn't try to move yet.” 

You felt like you nearly broke your neck trying to find the source of that voice. A woman, in orange and black, standing in a shadowed corner of the room. 

You opened your mouth to speak, but only coughed, throat too dry to make any intelligible sounds. 

“Here.” The woman crossed the room in a few long strides, offering you water. Your hands shook a little as you accepted, drinking your fill. 

“Where am I?” You kept hold of the water, hands clenched around the cup to hide your trembling. Not that you thought you were successful - the woman seemed too perceptive. 

“The Daimyo's palace.” Her lips quirked in amusement at your noise of surprise. “The boss will see you soon. For now, get some more rest.” She waved one negligent hand at you, already turning for the door. “It takes time to recover from almost dying.” 

The door shut behind her with a soft click, leaving you alone to your thoughts and your pains. Your pains were plentiful, making you grimace even as you finished your water. Your thoughts were more muddled and confused. 

Mainly because you still had no idea how exactly you had ended up here, of all places. 

Oh, sure, you knew of the Daimyo. Everyone knew of him, especially after the battle that had ranged the streets of Mos Espa. It was relatively well known that he was not a cruel man, nor a careless one. 

But none of your knowledge explained why you were here. 

It took a while for anyone else to come to your room. The door opened slowly, creakily. You turned your gaze from your own hands to the open doorway, having struggled upright some time ago. 

Green armor and black robes - the Daimyo himself. 

You froze, unsure if you should bow, more unsure if you even could right at that moment. 

He stepped into the room, slow but without hesitation. The helmet stayed fixed on you as he moved to a chair against the wall and sank down into it. 

Only then did he remove the helmet. 

You'd never seen him up close without his helmet. The silvery scars across his scalp caught the dim light, drawing your gaze, before you looked back at his eyes. You wouldn't stare, at least. 

“I found you half-dead on the sands,” he said, voice lowered and rough. “Unconscious.” 

“And you saved me?” You couldn't help the incredulity in your voice, or the way your fingers twisted into the bed linens. 

“I did.” He tipped his head, dark eyes surveying you carefully. 

“Thank you.” There wasn't much else you could say, not without more information, but you were at least glad to still be alive. 

“Who left you there?”

You swallowed. Ah. Of course. He wanted to know more. As was his right, you supposed, having saved you and all. 

“I don't know him well,” you started, gaze dropping to your hands where they curled and twisted around the sheets. “I caught him with spice, clearly planning to sell. I wouldn't care much, but I know the kids around there. So I told him to go elsewhere.” You grimaced. “Don't think he took my suggestion.” 

“Do you know his name?” 

You shrugged. “First name, sure. I can tell you where he was, give you a description.” 

He nodded slowly. “Why did you confront him?” 

You couldn't help yourself. You snorted, and then dearly regretted it. Eyes still watering from pain, you managed to choke out, “I couldn't not. Not like I meant to get into a fight, not that it was much of a fight.” 

He was quiet, then, watching you still with that absolute focus. Then he nodded once more, pushing back to his feet, helmet in hand. 

“You will stay here to recover,” he decided. “I will find this man and remind him why exactly he should not go behind his Daimyo's back.” 

“Thank you,” you said again, somewhere between grateful and annoyed. “But I can go home to recover.” 

“Not until I find out how many are involved,” he said, an easy declaration that left no room for argument. “You will be safe here.” He lifted his helmet, sliding it back into place, leaving you once again looking into the black visor. “Get some rest.” 

He swept out of the room as regally as he'd swept in, the door closing behind him. 

Well. That was one way to win an argument, you supposed, eyes closing against your will. Hard to argue with someone who's not present. 

Well. Maybe this stay wouldn't be all bad. At least you wouldn't have to hobble around your own kitchen. 

[collectoroffics]

Clone x OC Week 2025 - day 3: Conflict

Yuu and Fox rarely have any conflicts, but there is one that threatens their relationship before it really begins.

Tagging: @clonexocweek @clonethirstingisreal

A/N: For all that Yuu means well, they are still just a person, and that means they make mistakes. For Yuu, it means they don't often think about the immediate consequences of their actions or how their actions might harm the people around them.

There is nothing that Yuu hates more than burning the midnight oil. Overtime is the worst, especially when they can't actually tell anyone that they're doing it.

If Palpatine found out...

Well.

Let's just say that, as his PA, Yuu is more aware than most about their boss' after hour hobbies. And they know exactly how thin the ice they're walking is on.

The sword of Damocles hangs, precariously, over their neck. And, if this wasn't for Fox and the other men in the guard, Yuu wouldn't bother to risk their life like this.

And yet—

The memory of the lines of exhaustion on Fox's face and the way Stone flinched back when a Senator raised a hand swims before their eyes.

No. Unacceptable. If the Jedi won't do their job and protect the most vulnerable members of the guard, then Yuu will do it for them.

So, they roll their shoulders, rub the ache out of their neck, and focus their tired eyes back on the rows of data in front of them.

All they have to do is fake some, a lot, of numbers.

Easy.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Three weeks later, Yuu's hard work and late nights finally come to fruition. With an unexpected side-effect.

Fox shows up in their office, frantic, because he believes the new law that was just passed means that he and his brothers in the guard will be decommissioned.

For all of their intellect and cunning, Yuu doesn't often think about the people their plans might affect.

"We're going to be killed," Fox says, his voice numb as he sits in the ridiculously plush chair across from Yuu, "Why didn't you warn me about this law?"

"Because you're not going to be killed," Yuu counters, "The law dictates that 'no clone may work in a position as a guard of the senate' not—"

"We're the Coruscant Guard! That's what we do!" Fox interrupts.

"I already worked out where you and the other members of the guard will be working!" Yuu counters loudly, "You'll have more work and responsibility, but I've also managed to make it so you'll be paid—"

"Are you crazy? Little Bird, have you seen these numbers?" Fox brandishing a datapad, "People would probably celebrate in the streets if we were executed in front of them—"

Oh. Right.

"They wouldn't."

"Yuu, the numbers are right here—"

"They're fake." Yuu interrupts. Fox stops and stares at them, Yuu takes it as permission to continue, "The numbers are fake. I pretty much made up all of the information that was used to make this law."

"You...what--Why?!"

"If the Jedi won't protect you, then I will."

Fox is very still, but Yuu can see that he's furious. "By making us think we're going to be decommissioned?"

"That's not what I intended." Yuu admits.

He's quiet for a very long time, "You know, I'm not hearing an apology in anything you're saying."

Yuu presses their lips into a thin line, "Because I'm not sorry." They scan his face for a moment, "You're mad."

"I'm fucking furious," they're grateful he hasn't raised his voice, but somehow the quiet fury is more disquieting. "You manipulated us like karking chess pieces."

"I'm not going to apologize for trying to protect you from P—from the Senate."

Fox scoffs and stands, "Of course not. You're such a spoiled brat, you know that?"

"...shall I assume that you won't be joining me at the cafe after work?"

"Oh, I'll be there, Little Bird. And you're going to give me, and the other Guard Commanders, a full explanation. Or this...whatever it is we have is done. And you'd better be honest."

Yuu huffs in turn, "I don't like explaining myself, but fine. I suppose you deserve it."

"Damn right, we do." And then he's gone, the door slamming shut behind him.

[collectoroffics]

Damn Woman

AO3 Link Tumblr exclusive (for now)

Rating: teen

Warnings: blood, moderate description of injury, stitches, hypothermia | Notes: PoV third person, past tense.

@clonexocweek

I’m not 100% sure if I’ve done this right, so I guess I’ll find out.

I’ve been debating changing the PoV of Same Heart to that of an OC rather than a reader, and I figure this can be a kind of test run or soft introduction to that. If you haven’t read Same Heart (please do! I’m very proud of it.) the general idea is that the reader/ Ionne loses Echo and copes by taking an assignment as the medic of clone force 99.

At this point in the timeline, between chapters 13 and 14, Ionne has been with the Batch for a handful of weeks; long enough to get familiar with the guys, and long enough to realize that Crosshair is an asshole. What she doesn’t know is that he’s got a thing for her, but has no idea how to handle it. This is one of many conflicts between the two.

Thanks for reading and/or reblogging! I’ve got more like this one planned, if it’s received well enough.

~3100 words

Crosshair/ F! OC

Things go wrong during a mission, and despite her dislike of Crosshair, she does her job, whether he likes it or not.

————

The attack was bad, but would be survivable if Ionne moved quickly enough.

She rushed to Crosshair’s side, kneeling beside him in the snow that was rapidly changing from white to red. A cursory glance over his left calf showed that his armor had been cracked in multiple places; whatever the animal was, it was strong enough to break through his armor, which did not bode well. The broken pieces stopped her from being able to see the extent of the injury, so she quickly discarded them. It was too dark to really tell if anything else happened, but it was obvious that his leg was bleeding freely. Ionne went into a pouch on her own leg and brought out a length of thick material, wrapping it quickly and tightly around his calf, tying it off behind his knee as an emergency tourniquet.

Ionne turned to take her medic’s pack off, but before she could move completely, a loud, low growl cut through the air. Glancing around, she had no idea where it was coming from. Crosshair, though dazed, was conscious, which was a small blessing; they needed to get out of there and she wasn’t quite strong enough to carry him on her own. He sat up and tried to stand, moving his leg in the process, which sent a bolt of pain through it that was bad enough for him to fall onto his side, cursing. Despite the two of them wearing their helmets, Ionne instinctively held her hand over Crosshair’s mouth. He sat up again, but before he could say anything, she held her finger up in the universal “be quiet” gesture.

They both stayed as silent and still as possible, and when the growl rang out again, it was far too close. The hair on the back of Ionne’s neck stood on end, and she felt a pair of predatory eyes staring into her back. As she slowly reached for one of her blasters, holstered to her hips, the snow behind her crunched under a heavy footstep, and her breath caught in her throat.

The next thing Ionne knew, Crosshair had roughly knocked her out of the way before firing off a single shot from his rifle. She wasn’t sure if he had hit the creature or just scared it, but the two of them could hear it retreating into the nearby tree line. After about two seconds she let out a long breath that steamed when it hit the cold night air after going through her helmet’s mouth vent.

“Thanks,” she said, trying to get her heart rate back down.

“Shut up, there are probably more,” Crosshair hissed. She nodded at him, then got to her feet. She bent down and held a hand out to him, but he huffed and waved her away. He tried again to stand, and despite keeping his weight off his injured leg, he still collapsed before he could stand upright.

Ionne rolled her eyes, then crouched down and took his right hand, pulled his arm around her shoulders, and allowed him to lean his weight into her. He used his rifle as a makeshift crutch in his other hand, and although it was slow going, the two of them were able to get away from the area.

After a grueling ten minute uphill walk that normally would have taken just three, Ionne and Crosshair came to a stop outside the mouth of a small cave. Before going in, she looked over at him and found he was scanning over the space with the sensor attached to his helmet.

“We’re clear, there’s nothing in there,” he said, as quietly as possible. Ionne nodded at him again and she half-carried him inside.

After they both turned on their attached headlamps, Ionne and Crosshair went as far back into the cave as possible, stopping at the rear wall. She guided him into a sitting position, then knelt beside his injured leg before she removed her helmet and pointed its light directly at the wound. The improvised tourniquet seemed to have done its job, and when Ionne cut it away, Crosshair still bled, but nowhere near as heavily as he had been. Ionne took her med pack off of her back, grabbed a pair of rubber gloves, and swapped them with her regular ones.

“I need to feel for anything I can’t see,” Ionne said. Before Crosshair could react, she started to gently but firmly run her hands over his leg, pressing deeply into his skin. Crosshair grit his teeth and grunted, but was otherwise still and quiet.

“Well, whatever the fuck it was, it didn’t bite deep or hard enough to break any bones,” Ionne said. “However, there is skin and muscle damage that I need to take care of as soon as possible.”

Crosshair watched her grab a bottle of bacta spray and mist it over his torn skin, and he hissed through his teeth at the sting. He reached up and wrenched his helmet off, a sheen of sweat on his forehead despite the surrounding chill. Ionne then prepared a suture and he tried not to show how anxious he was.

“This is gonna hurt, but I have to do it now, so I need you to stay as still as possible,” Ionne said, and something about her calm but firm tone soothed his rising panic, though he’d never admit it. She looked up at his wide eyes and he nodded at her.

She wasn’t lying; it did hurt, a lot. Crosshair grit his teeth and clenched his jaw, barely able to contain a shout. Adrenaline kicked back up, dulling his pain, and he was able to control his breathing again. Ionne looked back up at him apologetically, then pulled the stitches taut, more or less forcing the torn muscle back into place.

Crosshair couldn’t stop himself from crying out as this happened, which echoed through the cave. Breathing heavily, he looked down and saw Ionne preparing another suture. He whined and instinctively tried to back farther away from her, but only succeeded in clenching the freshly stitched muscle in his calf and sending another bolt of pain through his body. He slumped back against the cave wall, panting for breath as tears of pain and exertion escaped the corners of his eyes.

“Crosshair, look at me!” Ionne said, her commanding tone grabbing his attention. “You need to let me close the skin. It fucking hurts, I know, but you’ll be fine, I won’t let anything happen to you,” she continued, maintaining unbroken eye contact with him.

“I thought you hated me,” he said, then groaned when he shifted his leg again.

“I wouldn’t go that far, though I certainly don’t like you,” Ionne admitted. “But I’d be a pretty shitty medic if I let that stop me from taking care of you. Now hold still, this is the last few stitches.”

“Just do it,” Crosshair said, speaking through clenched teeth. Ionne pierced his skin without warning and he was barely able to hold back a shout as his eyes watered over. Ionne worked as quickly as she could, and the wound was tightly closed a minute later. Crosshair was left panting for breath and grimacing against the pain.

“Hey, you’re okay; that was the worst of it, I promise,” she said, having seen this. Her voice was softer, and she rested her hand on his knee, dragging her thumb back and forth over his armor and calming him further. He couldn’t actually feel her touch, but he shivered nonetheless. To his relief, she didn’t seem to notice.

“I’ve just got to clean and bandage it up, then I’ll fuck off, okay?” she continued, and Crosshair felt a surge of guilt over her phrasing. Flustered and trying to hide it, he snapped at her.

“Good, now hurry up,” he spat.

She didn’t flinch at this, and in fact barely reacted to his harsh words in general anymore. Soon enough, her work was done. After pulling her soiled gloves off, she went into her pack one more time and shuffled forward with her canteen and a few small tablets in her hand.

“Here, take these. It won’t kill the pain entirely but it’ll be better than nothing,” Ionne said as she handed the items to him.

“That's not my canteen,” he said, but took the pills with a deep swig of her water regardless.

“I know. Yours is empty,” Ionne said, then took the much lighter container back from him. Crosshair's guilt surged again, but he said nothing.

“You should get some rest, I’ll keep watch,” she continued, her voice now tired, and got to her feet. She walked towards his rifle and he snapped at her again.

“Don’t touch that,” he spat, and she glared over her shoulder at him.

“Wasn’t going to,” she said coolly, passing it as she moved toward the mouth of the cave. “You’re welcome, by the way,” she said without looking at him, though she knew he was scowling at her. He always was.

She sat down near the cave entrance, just out of sight of the outside. She activated her distress beacon, then kept a lookout for both the thing that had attacked them and the rest of the squad.

Less than five minutes had passed before Ionne heard Crosshair softly calling for her. After a cursory glance around outside, she got to her feet and hurried over to him.

“What is it?” she said, keeping her voice low as she knelt beside him.

“Answer your kriffing comm,” he said, pushing her helmet towards her. She held back an irritated sigh, then detached the small, beeping device from the side. She clicked a button, and a wavering image came into view, lighting up the dark cave.

“Ionne, we got your distress call, is Crosshair with you? Are you two alright?” crackled through the static, but despite this she could hear the worry in Hunter's voice.

“Yeah, he’s here; I’m fine but he’s not.”

“What happened?”

“We were arguing, I don’t even remember what about, and something ambushed us. It bit through the armor on his left leg before he was able to shoot at it and scare it off.” Ionne said, and Hunter cursed.

“Shit… How bad is it?”

“No broken bones, but I had to stitch up some tears in the muscle and skin.”

“Better than dead I guess. Where are you?” he asked, and Ionne hesitated. “Ionne… where are you?” Hunter repeated, sounding worried again.

“I… don’t entirely know,” Ionne admitted. “But we can’t be more than a few clicks from where we all split up. We’re in an empty cave halfway up a hill. Can’t you trace the distress beacon?” she asked. Tech moved into view and spoke next.

“Typically, yes, but there’s a fault in the system that is causing it to malfunction. I’m surprised that you were able to send out a signal of any kind,” he said. Ionne’s heart sank, and in the background, she heard Hunter make a sound of frustration.

“God dammit Tech! The second we get back on the ship you’re fixing that; I can’t believe you didn’t say anything!” he snapped.

“My focus was on collecting data on this planet for the mission. Which, by the way, included a map of the area with landmarks like caves noted.” Tech fired back.

“Really?” Ionne said. “Do you think that’ll help?”

“The map is rudimentary, but I’ve worked with less information in worse circumstances.” Tech said, then paused for a moment. “That said, I don’t know how long it will take for us to find you. Are you somewhere safe?”

“Safe is a stretch,” Ionne said. “But we’re sheltered and there’s only one way in or out.”

“That will have to do,” Hunter said, taking over again. “Better buckle down, it’s supposed to drop into the negatives tonight.”

Ionne thanked him, then clicked off the holo-comm. Crosshair, having heard everything, huffed, getting her attention.

“And just how are they going to know which cave we’re in? You can’t expect them to wander blindly into the dark, hoping they find us and not another pissed off animal,” he said, narrowing his eyes at her. Ionne thought for a moment, then went back into her pack. She rummaged around for a few seconds, mumbling to herself, before finding a large chemical light. She took it, and a roll of adhesive bandage tape, and returned to the mouth of the cave. She cracked the light and shook it, activating it, then used the tape to hang it up outside.

Ionne turned back towards Crosshair, illuminated by the bright yellow-green of the chemical light. As she walked deeper inside, the light seemed to form an aura around her, giving her an almost otherworldly appearance. She met his eyes, and he had to focus in order to keep his heart rate steady and his face neutral.

She went into her pack a third time, then sat down next to him on his left, close enough for their bodies to touch, with two things in her hands. One was a ration bar that she broke into two uneven pieces, before she handed him the larger portion.

“You’ll need the energy to heal,” she said, her voice still soft, like it had been just before she applied the second suture to his leg. Her calm tone eased his faint anxiety, and he mumbled out a ‘thanks’ before eating it.

Once Ionne had finished her share of the ration bar, she showed Crosshair the other thing she’d taken out of her pack; an emergency thermal blanket, folded tightly into a bag about the size of a datapad. She opened it up, then flapped it out. It was large enough to cover two or three people, and she draped it over him, tucking it between his back and the wall, but left nothing for herself.

With that done, Ionne leaned back against the wall, crossed her arms, and pulled her knees close to her chest in an attempt to hold in as much body heat as she could. Crosshair watched her shiver for about a minute, then sighed, and she glanced over at him.

“Do you need something else?” she asked.

“Yeah, I need you alive, so shut up and come here,” he said, untucking half the blanket from himself and holding it open, clearly showing the space he’d made for her. She looked at him, confused.

He rolled his eyes at her.

“I’m not about to let the one who’s taking care of me freeze to death,” he said, then flapped the blanket at her. She watched him for a few seconds, then shrugged. She took off her upper kit and set the armor pieces aside, then told Crosshair to do the same. He gave her a withering look, and she rolled her eyes before explaining herself.

“It’ll be easier to keep each other warm without the plastoid in the way. Skin on skin would be better, but I know that’s not gonna happen,” she said with a smirk.

“Tch. Fine,” he huffed, then followed her lead. With the two of them down to just their blacks up top, Ionne moved in close to him and tucked herself tightly into his side before pulling the blanket back around them both.

Neither of them spoke, and in fact avoided each other's eyes. Ionne was trying not to enjoy Crosshair's warmth too much, and he was focused on how nice her hair smelled.

Eventually, Crosshair fell asleep first, slumping over and inadvertently settling his head into the hollow of Ionne’s shoulder. She froze, startled, but when he didn’t move, she relaxed. She positioned his legs over hers, being careful around his wound, pulled his right arm across her torso, then wrapped her arms around his shoulders and lower back, holding him closely. Once she relaxed, she also fell asleep, her cheek resting on his head.

Ionne was awoken some time later by familiar voices.

“You’re recording this right?”

Ah, there’s Hunter.

“Always. Why?”

And Tech, obviously.

“You know he’s gonna deny this ever happened,” followed by a snort of barely contained laughter.

And that’s Wrecker.

Ionne slowly blinked as she opened her eyes and adjusted to the change in lighting. It looked like she and Crosshair had spent the entire night together in the cave. She yawned and shifted her weight, and Crosshair unconsciously pressed himself closer to her, mumbling something nobody could make out. She smiled softly at him despite herself, shaking her head, then shifted her attention to Hunter, who was smirking.

“Cute. Now get him up, there’s a storm coming and we need to get back to the ship before it hits,” he said. Ionne nodded at him, then addressed Tech.

“I want a copy of this,” she said, gesturing to Crosshair and herself, which made Wrecker laugh loudly, which in turn, woke Crosshair. He grunted as he sat up, and when he saw everyone watching him, he quickly let Ionne go and tried to shift away from her. He only succeeded in clenching the freshly-stitched muscle in his leg and cursing loudly from the pain.

After about ten minutes, once he and Ionne had their armor and helmets back on, she changed his bandages, then tucked everything neatly back into her pack.

She held her hand out to Crosshair in a silent offer to help him to his feet, but, in a repeat of his actions in the snow the night before, he just scowled at her and waved her away. Annoyed, but not surprised, Ionne simply sighed and moved next to Hunter at the mouth of the cave. Predictably, when Crosshair tried to stand, he couldn’t put any weight on his injured leg, and would have collapsed again if Wrecker hadn’t caught him.

As everyone left the cave, Wrecker carried Crosshair bridal-style, and while he cursed and grumbled Ionne tried not to laugh at him.

Taglist: @kaminocasey @madameminor @jennamelinda12 @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @the-cantina @arctrooper69 @salaminus @jedi-hawkins @wolveria @zoeykallus @whore4rex @echo-is-worth-more-than-2000 @vanyaluxz1007 @jane8675 @griffedeloup

To be added to or removed from future lists, reply to this post.

[collectoroffics]

she's not afraid (of falling in love) (Sergeant Hunter x OC Saachi Gunder)

Saachi’s independence conflicts with Hunter's protectiveness. Will they be able to catch their bounty and make it out in one piece?

For @clonexocweek 2025!

Yes this piece is based solely off of That Outfit

Notes: Hunter is hot. That's it. That's the fic.

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, gambling, allusion to sex and attempted sexual abuse.

"Stay close, Saachi," Hunter muttered through gritted teeth, "I don't like the look of these skugs."

"I thought the point was to split up?" Saachi hissed, tugging at the leather skirt that resembled more of a belt.

"I know, but-"

"Hunter," Saachi placed a finger against his lips, "I'm not going to run off with some gambler just because you take your eyes off me for two seconds."

"I'm not worried about you," Hunter took her wrist, gently removing her hand from his mouth. He ran his fingers back and forth over his bandana, tied around her wrist like a bracelet. Hunter had all but begged Saachi to wear it, as some token reminder, like she was going off to war instead of to the club.

"I do trust you. It's everyone else in that mud hole I don't trust."

"Well, that's why I've got you watching my back, right?" Saachi took a step closer, balancing on her tiptoes inside the thigh-high boots that made up half of her disguise for the night.

Hunter's hand landed on her bare hip, and Saachi couldn't suppress a shudder. A crop top and miniskirt wasn't her usual outfit, but the indebted gambler with a 40,000 credit bounty on his head was notorious womanizer, so it couldn't hurt to tempt him.

"Easy, mesh’la," Hunter growled in her ear.

"Good thing Tech and the others aren't listening in, huh?" Saachi teased.

Hunter chuckled, his breath warm against her neck. His free hand cradled her chin, lifting her head so he could place a kiss on her forehead.

"Forty thousand credits are the only thing standing between you and me right now," Hunter sighed, resting his forehead against hers

Saachi smiled up at him, "The sooner you let go of me, the sooner we're back together again."

Hunter gave her hip one last squeeze before his hands disappeared. Before Saachi turned back to the bar, she noticed the odd way Hunter's scarf was wrapped around his neck. If it jostled too much, it would come untucked. Saachi adjusted the scarf with a few deft tugs, securing it into place. She kissed a stunned Hunter on the cheek and sashayed her way over to the tavern with purpose.

Girls got into The Lucky Rodian for free, lucky her. Hunter would have to pay a fee. Their paycheck would cover that and the fruity cocktail she ordered. If she was going to seduce the sticky fingered gambler, she was going to need a good bit of liquid courage.

It had been her idea, or at least, she'd been the first to voice it. Hunter, Tech, and Echo, all had the same uneasy look in their eyes when she suggested it. It was the most obvious plan to lure in their bounty, but none of them wanted to put her in that position, certainly not Hunter.

Still, credits were credits.

What bothered Saachi the most was the feeling of being alone, even in a crowded tavern. She hadn't gotten much privacy in the last few months. The Marauder was too small to afford much of anything in the way of personal space. There was always someone around-- Echo fixing the ship, or Wrecker working on a project, or Omega and her intense fear of being left alone.

And Hunter. Hunter, who was always nearby, whistling as he whittled something with his knife, squeezing her shoulder as she walked by, his hand cradling hers as she talked about the most recent surgical procedure she'd read about.

He was still there. She knew that wherever he was in the bar, his eyes were on her. She trusted him implicitly, he would never abandon her.

But she couldn't be thinking about Hunter right now. She needed to be focused on their bounty, and the best way to catch him off guard

Stanger Reed was at a table not too far from the bar, cards in hand. He looked a bit too relaxed for a man in debt who had a losing hand. Saachi stood and sashayed her way over as Stanger finally folded and the croupier droid shuffled the cards for a new round.

"Any luck tonight?" She asked him, dragging a hand across his shoulders.

Stanger looked up with a hungry grin, "I think it's just changed for the better, sweetheart."

He took her empty hand to place a kiss on the back, but it quickly locked around her wrist in an iron grip and gave a playful tug that bordered on greedy.

Without an empty chair nearby, Saachi was made to sit in his lap. She took a sip of her drink to hide her grimace, praying that Hunter wouldn't let his jealousy cloud his judgment. She couldn't risk looking around for him at the moment, and forced herself to settle into Stanger's lap as if she were actually comfortable. She draped her arm around his shoulder and started to play with his hair, but it was far too greasy to pretend it was anything but. She opted to massage his shoulder instead. Saachi begged her mind to focus, she needed to keep Stanger distracted from any impending danger until she could get him alone.

That thought almost made her vomit. What was she thinking, volunteering for this job? She was a nerd, she didn't know how to flirt!

She wanted to pretend he was Hunter, but that was almost more sickening than just pretending to flirt, and Saachi wasn't that good an actress.

A flash of bright crimson fabric caught her eye from the shadows on the edge of the room. Hunter stood at a table with a single glass of cheap beer, having scared off any attempts at conversation from the other patrons by looking directly at Stanger as if he were plotting every gory detail of the gambler's excruciatingly painful death.

Saachi glared at Hunter, hoping he remembered that their client specifically wanted Stanger alive. He couldn't pay off his debts buried in the Coruscaunt gutter, but he couldn't touch her anymore either. The longer Stanger's sticky fingerprints groped the strip of bare skin at her waist, the more appealing the visual became.

Then Stanger's touch squeezed a little too hard, and Saachi gasped, looking back at her target. Stanger paid no attention to her, his poker face a perfect mask of stone, but Saachi could see the excellent hand of cards he'd just been dealt.

Good, the more Stanger won, the more pleased their client would be.

Saachi feigned innocence, leaning her head against Stanger's and lowering her hand to massage his muscles. She glanced back to where Hunter had been, purely out of habit, but the table was abandoned except for the remnants of a shattered glass.

Stanger won the first round, leaving a Devaronian male and a Talz female without any credits to continue. A Wookie proudly took the second round in victory, but Saachi knew Stanger was only letting everyone else lower their guard. From what the client had told them, Stanger had a flair for the dramatics. So it wasn't a surprise when he revealed his two sylops at the end of the third round. The others at the table shouted in outrage and cried as Stanger laughed. He planted a sloppy, wet kiss on Saachi's cheek.

"Maybe you are good luck after all, sweetheart!" He said, squeezing her a bit too tight. As he reached for his winnings, he shoved Saachi to the side, splashing the rest of her drink over her arm and getting on the bandana.

"Don't worry honey, the way things are going I'll buy you a dozen more," Stanger laughed. He unwrapped the bandana from her wrist and tossed it into the shadows before Saachi could protest, already shoving his credits into his pockets.

When Stanger was finally satisfied with his collection of winnings, he grabbed Saachi’s hand again and pulled her in close.

"Wanna get out of here?" He asked. His breath was hot, and stank of liquor.

Despite her anger, Saachi schooled her face back into a simpering groupie, “Why? What’s wrong with here?” She asked, a little too high-pitched.

Stanger’s visage of confidence flickered as he looked her up and down, confused, and Saachi realized her mistake. Stanger had won, and now he wanted his prize. If he didn’t get it, things were gonna go wrong.

She cleared her throat, trying to act like Stanger had misheard her, "Lead the way, big guy.”

Stanger’s grin returned, but Saachi could see in the strain of his cheeks that it was forced. He wrapped his fingers around her wrist and dragged her behind him.

Saachi took short, shaky breaths as Stanger dragged her towards the stairs to the second floor. She knew what waited upstairs, and the last thing she wanted to do was spend the night with Stanger Reed. She needed backup, but she hadn’t seen Hunter for the last ten minutes. She couldn’t say anything without alerting Stanger, but she reached for her comm and opened a channel. Whatever he heard, Hunter would know to come. She knew he would. Saachi just had to tease Stanger long enough for him to catch up.

Stanger took the steps two at a time, and Saachi tried her best to keep up without tripping over the uneven wood planks. At the top was a hall, with four doors on either side. Stanger used a keycard on the first door to the right and practically kicked the door in before tossing Saachi on the bed.

He locked the door behind them and then he was on top of Saachi, a hand around her throat and a blaster in the other.

"Alright, sweetheart," He growled, "Who sent you?"

Saachi grit her teeth and latched onto his hands, trying to pry his fingers away from her skin. Well, she’d never been especially proud of her flirting skills to begin with.

“Who sent me? What am I, a good morning text?”

"Don't play games with me!" Stanger's grip tightened, and Saachi gasped for air.

"Was it Xizor? That rat bastard cheated at that game and he knows it! He won't get a credit out of me!"

"I don't know what you're talking about! Let go of me!" Saachi spat.

Her mind raced as bruises bloomed on her throat. Hunter was coming, she knew he was. He would always come for her, blasting through the door like some classic hero in a holonovela. She had to get away from Stanger, get some space between the two of them so that he couldn't use her as some kind of leverage. Was it going to be any use pretending that she didn't know what Stanger was talking about?

Stanger leaned in closer, and Saachi turned away so that his lips almost brushed against her cheek

"I may like the girls, sweetheart, but I'm no idiot," He grabbed her hands, forcing them up above her head. Saachi took a deep breath, coughing and heaving on the fresh air, but Stanger barely gave her room to breathe, taking her wrists in one hand and her face in the other.

“Still, seems a shame to waste such a pretty face…”

As Stanger leaned in closer, Saachi seized the moment and drew her leg back, launching the heel of her boot right into Stanger's crotch. Stanger groaned, curling around his man-parts as if that would protect him, and Saachi kicked him again, each kick pushing him farther and farther away as she desperately tried to defend herself.

There was a blaster shot just out in the hall, and the door flew open in a shower of sparks. There stood Hunter, his blaster and knife posed for a fight. Unfortunately, Stanger was already curled up in a ball on the floor, whimpering pathetically.

Hunter cuffed Stanger’s hands behind his back, making sure that he was no longer a threat, and then he sat on the bed next to Saachi.

“You alright?” He asked.

Saachi nodded, still trying to catch her breath. Her wrists were sore, but not bruised, unlike her neck. Her hair had come loose, and she tried to use it to hide her neck, but Hunter picked it up too quickly.

”Osik,” He growled, and looked back at the man on the floor. Before Saachi could stop him, Hunter was on his feet again. He brought the heel of his combat boot down on Stanger’s fingers, ripping a bloodcurdling scream from the gambler’s throat. Hunter did it again, and again, making sure each of Stanger’s fingers were nice and broken. Saachi knew that she should stop Hunter from going too far, but she really didn’t want to. She wanted Stanger to suffer for what he tried to do to her.

Stanger gasped through the pain. Hunter looked him over, clearly thinking about where else to hurt this man, but he seemed to decide against it.

“You good to stay here?” He asked, not looking at Saachi.

Saachi nodded, her hand massaging her throat. Hunter took the key card from Stanger’s pocket and tossed it to her along with his knife.

“I’ll be back,” He said, slinging Stanger across his shoulder, “Don’t let anyone else in.”

Miraculously, the door shut behind him, leaving Saachi alone.

It wasn’t completely quiet, the music from the bar below her feet thumped out of tune with the shouts of the patrons. No wonder no one noticed a couple blaster shots.

There were no lights in the room, but the window was open to let in the hazy moonlight. Saachi sat there on the bed, trying to keep her breathing steady as she ran her fingers around her wrists, trying to scratch away the itch that Stanger’s touch had left behind. She should leave, she should go help Hunter collect the bounty from Prince Xizor, she should go see if she could find Hunter’s bandana. It was just a scrap of cloth, some part of her argued, but that wasn't all it was. It was Hunter. It was a part of him, and he'd trusted her with it. And Stanger had thrown it out like it was garbage.

But Hunter told her he would be back, and she couldn’t disappoint him for a second time that night.

So Saachi sat on the bed, breathing, and watching the door.

When she heard footsteps in the hall, she leaped to her feet, knife in hand. She waited just to the side of the door, and when the door opened, she launched herself at the intruder.

When she had them up against the doorframe with the knife to her throat, she froze.

It was Hunter.

She couldn’t move. She was safe. It was Hunter. She should move. But she didn’t.

“Nice reaction time, mesh’la,” Hunter smiled lazily, unperturbed by his current predicament.

“May I come in?”

Saachi didn’t say a word. She backed away from Hunter and made a beeline to the bed.

“That was quick,” She muttered, sitting on the bed. She still held Hunter’s knife in her hand.

Hunter nodded, “Xizor’s men met me at the spaceport, but I grabbed a couple things.” He set a case– heavy with credits– on the nightstand for safekeeping. He took his backpack and set it on top of the briefcase, rummaging through the essentials he’d brought before settling on a tube of bacta gel and a shirt.

Saachi looked at the shirt in puzzlement, and Hunter shrugged. “It was the first one I saw. Thought you’d want to cover up.” Saachi took the shirt from Hunter. She didn’t need to put it on to know it was his, it was far too big to be her own, covering her hands and sitting on her more like a coat than a shirt would. She wore it anyway, rubbing the sleeve against her cheek.

Hunter poured a generous amount of bacta into his palm before turning to Saachi. He gently cradled the back of her head, tilting it to get a better view of her injuries.

She started at the first touch against sore skin, but Hunter held her steady, “Easy, pretty girl,” He murmured, gently applying the gel with his fingertips.

Saachi’s eyes slipped close as the bacta worked its magic under Hunter’s careful guidance. When her bruises were all treated and Hunter was assured there were no broken bones, his hands slipped lower, massaging the knots that had formed in her shoulders.

Saachi gripped the fabric of his shirt.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Hunter’s hands paused for a brief moment

“What for?” he asked.

Saachi’s eyes squeezed shut as she sighed, “I should have listened to you when you said this whole thing was a bad idea.”

"No, Saachi," Hunter took her hands in his, crouching down between her knees, "It wasn't a bad idea- okay, the going to a second location with an unpredictable bounty was a terrible idea, yes, but-"

Hunter froze, noticing the tears beading in her eyes.

"Saachi," Hunter cradled her face in his hands, wiping at her tears with his thumbs.

Saachi sniffed, rubbing her nose with her arm, "I know, I know, it's stupid, but...I just feel so useless all the time. You and your brothers are these amazing, black ops squad with a perfect record and then there's just me."

"And Omega," Hunter reminded her.

"And Omega," Saachi laughed, bordering on manic, “I just wanted to prove that I was good at this, that I can do this on my own without waiting for you to help me.”

Hunter pressed his lips to her forehead. “By all accounts, you had him taken down by the time I got up here,” He reminded her.

“Yeah, I guess I did. I just wish I wasn’t so freaked out about all this like some baby,” Saachi’s breathing shuddered again, and she wrapped her arms around his neck.

Hunter sat like that for a moment, and Saachi thought the conversation was done.

"When Omega gets in trouble, do you think she's useless?" He asked softly.

"What? Of course not, she's a kid."

"And I'm a child soldier bred for nothing but defending," Hunter said.

"And I'm an adult. I can take care of myself, I shouldn't need you to get me out of everything."

Hunter grit his teeth in frustration, but he sat on the bed next to Saachi, gently taking her chin in hand.

"Am I useless?" He asked.

Saachi stared at him incredulously, so Hunter repeated the question.

"Am I useless?"

"I literally just said you weren't?" Saachi said, confused.

"But I have no idea how to properly set a bone or where to begin with surgery, and you do. So, obviously, by your own logic, I'm useless because I can't perform a surgery like you can."

"It's not the same-"

"Exactly," Hunter said abruptly. He pushed Saachi's hair back behind her shoulder, "We're both good at different things. If you were as good at fighting as I was, then who'd set my ribs properly every time I get shot in the chest?"

Saachi laughed with a delighted snort, and quickly slapped her hand over her mouth.

"There's my girl," Hunter grinned. He placed one hand on the Saachi’s upper back, tracing her spine as he kissed her on the lips.

Saachi hummed pleasantly, one hand resting on his chest for balance. Her nose brushed against Hunter's when he paused to take a deep breath.

“Do you know how I felt, when I heard your comm?” Hunter’s voice was much more solemn this time, “When I heard him threatening you?”

Saachi’s throat hitched.

“I looked around and I couldn’t see you, and in this crowd I thought I’d never find you. I felt utterly and completely helpless, knowing that you were in trouble and I hadn’t done a damn thing to stop it.”

“Hunter,” Saachi whispered. Her fingers traced his tattoo, and his forehead rested against hers as he breathed heavily.

Hunter kissed her forehead again, gently caressing the hair that fell down her back. “But I knew that you were counting on me, and that was more important than any fear I felt. When I caught your scent, I ran, and found you up here. I don’t know if I’ll ever be as relieved to see anyone the way I did when I saw that you were alright.

"You're not useless because you asked me to get you out of there. That's literally why I'm here. I'd be the useless one if you tried to stick it out and I didn't do anything about it."

Hunter took a deep breath, grounding himself in Saachi’s presence.

"And…regardless of how well you can defend yourself, watching you take that guy out with one hit was hot."

"Hunter!" Saachi shoved his shoulder.

"What? I'm in love with you, I can't say you're hot?" Hunter chuckled. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her onto his lap. He kissed her cheek, lips trailing down to her jaw.

"Mmm, Hunter," Saachi gasped. His fingers trailed under the shirt, tracing patterns into her skin.

"And you definitely look hotter wearing my clothes than that ridiculous getup you had going earlier," Hunter said, his voice low against her skin.

"You're one to talk," Saachi laughed, fumbling at the straps of cloth that made a pitiful excuse for sleeves.

"Shows off the arms better," Hunter said, barely able to keep his lips from her skin.

"It certainly does," Saachi had to agree. Despite how impractical it was, no outfit was a downside when it showed off just how gorgeous Hunter looked.

She cradled his face in her hands, tracing the tattooed cheekbone with her thumb. He was here. He was alive. She was safe.

“What do you want from me, Saachi?” Hunter asked leaning into her touch, “What do you need?"

Saachi closed her eyes, listening to Hunter breathe as she began to card her fingers through his hair.

“I need you to hold me,” She said, “I just need to know that you’re here.”

Hunter wrapped his arms around her, lifting her up ever so slightly so that he could lay her down on the bed, lying next to her. He pulled her into his chest, crowning her hair with kisses as she cuddled closer.

“I’m here, Saachi,” He promised, “I’ll always be here for you.”

[collectoroffics]

Steadfast: Shadows

@clonexocweek Day 3 Conflict

Word Count: 1520

Content: Umbara arc, grief/mourning, post-battle

Mando'a Guide: Kresta attempts to say "nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la" - "not gone, merely marching far away" (a tribute to a dead comrade)

Kresta

“What the hell is going on down there?” Obi-Wan growled into the comm. “Waxer? Shiner? Come in!”

“Obi-Wan, I don’t think–”

The feeling hit her like a swift punch to the gut and left her breathless, clutching her chest. 

“Kresta? Kresta, what’s wrong? Stat!” 

She heard Obi-Wan distantly. She could feel tears beginning to stream down her face as she gasped for air that would not come. 

She felt Obi-Wan and Stat supporting her, leading her to the chair at Cody’s bedside that Obi-Wan had been occupying before he exhausted himself, helping Kresta heal the unconscious Commander. 

“I-I have to go,” she whispered. 

Obi-Wan sputtered. “What? Kresta, you’re in no state to–”

“Obi-Wan, I can feel them! I can feel them,” she breathed, desperately trying to steel herself. “I have to go to work. Now.”

Her anxious eyes caught Obi-Wan’s. He nodded solemnly. 

“Stat, you’re going to need all the beds you can spare, even with the Resolute’s medbay and what’s open in the Steadfast,” she ordered. “Send the moveable patients to their quarters, those who can should form a triage squad. I need to borrow a comm; mine is broken, and I need to get my men to the surface now.”

⫷⪡◈⪢⫸⫷⪡◈⪢⫸⫷⪡◈⪢⫸

Fluke

Something wasn’t right. The comm channels were too quiet for the active fighting on the planet’s surface. His leg bounced rapidly. 

He should’ve heard from Kresta by now. 

Get it together. Someone would tell him if something went south with Cody, wouldn’t they?

Finally, finally, his comm beeped. 

“Go ahead,” he said, hoping his desperation for news didn’t seep into his voice. 

“Fluke,” Kresta’s voice came through. She sounded… tired. 

“General! Is Cod–”

“He’s going to be fine, but we’ve got to get down to the surface,” she said, the usual lilt to her voice replaced with urgency. “I’ve got Stat setting up a triage squad and clearing all the beds he can–”

Fluke jumped out of his desk chair, walking swiftly towards the bridge. “After yesterday’s casualties, we’re nearly full up–”

“We’ll hopefully have the Resolute’s bay, but I can’t get a signal through to Kix.”

Fluke’s hands flew across his datapad, sending the orders ahead. “I’ll put Sig on it, he’s–”

“Our best comms tech,” she finished for him. “How are his slicing skills?”

“Top notch, but do you think–”

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this, Fluke,” she said, her voice hinting at that anxiety. “I’ve got to go; I’ll meet you at the 501st’s HQ to coordinate with General Krell and Rex.”

“Captain,” Trace, the nav officer on duty, greeted as he walked through the bridge door. “We should be able to land in about 5 minutes.”

“Thanks, Trace,” he nodded, dismissing the man. “You hear that, General?”

“Loud and clear,” Kresta answered. In the background, he could hear the various clicks of buttons and switches as she prepped her fighter. “I’ll see you soon. Be safe, Captain.”

“Yes, sir,” he replied instead of his usual sarcastic remark. 

The call ended, and Fluke shoved down the urge to comm her again, just to hear her voice and reassure himself that she was safe.

Get it together.

He shook his head. Kresta could take care of herself. She was a hell of a fighter, and this protective streak of his was only going to cause problems in the long run. 

Fluke had long been used to the sounds of his brothers in pain. Groaning, shouting, and gasping for breath were all normal for him – as horrific as the thought was. What he hadn’t expected when he arrived with his men on the ground on Umbara was the relentless echo of his brothers crying. Some were practically sobbing; others emptied their stomach into the dark flora surrounding them.

He ordered his men to assist the efforts already underway from Stat’s triage unit. His eyes scanned the endless sea of white and gold and crimson until… there. His eyes locked onto a small huddle of their sea-green armor, and he briskly made his way to them.

“Wilde,” he breathed, allowing his relief to fill his voice as he caught sight of his twin’s blond curls.

Wilde looked up at him, and Fluke stopped in his tracks. His twin had always been better at masking his emotions than Fluke had been, but he could see the tracks of tears through the dirt on his face. 

“What is it?” he heard himself ask, his voice sounding distant.

The group of his men, he realized, were gathered around a brother. These few had all been part of the 212th before the 763rd was formed. He wrenched his helmet off as he dropped to his knees next to his batchmate.

“H-hey Two-One,” Shiner breathed, cracking a smile despite the pain he was obviously in. “Cap-captain.”

Fluke’s brain finally caught up to him, his eyes and hands already taking stock of his injuries.

“Why the hell isn’t anyone doing their damn jobs?” he growled at the few gathered brothers. “Rowdy, get–”

His order was cut off by Shiner's hand grabbing his wrist, his mismatched eyes staring with a kind of quiet sympathy. He realized suddenly the tag strapped around the strap of his old 01’s armor. He had a blue tag.

Unlikely to survive. Ease pain unless supplies are limited. 

Wilde’s hand landed on Fluke’s shoulder.

“Time to go, boys,” Shiner coughed. Fluke tried to ignore the blood that flecked onto his lips. “–mission’s… over.”

Fluke sat there too long. Wilde ordered the others away to do what they could for the ones who stood a chance at survival, taking charge. 

But he just sat there too long, selfishly stealing time to process this brother’s death. Gripp and Ram had died on worlds far away. The last time he saw them was their graduation and he’d silently wept for them in the quiet of the barracks. But seeing the light fade out of Shiner’s eyes, knowing that he was here and there was still nothing he could’ve done? That was going to stay with him.

“Fluke,” a soft voice called him. His shoulder felt heavy. He blinked up at the person speaking to him, eyes unfocused. “Can you hear me?”

⫷⪡◈⪢⫸⫷⪡◈⪢⫸⫷⪡◈⪢⫸

Kresta 

Wilde was waiting for her as she climbed out of the fighter. “Sir,” he nodded. 

“Talk to me, Wilde,” she said as he led her through the makeshift camp they’d set up.

“Everything is moving smoothly, General,” he told her. “The triage squads have worked their way through everyone who made it back here, and the green tags are assisting each other with first aid as best they can.”

“Numbers?” she asked, despite wishing she didn’t have to hear them.

Wilde sighed. “Too many, sir. At least two hundred red tags, about four yellow. Three hundred green tags and another three hundred blue tags.”

Kresta sighed, mentally whispering a short prayer to the Force to rest their souls.

“We had twenty men on the ground,” she said. “I’m glad to see you unscathed.”

“Thank you, sir,” he nodded. “All but two of us made it back.”

A shiver seemed to run down his spine, and Kresta decided not to press for detail for the moment. “Where am I best utilized?” she asked, already starting to roll her sleeves up.

“We’ve got a tent set up for you on the side,” Wilde said, though his tone shifted to something uneasy. “But…”

“What is it?”

She watched his helmet shift as he looked over to the sea of bodies, following his gaze to the one trooper in the field who was still somewhat upright.

She felt her heart seize as she hurried towards him.

“Fluke, can you hear me?” Kresta asked, brow furrowed in concern. Her captain was on his knees next to a dead trooper from the 212th, seemingly dissociating entirely. His face turned up towards her, looking hauntingly empty.

She grabbed the scanner from her belt, lifting the trooper’s left hand. She pulled gently at the sleeve of his under-armor suit, scanning his wrist.

A holo appeared in front of her with the trooper’s face, status, and number. CT-7177.

Understanding poured over her as she recalled that number.

She heard Wilde’s footsteps as he came up behind them.

“Shiner?” she whispered, looking up at him. 

Wilde pulled his helmet off, tucking it under his arm as he nodded. His face was drawn into a carefully practiced blank expression, but his eyes looked like he was drowning in his unspoken emotions. Fluke’s held the same.

It was going to come out roughly. She’d had practice, but she’d never been quite as nervous to say the words before now. Not before kneeling in the dirt as a pair of twins mourned their only other remaining batchmate.

“Nu k-kyr’adyc,” she whispered as she stood. “Shi taab’echa–”

She was cut off by plastoid hitting her chest, nearly knocking the wind out of her. It took her a moment to realize that Fluke was hugging her, holding her tightly against him. But as her brain caught up to her, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. 

She wouldn’t be the first to let go.

⫷⪡◈⪢⫸⫷⪡◈⪢⫸⫷⪡◈⪢⫸

⪡ Previous Day Next Day ⪢

Thanks for reading! - River

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[collectoroffics]

A Lupe Of Faith (aLoF) | Fives x Lupe

Clone x OC Week 2025 | @clonexocweek | Day 3: Conflict

Read a snippet (SFW; full chapter is NSFW) below the cut

After the 501st's return from the Umbara Campaign She couldn't help but chuckle, before curling herself against him. He wrapped his arm around her, softly caressing her skin as they both regained themselves from their intimacy. “I'm glad you didn't let me spend the night alone,” he whispered with a sigh. The heaviness in his words made her wonder if there was more to them, and she took the opportunity to continue their earlier conversation. She heaved herself partly on top of his chest so he couldn't evade her this time, locking her gaze with his. “Fives, you know you can tell me anything. Please- Please don't let your mind dwell on these thoughts in solitude,” she said softly, almost begging him to share his troubles. He tried swallowing the lump in his throat, his free hand reaching towards her to tuck a strand of wild hair behind her ear. “Oh mesh’la..” “General Skywalker has used some questionable tactics in the past, but at least he- He always stood with us, cared for us, trying to get as many of us from harm's way. But Krell.. He was something else, definitely,” Fives started, swallowing again before continuing. “It was not just his words, it was the way he treated us; making us feel inferior and expandable. How he used Rex's loyalty to keep us in line, to control us. It-It came so easy to him.” Lupe stared into Fives’ eyes as his gaze slid away from hers, his mind wandering on both his spoken and unspoken thoughts. She reached for his face and started caressing his goatee with her fingertips. He wet his lips before continuing, contemplating his next words carefully. “He, er- He spoke about a new power rising and how a new order would rise when..” He slightly shifted his face away from Lupe, uncomfortable of speaking the words out loud so close to her. “When the Jedi have lost the war and the Republic has been ripped apart from the inside.” Lupe swallowed as she took in his words. “Do you- Do you believe those words?” she whispered at last, blinking her eyes as she kept them straight at Fives. He sighed deeply. “I used to have complete trust in the Jedi, but after Krell.. Who knows what else is lurking in the darkness.” A shiver ran down her spine. After a moment, she distanced herself from him; not because she took his words personally, but because of the way he had spoken them. Fives tried to catch her, to pull her close again, but she was too quick. She sat down, her legs crossed, as she pondered over his words. With a sigh, Fives heaved himself upright and sat down beside her, making a wild gesture with his hands, stammering, but he couldn't find the words to emphasise his current feelings. At last, out of powerlessness, he started: “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-,” but Lupe shut him up by putting her fingers on his lips. “Fives, none of this is your fault,” she assured him, hoping with her whole heart he'd believe her, that he wouldn't blame himself for anything. A cautious smile appeared on his face below her fingers, as she was still holding them on his lips. He took her hand within his, and gently put a kiss on top of it. Her heart warming in an instant, she managed a smile again. “Wish all the Jedi were like you and the General,” he whispered, peeking into her eyes from behind their holding hands. Lupe started laughing at the idea. “That would result in the most chaotic army in history.”

Read the full chapter: Tumblr | AO3 aLoF masterlist: Tumblr | AO3

Note that some chapters of this longfic (including this one) contain NSFW content!

[collectoroffics]

Clone x OC Week 5:

Future for Alpha and Nim...?

This is a itttty bit spoiler for chapters a head and tbh I was really hoping I had posted them getting to their home before I posted this...but *gestures wildly to the bullshit in my irl* sooooo 😅

Since I'm not done writing ToL...I figured it was best to not put myself into a corner for an ending I might not have. So think of this more of a "what I want to make happen" rather than a "this will for sure happen". Because I liked the idea of this being their 'ending' but...I don't know where the chapters will take me. Because of this - it's framed as a dream

To those who haven't read...this is a pairing between my oc Nimue Nitou (Half-human, half-zabrak woman who worked as a nursery aid on Kamino) and Alpha-17 (who was on Kamino teaching cadets, and in this fic has a batch of "boba-sized" boys he's in charge of)

@clonexocweek

Warnings: Kinda spoilers but its nothing terrible 💜 otherwise...its a little jump-y but it *is* a dream sequence so it's meant to be. Spoilers of the names of some of the boys 😅

Alpha was sitting inside the house, having been reading the latest report on the war and where it was likely to head next. Thankfully it was still far away from their secluded planet. With a content sigh, he stood and set the datapad on his chair.

Following the sounds of chaos, he stopped at the doorway leading outside to see the boys all running around and having fun.

He could spot a few of them in the garden hunting for some vegetable or herb that was ready to pick, a few wrestling with Dare and Tidus watching carefully as the younger boys rough housed. A few were climbing a tree a bit further off, Velkan steadying Frankie on his shoulders as he tried to chase after Caleb in the tree. Lastly Trysten was reading by the fence with Oliver and Benny, the latter of the two fast asleep against him.

His gaze turned to find his wife sitting at the bench outside their home with Gil and Nakko with her. His smile deepened as he began to walk over.

He watched the boy with longer curls animatedly talk her ear off while the younger of the two kicked his legs back and forth. It was at noticing these descriptions that he noted the boys all looked older. They hadn't grown that much that quickly...had they? Was he really not paying that much attention??

He continued to walk up to the bench and upon settling up behind, he leaned over to kiss his wife's cheek.

Nimue turned her torso a bit with a bright, loving smile - her eyes sparkling with happiness and adoration

"Finally left the house huh?" she teased "Everyone's having tons of fun"

Alpha nodded, but his eyes locked onto the bundle in her arms. Onto the light coloured fabric wrapped around a little body. His gaze followed the folds of the cloth to settle upon pale tiny fists and a chubby cheek. Parted lips let out soft noises as the body wriggled from time to time before his eyes met a similar grey-green gaze with little lashes and whisps of dark plum hair.

His mind faultered for a moment, he didn't remember a baby. Not one that looked like this anyways...

The little girl's big eyes stared up at him expectantly and all at once she was in his arms - he was holding her. No longer did he notice Nimue beside him, no longer did he hear the boys playing...his attention entirely focused on this little girl in his arms.

She cooed and wriggled, seemingly very enthusiastic at his holding her.

Confusion melted to compassion and amusement at the little one's actions and Alpha found himself holding her close to his chest within moments. Her tiny body held in one arm while his other hand was occupied with the strong grip her delicate chubby hands held fast to him.

She was just so tiny and perfect. Although the moment that thought crossed him mind, a more confused one bubbled up - why was he so attached to this little one? And her to him?

He turned to ask Nimue...when his gaze met with the inside of the house. Back in the livingroom he'd just been reading about the war.

Alpha glanced about for his family and was confused further to find them missing.

"I guess we're looking for them, hmmm?" he asked the baby and smiled in response to the loud gurgly giggle he was awarded

He walked to the kitchen and poked his head within...nobody was there... Then he made his way up the stairs.

He found himself checking every one of the boys' rooms only to find darkness. Eventually, he found himself heading back down the stairs and to the very last dweeling he'd not checked. His bedroom.

Opening the door, he found his wife settled in bed, her hair loose and flowing over the edge of the bed towards the floor and a datapad on her lap as she yawned

"I was wondering where you two went" she smiled sleepily "You know, when you said you would be right back...I figured you were going to make her sleepy - not rile her up"

Alpha stared in confusion then turnt his head back towards the baby in his arms

"Alright, give me back my only daughter" his wife softly demanded with a huff, her arms outstretched

His head snapped up in surprise but somehow he felt calm about the situation, as if it were a normal every-day fact...and found himself walking over then handing the baby girl over.

Nimue smiled at the baby and kissed her cheeks, first the right then the left and giggling as the girl squirmed

"Buir didn't help you sleep at all" she complained to the baby "Makes Mama do all the hard work"

The baby squealed loudly in excitement and Alpha let out a snort at the sound

"Don't encourage her!" his wife gasped then shook her finger at the baby "You know better young lady"

Despite her "scolding" it was very much so playful in nature and was followed by pulling the girl to her chest

"You going to stand here and watch your daughter eat or are you coming to bed?" Nimue teased staring expectantly yet amused at him

"Uh...right"

Alpha quietly settled into his side of the bed and watched his wife and this supposed daughter for a few moments insilence. Watched as she fed the baby girl, burped her and then settled her between their forms in the bed

"Such a spoiled little thing" Nimue teased softly to the now sleepy looking baby "Your big brothers Gil and Nakko don't even bully mama and Buir to sleep in their bed like you do"

Alpha laughed softly and laid back in the bed, turning to look down at this tiny little thing and try to understand the level of warmth and fulfillment he was feeling in this moment.

Everything felt perfect - too perfect...

But as he watched as Nimue sang softly and patted the baby's belly, gently lulling the baby to sleep, his own eyes drew closer and closer...until they closed.

"Alpha"

"Mmm? I'm awake still" he grumbled, fighting his eyes awake as he sat up again.

His brows furrowed as he saw the dark-dim space of their bedroom on the ship. He followed his gaze until he landed on Nimue beside him. Her own face showed she was only half asleep as she pulled the blankets back

"I think they boys passed out on the other side of the door again"

Alpha huffed

"They're too big to try and sneak back in our bed. They'll just crush her"

He watched as Nimue opened the door and the four youngest boys tumbled in - not a single one of them bigger than a four year old nat born.

Confusion bloomed across his mind as he watched her tow the four to their bed and the boys sleepily crawl to him and snuggle up closely. He quickly looked to the spot between his and her side of the bed to find it empty

"What are you doing?" Nimue asked with a yawn "There wasn't a bug in the bed was there? I want it dead if there is - I'm not risking an infected bite when we still haven't formally met the medical professional in the village yet"

"Huh...?" he squinted at her

"We've-" she yawned "-only been here for a week...I'm still a little worried about the boys and a medic...but we need them to understand the sit-"

"Nim"

"Hmm...?" She hummed in confusion

Deciding it was best not to explain his weird dream, he rolled his eyes softly and shook his head

"Nothing" he then kissed her cheek and pulled the blanket up around their sons to make sure each of the little boys were warm "Go back to sleep...I'll tell you some other time"

"Mmmm...you sure...? I can stay awake" she mumbled, her words already growing further a part

"I'm sure," he confirmed quietly as he settled back into the blankets "It can wait for now"

ToL Masterlist

ToL dividers by me

Reblog divider by dystopicjumpsuit

[collectoroffics]

Clone x OC Week

@clonexocweek

Sunny: Female Mechanic from Coruscant who accidentally fell asleep on the Batcher’s ship while making repairs.

They are called away to a battle and she is still there. This is one snippet of what happened. I have another story of conflict, but can’t find it at the moment.

OC x Wrecker

CW: battle, blood, injury.

———-

Sunny ran behind them, hoping to get closer to camp. They had only run a few yards when a mortar exploded next to them, sending Sunny and Wrecker flying through the air.

She was oddly quiet while she was thrown through the air and turned upside down. Time stood still and she could see the sparks from the explosion, bits of dirt and earth as they flew with her. She could see Wrecker’s hands outstretched as he tried to reach for her and past that she could see his tanned skin, the whites of his good eye as he gazed at her, his mouth clamped closed in determination to reach her- and then she pummeled into the ground and everything went dark.

Wrecker landed on his back, knocking the air out of him. There was a ringing in his good ear, sounds becoming muffled as he turned over to stand up. “Sunny!” he more felt than heard himself yell. He crouched next to her body, seeing dirt and soot smeared on her skin and coveralls. She lay limp and lifeless as he swept dirt off her face. “Sunny? Come on, wake up!” he said. He felt her neck for a pulse and found one and then checked to make sure she was breathing. He gave a sigh of relief and then unceremoniously picked her up and placed her next to a crate. He had to help his brothers and knew others would find her. She was more than likely just stunned from the blast. He took off with his Dc-17m, and started blasting droids. The clones and native soldiers in the camp were getting blasted and losing ground. With a few well placed charges Wrecker was able to hold them back. Crosshair was already perched on top of a tank, picking off droids one by one. Finally there was a calm silence as all the droids were defeated. Small fires were smoldering as ash settled on the camp. Wrecker checked in with Hunter. “You good? I need to check on Sunny,” he said.

Hunter nodded as he walked towards the command center. He needed to talk strategy with the Colonel in charge to set up better early detection systems. Tech was running calculations of what exactly would be needed and the numbers did not look good.

Echo went with Wrecker as they walked to the medical tent. Wrecker grabbed the first medic he saw and asked, “Have you seen a mechanic? Female, dark hair, and deaf?”

He shook his head “no” as he rushed off to help another patient. Concern was painted on his face as he looked around at the people rushing around. Wrecker was facing the wrong way when Echo tapped his arm and pointed at the back of Sunny. She had just exited a medical tent and was looking for someone. Wrecker took broad steps and laid a hand on her shoulder until she turned around.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere! Are you ok?” He signed frantically.

Sunny grabbed both his hands to quiet his questions, and held them to her chest, kissing his gloved knuckles. She lifted his arms to place around her as she hugged his chest, not caring how dirty they both were. With surprise written on his face he hugged her back, resting his head on top of hers, glad she was safe. She closed her eyes and let out a sigh, knowing she was safe in his arms. They held each other for a moment and then Sunny stepped a little bit aways from him and began to look him over. She lifted his arms, checking his sides, looked down his armored legs, and then placed both her hands on the sides of his face. She ran her hands down his arms and found some blood dripping in between his plates. She pointed to it and signed, “Let me help you.” She took him by the hand and led him to one of the medical stations. She motioned for him to sit in a chair and he obliged, setting his pack and blaster on the ground. “Where is your hearing device?” Wrecker signed. Sunny pulled the device from her pocket and showed Wrecker it was crushed. She shrugged her shoulders as she had Wrecker take off his gauntlets. She inspected the gash and didn’t think it would need stitches. She wouldn’t want to do them herself anyways. She noticed Wrecker began to bounce his leg in nervousness and she placed a hand on his arm to calm him. “You don’t like doctors?” she asked him.

“Yeah. It wasn’t a good experience,” Wrecker said as he pointed to the scarred side of his face.

Sunny nodded in understanding. “Me either,” she mouthed as she pointed to her ear.

She finished applying bacta and wrapping up his arm. “Let’s head back to the ship. We have to go on our next mission, but we can take you to the Republic cruiser,” Wercker said.

Sunny began to walk back to the ship and Wrecker placed his arm over her shoulders to bring her to his side. He was relieved she was safe, but sad he had to see her go.

[collectoroffics]

Clone x OC Week Day 1 : Introduction

Pairings: Solé x Crosshair Rating: G / SFW Words: 1,092 Warnings: Order 66 Mention, brief mentions of grief, absolute second hand embarrassment (please my girl is a disaster I love her)

Synopsis: Solé is doing her best to adjust to life on Pabu, but after her life was turned upside down by Order 66, all she finds herself wanting is to go home to Naboo. Until she meets someone who might be even more out of place than she is.

@clonexocweek Thank you for hosting this event!

Pabu was few little pieces of the familiar wrapped up in a galaxy of unknowns. She had tried to adapt. Adaption was key. With enough work to keep her busy and on the verge of exhaustion she had found a way to accept the life happening around her. For better or worse. But she couldn’t shake the sense that it still wasn’t home. It wasn’t Naboo.

With foods she understood and soil that didn’t fight her every time she tried to grow a plant. Every simple thing she had taken for granted, every smell and sound and taste, was left behind on a world she didn’t recognize while she tried to pick up the pieces of her life. Solé shook the thoughts away as she strode into the marketplace. No, here is where I am. And that’s all there was too it. The marketplace was just as unfamiliar as the rest of Pabu, a breath of Naboo whispered by in the sunshine that fell along the stalls but the wares in them, the foods and trinkets, all refugees of another world left her feeling hollow. Her appetite had been growing thinner by the day and as someone who studied nutrition and food for a living she knew she would have to put her anxieties away and at least try to eat something.

She had been on Pabu for a few weeks, thrown by earthquakes, threatened by the Empire she was trying to escape, and finally a relative peace had settled. Solé wished her shaking hands and anxious heart would see it the same way. There were more refugees now. Like her, but not like her. Clones who had been betrayed by their leaders. By their own bodies. Shep had explained it all to her when she wasn’t able to face them, clued her into the truth of what had happened when he had brought some of them to her as patients.

Soldiers, battle weary and heavy, they seemed to adapt faster than her to the light buoyant atmosphere of the island or they would shuttle off to help the cause. The cause was something so vast that Solé had trouble really imagining it. A part of her ached for it. Ached for answers to what had happened. Esteemed senator dead, chancellor so different than he appeared, and the Jedi…her heart clenched and she thought of the brother she had known as a child. Such a bright eyed boy. The galaxy was a vacuum now sucking away anything familiar and leaving her…here.

It was silly really, but Solé could almost feel it was the Force that made her look up towards that one particular stall. A slender man was standing very still in front of the stall that was selling some sort of fruit that looked deceptively familiar to her homesick heart. The man was standing with stiff shoulders, scarring on one side of his head, and though he wasn’t as sturdily built as the others she could guess right away from his military bearing that he was a clone. He was looking between the fruits, a scowl deepening the lines around his mouth and brows knit together. He picked one up with his left hand, examined it, put it back.

He looked as out of his depth as she felt on that particular afternoon. “Do you need a hand?” Solé approached on instinct, it wasn’t her way not to help someone especially if it had anything to do with food. He didn’t respond at first until Solé sidled up next to him, repeating her question.

The man turned to face her fully and a fierce blush colored her fair skin.

Hand.

He only had one. Her earlier words ricocheted around in her head like a stampeding Shaak. One eyebrow raised and his brown eyes were full of caution, if not down right irritation. Solé did what she always did during confrontation or embarrassment. She made it worse.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean a hand in that sense—I meant do you need any help? Not that I don’t believe that you’re capable of helping yourself because of your disability—“ She was willing herself to just stop talking, she really was. Whatever other gibberish passed out of her mouth was put to a mercifully abrupt stop.

“Crosshair! Did you get everything?” A young blonde girl, bounded up to him and when his attention turned Solé took it as the opportunity that it was.

She wouldn’t necessarily say she ran from the situation, but she was at her little base — she couldn’t call it home — with her back firmly pressed against the closed front door, cheeks still burning from embarrassment before the pair had been able to turn back to her. Angry tears stung the corner of her eyes and she rested her closed fist against her forehead before running the thin braid she kept in her hair between her fingers. She tried to summon up some Jedi saying, something her mother had always whispered to her in times of distress to remind her of her brother, and came up short. All she could do was resign herself to a dinner of leftovers from the conservator and try to forget today had ever happened.

By the time Solé woke up the next morning the sting of embarrassment had lessened, at least partially. She had repeated the scene in her mind enough times, assured herself that it was a perfectly understandable accident and vowed never to make eye contact with that man again. Everything was fine.

After brewing a pot of caf, pouring the hot water from her kettle slowly over the ground beans and admiring the rich scent that reminded her of a thousand late nights and early mornings, she went outside. The sun was bright and she vaguely wondered if she had overslept again when her foot hit something on her tiny garden path.

A bag.

A bag full to the brim of yellow fruits with dimpled skin. Solé stooped and spied a note tucked into one side. She drew out the piece of flimsi and unfolded it as best she could with one hand as she took a sip of the still too hot caf.

‘Looks like you were the one who needed a hand. Ironic.’ Solé’s face burned even redder than it had the day before, but this time there was a smile too.

Author's Note: I'm so excited to be posting things for Solé finally! I've been developing her as a character since November and getting to share her is so exciting! Hope you enjoyed reading their first meeting <3

[collectoroffics]

asking to be your valentine

anakin skywalker x gf!reader

creds to: roseraris for dividers!

the coruscant sunset painted the jedi temple’s halls in shades of amber and gold, but you couldnt focus on that. your mind was elsewhere, more specifically on the message you recieved on your datapad earlier; “meet me in the gardens, after twilight. - a”

you knew you shouldnt go. attachment was forbidden by the jedi code, something both you and anakin had sworn to uphold.

yet there you were, feet carrying you towards the gardens while your heart raced faster than a podracer. the gardens would be empty at this hour, most jedi having retired to evening training or to their own quarters.

you found anakin near the ancient force sensitive tree, its leaves shimmering with a faint blue glow. anakin skywalker, your boyfriend, stood with his back to you, his dark robes swaying gently in the evening breeze.

”i was beginning to think you wouldnt come.” he said, turning to face you with that half smile that always made your heart beat faster.

“anakin… we could get caught..” you whispered, glancing around nervously. “if the council-“

“the council isnt here, sweetheart.” he interrupted, closing the distance between you in two long strides.

from within his robes, he produced a small crystal, no larger than your thumb. as he held it up, it caught the fading sun, splitting it into a thousand rainbow fragmants that danced across your faces.

“i found this on our last mission to ilum,” he started. “the force… led me to it. it isnt like other crystals… watch.”

he closed his eyes, concentrating, and the crystal began to glow with a warm, pulsing light that matched the rhythm of your heartbeat.

“it responds to emotions,” he explains, his blue eyes intense as they met yours. “the ones they want us to ignore and forget. but, i never wanted to ignore them. not for you, darling. so…”

he grabbed your hand and placed the crystal in your palm, closing your fingers around it. “will you be my valentine? away from the council’s eyes?”

the crystal warmed in your hand, its light growinf stronger with your warring emotions. this was everything the code warned against - attachment, passion, love.

but as you looked at anakin, the vulnerability behind his confident façade, you knew your answer. “yes,” you nodded. “but we have to be careful, ani.”

his smile could have lit up the entire temple, and you couldnt look away if you tried.

“i learned something else about the crystal…” he said, gently taking the crystal back.

with a slight gesture, he used the force to split it into two perfect halves, fashioning them into small pendants. “now we each have one. when you miss me, when you need to feel close, just hold it. it’ll pulse with both of our heartbeats.”

as he fastened one of the pendants around your neck, his fingers lingering perhaps a moment too long, you felt the weight of your choice - both its danger and its beauty.

this would have to remain your secret: stolen moments in empty corridors, meaningful glances across the council chamber, and now, these matching crystals, beating in time with your hearts.

“happy valentine’s day.” anakin murmured, his forehead resting against yours for just a moment before he stepped back, resuming the proper distance between two jedi.

in a galaxy full of rules and orders, you and anakin had carved something that was purely yours - a love story written in secret, told in heartbeats, hidden from all but the force itself.

[collectoroffics]

I remember first reading this chapter! Always loved how realistic Talia’s self opinion was, and how much you could relate to her.

Clone X OC Week Day 3: Conflict

Captain Rex x Jedi!OC Talia Riva from Illicit Affairs

Whenever you have a Clone x Jedi relationship, conflict is inevitable. The clones' creation was in preparation for conflict, Jedi train their whole lives how to handle conflict in different ways. The war itself is a setting of conflict, so when I wrote Rex and Talia I always looked at different ways for it to play out. There were a lot of action sequences, but there were also arguments that come up naturally in relationships or even internal conflicts. Talia as a character consistently struggled with her identity among the Jedi, how she never felt like she was good enough especially in comparison to Anakin. For today’s addition to @clonexocweek, I wanted to include  a little snippet from a chapter of Illicit Affairs, where Rex’s proximity to Anakin and Talia on a mission brought this to a head:

Segment Rating is Mature, but overall fic is Explicit 18+

The Theseus System was located on the borders of the Mid and Outer Rim. Much of the system was uninhabitable, but it was home to Vakarus, a gas giant vital to much of the Galaxy’s Tibanna supply. Most commercial ventures preferred to trade with the mining colony on Bespin to fuel their hyperdrives, but in war time the control of such a substance could mean life or death for many star systems. The base on Vakarus was under Republic control due to pre-existing treaties, but the Republic had lost contact with the station a week ago. All signs pointed to a Separatist occupation, which left a hole in the Republic’s resources, which set them back in the war. The matter of taking Vakarus back wasn’t as simple as a simple siege; not only did they not want to risk damaging any of the mining facilities, but the planet’s orbital atmosphere also provided an unfitting atmosphere for attack. Vakarrus was surrounded by an asteroid belt, some of which operated as fueling stations or refineries to boost the business from the planet. These larger asteroids orbited the planet in enough of a frequency that they could be safely plotted between, creating a reliable path to the planet for smaller vessels, but taking a Republic Star Destroyer through the mass field wasn’t possible. With Separatists controlling the system, they had wasted little time setting up their defenses around the planet, including on these asteroid stations orbiting the planet.

Rex had been studying the map for a better half of the morning, memorized which stations were most heavily fortified and knew this would be a heavy battle for the Republic Navy, which was already decimated much at this point in the war. Ground troops wouldn’t see much of the action here, until the final siege of the base, but Rex still took it upon himself to be involved in the planning. That left the job of navigating the field, retaking the stations and coordinating the squadrons to Talia and Anakin.

“Our plan of attack is straightforward,” Talia announced to the briefing room as her eyes darted over the holographic map. Rex watched as she took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders, and returned her gaze to Anakin, who stood at the opposite end of the table. “We follow the nav path through the stations, bombers targeting out the Separatist anti-spacecraft artillery first then fighters following the path the take care of the Separatist forces. We take a methodical approach, station by station before we reach the mining facilities on Vakarus.”

Anakin’s eyes narrowed at the path lit up at Talia’s motions, “That could take days, time we don’t have on our hands.”

Talia frowned at him, but kept her composure, “It will take more time, yes, but we can’t risk a harsher assault and worse damage to the stations. And our destroyers can’t navigate through that asteroid field without blasting the stations.”

“Yes, we can’t risk damage to the stations, but if we take an alternative route,” Anakin started, pulling up a wider graph on the planet. With a wave of his hands, he highlighted one of the larger asteroids on the far side of the planet. “Our scouts reported the main Separatist stronghold, outside of the planet’s defenses, is on the asteroid IX-10. I’m suggesting I lead a squadron to the asteroid, if we knock out their defenses and comm systems we can clear a path straight to Vakarus for the rest of the fleet.”

“It’s ambitious but too risky,” Talia answered bluntly with a shake of her head, “You’re an amazing pilot and I’m sure you’ll get through unscathed, but your squadron will face heavy losses just navigating that part of the field. It’s not just the asteroids, the orbital pull of the planet is too strong, and there’s the debris of previous ships who have tried and failed. The shields of our basic fighters would be breached with a simple nudge.”

“And your path will cause just as many, if not more losses, by the time it takes you to reach Vakarus,” Anakin insisted. “Once the first station is attacked, the Separatist forces will be on high alert, reinforcing each station in the path. If we cut off the comms from IX-10, we’ll also cut off their ability to reinforce the stations.”

Talia exhaled loudly, planting both hands on the table as she leaned over, “Only if enough of your ships even make it there to take it out; this plan works best if we have the full force of our fighters coordinating the attack-“

“And the best way we do that is by splitting the field,” Anakin cut Talia off, his arms crossing as he stood his ground. “Besides, if we take IX-10, then we have a straight shot to the facilities on Vakarus. Your squadron should arrive just in time to back us up.”

Talia’s eyes flashed as she pushed herself off the table. She paced around, her tongue in cheek as she took in the charts. Her eyes darted to Rex with an expectant look, who now shifted uncomfortably in his boots. “Captain Rex, what do you think?”

Rex’s grip fumbled slightly on the helmet under his arms, his eyes leaving Talia’s face to example the map one last time in hopes it would help him find the proper words.

“The idea to approach the system station by station is a sound one, Sir” Rex started, each word level. Talia’s mouth opened as if she were about to confirm her correctness with Anakin, when Rex continued, “But General Skywalker is right, we stand the best chance by focusing on the station at IX-10 first. Plus, we’ll have the element of surprise if you attack the first depot, they won’t be expecting fighters to the main hub that quickly if they think we’re only attacking via the main route.”

Anakin nodded at his Captain then glanced smugly back at Talia. Rex returned the nod, before glancing back at Talia, who was avoiding his gaze and pursing her lips as she read the maps in front of her.

“Fine, we’ll do it your way then,” Talia said tensely, reorganizing the fighter rotations on the map to portray the dual assault, then she turned on her heels and exited the war room.

“D3, see what you can reroute to boost our shield regenerators,” Talia addressed the little droid buzzing around her starfighter as she sat in the cockpit. She had just gotten off a comm with Captain Storm, informing him that she would rendezvous back with the 412th before the cruisers made the lightspeed jump that would bring them into the Theseus system. Something she wouldn’t have had to do if they were coordinating the attack together as planned. Storm had caught the frustration in her tone when he commented positively on the plan, but Storm knew better than to press her on it now. At least before the battle; she was sure he would question her later.

The hangar was crowded with clones prepping their stations; engineers fueling up the fighters as Anakin and Rex briefed a group of pilots. Small squads for ground support were loading up dropships, and munitions were being carted around. Talia’s starfighter was just finishing fueling, and she was going through her own final checkups before departing. The perks of being on a different ship than her command was that she could usually maneuver in the hangar without being interrupted. Her fingers tapping along the control panel, she was impatient to leave this cruiser already. She just needed D3 to finish up and she could get out of here.

“General, do you have a moment?” Damn, she really should have closed the cockpit. Rex slowly stepped up to the side of the fighter, his eyes darting around them before returning to her, an imploring look on his tired face. With a sigh, Talia pushed herself up to step out of the fighter. Rex offered his hand to help her down, but she purposefully ignored it, calling on the force to guide her more gently as she jumped down.

“Yes, Captain?” She addressed him with a bit more rudeness than originally intended. At his furrowed brow, she turned to examine her ship, grabbing a rag and pretending to try and wipe off a blaster burn that had been there since the start of the war.

“You’re upset.”

Talia almost snorted. With all his keen skills of perception, that was all he could come up with. Still, she tried to hold in some of her bitterness.

“No, why would I be,” she answered a little lighter, turning around to face him again, her back leaning against the fighter. Rex always had this look as if he was trying to read every emotion on her face as he glanced at her, his honey eyes slightly narrowed at her still tight tone. He exhaled and glanced over his shoulder once more before continuing.

“I’ve served with General Skywalker for a long time, I know his plans can be risky but they always accomplish our goal,” Rex addressed simply, his tone softer than it would usually be talking about battle plans with her. “Besides, this way, there will end up being less heat on you and your men, making it a little safer-“

“I don’t need you diverting troops just for my safety.” Talia’s clipped tone came back as she couldn’t hold her glare.

“That’s not what I meant.” Rex held his hand up as he backtracked, “I just mean that while your squadron will have a harder run at the first depot, you’ll have less losses overall once the hub falls.”

“Yes, I know you agree with Anakin’s perfect plan.”

“I never said it was perfect, I agree it has its faults, but I trust General Skywalker with my life,” Rex retorted, his own words a bit short. ”And putting me on the spot between you two isn’t fair.”

“I wasn’t putting you on the spot, I was just asking for an opinion on strategy!”

“Which is fine, but you’re getting upset just because I don’t agree with you!”

“It’s not- that’s not it,” Talia sighed, trying to soften her gaze but she was still tense, her stomach gutted. “It wasn’t fair of me; I know, his plan makes sense in the larger scheme.”

Rex frowned, about to take a step closer but halted. “Then what’s-?”

“He just always has to show me up, doesn’t he?” Talia declared irately, pushing off the fighter. Before Rex could question her further, she snapped at him, “Do you know what it’s like, no matter how hard you try, no matter how good you are at something; there’s always someone better? That’s how it’s always been with Anakin. He showed up to the Temple, and in his first month mastered things that I took years to learn. He even already had a master, something I had to wait another three years for. No matter how hard I train, no matter how many battles I win, Anakin is always one step ahead of me proving he can do it better.”

She had to turn her head to the side, avoiding his eyes as she fought off the frustrated tears that prickled in the corner of her eyes.

“No one thinks that-“ Rex started, his voice soft and measured just to be interrupted this time by a huff of sarcastic laughter that Talia couldn’t hold in.

“You just picked his plan over mine; you know it’s better! And I know the Council thinks of it that way,” she continued ranting. “I mean, how could they not when they have their ‘Chosen One” to compare everything to. General Skywalker, leader of the Republic’s finest troops, compared to Talia who lost all her men on a recovery mission.”

“Talia,” Rex said lowly, eyes round in concern as he approached as much as he dared. “No one blames you for that; it was out of your control.”

Talia wiped her eyes with the back of her forearm before any tears could fall. She tried to turn away, but Rex gripped her forearm, only to drop it as a group of pilots patrolled by. With one last glance over his shoulder when they passed, Rex breathed in, stepping closer to Talia, and speaking even lower than before.

“Look, Talia. I love you. I’ve seen you do unimaginable things, and have seen how much your men respect and trust you. General Skywalker’s skills don’t take away from your own.”

Talia opened her mouth to spew off more arguments running through her brain when Rex took his chance to cut her off, his voice still calm and measured as he attempted to reassure her, “And just because I agree with him on this, doesn’t mean I don’t think you’re a great leader too.”

The kneading feeling in her gut subsiding a bit, Talia looked into his face again, into the calming honey of his eyes as he gazed back at her, the true image of support and admiration. She was about to express her thanks when footsteps approaching caused her to step back.

“You ready for this, Captain?” A clone with a standard crew cut, but an elaborate design of a nebula on his chest plate called out as he approached; Talia recognized him as Broadside, one of the pilots from Anakin’s Shadow Squadron. Fives strode by his side, his eyes rolling until they landed on Rex and Talia. Fives glanced at Talia, raising a brow, to which she just softly shook her head signaling not to worry about it.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Rex exhaled slowly, a slight irritation clipping his tone as he turned to face his brothers. Fives walked to his side, and nudged him in the side with his elbow.

“Told you before, Broadside, Rex can handle anything you karbakarse can,” Fives emphasized with a slap on his Captain’s back. “A few asteroids won’t change that.”

“Wait, you’re piloting on this mission?” Talia’s head snapped to Rex, her eyes narrowed as her heart skipped a beat.

Rex opened his mouth to explain but he was beaten to the punch by Broadside, “Just a fun competition between vode, and Rex here stepped up to the plate.”

“You’re piloting?” Talia repeated, not even masking her frustration. Broadside didn’t seem to notice, but Fives’ eyes were darting between Talia and a now tight-jawed Rex.

“I can handle it,” Rex answered stiffly, his face clearly saying to not press it more at the moment. But Talia didn’t care to, she didn’t have the energy to say all the words running through her mind at how reckless this was, on any mission save one this dangerous. Was it worth putting himself in danger just for some bet between brothers? With how Fives and Broadside were teasing each other, it seemed the concern was only in her mind, but that didn’t ease her irritation. Without another word, she turned back to her ship, and climbed back into the cockpit.

Rex turned to her, his mouth opening as another tired expression overtook his face, but she closed the cockpit before he could get them out. The men stepped back as she was signaled ready for takeoff, and she couldn’t fly off that ship fast enough.

When Talia was in the black void of space, she realized Rex had said he loved her.

[collectoroffics]

Heart Breaker Superstar

Entry to @clonexocweek - 02.12.25: Conflict | Event Masterlist

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Summary: News of the Osk'arr Awards held this year! As the hottest talk of the year yet, Commander Wolffe is reported to have taken Nic Erlonna’s plus-one invitation, so we'd be expecting the couple out on the red carpet during the event! Not only that, we might be expecting some unstaged drama after all – Nic's former Pantoran boyfriend, the charming and multitalent Shon Vatore will also be present due to his nomination this year! Tags & Warnings: drama, Oscars awards parody, fictional Oscars after party, swearing, mentions of sex, love dilemma, both character pov monologues in the beginning, feelings realizations, alcohol drinking, suicide, side character death Pairing: Wolffe × Nic Erlonna (OFC Muse Actress) Word Count: 12.1k A/N: Soooo much drama and I hope you can bare with me in this one 😭 we'll be seeing Nico's growth (if you can call it that) and Wolffe calling her out several times (will be so much fun for y'all I bet). Nico be lookin' hateable at this point I'm glad it conveys 😆😆 I hate (love) her too so much. If you catch my reference for Nico's after-party dress 👀 do scream at me in the comments. Mind the tags and enjoy this one!

𝑯𝒐𝒘 𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝑰 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒚 𝒊𝒏 𝒂 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒄𝒂𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒆?

— I'm Tired - Labrinth, Zendaya [X]

Nico had quite an eventful week.

Starting from getting notified for yet another nomination for Best Supporting Actress this year. There was, of course, a tiny celebration for it that involved champagne at first, before taking her core team down to Arrabel’s, the ultra-exclusive club in the most luxurious heart of Coruscant. Wolffe was away somewhere in the galaxy, location unknown to her. But she excitedly broke the news to his commlink anyway, which he'd receive when he’s within Coruscanti atmo.

So that'll be his following invitation as her plus one to the event. PR team has been working overtime in preparation to brief the commander in his next leave. A trip to one of the fashion houses with the aid of her primary stylists – he's got to come, too. Nico spent hours upon days brainstorming with her team for both of their outfits, because Wolffe wouldn't give a shit for that.

While the big event such as the Osk'arr Awards itself overtakes most of her agenda these days; at night, Nico can't bring herself to sleep peacefully, and it's not even about the awards.

It's been months since their supposed relationship, and she's not gonna lie; it's been working. They go out to clubs and restaurants, putting on a show for cameras either hidden or in plain sight or right in their faces. They lace fingers. They hold hands. They smile at each other. They share a kiss in public. She's making him a bit of an actor. All that, and Shon is finally driven out of the spotlight. The Pantoran hasn't been heard of again, save for his cinematic creation being nominated for this year's Best Live Action Short Film as well. Other than that, nothing else. It was even just a small portion of a column.

Remember the ship tag her Zabrak manager pitched in once?

‘Nicolffe’ overtakes the gossip columns in every single article in the holonet. Gushing over just how comfortable they are around each other despite their career differences. Throwing in cheeky opinions. Even squawking about political impacts.

Everything is centering around her and the commander.

Clones are attractive – that is a fact. Wolffe's physical features, not to mention his build that's more muscular than any other clones she's met, baited her infatuations at first. A bit of obsession, perhaps, especially since he's too easy to pick fun of, but he's not that easy to catch off guard, though. And don't even start about how amazing he was at sex.

And she likes it bad, and every single time always leaves her yearning for more too, y'know? 

A bit… wrong… to say, due to the circumstances.

But she can't just get him out of her head, no matter how cliché that sounds.

This is totally different than how she felt with Shon.

Out for a crappy holomovie in the theaters, he presses her body close to his side. Out for dinner, he lets out as much as a chuckle during conversations (it sounds lifeless because c'mon he's a commander with half-assed concealed hatred towards anything in general). Out for caf, he grabs their order while she finds seating.

Wolffe is passive in their outing. He doesn't speak first unless spoken to. He lets her lean on him. He lets her kiss him for the show, doesn't kiss back. He leaves her to her own, giving her as much space (because the wish is mutual). Outside, he just… lets her do whatever she wants. But once inside her apartment, it's either violent retorts or hungered kisses or ruthless ruts of his hips, never gentle, driven out of embers of vengeance he never seems to fully quench.

Turns out treating his designated boyfriend assignment as merely a duty is seemingly the right thing to do.

Though he's no longer obligated to military duties during leaves, it doesn't sit right with him. Nico understands. It's something about how their programming is as a clone, one of the Wolfpack boys told her once. He's obligated to duty and nothing else, so even Wolffe decides for himself that he'd get on-call duties, kitted up during leaves and standing by in the headquarters, either in his office or in one of the war rooms with his Jedi general.

Nico understands now. What she asked of him, to be a casual boyfriend, is too much. Overwhelming. Stressful. One thinks war is stressful, but once someone pushes you into a pool without as much as a warning, surely they're not gonna like it. Civilian lifestyle, too liberal and carefree for someone too dependent upon order, is uncharted territory – not just for Wolffe, but for all the clones. Though some may be tempted to live such lives, duty is their first love; to fight for freedom and to protect the good there is in the galaxy.

Nico’s grown to tolerate his reactions. She understands.

And now she wants to mend whatever there is.

She's starting to feel so fucking soft for Wolffe and she hates it. And she'll hate it even more if she's not acting on her dilemma soon. She can't annoy the absolute shit out of him now, consideration needs to be taken into account because surprise, she's starting to feel. She's starting to feel like she'd better lose her own challenge against Wolffe. Less ‘see how he acts’, more ‘see how I act’. The only challenge there is is against herself – how she'd handle Wolffe's obviously negative reciprocation.

Call her nuts, call her stupid. The affectionate gestures are publicity stunts to wreck Shon's reputation in the entertainment industry even more since the Pantoran is also famous for his toxic behavior other than being a fellow A-lister. The affectionate gestures are merely acts. The fake affectionate gestures aren't supposed to make her feel shit that's prospectively romantic.

With that, plus the need to just annoy the hell out of the clone commander with her confession that's been simmering on the tip of her tongue making her burn for him, expecting him to just reciprocate mutually even if he looks like he hates her guts… Isn't that just toxic itself? 

Yeah.

Yeah, great.

Just great.

With cybernetics, Wolffe isn't keen at all at being photographed. The stinging pain thanks to camera flashes hits him like a kriffing speeder. Not quite PSE, but it's damn close.

Upon the red carpet, he can only hold as much as three seconds without grimacing before turning sideways and making candid small talks with Nico for the camera (because turns out it does count as a pose – that's not shit and rigid – for someone as unfamiliar with the media as him) and letting his other eye be the victim of the night.

Force, when the thirty-second timer runs out and the handler ushers him out of the spot so they can take solo shots of Nico, it gets impossibly worse that he has to turn around. The clicks of the camera get noisier, and the amount of flashes are more concerning than previous moments and it's reflecting.

He closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose throughout the whole ordeal. Even the handler glances at him concerningly for a split second before refocusing on flash interviews that now take place.

“You've been wearing grey lately, Nic. Any special indication?”

“You know I do. This specific shade of grey is the markings of Wolffe's battalion, the 104th.”

“How's it going in the GAR, Nic?”

“Discretion, please. I won't do GAR questions. As its official patron, I do my best to keep the entire proceedings a secret. All you need to know is that our tireless soldiers still fight for the Republic, and you should give your utmost appreciation to them.”

“Nic! Spill your haute couture piece today!”

“A-ha! Now that I'll do!”

Nico wears his colors tonight.

The piece is mostly sheer and flowing light silver shimmersilk. He just can't keep his eyes off her plunging keyhole neckline that reveals her milky soft skin, the plains that he touches with either his hands or mouth so many times. Add to that a dark grey section of the shoulders and up to her collar that features dramatic, firm ruffles, also of the same materials with added embellishments.

The sleeves are slightly flared, forearms adorned with sequinned dark grey zigzag pattern that resembles his markings on his armor. Silver bleeds into the same shade of dark grey gradiently at the bottom of the shimmersilk skirt, her leg jutting out through one daring thigh slit as she pulls flawless poses with either a classic smile or sultry look to the cameras.

Wolffe bears his outfit from the same fashion house as well. Formal suit jacket, the lapels short, firm, and raised, and pants in the same shade of grey. His whatever hundred credits turtleneck barely reminds him of the ole reliable GAR body glove for obvious reasons. Everything on his body is provided and planned through, it has Nico's handprint all over it.

As a soldier, he always does what's sufficient to be done; stand rigid with chest out and shoulders straight, speak out his input where needed, acknowledge his superiors, care for his brothers, lead his men, put the other's needs first before his. He's never expected to mingle and make small talk – which isn't new because he's been undercover in one of Fox's senate ball security detail ops on a whim a couple of times, yet it's still completely out of his lane, he's never expected to be social. Long haul conversations caught him off guard, but to his dismay, Nico's there breaking the ice.

Her hand around his arm is warm. Her air exudes confidence that bleeds into him and melts the tension around his shoulders. He's never been this relaxed around so many people. He can't exactly be let loose and mingle on his own (he doesn't know who the kriff any of these people are but he can't exactly grimace on that y'know). She leans into him, throwing him one of the girls-in-a-bar ‘you okay?’ eyebrow raise language, to which he either nods and glances the other way to get out of the pathetic small talk they mutually agree on that it's starting to get boring.

Most of them are movie questions. Nico's arena. Some of them are clone questions. Wolffe's arena.

But she basically sets up a close radius perimeter on what's allowed and not allowed. With these people never interacting with clone troopers, the questions are straight jabs to the heart, and Wolffe makes sure he sends enough glare as he answers curtly without providing more context.

But some of those are public information, either written down in hundreds of military acts or by courtesy of some loose mouths that eventually make its way to the holonet. When the questions are getting critical, Nico plays it down with something like ‘GAR discretions’. Being respected as she is, they merely ‘oh’ and ‘ah’ and smile in understanding.

And that's how Wolffe finds out that she's protecting his privacy.

Nico's hanging around a lot with the boys. While he's occupied with last minute reports, she parks herself either in the hangar or the mess hall or the 104th common area. Sometimes accompanied with their moonshine contraband, sometimes with hers, sometimes with one of those iced drinks and fruity slushies and snacks. He suspects she's learning most of their secrets from the boys, and if it doesn't give any indication, she's hiding the fact from him well enough. He never asks anyway.

Some of those may be sensitive. He knows Nico might know. She never brings it up, cleverly, and she's protecting it, clutching it close to her chest and not letting anyone snatch it away from her.

There's something about how tender she looks at him nowadays. The check-in questions are gentler, the banter is losing on her side more, the abrupt gift giving efforts are dwindling now that she asks first to make sure he's comfortable with it first, and not forcing it onto him.

She grows so out of character and it catches him off guard. Or is it her character all along?

It's as if she's trying to mend things. To apologize for getting him into the mess. To make up for it by constantly checking in and making sure he's comfortable in the new zone. Things aren't said yet and he's not a good people reader, but things are crystal clear on her part. 

Wolffe’s always been a firm man. If he's not hearing it, then there's nothing. Even if his eyes can see it, looks can be deceiving. He needs to hear it first to believe it.

Until then, he'll just let himself drift in the warmth of her hand, how alluring her perfume is when he leans in to whisper his personal remarks for her ear only, how intricately done her platinum blond hair is that it frames her face like a gold and silvery halo, how confident she is throughout the evening, how glowing she is when she strides up the aisle to the podium to receive Best Supportive Actress of the year, and how passionate her supposed appreciative peck to his lips is before she does, even though it's just a split second.

He can feel it.

He's never felt this complicated before in all his short life.

With the invitation to the after party and second set of outfits waiting, the ride back to their assigned hotel suite is mandatory, and tense.

Neither of them even catch each other's glances. Neither of them are pressed up against each other in the backseat of the lux speeder. Neither of them is talking.

“Can I… scoot closer?”

Ah, jinxed it.

Wolffe turns his attention from the outgoing traffic outside his side of the window to find a hopeful look laced into her countenance, her makeup remains sharp after the several hours long event.

Sighing softly, he nods.

The ruffled fabric of her dress makes a rustling noise as she does, their thighs barely touching each other as the space between them subsides. Suddenly warmth seeps into his hand, only realizing that Nico had taken it in hers.

“I just want to say thank you for doing all this,” she says, her voice lowered, and even with the middle partition of the speeder providing a soundproof and private space, Wolffe already suspects it's not about privacy at all. “I understand it's gotta be stressful for you with all that sitting and mingling stuff.”

“It's fine,” he replies, “It passed.”

The corner of her lips twitches into a small smile of acknowledgement. There are remnants of resolute contemplation in her olive green eyes. “Usually,” she begins lightly, “I’m making it too for the second after party, but I won't this year.”

How the initial briefing missed this astounds him. “There's a second after party?”

“Goes into early morning hours,” she confirms. “Not gonna make it,” she reiterates as her eyes soften, “Not after you just came home from a campaign yesterday.”

Home.

Coruscant is not home – Kamino is, where neverending thunderstorms and rolling waves bring peace and rest to his heart. Being on Coruscant only serves him as a reminder that there's rough work of being a soldier to be done, and that means no peace and no rest.

“I don't wanna tire you out either,” she continues.

Wolffe draws a breath. “Since when you're this considerate?” Her hand on his squeezes upon instinct at his sharp tone. He blinks in realization, and sighs. “Why don't you just go? On your own,” he mumbles finally, “M’returning to the barracks right after, anyway.”

“You are?” she perks up, her tone and brows rising in surprise. “You don't wanna stay for the night?”

Honestly it's tempting. Every time he does, it always ends up with him butt naked under her covers and waking up to her alarm in the morning after. The plan to fuck the life out of her late until 0100 is currently sitting in the back burner. Missing it out, after she’d been adorned in his colors for trillions of people to see, is just plainly insulting.

He refocuses on the event.

He sighs again. “Depends on how late this one’s gonna be.”

“A few hours,” Nico says, reiterating the usual schedule, “Then we go home.”

There's the word again.

What's home here, actually? Her home is a lux suite apartment where she resides alone and everything in possession is hers and hers alone, while his is the barracks that houses his entire battalion as a whole. They've been to each other's home. The barracks is not hers, just as much as her apartment is not his.

Wolffe breaks away from her gaze. “You should go.”

“Don't wanna.”

“Why?”

She shifts uncomfortably, her shoulder finally pressed against his. “It just… doesn't feel right.”

He turns sharply. “What do you mean?”

Nico throws her gaze downwards. “You're not with me, that's what I meant,” she says firmly, the pad of her thumb lazily caressing his knuckles. “Doesn't sit right with me.”

Wolffe sees her right through. “‘Cause your ex's gonna be there?”

She looks up at him sharply. “That, yeah,” she mutters sheepishly, “For the most part.”

“Bodyguard duty,” he chuckles humorlessly under his breath, his chest constricting with hurt and betrayal, and so he snatches his hand away. “Got it.”

Gods, she's never been gifted to speak out her actual feelings, isn't she. She can pull fabricated PR shit with a smile and tons of confidence, but pouring her heart out to shape an actual vocal confession? Absolutely not.

Pain strikes her chest at Wolffe's gesture, his hand retracting swiftly from her gentle hold.

There goes her effort to make it smooth. Well done, Nico. Back to square one, or square zero or whatever.

He had turned away from her, but her silence now drives him to return his attention to her. She swallows nervously, and her lips part in the hurt. Nico is sharply aware she's very out of character, and Wolffe is probably expecting a snarky remark out of her, yet none comes rolling off her tongue. Her mind's blank from any jokes and jabs, only one thing in her mind.

Kriff, she's never done this before. The Pantoran dick of an ex had been the one making the first moves and instantly (stupidly) charmed her. Not her.

“You, um.” She clears her throat. “Okay?”

Wolffe looks at her. “Really?” he scoffs. “Do you even know how these things work?”

She cringes internally. “I have other things in my mind.” Kark she hates how small her voice is, how embarrassing that is. “Sorry if I look weird tonight.”

“Yeah?” he openly challenges, fully turning his body to her, even propping a folded leg on the seat in the endeavor, the entire act catches her off guard. His expression hardens, the amber and white of his glare boring down on her. “I have other things in mind too. Offer a credit for my thoughts, come on.”

She stares at him in disbelief. A sharp exhale through flared nostrils before she sasses, “Fine.” She allows herself to cross her legs. “Credit for your thoughts, Commander?”

Wolffe nods in mock contemplation. “You wanna know how I work, Nic?” He holds his chin up high, his voice raised. “I analyzed a series of intel before I got deployed to wherever I'm needed. I pieced puzzles together and called the shots, relaying orders to my men and getting the job done, completely relying on communications. Now – you wanna know how I think you worked?”

She's not an idiot. The resentment towards the arrangement is palpable, he makes sure constantly the message is gotten across like a blaster bolt through the head, hoping as if it would enlighten her somehow, but what could be done? The direct order by the Chancellor's office – by her sole request – is keeping him from bailing out entirely. While the authority is hers partially to whether to put in a request to call back the order, she's for sure as hell not letting him go.

“Okay. If that's all this is about,” she mutters sharply under her breath. One glance at Wolffe and he's still glaring at her disapprovingly. Ah, so that's bad. What she wouldn't give to dump a bucket of ice water over her head right now. “We… had a rough start and I know that. You never wanted this. And I was selfish.”

Wolffe huffs. “Glad to hear you said that. Fucking finally.”

“But your efforts never go unnoticed,” she hurriedly says, “How you act out in public. You're doing well. You're following and doing all you can despite the arrangement wounds your pride and reputation as a commander–”

“Kriff’s sake, Nico, don't be fucking passive aggressive when you're doing one of these!” he snaps, making her flinch and her emotional bowl tipping over the edge. “Don't they teach you at your natborn school about social manners or something? You're good at some of those shit, but you can't even truly be fucking sorry for once?”

“Kriffing–” she stops herself, glancing away. Meeting his hard glare again, Nico swallows her pride momentarily, nostrils flaring. “You really wanna hear it?”

Wolffe scoffs in disbelief, shaking his head. “That’s not something you should've even asked, you flarging idiot.”

The insult stabs her through her brain. Must've been satisfying for him to see her hurt expression, but not for her pride resurfacing again, her actual apology with the s word forgotten. “But I've done that!”

“When the kark you even did?”

“First day I met you at HQ,” she proudly states, remembering the words as clear as day, “I did say I'm sorry.”

“Yeah? My bad then, woman. Must've forgotten because of how ingenuine and unserious that sounded. You couldn't even read the room to save your ass.”

She's supposed to be immune to rejection, but no. Not this time. She can feel her heart plummet to the bottom of her stomach, passing through the physical plains of her body and onto the seats, through the speeder and getting crushed in the passing traffic. The sharpness in his sarcasm only adds to the damage, it makes her sick and just…

“For your insensitive brain, it means it didn't count,” Wolffe harshly adds, exasperation radiating off his tense shoulders. “So stomp down your pride and ego and actually apologize for once with your conscience. How the fuck are you even so terrible in apologizing and unable to actually regret what you've done?”

“I’m sorry!” she blurts out, unable to hear it anymore – fuck, it feels bitter and it doesn't even feel right on her tongue.

Another scoff. “No you're not.” Wolffe smiles at her. And just like that, her heart fractures at the unmistakable hurt in his eyes. “‘Cause you're doing this just for yourself and your own benefits, you just don't care how other people might have reacted when you call the shots on your own. You regret nothing.”

“But I–”

“Your methods were wrong. There was no communication at first. Could've reached out for me and talked first. Everything could've been done in an hour before you got to decide everything. Thought you'd know this. I'm a clone, Nico! I fight in wars in which I am a commander, a strategist – you know that I resent going in blind!”

It triggers her freeze response.

Fuck, why is he valid?

Nico knows her actions hurt him, but– kark, she's so stupid. Wolffe’s right, she's an idiot. She’s thrown her initial consideration on his part out of the airlock – she's been so careless. She couldn't see how far the damage has worsened, how many fractures there are in his hard exterior just because she's hurt him. She'd been seeing him as merely property for her to use, and she's on top of the world with her riches and powerful influence.

And now, Wolffe is Wolffe. Not a property, but a man with a sense of duty. Frequenting at the army headquarters changes her views. They are just as human – just as capable of receiving mistreatment that it's their only right to lash out with anger bursting off the seams of their patience once they've had enough disregarding what they actually feel about it.

It makes her less human than they are. Than he is. Makes her cruel and unthinking.

“You’re right.”

The words come out quicker than she would've liked. Admitting her mistakes had been easy like brushing dust off her shoulders, like simply calling out sorry after an uncalled act or blurting out the wrong line during shooting. It's autopilot, but again, every zine defining her as the most perfect human is always a single punch to the gut…

Because she's not.

The vast difference and crushing realization only make her feel terrible that her eyes start to sting.

“It's just that… I just wanna feel safe. Living like this, safety is never guaranteed.”

“I get that,” Wolffe says, his head propped against the headrest of his seat, his gaze piercing into hers. “But why not anyone else? Hire more bodyguards? You have everything in your disposal and you're not using it, you're using me instead.”

“I–” Nico shakes her head, the guilt eating her wholly now, “I admit that was exactly my intention.”

“You’ve told me that,” Wolffe snaps, “Look deeper. Why?”

Nico swallows, looking down at her hands. “I was attracted to you. Infatuation, I think,” she admits meekly, voice growing smaller, an apparent shame among the quietness of the speeder they're in. “And that you'd do perfectly for the scenario. Trust me, I wasn't even thinking about it until the next morning. Titus just shoved it in my face and I agreed.”

Wolffe breathes hard. He casts his gaze away from her. “Still your fault, Nico.”

“Wolffe, please,” pleads her broken voice, fingers clenching down upon her own as she's restraining from reaching out for his. “If we're looking for someone to blame, we're not gonna finish this conversation.”

“Don't have anything to say,” he states grimly, “But you do. You should have.”

It's only right he's demanding a wholehearted apology. After all she's done to him.

But she can't help but think how much safety he radiates from just… being here with her. Or anywhere, with her. Through the short time of attempting to get to know him, Wolffe has a big heart. He cares for his brothers’ wellbeing, him looking out for her although subtle is nothing but instinctual. And now; chastising her, to make her see, to make her feel like a humble human being. Weird that she's getting all that from a clone – although human, they haven't been around long enough to feel what it's like to be human.

It's what's making her feel all… these familiar feelings. Blossoming warmth inside her chest every time she thinks of anything of him in appreciation. Despite the neverending jibes towards her choice of career or choice of clothes. Despite the disapproving looks thrown her way. Despite every click of tongue indicating his dislike of things.

He still looks out for her.

“If I'm granted one wish to have in my entire life, I'll choose safety over anything else...”

She needs him. With all her heart.

“...and you make me feel safe, Wolffe.”

Love is his greatest fear.

And not without a good reason. He's been plunged into deep and dark places once he placed his heart on people that he loved, but then they were taken away from him. So abruptly. Abregado. So tragic that it hurted him for quite a time – a clone replacement for him was due because of his inclining mental health, but Plo Koon fought for his part. He was permitted to see the mind healers at the Temple, and he was brought back up to his feet in no time.

He no longer is awake inside his own nightmares, but the fear remains ever present – looming around his person behind an invisible mist, hazy yet the shadow is there, ready to pounce yet again and claw at his vulnerable core.

Love brings nightmares.

That's why he only seeks for temporary comforts – meaningless one night stands only to feel just a harmless smidge of it, but never letting himself to fall deeper as he always manages to turn his back on it. Always. But it seems, not this one – not with Nico.

He lets himself fall this time.

“That's not what you want to say.”

“That's not what you want me to say,” she contends, “I said what I wanna say.”

The genuineness and determination laced around her words strikes him with fear. Nico's eyes, captivating olive green that normally glints with smugness and mirth, now shine with unmistakable tears. Nico is pleading. Wolffe misses the way her hand feels on his with sureness. She's restraining herself. To reach out for his hand, to tell him further of how she's feeling even though she's undeniably shit at that.

He's grateful she makes no further move.

“Stop it.” And so all he can do is to pull up his stoic mask yet again. “You and your feelings. You shouldn't, Nico.”

Her face falls, twisting into one of rejection. “W-what?”

“I know what you're doing,” Wolffe drawls out, managing to hold himself back to glance away so he maintains eye contact. “I lost my eye and got a cybernetic replacement. Doesn't mean I'm blind.”

“But… why not?” A drop of tear, once gracing her waterline, finally breaks free and cascades down her fair cheek. Nico draws a shaky breath, the sound fracturing his heart even more. “This came out of my conscience like you told me to, alright? Though the circumstances were already shit since the beginning, I just… I just I can't help it, Wolffe – I like you.”

“Just stop, Nic.” His throat closes in, failing his words and making the opposite meaning of it threatens to peek through his blatant lie. “We can't.”

“No. I want to hear you say it, too.”

One is with fear of rejection, the other fear of losing. One is desperate for the other’s love and affirmations – the other for a way out. One simply wishes to love under certainty, the other wants absolutely none of that– oh, how he wishes he wants absolutely none of that.

Just how fucked up can they be?

Nico breaks a shaky sigh. Both hands come up to scrub at her face, but stop midway as if remembering she's in a bunch of makeup. She sniffles instead. “We don't have to be fake… y'know?” Her strained voice breaks even further. “We can have the real thing too. And I know you–”

“Listen to me,” he cuts in abruptly, and what's going to come out of his kriffing liar of a mouth is indefinitely cutting him into pieces, “What you're feeling is none other than infatuation. All that bantha shit. I know what kind of people you are. Once you people kick off a relationship, all you're feeling won't be valid after a couple of weeks. You're just hurting people that way.”

She visibly shudders.

“You're afraid I'd hurt you?” she breathes.

Shit, he slipped.

“You ever been in a relationship before, Wolffe?”

No, he wants to say, yet his defenses sprout out high and tall from the earth as he retorts, “You ever been in a good one?”

Nico lets out a broken noise that sounds like a near scoff. “Touché,” she remarks tearfully, “But I wanna learn. You can, too. I'm open and resourceful as kriff, no one's gonna stop me. The only thing in my way ironically is you.”

He feels another pang to his heart.

“You know I think you're doing?” she murmurs, “You're shutting me out. Why are you shutting me out?”

Wolffe gulps before forcing a scowl on his face again. “Isn't that what I've been doin’?”

A growl rumbles in her throat, frustration dripping off her along with her tears. “You've been doing the opposite, you jerk.” Both hands shoot out to grab him by the lapels of his jacket. “You look after me. You care about me. You're physically so close to me. You never do that.”

He merely stares at her, fists clenching by his side as he grits his teeth. Huffing breaths against his face. Her makeup is nearly breaking apart from her breakdown, fierce olive green orbs boring down into him threateningly as if he's one of the hell's fiends that broke loose and got into her life. Even then, he can't deny with every fiber of his being that she looks so fucking beautiful. Emotional dam broken through, pride stomped over. A goddess so damn glowing and vulnerable and pretty when she cries, begging for his reciprocation and for his wings of promise and safety cocooning around her.

“So I swear to the gods,” she chokes out, “if that's only an act and not something else…”

If the previous moments haven't broken and crushed him through and through already, what he says next is.

“That's all an act, Nico.”

“Yeah?” she challenges, her voice hissing, the glint in her eyes almost manic. “You stay a little longer after every time I kiss you in public. I pull away first.”

He looks at her as if obvious. “If I do it won't look good.”

“You climbed into my bed.”

“Too tired. Too late.”

“You kissed me when we're having sex. Passionately. I could feel it.”

“Got lost in the sensation.”

“Gods, Wolffe, I've never heard fouler bantha shit in my whole life!” she yells, shoving him away. A sob escapes her lips – it takes everything for him to not break apart as well. “Wanna guess who's infatuated now?”

One thing about it that's wrong.

It's not infatuation.

It never is.

Swallowing his dread, he leaves everything unsaid and without reply, his apathetic mask remains intact, even with all the downward surges of his heart, the pain of it all pooling inside his chest. Wolffe yanks out his handkerchief and hands it over to her.

“Save your tears,” he says, voice low and careful. Nico stares at him blankly, reddened eyes brimming with tears. “Won't be good for the media.”

Their fingers brush as she takes his offer, the electrified touch a salt to his wound.

Maybe he should be the one apologizing as well?

From the corner of his eyes as he'd sat upright again, Nico dabs her tears carefully, the handkerchief twisted to shape a pointy end to catch them. Before he can utter anything else, the speeder jerks slightly into a stop, both sides of the passenger door opened by sharp-suited Twi'lek handlers.

“Nico?”

Veeli stands by her side of the door, datapad clutched under her arm as she alarmingly checks the blonde over and recognizes the sorrowful frown etched into her face.

“What the kriff happened?”

“A bit of a meltdown,” Nico coolly explains, despite her wavering tone. She sniffles and shakes her head. “It's fine, Vee.”

Veeli's brows furrow deeply. Wolffe welcomes her suspicious glare calmly, unintimidated and indifferent. His mask thrives. Of course she'd blame him. Not like he’d back down from admitting that he did make her cry if asked.

“You sure?” the Mikkian demands.

Nico nods her head weakly. She yawns – one Wolffe knows to be a fake one. “Just a little tired.”

Veeli steps aside as one of the handlers takes Nico's hand to aid her step out on the speeder and onto the carpet. The assistant once again glowers at Wolffe, who has yet to make a move out and watches the interaction quietly. “Nic,” she starts, full of concern, “We can just cancel–”

“I'm fine, Vee.” Nico shrugs. Wolffe observes how her fist clenches around the handkerchief still in her hand. “I can make it to both.”

Wolffe lets out a sharp breath. So she'll make it without him, then.

“You sure?” Veeli asks again.

Nico dramatically rolls her eyes to loosen the tension by herself. She's always like that – abruptly throwing her confidence around as a mere act. “Need to party hard for yet another win!” she exclaims, and Wolffe can hear the grin in her voice. Then, an exhausted sigh – for real this time. “Kark, I need booze. And caf.”

And that's the beginning of how he numbly follows her trail just a tad behind. They get into their suite, offered refreshments – Wolffe goes for a safer option of champagne and water – and get retouched. Their conversation seizes to almost none, the playful banter absent, driving Veeli's glare towards him ever constantly. Nico changes into her second outfit for the official after party, proudly showing the curves of her body with the sheer fabric and jewel embellishments, the skirt pooling at her feet.

Fuck, she's practically naked underneath. He's got to resolve into thinking about Abregado and their previous argument to fight against an erection in his trousers. 

When they march onto the red carpet of the event, they settle into the relaxed atmosphere, once again showing their acts to be in love for the galaxy to see. Even all that, her lifeless gaze breaks through his strong defenses and shoots through his heart, fracturing it to pieces. Imagine putting up a fake genuine smile after being so badly hurt.

The lights hit her at all the perfect angles, her body glowing and glittering with glamour as she holds her Osk'arr statuette with a beaming smile. He won't deny it tonight – Nico is beautiful. And strong, hiding behind all that pain. The pain only wants him to reach out for her, pulling her close to him, engulfing her with his strong arms as he deeply breathes in her scent.

He can't.

After that argument. After the awards dress with his armor markings on it. How she shows off her body for the world to see.

It's like she lets him go already.

It's too dramatic, and Wolffe acknowledges how he hates every second of it, and hates how his heart clenches that she never spares so much as a second glance in his direction.

I know that I can't take no more It ain't no lie

Stupid song.

I want to see you out that door Baby bye bye bye

It's something Boost and the other boys would've liked.

Don't want to be a fool for you Just another player in your game for two

And Nico, up there. With some other actors too.

You may hate me but it ain't no lie Baby bye bye bye Bye bye!

She's the Wolfpack karaoke instigator, after all.

Don't really want to make it tough I just want to tell you that I've had enough

He's bobbing along. Sort of.

It might sound crazy but it ain't no lie Baby bye bye bye

The two other gents who stand by him at one of the high tables are also bobbing along, singing the lyrics loud at the particular repetitive part.

At the little break of beats, one guy who introduced himself as Sedastian Stem goes to sip on his drink. “Think it's for Shon Vatore?”

“Man, come on!” the other guy, Avony Magkey lightly slaps Stem on the shoulder, “Of course it's for him! Who else? This big guy right here?”

Wolffe lets out a small huff of laughter, bowing his head down and shaking it. Loosely in his own hand is his own choice of drink for the night – some flavored soda water. He'd rather be fully sober tonight. With all these sound systems exploding with the karaoke ladies up front and booming music, a pulsing headache due to the additional catalyst that's alcohol is not it for the moment.

While Stem sips on his drink again – cocktail, Wolffe presumes – Magkey raises his brows at him, a cheeky smirk on his face. “She told you she’s practicing for tonight just to sing shit about her ex?”

All he knows is that both of them are fellow A-listers. Played one or two movies with her too, once upon a time. “She did,” he answers, remembering the evil cackle that he could just imagine coming out of the textual holomessages.

Magkey hums in acknowledgement, a glint of satisfaction flits past his dark eyes.

“You been hanging on okay, Commander?”

Stem's sudden question gains his attention.

“Still getting used to it.”

Stem nods. “Must be scary for you with all these spotlights.” Usually Wolffe would definitely mind other people's company, especially someone so famous they had to introduce themselves first because he didn't know, but not tonight. Tonight he finds the company of these two men tolerable. “You guys look happy,” Stem says again, smiling, “I'm glad.”

I'm giving up I know for sure I don't want to be the reason for your love no more Bye bye! I'm checking out, I'm signing off I don't want to be the loser, and I've had enough

Yeah but the fact that this song kinda sounds directed at him as well even if it's directed at the dick ex boyfriend is making it hard to not overthink.

I don't want to be your fool in this game for two So I'm leaving you behind

See?

He sighs.

Stem notices his melancholic mood and raises his eyebrows. Although he decides not to bring it up. Rather, he only acknowledges what's shown through their entire interaction. “Never much of a talker are you, Commander?”

Wolffe glances at the actor as he sips on his soda water. “Just used to looking out for the men. And making sure they're alright.”

“Very honorable.” Stem raises his glass towards Wolffe. They watch the ongoing fun atop the karaoke stage for a moment. “She looks great tonight,” he continues, bright eyes adoring the fellow actress before shifting towards Wolffe's direction again. “You too. It's nice to see some clone out lookin’ dapper, y'know? Fits you nicely.”

Now it's Wolffe's turn to raise his glass, lips pulled up in a slight smile.

“Sed! Magkey!”

“Come over real quick!”

Osk’arr Eizac and Pebro Pascral are seen three tables down, waving their arms in invitation for friendly talks.

Magkey makes the first move with a relaxed smile on his face, with Stem following behind. “See you ‘round, Commander Wolffe.”

The clone nods curtly. “Thanks for the company.”

“Oh and, uh…”

Stem turns, stepping over to return to Wolffe's side momentarily.

“Just wanna say,” Stem quietly says, his tone friendly and not indicted with a hot warning, “Don't break her heart, Commander. She's beloved by all.”

Bye bye!

A thundering round of applause and wolf whistles float throughout the room as the pop song recedes to its end. The noise grabs his attention, a smirk sliding into his lips behind his beverage glass as his heart blossoms with warmth relishing the sight. The sight itself, glowing with beauty under the lights, features a radiant smile painted into her face, the beads and jewels embellished onto her nude illusion dress glitter as she moves.

Nico sighs happily into the microphone in hand. “Gonna have to tap myself out of the next one.”

The crowd collectively groans. “Give us more Nic!”

“Yeah well gimme a breather, Crys!” she laughs, pointing at a spot in the standing audience. “Okay. See you all again in a bit!”

She spots him quickly, and carefully makes her way over with her four-inches and the dress slightly raised to ease her glamorous travel. 

Wolffe puts his glass down. “You're having fun.”

Nico sidles up in front of him, the apparent distance put between them strikes lightning into his gut. “That’s how you're saying you're jealous?”

The words are jest, but the tone is her quite plainly aggravated, as if his sole presence is the catalyst.

Ignoring the hurt, he shifts his gaze away, and says nothing.

Exhaling deeply Nico's hand dart towards his glass, grasping and sipping on the cool beverage within.

Taking what she thinks she owns. So much like her that he knows.

His body can't resist the want to touch her – so after the glass is replaced, he takes a step closer.

Nico twitches, nearly turning away from his reaching hand, almost in disgust with a scowl upon her face, but she stands still, her gaze directed somewhere behind his ear as if once again remembering they have to throw away their dispute and are supposed to act. Fingers softly hooking under her chin, he lightly turns her so their eyes meet. Among the bustling of cheering people at yet another music on play, he leans down to catch Nico's lips between his. Somewhere in those brief seconds, his breath shudders and blows past her soft lips, exhaling and pouring his longing out into the kiss. It's been merely hours since he hurled those fake heartbreaking words to her, and he dares to call out on longing without apologizing himself yet.

He'd absolutely wallop himself for the cowardly act once he's back to the barracks tonight.

She pushes him away abruptly.

“Sorry,” she murmurs, and he can still feel her soft breath against his nose. Nico blinks up at him. “But it's… I mean–” the tips of her fingers lightly touch his lips, “–you'd catch a lot of those.”

Wolffe reels back in realization, his trance breaking. Instinctively he reaches for the drink napkin, but before he can, Nico beats him to it, already grabbing it out of his reach and dabbing the condensation off his glass. Tenderly yet with an amount of firmness, she begins the work, seconds too long, to thoroughly remove the rouge lipstick stain from his lips.

He clenches his fist to resist the urge to grab her waist right there and then… but why is he even doing that? All these feelings only make him hesitate, leaving him clueless to plan forward and frozen in the moment, and additionally cause him to regret not taking some of those liquid courage. Kriff, he'd need it right now. He'd definitely get one. Just one.

“I'll need some air,” Nico suddenly says, throwing him out of his trance again and turning away so he can miss the conflicted look in her olive green eyes.

“Want me… to accompany you?” he asks before he can stop it.

She looks over her shoulder. “I'll be fine. Just, um, stay here. Won't be long.”

It's now or never. “If you don't mind,” he quickly interrupts the hurry, “I'd like a talk with you. Privately.”

There must be something in his nervous cadence, in his desperate look, in his hesitated stance – that paints a small, hopeful smile onto her lips. Her eyes and the jewels in her dress shine like stars at that moment, and the warmth in his chest blossoms again – this time with familiarity, in relief.

“Sure,” replies Nico. Her smile remains. “Later.”

Her lips are still tingling from the kiss.

It felt too real. At Wolffe's request to talk, her mind begins to run and scatter about, woozy feelings swarming up her limbs in anticipation. She just needs some air, promise. Then, she'll take him to one of the secluded corners to have that talk. After two songs in a row up the karaoke stage with the others without water break, a glass of cool water out on the rooftop is all she needs for the time being.

From the dimmed ambience of the top of the building she's on, she can see it all as if she owns the entire thing – Coruscanti cityline and its glorious nightlife. Clear night sky clouded artificially with grey. Booming music. The landscape before her gleam with multicolored lights and pristine topside normalcy. Speeders zip by in their rightful lanes. Sometimes, larties – the slang she’d learned from the boys that means gunships. Once in a while, one of the humongous battleships – venators – breaching through atmo.

She'd found herself looking up at the sky sometimes. Waiting. Wondering. When Wolffe is far too long and away from home, she'd hope that one of the venators or one of the dozen gunships would have him inside. Returning from the front lines. Coming home from the war that's yet over.

Then she goes to bed. In the morning, when he is actually planetside, his message notifying her of well-deserved shore leave goes through and into her personal commlink. Meaning a dreadful schedule, for him. Fun to welcome her boyfriend back and kiss him on the cheeks and have a nice date before ending up sleeping with him, for her.

All that, on repeat. A routine. A schedule. Instinctive, automated. Rinse and repeat. Working up on their acting. Getting used to each other's touch without flinching away. Less frown, less scowl, more relaxed smiles. The lesson had been tiring from the teaching side – hers if that's not clear enough – because Wolffe just had to bully her first before actually doing it but it worked, and has been so, gradually, until now.

He's just too stingy when it comes to smiles. All he does is too much brooding on some war intel or what? He's got smile lines. If he doesn't smile, where'd that even come from?

Maybe he smiles around his brothers. Fond gestures.

He smiled at her on the red carpet – his first official outing in an official high-profile engagement in the entertainment industry. He pulled it all well. His sabacc face for the cameras are excellent, even under the ten-second window of camera lights flashing down on him. Upon their agreement, when he couldn't spare another second due to his photosensitive cybernetics, he'd turn sideways and face her.

Then he'd freestyle. Bringing his face close to hers intimately, their cheeks brushing, his hand on the small of her back pressing her slightly against him. He'd lean down further, lips barely caressing against the spot where her neck and shoulder meets. The notion drives pleasure shivers down her spine. He'd then talk shit in a low whisper to her ear about the camera flash that runs thousands per minute, snapping too many stupid candids from too many angles, and she'd laugh, providing a naturally charming bit for the media to gush over about again.

Wolffe helps. Though everything about this has always been easy from the beginning, his presence delivers some kind of relief. A moment where she can truly belong, worry-free. 

Being his first red carpet event, she took it down to her responsibility to look after him. Nudging him to walk on, following him up with certain cues. It's her turn – her chance – to take care of him. He always takes care of her at times during their casual outings by always being very aware of their surroundings, his wary gaze roving over people too close and the streets around. And now it's just simply her turn to do the same.

It's always about how he takes care of her.

It's the you okay? or you done? intoned gruffly that's just simply him. Wolffe. Grumpy little shit. The grumpy little shit who grabs her elbow when they're about to cross a street, who offers her his beverage of choice when his milk tea drink order comes first.

The grumpy little shit who presses a glass of water into her hand after every round of sex making sure she stays hydrated, who gives her lengthy breaks, who allows her to just lay on top of him until she regains the feeling to her toes again.

The grumpy little shit who literally grabs and carries her to the refresher by force when she takes too long than he likes to clean up.

The grumpy little shit who climbs into her bed if their intercourse finished too late for him to go back to the barracks and doesn't complain in the morning when she's cuddled up to him even though he's awake first, always, to the first five beeps of her alarm. Or before the alarm, if alcohol wasn't included the night before. He just lays there until either she stirs or he needs to wake her because he must.

There's nothing to be worried about when everything's done with Wolffe.

And it's been just so fucking sad he rejected her confession earlier.

What could be the talk later about? Did he realize? Like waking up? Can he finally accept her now?

To the galaxy she's perfect, but in her personal life… no she's not. Not really. She's equally messed up as most people. She's only human, after all.

“Nico.”

And just like that, she's yanked abruptly from the deep melancholic pool. As soon as she turns around and finally confirms the face that belongs to the desperate-sounding boyish voice, her expression bitters.

“Shon.” Her voice is lifeless, absent of any enthusiasm upon seeing silver hair and golden facial markings of the Pantoran. “What do you want?”

Golden threads woven into his tailored white suit shine under the ambient dim fluorescent lights. Shon approaches her in small hesitant steps, almost like nearing a scared animal – and no, actually she's not scared. The small moment of peace earlier was snatched away and now she's royally pissed. “Just a talk, I promise,” he negotiates, hands slightly raised before him.

She exhales loudly through her nose, exasperation creeping up her back and swarming down her arms already. Wolffe is absent… unlike the last time. She's all alone. Just two of them. She can handle this herself. She won't need help. She can just storm off if she's not patient enough anyway.

Shon is a couple years younger than her, charming boyish appearance radiating sunshine energy for the media and his fanbase for fawn over. It's what enchanted her too. Turns out he's all rotten inside. He was controlling, demanding her location wherever she went, strangling her with his own selfishness to spend an abundant time with her, choking her out of her freedom. Even up until now when they’re no longer a thing, he just wouldn't let go.

“How about no?”

“Please,” Shon's voice gets heavy and it breaks, “I just wanna set things straight. I'm sick living like this, okay? We're in the same room and we don't even talk, Nico. It hurts.”

As the words come in, her lips fall apart as she looks at him in disbelief. “Did you hear yourself?!” she snaps, “I said those exact same words to you some time ago and you clearly didn't hear me! Now that we're on our own I like where I am! That means there's nothing to be talked about.”

Beneath the dim lights, his blue skin dark, she can see him blinking his tears away. His onyx eyes bore down into her miserably, voice growing smaller as he utters, “So you still hate me?”

“You been blind this whole time or what, Shon?!”

“It’s just I want us to be friends–”

“Friends? Are you kidding me?! Why would I need a friend as toxic as you? You never understood me, and you clearly don't now!”

“Nico please, I promise–”

“YOU PROMISED ME A LOT OF SHIT, SHON!” she yells, her throat itching at the volume it generates that makes the man flinch. “Once upon a time,” she rasps coldly. A grab of the beaded dress inside a clenched fist and the empty glass of water in the other, her feet shuffle onward to begin carrying her towards the entry door. “I don't wanna hear more of it. I don't wanna hear you anymore.”

Perhaps she's too cruel but… he hurt her once. Many times. Restricting her activities. Forbidding this, forbidding that. Couldn't go out with that one. Couldn't even shake hands with that one. And she blindly followed, because she did love him once. If only she'd just realized earlier, she'd taken the big titles offered her way, now played by someone else and won quite some of the awards itself. He shamed her. Embarrassing her for the entire galaxy to see how fucking stupid she was to love someone so blindly.

She was unprepared for the crashing waves of those giggly lovey dovey rubbish. She anticipated Shon to steer their ship and take control and would you look at that; he literally did take control and the ship drowned. Nico swam to the nearest shore and determined to survive by learning to defend herself, while Shon loved the ship so much that he ate shit and stayed out in the sea.

She needs Wolffe. She needs Wolffe now. She needs to have that talk now. The sizzling embers within her stoke an incredible longing she's never felt before, and all hope there is – all the image there is – is him offering her the smallest cocky smirk as she comes barrelling into him, throwing herself into his arms. The relief she would feel at that moment must be refreshing. To have her arms around him and his strong ones around her even in their moment of private – their own sweet moment. It would be joyous.

“Fine.”

Sharp, yet broken tone that crawls out of Shon's throat stops Nico in her trek. Coruscanti late evening wind blows past her face, her curled fringes swaying, and something in her stomach drops in unfamiliar eeriness. Having heard and learned to never ignore her gut instincts, Nico swiftly twirls around as best as her feet muscle memory can in those heels, and the sight strikes icy horror along her veins.

“Shon…” Her voice drops in warning. “What are you doing?”

The ledges, unfortunately, aren't high enough to prevent people from reaching up and standing on top of.

So, that's what he does.

Cold. Blank. Lifeless. Determined. All of those spark in the onyx pools she once considered dark and yet beautiful. Once full of life and expectations that mask over dominance and selfishness – now only void.

Nico’s heel-clad feet stutter closer, keeping her distance carefully to not trigger his deadly impulse. “Hey. Shon, hey.” Frustration drains from her face and fear takes over – as much as she once and deep down wanted him to bother her no longer she's never prepared to watch him attempting a kriffing suicide in her face. “Don't do this…”

Raw emotions bleed down his gold and blue cheeks and dampen his white suit. “I loved you before and I still love you now, Nico,” he mutters tearfully, “Please… Would you take me back with you? I'd love nothing but be by your side, you understand?”

Nico strains to resist the urge of shaking her head. Yes, but I don't want anything to do with you – not anymore. The true answer her tongue wishes to utter is as simple as that, but Shon clearly won't take such.

He perches steadily and sickeningly confident on top of the ledge, his long legs straight and unwavering as if fully supporting him for his tragic demise. His love, unrequited.

“I understand…”

Wolffe, in his cybernetic replacement for his right eye along with all his commanding glory, flits past her mind.

“But we can't, Shon. I have–”

“Your clone boyfriend?!”

Shon's tone is bitter, full of blame, and spits krayt venom as he snaps. His golden tattoos glimmer under his lazy silver fringes, as do his angered tears. At the slightest shift of his dress shoes, urgency drives Nico to take another step forward. Her breathing races against time and Shon's own delusional ramblings, fear enveloping her person more intensely as the timer on the bomb ticks on.

She had hoped their arranged relationship would work… but not to this extent.

“You both look so in love,” mourns Shon, “I know what you look like when you're in love, and you looked exactly like that when you were with me. But I pity you, Nico.”

What do you mean?, she breathes out, voiceless, as if the slightest sound that comes out of her throat would blow the wind that pushes him over the edge.

“What did you see in him anyway?” he snarls, ridiculing anger scrunching his features, “They're made for battle, not for love! They're meat droids! They're sent out there to die!”

“DON'T YOU DARE–”

“YOU COULD’VE HAD ME INSTEAD!”

I see so much good in those clones than I've ever seen in you.

She just wishes she can just say that. Had he not one step away from falling over 80 floors.

“I won't die,” he declares, but immediately Nico notices the catch, “I won't do this. Only if you'd tell me you love me too.”

Hope dawns upon her. She could just lie and be convincing like all her life in her career, and nobody would die an unnecessary death tonight. Not in a joyously celebrated night. The eerie news would travel throughout the galaxy before the moon is on high rise in the sky, and her name would make the center of the attention again.

“I know what I did was wrong,” Shon's softened voice drags her out of her careful planning, “Could you ever forgive me?”

“I could,” she says quickly, almost too quickly and enthusiastically. Without even wishing to make tears up, her eyes are already stinging with the sole fear of loss. She takes two more steps, slow. Her hand barely reaching out. “I did. I did forgive you, Shon.”

Standing six feet away that she considers a good distance, Shon lets out a single wet laugh of relief. “Okay,” he smiles radiantly through his tears, his onyx eyes sparking with hope as they pierce into her olive ones, “But do you still love me?”

Nico bites the inside of her lip, taking the risk of another step closer, both hands now outstretched towards him. “Shon please, just step off it… and we'll talk, okay?”

“We can talk just fine like this,” he contends calmly, “Answer my question, Nico.”

No. No, she doesn't love him. Her heart and her body now belongs to someone else – someone downstairs. Someone who came here with her. Someone who's made her days ten times better solely by his annoyed remarks and his supposed tenderness. Only… there had to be some point where Wolffe no longer acted and just did it out of instinct and naturally, as if his subconsciousness had called dibs over his overcomplicated feelings.

So no, she doesn't love Shon. She loves the prick army commander who falls for her too but too afraid to admit it in the first place.

“Okay,” she exhales shakily, her throat closing in and it hurts when she swallows, before conjuring the most sincere cadence as she can, “I’ll admit, okay? I still love you, Shon. Please step off now, okay? You're scaring me so bad right now, please.”

Nobody has to die unnecessary death tonight.

Shon looks at her sadly.

“I told you,” he says, “I know what you look like when you're really in love.”

He steps off the ledge, his body falling over.

Yelping, she leaps forward…

…and grabs onto his sleeve.

“Kriffing–” Ignoring the beads of her dress tearing into her knees and her ankles pulsing in soreness due to her heels, she anchors herself against the wall as her hands desperately scrambling for his designer white and gold suit – one that would be unrecognizable and mangled with blood and pieces of flesh if she's unable to haul his body up. “DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE, SHON!”

“LET GO!”

“NO!”

Nico grits her teeth, her muscles straining to hold onto his weight and the force of gravity altogether. Her attention flits away momentarily to seek for nearby traffic that'll hopefully help them, which is nonexistent and was directed due to security perimeter, and she curses.

Shon's onyx eyes shine with tears, his silver hair billowing in the harsh wind as he sobs, “Everything means nothing if I don't get to have you!”

“YOU’RE KARKING CRAZY!” There she said it – her tears flowing with newfound fear as she feels her adrenaline swiftly depleting, overcoming with dread and blame that follows. Steeling herself and her knees, she hauls her other arm over the edge. “JUST TAKE MY HAND AND CLIMB!” she yells over the rushing wind, hand desperately clawing in his direction, “OR I'M GOING TO FUCKING HATE YOU FOR REAL FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE!”

Nobody needs to die tonight.

But as much as she repeats it, why does it now sound… hollow, and less hopeful?

Shon lets out a wet scoff. “Didn't you already?”

His other hand that's dangling launches up, the notion suddenly hits her with renewed hope.

It'd satisfy her fully had they not come to peel her gripping fingers off with force.

There’s a scream when the doors of the elevator slide open before him.

As soon as he dashes out into the empty corridor, his hunting instinct kicks in immediately. His dress shoes, thumping against carpeted flooring, are going to come off for sure but what the kark. There's a scream and something's just happened to Nico because that's her scream.

He'd swept the main area of the party. Shon Vatore’s silver-haired blue ass is nowhere to be spotted. Swear to Force both Living and Cosmic, if the bastard even dares to do unspeakable things to her…

Wolffe slams his fist into the door panel, the damned thing responding immediately to his violent motion. Coruscanti night air and ambient lighting slap him in the face so abruptly, the dim environment strikes immediate distress down his gut. But as soon as he spots a figure in embellished dress crouching over the ledge, her limped figure across the entire karking rooftop, he swears he's never run so fast in his entire short life.

“NICO!!”

The moment he reaches her, plucks her off the ledge, and carefully sits her down with back against the wall hasn't eased him fully. Distress and ire bubble inside him, his heart beating the kark out of his ears in near panic as he observes the frozen shock latching onto her entire face. Something's happened.

He takes her face in his hands, tilting it slightly under the dim lights to catch any kind of proof of violence or something as best as he can that's worth pummeling for the other guy.

“You alright?” he asks, his tone alarmed and full of concern, “Are you hurt?”

Breathing harsh and shakily, her own heart racing against her chest that he can feel her pulse quickening beneath his touch, Nico makes subtle movements that leaves him unsure to conclude as to what is.

“Shon…” she murmurs, shock still taking the best of her features, “Shon… He– he’s–”

Her finger unsteadily points to the ledge.

Realizing what that means, Wolffe raises to his feet, looking over the edge only to see… nothing. Nothing but dimmed darkness bathed with iridescent lights that is Coruscant. Seeing nothing might mean everything's fine, but not tonight. Not with Nico's heavy breathing and panic-stricken expression.

“Fuck.”

Did he expect this at all?

The answer is no, no he didn't expect Shon Vatore to haul his own ass over the rooftop of an 80-level building and end his own life before his body can even hit the pavement due to the unforgiving air resistance.

Wolffe lets out a hard exhale – compartmentalizing, coming up with new goals, and prioritizing. Turning to a still Nico, the sight fracturing his heart for the thousandth time that day and setting new determination to shield her from all the harm the world has to offer, he crouches down and tenderly brushes away curled blonde fringes that stick to her forehead.

“We should get inside,” he says, and notes her immediate response of repeated small nods. Silently, he proceeds to remove her heels to make the travel easier and quicker. With her pearly white heels in hand, he gets to his feet and gently hauls her up in the process, and starts their trek towards their door.

His commlink beeps.

Still void of any sound, Nico quietly grabs her heels from his hand so he can take the call.

“Wolffe!” Veeli's panicked voice rings through, “Where's Nico!?”

“With me. Rooftop,” he calmly reports in. Eeriness settles in the atmosphere. Though he knows, he wants to put it to the test as he asks, “Something happened?”

A few seconds after his first answer settles in, Veeli curses under her breath. “That’s Shon's body outside on the pavement, isn't it?” she breathes, distress laced in her tone, “Nothing’s been made yet. You two better get down here quick. Police are called. Party's over. We're going. I'll get everybody rounded up.”

Wolffe nods curtly, appreciating the quick initiative. “We're en route.”

They storm past many corridors and turns, the trek longer and quieter than the way Wolffe came running down them earlier.

Nico's hand grips his tightly, their fingers interlaced with one another as they make their way to the elevator in speed walks. Then, on some karked up misfortune he would've laughed if it'd been any other day, she trips over the hem of her dress and nearly faceplanted into the carpet, had her elbows not propping her up upon reflex.

He winces at the pained, broken noise she makes and immediately goes to her side. “Kark.” They're going to get fined for all this mess by the fashion house, that's for sure. “Nic, get up, c'mon.”

She wriggles out of his prompted grip around her arm, hoarse sobs abruptly escaping her throat as she scoots away from his close proximity, desperate for yet another moment of silence, and her back meets the wall.

“SOMEONE JUST FUCKING DIED!” she wails, hot tears streaming down her face in visible streaks among her makeup, “BECAUSE OF ME!”

Wolffe's heart drops to his stomach at the miserable sight. She looks so scared… so traumatized. Getting away even from him to seek solitude and a moment to gather herself that she never gets the chance to be granted of. It breaks him inside, but he needs to be there for her, and this want comes from his heart this time, not the play pretend.

She needs a moment. Be there in 5.

With that, he stows away his commlink. Quietly he goes to her side, slowly and tenderly brushing her hair away from her face again. Now under better lighting, he can see his beloved olive green eyes shining with new tears, her features pulling into a mournful frown and even all that, she still looks beautiful. Nico looks divine. In her vulnerable and broken moments, either angered or tearful like this, she always is.

His heart sports a series of new fractures and shatters here and there every time he hears her hitched sobs or a single tear dropping from her eye, but it's all worth the pain. It's all worthy for him to learn how to empathize, how to stomp over his own ego and pride to be vulnerable along with her, walk her through her breaking moments, and to embrace and welcome his emotions back as his own.

“Can you–” she hitches “–can you please hold me?”

Wolffe may not be a man of many words, but he holds true of his actions.

Yes I can, he answers internally, tugging Nico between his legs and holding her close against his chest, trapping her sobs into his jacket so the world wouldn't hear her fall and be vulnerable – only he can. Always. For you.

For minutes they sit there. In the end, Nico's hitched sobs have receded to calmed breathings to Wolffe's quiet urge to follow his breathing exercise. Unable to run his fingers through her silky platinum blond tresses, he settles on rubbing circles into her bare shoulders and occasionally kissing the top of her head. In their closeness, warmth and fondness are shared, yet a thin blanket of anticipation of what awaits once they walk out of the elevator finally drapes over them.

“Want me to carry you?” he offers quietly, still nuzzling into her hair. “The sooner we go downstairs, the sooner we can go home.”

Home.

The word resonates.

Home home home.

Nico shifts against him in apparent discomfort. “But the police–”

“Fuck the police,” he growls in dismissal, “You don't have to say anything.”

Maybe he can holo Fox up about this. See if his vod can do something about it, or at least his CSF detective girl can.

“It's not what you think,” Nico says abruptly, pulling away and Wolffe can see panic and distraught settling back into her alarmed gaze. “He- he did it himself. I did grab him but–”

“It’s like I said.”

His stern cadence drives nothing else to fall off her lips. Reaching her hand, he holds it firmly in his, and the panic dissipates from her eyes as she falls into his chest again. With all the longing to just make her feel safe, he wraps his arms around her, caging her from the outside world and banishing every single thing that her still vulnerable mind isn't ready to process yet.

“You don't have to say anything,” Wolffe says softly into her hair. Gingerly, he places a brief kiss on her hairline, and Nico snuggles closer into him in trust and comfort at the tender gesture, her cheek burying into his shoulder. “I know.”

Taglist (Form): @yoursrosie @ladylucksrogue @hellfiresky @msmeredithrose @filamentlights @heidnspeak

Reference:

Ecumenopolitan holoarticle on Wolffe's debut in Osk'arr Awards + Nico's red carpet dress

Bye Bye Bye - N'SYNC

[collectoroffics]

Clone X OC Week 2025! ( @clonexocweek )

Day 3- Conflict!

Rex x OC (Zirena)

Warnings: Blood, Guns, Talks of Suicide.

“Please! I need to get a hold of someone!” Zirena ran to the door of her cell and banged on it loudly. She watched as a soldier in white and red armor walked over to her. 

“Your parents have both been arrested as well.” He turned to walk away from her. 

She shot her hand out of the cell and tried to grab the soldier. “Not them, please! It’s very important. I need to conta-“ 

The soldier quickly turned around and grabbed her wrist tightly. He watched as she gasped at the pain. “Prisoners will keep their hands inside their cell.”

Her wrist was released angrily and she quickly pulled it back in. “I’m sorry. It’s just really important that I contact …” 

“Your cousin and manager have also been taken into custody.” Fox walked over to the cell and clasped his hands behind his back. “Senator Mothma is also currently undergoing interrogation for her role in this as well. You have no one else you need to contact.” 

Tears burned in Zirena’s eyes as she listened to him speak. The style of his armor made it clear he was in charge. “Please. I just need to contact Ca-“

Fox growled loudly before stepping closer to the cell. The woman jumped back slightly. “Who is so damn important that you won’t shut up.” 

“Captain Rex. Please. I jus-“ To her surprise, the clone reached up and removed his helmet suddenly. A streak of gray hair mixed with his brown hair and exhaustion was clear in them. 

“What did you just say?” How the hell did she know that name? 

Zirena swallowed before speaking once more. “Captain Rex of the 501st under the command of General Skywalker. Please, just tell him I’m sorry for missing our date.” 

Fox blinked as he watched the woman take a step back. Tears were streaming down her face. Her shaky hands reached up and pulled a necklace from beneath her sweater, a flash of something silver caught his eye. “What is that?” He reached his hand through the cell bars and motioned that she needed to give it to him. 

“It’s..a gift. From my boyfriend.” She didn’t want to give it to him. It was the only thing keeping her grounded right now but the way he was looking at her told her she didn’t have a choice. She carefully pulled it over her head and placed it in the waiting hand. 

He slowly pulled his hand back out and looked down at the necklace. The familiar ID tag of a clone lay in it. ‘CT-7567’ was engraved on it. He flipped it over and spotted the clear shape of the GAR symbol on the back. “Move her to the interrogation room delta.” He spoke quickly to Thorn before walking away.

“Wait! Please!” Zirena slowly fell to her knees as the clone walked away with her necklace. “Please, give it back.” 

Thorn swallowed as he looked down at the woman. He’d seen her a few times around the Senate when her father was still the Senator. It was hard to believe that the family would be involved in such a scandal. He cleared his throat and stepped over to the door. “Follow me.” 

The door opened with a hiss but Zirena ignored it for a moment. The last thing she had of him was gone now. Would they pass on her message? ‘All clones are brothers.’ He’d told her one night. ‘We take care of each other no matter what.’. The Coruscant guard spoke to her once more, pulling her from her thoughts. She looked up into the darkened visor and slowly nodded before standing. Her wrists were shackled once more before she was led out of the cell. Great, more interrogation for a crime her family didn’t commit. 

-*-

Rex paced back and forth in his barracks. It wasn’t like Zirena to miss a date night and not let him know why. He tried her comm once more and found it unanswered. Something wasn’t sitting right in his stomach. 

His datapad rang loudly from his desk and he raced over to grab it. Where he’d hoped to see ‘Zirena (Fiancé <3)’ on the screen, he only found Fox’s name. 

“Fox, I really don’t have time for whatever this is right now. Can I call you back later?” Rex wanted to have both his devices ready in case she called. 

“I think you’ll find this important, Rex.” Fox held up the necklace for his brother to see. The look on the Captain's face told him everything he needed to know. “She’s alive if that’s what you’re going to ask.” 

As soon as he’d seen the necklace his heart sank. There were very few reasons as to why Fox would have it. A weight began to lift from his chest as Fox assured him she was alive. “Why do you have it then?” 

“First, tell me your relationship to its owner.” The clone Commander needed to hear it for himself. 

Rex squinted at the screen for a moment before taking a breath. “Zirena and I have been dating for almost a year now.” 

Fox nodded. “During that time, did you ever meet her parents?” 

“I have.” Why was he asking that?

“Did they know you were coming to visit them?” The necklace was placed down on Fox’s desk carefully. 

“No. It was a surprise.” Rex tilted his head to the side. “What the hell is with the questions, Fox?” His brother chewed his lip for a moment before looking around. 

“There have been accusations against her and her family that are now being investigated by the guard.” Should he be telling Rex this? No. But would he keep it from him when it was clear his Vod’s girlfriend was involved? Not in the slightest. Fox would want Rex to tell him if something was happening with Riyo. 

“Certain accusations?” This was news to him. 

“Embezzlement.” Fox watched Rex’s jaw drop. 

Rex couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You can’t be serious, Fox. You and I both know that the Ka’ve family are of the utmost respect. Her father fought for clone rights in the Senate for kriff sake!” 

A long sigh came from the Commander. “I know. But there’s compelling evidence, Rex. She and her family are currently in custody until the investigation is concluded.” 

Zirena, her parents, and her cousin were in custody. The thought of his starlight in prison physically pained him. “Who gave you this evidence?” Rex moved to pick up his helmet. 

“It was delivered to us by an anonymous source.” Fox picked up the sound of armor moving around. “Rex, what are you doing?” 

“I’m coming to get her out of there.” Like hell would he allow her to stay in that place? She was not a criminal. 

Fox sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Never had he seen his vod so impulsive. It seemed all of his time with Anakin was starting to influence him. “I can’t let her leave, Rex. You know that.” His brother's helmet was pulled over his head. “Just…slow down. She’s fine. Thorn’s taking care of her.” 

“I want to see her.” He wouldn’t let her rot there. An investigation could take weeks, even months.

“Give me some time to set things up. For now…” he looked around once more before tapping on his screen. “I need you to trust me. I won’t let anything happen to her.” 

Rex raised an eyebrow before seeing a file pop up on his screen. He opened it quickly and found the compiled evidence. “I see.” What was Fox’s plan? 

“Commander, the prisoner is secured in Delta.” Thorn's voice crackled from his wrist. Fox looked down at his com before going back to Rex. “I have to go.” 

“Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.” Though a plan was already formulating in his mind. Fox nodded to him before the call ended. Rex quickly turned from his desk and left his room. 

“Fives!” He called loudly in the long room of relaxing soldiers. A head popped up from the back. Rex raised his hand and motioned for him to follow him. 

Fives quickly ran down the barracks and over to Rex. “Captain?” 

Rex pulled the clone out of the room and into the hallway. “I need you to get a hold of Echo and the Batch. Now.” 

-*-

“Zirena.” Fox stepped into the interrogation room delta quietly. “I believe this is yours.” He held out the necklace to her. “I’m Fox by the way.” He thumbed over his shoulder to the clone by the door. “That’s Thorn.” 

The pianist quickly moved across the room and took back her necklace. “Th-thank you.” The necklace was placed back around her neck and she held it tightly. She instantly felt calmer. “Sir? I’m confused.” 

“I figured you would be.” Fox walked over to a table and picked up a cup of coffee. “This is our off-duty room. The men hang out here before going to bed. The barracks are down the hall.” 

Zirena watched him walk to a couch facing a large holo screen. “Which is why I’m confused.” She shifted awkwardly. “Shouldn’t I be in a cell?” 

Fox sipped his caf slowly. Black with no sweetener or cream. Just how he liked it. “Do you have a reason to feel like you should be in a cell?” 

“N-no. I’m innocent. My entire family is.” Her hand around her necklace tightened. 

A long sigh left the Commander. “I believe you.” 

Well, that was a surprise. “You…do?” 

“I do.” He motioned to the open couch cushion next to him. “Let’s talk.” 

Zirena stared at him a moment before moving. She was thankful that Thorn had removed her binders. It made her a lot more comfortable as she sat on the couch. “Why do you believe me when just a while ago you were treating me like a criminal?” 

Fox motioned for Thorn to come over before looking back at Zirena. “Because of Rex.” She tilted her head to the side. “My brother doesn’t trust easily. He’s cautious and calculating. I’ve never seen him date someone before, nor have I heard of him even having a crush.” 

Zirena looked down at her lap. “Oh.” Came from her lips softly. 

“However, here you sit. Holding his ID tag. He trusts you for a reason. It makes me trust you as well.” He looked up at Thorn as the clone approached them. “Grab Miss Ka’ve something to eat. I’m sure she’s hungry seeing as we prevented her from going on her date.” Thorn nodded to Fox before walking towards the conservator on the other side of the room. “I can’t promise the best-tasting meal. But it’s something.” 

Rex trusted her. “ Thank you, but you don’t have to do that.” 

“I’d rather not have my vod pissed at me for not taking care of you properly.” Fox leaned back against the couch. “So, who would want to frame you?” 

Zirena looked up quickly. “Frame me?” Someone was framing her?

“Your family is upstanding. Has always fought for the rights of minority groups and has openly opposed the war. It makes no sense for your family to do something illegal like embezzlement.” Fox took a long sip of his caf. 

“Not to mention your father has received a large inheritance from your grandfather that he’s invested wisely..” Thorn walked towards the two of them. Fox gave him a surprised look. “Intel came in while you were in your office. From what the reports have found, he’s nearly tripled the inheritance.” 

A tray of food was passed to Zirena. She looked down at it and found it looking slightly unappetizing. Well, Fox had said it wouldn’t be the best. “Thank you.”  She picked up a fork and pushed the pile of mush on her tray around. Who would want to frame her and her family? 

Fox let her eat a few bites before asking her once again “Who would want to frame you?” 

-*-

Zirena laid in the bed Fox had given her. It was in a private room in the barracks with an almost comfortable bed. The scratchy blanket was pulled up to her neck and she stared at the ceiling. ‘Framed for Embezzlement’ it was hard to believe that within a day, her entire life was turned upside down. Would they find who was framing her? Or would she be doomed to spend the rest of her life in prison? Her career was ruined and her family was torn apart. 

A knock on the metal door had her slowly rising out of the bed. “Yes?” Who would be coming to her room so late? Was it Fox with more news? 

The door opened with a hiss and she flew out of the bed. “Rex!” 

Before the door could even shut, she was in his arms. Rex let out a long sigh as his hand stroked the back of her head. “Starlight, are you okay?” 

Tears flowed down her cheeks and fell to his chestplate. “I’m scared Rex. I’m so scared.” She looked up at him quickly. “I didn’t do it. My family wouldn’t do anything like that. Please, believe me.” 

“I do.” He held her tight before placing a kiss on the top of her head. “Come on.” He motioned to the bed. 

Zirena nodded and walked with him over to the bed. “I’m worried about my parents, Rex. My brother and Liza.” 

Rex shook his head. “Don’t. I’ve called in some favors and they’ve all been released to discreet locations under house arrest while your family home is searched.” He pulled her over to stand between his legs. “It’ll be okay. They’ll be okay.” 

She leaned down and pressed her forehead to his. “Thank you.” 

“Of course.” He sighed softly before pulling back and looking at her. A chuckle left him. “Nice pajamas.” 

“Thorn gave them to me.” She looked down at the black shirt with a red insignia of the Coruscant Guard over the left breast. “Said I should sleep in something comfortable.” 

He nodded and took in the rolled top and bottom of the workout pants. “Looks a little big on you.” 

Zirena rolled her eyes before moving to sit on his knee. “Well if your clones weren’t so damn tall, maybe they wouldn't be so big.” 

Rex wrapped his arms around her waist and held her tight. “Still looks good on you.” He poked at the red insignia. “Though I think you’d look sexier with 501st blue.” 

“Maybe you’ll find out one day.” She winked at him before leaning in and kissing him deeply. His hand snaked up her back before gripping the back of her head. The kiss deepened, making her moan softly. “R-Rex.” She tapped his chest quickly. “Not here.” Like hell would this place be one of their memories. She wanted to forget about this place as soon as all of this was over. 

She was right, as usual. He released her slowly before sighing. “Not the best place for that, huh?” 

“I’d rather be able to enjoy that with you when the threat of me being imprisoned wasn’t looming over my head.” 

Nodding, Rex slowly leaned back. “Come on, let’s get some sleep.” 

Her eyes lit up at his words. “You’re staying?” 

“Of course. Gotta make sure you don’t try to escape.” He winked at her playfully. 

A wicked smirk crossed her lips. “And what if I try to?” 

A long deep chuckle rumbled from his chest. “I’ve been ordered to use binders if necessary.” 

-*-

A knock on her door drew Zirena from a peaceful sleep. Beside her, Rex was also groggily rubbing his eyes. “Who is it?” What time was it? 

“It’s Fox.” A deep voice rumbled through the door. 

Zirena sighed softly while pulling herself from Rex’s side. “I’m coming.” She crossed the cold floor quickly before allowing the door to slide open. “What’s up, Fox?” 

Oh man, she looked so tired, and from the death glare Rex was sending him from the bed, so was he. “Sorry to wake ya so early but someone is asking to see you.” 

Rex stood from the bed and walked over to the door. His arm slid around Zirena’s waist and held her close. “Who?” 

Fox sighed and crossed his arms. “ Senator Graey’s son. Dollian.” He watched as disgust crossed Zirena’s face. “He says he has information on what’s going on. Refuses to tell anyone except for you. Alone.”  

Zirena groaned angrily. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.” She moved to exit the room but was stopped by Fox. “What?” The Commander held up an orange bundle of fabric. “No.” 

“You have to. No one can know that you’re getting special treatment.” Zirena stared him down for a moment before finally relenting. She angrily grabbed the bundle from him and then pushed the two out of the room. The door slid shut with a hiss. 

“I don’t like this, Fox. I don’t want her going in there alone.” Rex crossed his arms. 

“We’ll be watching the cameras from the next room over. Don’t worry.” Fox would do whatever was necessary to help keep her safe. 

The door slid open once more. The two men turned to look at Zirena and found her glaring at both of them. 

Zirena stood in the horrific orange jumpsuit with her hair pulled up. She felt hideous. “If either of you mutters a single word, I’ll strangle you both.” 

-*-

 

“My dear Zirena. Aren’t you a pitiful sight?” Dollian leaned against the wall of the meeting room with his arms crossed. “Orange is not your color.” 

“What do you want, Dollian?” She sat with a huff in one of the chairs at the table. “You told them you had information on why I’m in here.” 

Dollian walked over to the opposite side of the table and sat down happily. “I do.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small device. “But first.” He pressed a button on it. Zirena raised an eyebrow at him as nothing visibly happened. “Just a little precaution to make sure we’re truly alone.” 

“What are you talking about?” She looked around the room, trying to find what was different. 

“Just making sure we’re not being listened to.” He smirked happily before leaning back. “Now, pet. Let’s have a little chat. Shall we?” 

-*-

“Somethings not right about this. How did he know about her being arrested?” The last he’d heard, the news hadn’t broke yet. 

Fox crossed his arms and shrugged. “Probably someone saw it happen and told him.” He motioned for Rex to sit down. “She’ll be okay.” 

Rex took a breath and nodded. “The minute something feels off, I want her out of there.” 

“Thorn will get her out quickly.” Fox reached over and clicked on the terminal in front of him. Dollian was clear to see on the screen. The man paced back and forth before leaning against the wall. The door of the room slid open and Zirena walked in. He jumped slightly as Rex’s com rang. 

The Captain quickly answered the device. “Echo, ya find out anything?” 

“Took us a bit of digging, but we think we’ve been able to track down the location that the evidence message was sent from.” Echo stared at his datapad. 

Rex pulled out his tablet as it vibrated. “The Senate building?” 

“Yeah.” The domino twin moved some things around on his screen. “North wing, floor 6, between offices 623 and 654.” It wasn’t an exact location but it was a start. 

Fox quickly pulled out his datapad and pulled up a list of the offices mentioned. His eyes scanned the list for a moment before stopping on one name in particular. “Rex, look.” He passed the device over to his brother. 

“Fucking snake.” Rex glared at the office name and number. Suddenly, the terminal went dark and the call to Echo ended abruptly.

“Fox, what the hell is going on.” Rex stood quickly, his eyes locked on the screen. 

“I don’t know.” Fox pulled out his com and quickly called Thorn who was standing outside the room Zirena and Dollian were in. “Thorn, the cameras are out. Get in there, now!” 

Thorn turned around quickly and pressed the panel to open the door. But it didn’t budge. “What the hell?” He tried the override control but once again the door didn’t budge. “Somethings wrong with the door. I can’t get in.” 

Rex looked at Fox before bolting out of the room and down the hall to the room Zirena was in. Thorn was already ripping the panel to the door off and messing with the wires. “We have to get in there.” 

-*-

“What do you want, Dollian? Why are you here? How did you know I was here?” She crossed her arms in annoyance. 

Dollian chuckled and walked around the table to her. “Sweet, Sweet, Zirena. Who do you think contacted the guard in the first place?” 

She glared at him as he drew closer to her. “You?” 

“Of course, darling. How else was I supposed to get your attention?” He stopped in front of her. Reaching down, he gripped her chin and forced her to look at him. 

Zirena tried to pull away from his grip but found it too tight. “Why are you telling me all of this?” 

His thumb ran across her soft bottom lip. “Because, dear one, you need my help to prove your innocence.” 

“Why’s that?” She wanted to bite his fucking thumb off. 

“In a discrete location is my datapad. I’m the only one with the code to it. It is the evidence needed to clear you and your family.” He smirked as she tried to pull away from him. 

“I’m sure the guard will find out quickly that it’s not true.” Would it take time? Yes. But it would be worth it not to have to accept his help. 

“True.” Dollian let go of her chin finally. He walked around her. His hand swirled in her ponytail, enjoying the feel of the silky strands. “But we both know that’ll take some time.” He leaned down and placed his lips close to her ear. “A lot can happen during that time. Someone in your family could get hurt. More evidence against you could come out. Or something could happen to your dear clone.” 

Zirena pulled forward and turned to look at him. “You wouldn’t.” 

He chuckled menacingly. “Oh, but I would. One of the benefits of being so rich is I can easily hire anyone I want to take care of that pest.” Dollian snapped his fingers. “That’s how fast I could make him vanish. You’d never know what happened to him.” 

“Stop beating around the bush, Dollian. What do you want for the evidence?” And the protection of Rex? 

“There’s a smart girl.” He walked around the table and leaned on it, facing her. “It’s simple. Marry me and all these problems disappear. I’ll even let your little clone live.” 

“Like hell I’ll do that.” Rex was a Captain. An elite soldier. He worked with Anakin Skywalker. He’d be completely safe. 

Dollian scoffed incredulously. He reached behind his back and pulled out a blaster. Zirena jumped up and stared at him in shock. “You know… I tried to make this easy.” 

“D-Dollian. Don’t do this.” Where the hell was the guard? Didn’t Fox say they’d be right in?

“I waited for your infatuation with that lower life form to end!” He took a step towards the side of the table. The blaster was still aimed at her. “For you to wake up and realize the best option was me!” He took another slow step. 

“I would never do that! I love him! I love Rex!” Zirena took her own step towards the opposite side. “I’d never be with you. I’d never love you.” 

The blaster in his hand shook. “You would have learned to love me!” 

“You know I wouldn’t, Dollian. I’d fight you every day of my life!” They both slowly began to circle the table. “You’d never be able to make me care for you. Not the way I care for Rex.” 

“Then I’d kill him.” No one would come between him and Zirena. 

“Then I’d kill myself.” It was one of the easiest decisions she’d ever make.

Dollian stopped and stared at her in shock. A few tears ran down his cheek. “You’d really do that? You’d rather die with him than be with me?” 

Zirena took a long deep breath. Her body moved to stand tall. “In this life and every life after.” 

-*-

“The maintenance droid should be here any moment.”  Fox was quickly messing with his datapad trying to get access back up to the room. 

“Make it come faster! We need to ge-“ A scream ripped through the air before the sound of blaster fire rang out. “Zirena!” He banged on the door loudly as yet another shot rang out. “Hurry up!” 

Thorn scrambled with the wires, he just needed to find the right combination. “Almost got it.” 

The sound of a droid coming down the hall drew the group's attention. “Finally!” Rex’s heart raced as they waited for the droid to reach them. 

Suddenly, the door slid open. Rex raced into the room to find the worst scene he could imagine in front of him. 

Zirena’s body lay on the floor against the wall. Her face was obscured by her ponytail as blood pooled beneath her. He wanted to race over to her but first, he needed to deal with the threat in the room. “Dollian!” He looked at the man and found Dollian pointing the blaster at his head, a crazed look on his face. 

Dollian laughed hysterically. The once calm and snobbish attitude was now gone. “If I can’t have her then neither can you.” He locked eyes with Rex and moved to pull the trigger. 

Blaster fire rang out before Rex could move. He watched as the blaster fell from Dollians hand and the man crumbled to the floor. Fox rushed past him and quickly threw binders onto the crazed man before picking him up. A blaster shot to the knee was clear to see on Dollian. “Zirena!” Rex turned and ran to his beloved's side. 

His knees rested in her blood as he scrambled to pull her into his lap. His hands tentatively hovered over her face before he carefully pulled her hair free of the sticky blood that covered it. “Z-Zirena?” Her eyes were closed and her mouth hung open. 

“Rex, the medics on his way.” Fox stood behind Rex as his brother's blood-stained hand shakily moved to Zirena’s pulse point. “Is she…?” 

The Captain's head fell forward in silence and he placed it against Zirena’s. His eyes closed as a tear ran down his cheek.