#I try to watch all the vods but damn they are hard to find

[joifee]

Thats honestly my favorite scene from rats smp - just like the whole garden arc when anon asked rats i did overdo so yeah have this lil comic hahahaah

[bonesandthebees]

I have watched the vod. I am losing my MIND about q!sandduo.

On one side you have q!Phil, who has been taking care of these eggs by himself for months. Who loves them very dearly. Who completely loses it when they go missing to the point of leaving all his items and running of into the woods without telling anyway for the chance to get them back. Like this man tried so hard he got stuck in a birdhouse for a week and he’s still not sure if it was actually real or not. He’s chasing every lead including the mission in the maze. And then Wilbur has the gall to imply he’s not trying hard enough and he’s to happy when the eggs are gone while on a mission to try and gather intell.

Then on the other side you have q!Wilbur, who just got here after being on tour for months. Who wrote consistent letters to his daughter for as long as he could, but couldn’t be there for here in person. And from the moment he gets there he’s overwhelmed, because there’s constant people and things requiring his attention when he just wants to see his daughter. And nobody’s catching him up on anything because no one wants to be the person to tell him his daughter is gone (and so are all the other kids). Maybe none of them think it’s there place. So when he finally gets told, he’s upset. Because he doesn’t know what’s going on, hasn’t for at least an hour, and he’s only being told his daughter is gone now? In his mind it’s more important. And they are just running around in a maze and he doesn’t get why because it’s not been explained to him. He’s so incredibly out of the loop and frustrated that he lashes out at Phil for telling him the news.

Like it’s a miscommunication plot, but it’s so well done because you can understand where both characters are coming from. Because we know what Phil’s been through, but Wilbur doesn’t. He’s missing so much information. So to then have him walk around and see all the things he’s missed, to see that he missed Tallulah’s birthday, helps him understand that maybe he did miss a lot and maybe he was wrong. I’m paraphrasing but “maybe Phil wasn’t angry that I was gone, maybe he’s angry that I left in the first place”.

Not to mention the “I wasn’t:the first to look for her but damn if I’m not gonna try” or something like that. Because he’s starting out easy. He’s starting out with the same thing he did last time he lost her, but how much further will he go when that doesn’t work? Not to mention the Lovejoy funding the island + wanting to talk to the federation thing! Like there’s a couple directions that could go and all of them are interesting.

Anyway, sorry that I just started analysing QSMP in your inbox, but I had thoughts about q!Sandduo and I know you do too.

-🌲

YESSS EXACTLY!! you can understand where both of them are coming from. phil has been tormenting himself for the past month trying to find his kids. wilbur just showed up, no one told him his daughter was missing for his entire first hour there, and everyone is laughing running around a maze while he's barely being given an explanation of what's going on. of course he thinks no one's taking it seriously.

it's a very well done miscommunication plot. I liked how they pulled it off and I think it worked out very well to give wilbur a chance to get away from the chaos and investigate what's gone on in his absence himself

I really think q!wilbur is primed for a federation plot. lovejoy (apparently) canonically works with the federation already, so they already like wilbur and will likely give him similar favoritism that they give jaiden. considering how disorganized and chaotic the players were yesterday, I can see wilbur thinking he's more likely to find his daughter by working with the federation, while being unaware of the darker things the federation has done in his absence. obviously things might go completely a different way and he could get roped into the resistance stuff through phil, but I think wilbur is in a position right now where the federation is 100% going to look like the best option. and if so, imagine the q!sandduo interactions we could get out of THAT

[vivaislenska]

Tech DOES NOT Mess Around with Cybersecurity [excerpt from a longer, TBB mission fic]

Republic specialists at Cyber Ops Squad try to spy on the Boys of the Havoc Marauder. They get their asses handed to them (in a sparkly gift bag).

Basis: A snippet from Chap. 15 of long-form TBB fic called ‘Success Rate’ that can be found here. These two regs just helped Hunter, Crosshair, and Wrecker rescue Tech and Echo from a brutal ordeal in captivity. How'd these mysterious regs meet Tech before all of it went down? Hunter and Crosshair find out… and sympathize.

Length: 3,100 words

CW: swearing and mentions of adult themes

An hour or so goes by, and Hunter and Crosshair are still up in Serpent Squad's shop, swapping stories with Easy and Slowpoke. By now, several more of Easy's guys have wandered over to meet the two Bad Batch commandos and revisit some of the epic tales that are being told. There are still a few guys at their various watch stations, but the ones who’ve been relieved seem to be forgoing their racks and personal time to join in on the fun.

"So lemme get this straight," Hunter says to his and Crosshair's new mates: the OIC and AOIC of a highly secretive, highly reserved, gang of radar operators and crypto specialists. "You two were both ARC Troopers when you deployed to Geonosis, but you got hurt and now you're both cryptos. And you met Tech... when you were doing deep dives into encrypted networks?"

"I know it sounds mental," Easy affirms. "But it's the damn truth. Cadet's honor."

"Well,” Hunter says, first and foremost, “I’m sorry you boys got hurt.”

"Thanks, vod. Yeah, we were sorry too when they yanked our ARC designations," Easy says. "Not sorry right away, though. What happened was me and Slopes were caught in a bad blast during the final push. But it was all the typical injuries you know? We still finished the job and all."

"It was only later we learned we'd both sustained some pretty serious TBIs," Slowpoke adds. "When we tried to go back to duty after everything on the outside had healed, we were having a lot of trouble."

"Still do," Easy continues. "Slopes has these violent seizures now and then. It's really hard on him. And me, I get some nasty vertigo pretty often. Can't tell which way's up or down... it's madness! Also—not that my mind was a durasteel trap before—but my short-term memory’s just garbage now."

"The first time vertigo happened to him, we were in formation," shares Slowpoke as he takes a careful sip from his beer. "All of a sudden, he keels over and starts hugging the deck like the ship was going belly-up. Our CO was furious because he thought Easy was takin' the piss. I mean... we all did. But when he looked up at me, green as Endor moss, I knew something was horribly wrong."

"Yup. Then, not long after, Slopes kept getting 'the shakes' more often, and it became clear that both of us were still affected by whatever that blast did to our brains,” Easy adds, amiably. “Our CO transferred us to medical for eval and treatment, but the long-necks never could cure us. They put us on meds, and the meds do help, but we'll always have symptoms. They wanted to decommission us."

"How'd you dodge it?" asks Crosshair.

"Yeah," Hunter says, also craving to know how a medical decision made by one or more Kaminoans was thwarted. "The long-necks are heartless and stubborn when they deem a vod can't perform as promised."

"Kenobi," Easy says simply. "He heard we were being decommed, then he made other plans for us before the Kaminoans followed through."

"He said he 'negotiated' our 'lateral transfer,'" Slowpoke adds. "But really, we think he pulled us out of there and somehow hid us in Skywalker's inventory. We think he assigned us to crypto because there's not a whole lot of people who even have the clearance to look at our muster sheet."

"That and crypto at a top-tier command is probably the last place the Kaminoans would expect two infirm, unsound, adrenaline-addicted ex-ARCs to wind up," says Easy, grinning around the growing circle of brothers. "But here we are!"

"Here we are," Slowpoke agrees.

"And it’s a pretty good gig too, eh, fellas?" Easy says, turning his head to include everyone within earshot.

There's an excited murmur of assent from around the room.

"We do miss working directly for Kenobi, though," says Easy, sounding a little forlorn. "But he kept us close enough by stashing us with Skywalker's crew. We still see him every now and then. Plus, they're so close that if you're working with one, you're pretty much directly working with the other too."

"I can see that," Hunter tells the group, thinking about all the times he's seen the two men joined at the hip both in battle and in banter.

"Works for us," says Slowpoke. "Plus, we figure the best way to show Kenobi our gratitude is to look after Skywalker."

"Yeah. Just not in the same way we used to on the ground," says Easy. "But with crypto and espionage and slicing instead. Digging up intel and cyber-sneaking around enemy databases and frequencies."

"You're good at what you do," Hunter reminds them, thinking about how instrumental Serpent squad was in helping the Batch retrieve Tech and Echo. "Can't see how anyone could stay off your radar. Or how they could keep intel hidden from you if it's something you guys really want."

Easy and Slowpoke share a wry grin and a few mutters and sniggers break out around the room. Vexed by Serpent squad's communal reaction, Hunter and Crosshair glance around curiously, feeling very much on the outside of an inside joke.

"We're not laughing at you," Easy tells them sincerely. "Promise. We're laughing because it's so damn ironic you would say that."

"Oh... yeah?" Hunter says, still unsure. "Why's that?"

"Bet I know why," drawls Crosshair, revelation dawning on his sharp features.

"Why then?" Hunter asks him.

"They tried their little tricks on Tech," mutters Crosshair pensively. Then turning to Easy and Slowpoke. "Didn't you? And he knew it."

"At the heart of it," Slowpoke says, "that's exactly why.

"We weren't 'trying our tricks' on Tech, specifically," Easy clarifies. "We were doing a routine breaching exercise and Havoc Marauder was just one of the ships on our scopes. We didn't know anything about her but her name and designation, so we wanted to give it a go. Plus, Slopes and I were still relatively new here at the time, and our brass was adamant that we prove our worth."

"Yeah, we were new, but we'd already done a hundred tests on a hundred different ships,” says Slowpoke.

”And we'd cracked all of them without breaking a sweat. So there we were, dumb and cocky enough to think that spying on Havoc Marauder would be like spying on all the others," Easy adds frankly. "We soon learned the hard way that we were wrong."

"Oh man," Hunter says, feeling like he finally knows where this story's headed. "Wha'd he do when he detected you guys?"

"He identified himself as Marauder to confirm your vessel. And then he warned us fair and square," Easy says. "Said he'd recognized our efforts to slice into Marauder's mainframe and that they'd just be futile. Told us to turn back, or he'd be compelled to retaliate."

"And, what?" Crosshair asks. "You thought the arrogant nerd was bluffing?"

"Of course, we thought he was bluffing," Slowpoke tells him.

"Yeah, by then, we'd looked on the GAR universal database and saw who you guys were, and we figured the one called 'Tech' was on the comms,” Easy adds. “We thought you guys were too specialized to bother with crypto know-how, and we thought our advanced training and equipment platforms would give us the upper hand in this challenge. So we went right ahead with it, trying to show Marauder who was boss."

"He warned us one more time before he counterattacked. And then..." adds Slowpoke. "And then he made us learn just who the kriff we were dealing with."

"How?" drawls Crosshair.

"Then all of our display screens went dark for a few seconds," Easy says. "And when they recovered, a little feature film was playing for our enjoyment. On all of them."

"Oh no..." Hunter says, only daring to imagine what Tech had in store for them at that moment.

"An adult feature film," Slowpoke supplies.

"No way!" Hunter says, hooting in unison with Crosshair.

"And I know what you're thinking," Easy says, cracking up at the memory. "You're thinking, 'oh yeah, like you've never had one of those tacky vids passed around the barracks,' right? Well, it wasn't just any smut film, fellas. It was all Hutts."

The collective groan that sounds out through the rollicking atmosphere of the room only makes everyone laugh even harder.

"But-but! Not just Hutts!" Easy chokes, fighting back tears of mirth. "They were fucking ancient, elderly, old Hutts."

"Probably the sickest shit I've ever beheld," says Slowpoke, collecting himself just enough to put some sincerity behind the remark.

"And that's saying something!" comments one of the boys Hunter hasn't met yet, and Slowpoke looks on, playfully peeved and casually brandishing his middle finger.

"How long did he let it go on?" asks Hunter, almost afraid to find out.

"A good hour," Easy tells him. "And by then, we were on our humble knees, begging him to relinquish control before any of the brass caught on, or we'd all be sent up! And he did, just in the knick of time. So, that's the story of how we met Tech.”

"And," Slowpoke adds, "we've been friends ever since."

"Friends?" Crosshair grumbles. "You all then just decided you wanted some dangerous slicing maniac as your friend?"

"Yeah, why not?" Easy says. "He was perfectly civil about warning us, and we were the ones who bit off more than we could chew. I would have done the same thing he did if someone was trying to mess with my guys' info, and I had to teach them a lesson they'd never forget."

"True," Crosshair agrees. "He was protecting us. Sounds like it did the trick."

"Sure did," says Slowpoke. "But we couldn't help but like him.”

”Yeah so we stayed in touch. We see him logged in as "Marauder" at some of the virtual Crypto conferences that we attend for training,” says Easy. “We always say hey, and he does too. But, collectively, we never messed with Marauder again after that."

"Collectively," Slowpoke reiterates. "Doesn't mean we're above having some of the shinies give it a go on their own when they're getting too big for their britches."

"Yeah, whenever we get students or rookies who come through thinking they're real hot shit," Easy says. "We send them right to Tech. We have them do a test in which they target Marauder, and Tech takes care of them for us. You know, knocks them down a peg or two."

"How does Tech only target one guy at a time if they're working out of your shop?" Hunter asks.

"Well, we can't tell you how he does it because we have no karking idea," says Easy.

"None whatsoever," Slowpoke adds.

"But, we can gladly tell you what he does. It's different every time, but he'll usually send out a mass message from their personal account with something ridiculous typed in the body of it. We've actually got them all saved somewhere..."

Easy then swivels around in his chair to address the gathered members of Serpent squad.

"Oi, Serpent," he says to them. "Whose got that list of messages that were sent whenever we've had shinies try to spy on Marauder?

"Got it right here, boss," says a clone from Easy's squad, tapping and scrolling on the datapad at his console.

"Yes, Timbre, well done!" Easy then swivels back to Hunter and Crosshair. "Hunter, Crosshair, meet Timbre. He's gonna do a dramatic reading of some of the good ones. Aren't you, vod?"

"Can do Sarge," the reg says readily, clearing his throat. "Let's see... oh here's a good one. This one was from a rookie whose unit was here for training before they went on to check in aboard Tranquility."

To everyone's delight, the reg called Timbre stands up out of his seat to make sure everyone can hear, then takes on a serious tone of voice to read out the messages.

"Good morning, brothers. Sorry to bother, but does anyone have a spare set of sheets I could borrow for my rack? I pissed in mine again last night and they're absolutely ruined. Thanks in advance."  

"Damn, Tech," Hunter hears Crosshair whisper fondly as the room erupts into more laughter.

"That one got sent to our whole battalion and the battalion he was due to check in with a few days later," Slowpoke adds happily.

"That one's one of my favorites," Easy says admiringly. "Timbre, give us another."

"Sure thing, boss," says Timbre.

Hunter finds himself wondering if Timbre is Serpent squad's designated orator when it comes to recitation of the absolutely absurd.

"Any requests?" asks the reg before sharing another.

"Do the aftershave one!" shouts somebody on watch at a comms console.

"You got it," Timbre says readily, as he repeats the same process but with a slightly different voice this time so that the audience knows a different rookie is now speaking.

"Hey Fellas!!!! Does anyone know what that alluring aftershave is that Commander Cody uses? I just passed him in the p-way and it made my mouth water. Can't get it off my mind and thinking of trying it out for myself. Cheers!"  

"Hells! Tell me Cody didn't see that one," says Hunter, eyes going wide but with a guilty grin.

"He did," Slowpoke reports mildly. "From some ass-licker down in Air Frames who was trying to make chief at the time. And the Commander was fuming.”

"Ahhh, he sure was!" Easy agrees wistfully. "We actually caught flak for that one too, because it's literally our job to stop external tampering of any kind. And I just had tuck tail and say 'sir, look, if we knew how this guy was doing it, we'd put an end to it.' But, as you guess, that didn't really cut it for ole Code-y."

"'This guy',"  Crosshair repeats curiously. "You didn't rat on Tech?"

"'Course not, Crosshair, you sullen prick!" says Easy, playfully cuffing the sniper on the chest. "Kriff, you're pessimistic! We were the ones who set that loud-mouth, blowhard shiny into Tech's lair to begin with. And it's well-known Bad Batch gets far less free time than most."

"Yeah," Slowpoke agrees. "He's doing us a huge favor every time he gives arrogant new guys like that a good lick because it's arrogance that could cost our operations everything. Plus we bounce ideas off him all the time. We kinda lean on him here and there."

"Also, it was a nice reality check for those of us who were thinking we'd take another swing at Marauder's database," Easy admits. "Some of us thought we could find a way past Tech's defenses. But the truth was, we'd just forgotten that if we tried to mess with the wampa, we were gonna wake up, swinging by our ankles, in his cave."

"He did feel bad though when we told him Cody had us on scullery duty for a week after the incident," says Slowpoke. "After that, he stopped including anyone else in the narratives by name."

"Let's hear another message, Sarge," someone requests.

"Alright one more," Easy allows after consulting with and sharing a knowing look with his number two. "But just the one or we could be doin' this all night. Pick another good one for our honored guests, lads."

"The one about the butterfly!" shouts a Serpent reg, to an outpour of general agreement.

"No, do the one about the dance recital!" cries another to a similar level of assent.

"Both are fantastic, but let's have the butterfly," says Easy, swiftly and expertly breaking the tie. "Go for it, Timbre."

"Butterfly it is," says Timbre, preparing for one last little speech.

Hey comrades! I'm looking for a tattoo artist onboard... anyone have any good recs? Preferably someone good with colors because I'd like a maridun butterly on my lower back. And also, someone with a tender touch. I've extra sensitive skin and I cried a lot last time because it really, really hurt. Best regards.  

"Oh shit!" Easy exclaims. "He straight castrated that bloke!"

"He kriffing deserved it, if my memory serves," reasons Slowpoke, casually sipping his drink. "And it does."

...

Hunter and Crosshair laugh heartily together as Easy moves to finally break up the fun. The reg sergeant sends those on watch back to their stations, while Slowpoke sends those who aren't down to their barracks to get some rest. After the shop returns to a general state of order, the four clones sit together peacefully once again.

"And thus concludes the adventure of how we met your Tech long before the mishap with the Bounty Hunters," Easy declares as he pours another round for each of them.

"Well, the story officially did not disappoint," Hunter says, clinking his glass on Slowpoke's. "And to be honest, it's probably the least controversial thing Tech's accomplished with his… skills."

"Where does he even come up with that stuff? I mean, he really doesn't mess around," says Easy, still laughing. "And worse, he looks a bit funny ya know? Like someone you could mess with at the cantina. But he's a kriffing savage, he is."

"He is on another level," Hunter agrees fondly.

"He's on his own level," Slowpoke says in a sudden moment of mindfulness. "Bet it gets lonely."

"It did," Crosshair tells the reg flatly. "But that was before Echo. Now, Tech has a partner when it comes to perpetrating cyber crimes."

"That's trouble," says Easy, sounding blissfully intrigued. "Oh right, Echo! I keep forgetting that Echo's got a whole new skillset these days. Hey, do you think Echo would know how to get past Tech's security and then help us finally retaliate? Maybe he'd sympathize as one former ARC to another."

"Fuck no," says Crosshair with a dry bark of cruel laughter. "Fuck. No. And he's still an ARC."

By now, Easy and Slowpoke both understand Crosshair's aversion to sugarcoating anything. But Hunter senses that they're still startled at the rigidly abrupt change in the sharpshooter's tone. As his brother and batchmate, Hunter knows Crosshair meant nothing more than emphasis by it, so he readily smooths over any ambiguity felt by the regs.

"What my charming scout sniper means," Hunter says with a laugh and a relaxed smile. "Is sorry, that's not happening, fellas. Our ARC’s all business. He doesn’t trouble himself with devious pranks and scruples when there's work to be done.”

"Well, that and he'd never tell you," Crosshair mutters, taking a sip from his beer. "Those two have been inseparable since within hours of knowing each other. It's revolting."

"That’s true," Hunter adds. "They kinda just meshed from the start. I don't think you could even drive a lightsaber between them at this point."

"Fuck," says Easy, cautiously admiring them. "Well, cheers to them being on our side, eh boys?"

"Cheers," Hunter says in unison with Crosshair and Slowpoke as they bang their glasses together and take a long draught.

Thank you so much for reading. I hope it made you smile! Reblogs, critiques, corrections, comments, and new ideas are welcome. Have a great day : ]

Easy and Slowpoke ("Slopes") are two OCs that roll over from another fic hehe! Easy is sort of a cross between Hunter and Wrecker and Slopes is almost a cross between Crosshair and Tech, and I've grown rather fond of these two helpful boys.

@amorfista @anxiouspineapple99 @wolffegirlsunite @freesia-writes @523rdrebel @sinfulsalutations @destril @zaana @queenjiru @oceanamber24 @raevulsix @enigmatist17

[matchademi]

Since Ori'vod Ness decided to be mean, Im doing Falls reaction to Patchers death @starrrgazingbunny

Falls has been fighting in the rebellion since the near beginning he has been fighting side by side with Rex for years now, making it known that what's left of the 501st refuses to die. But he misses his Corrie guard vode. He misses talking to Stitch and trying to stop Rainbow squad from causing chaos. But more than anything his misses Patcher. He misses their talks, the long nights working side by side with his Ori'vod when he was on leave or the late or early holo calls when neither could sleep. Falls hasn't seen Patcher since the empire formed since it's too dangerous for Falls to go to Coruscant, and Patcher refused to leave what is left of the guard, and Falls understands but what worries him now is that he can't get ahold of Patcher at all this as been worrying him for weeks on top of the battle to end all battles starting in mere hours. Falls can't keep thinking about this he needs to focus. He is a medic, of he gets killed out there, then it's just gonna be that much harder to win, and they WILL win. Falls grabs his com, punching in the number he knows by heart "hey Ori'vod, this is it the final fight. We are going to win this, then I'm bringing you home. I promise. K'oyacyi!"

They won. The war is over!! After everything, every vod lost, every sacrifice it was all for this. The party's on Endor is in full swing as Falls looks for his old captain. And he finds him,with commander Wolffe, "Captain!!" He calls looking at the old 501st captain, "Vod'ika! It's good to see you made it out of that mess, kid. " Rex grins, putting a hand on Falls shoulder "Rex I've gone gray. I'm no longer a kid. " Rex pats his back hard."You always will be, and at least you're not bald! Care for a drink, Vod'ika?" Falls laugh "no thank you Ori'vod I'm gonna be heading course for Coruscant in a few hours. I'm bringing Patcher home. " Falls watches the happy look drop off his old captains face,"you haven't heard? Patcher is gone, kid, found in his office..." Falls feels his heart freeze, "you better not be lying to me, captain..." his voice is shaky 'no no no not again. This can't be tr -' "I'm not lying to you, trooper he died..."Rex sets a heavy hand on Falls shoulder. Falls bearly feels himself stumble "no no...he promised me he karking PROMISED he wouldn't leave." Falls nails dig deep into his palms. "He never got to see the end of that damned empire....." sobs start to wrack his body."I never got to bring him home..."

Falls after having not cried since Tech died all those years ago, finally let himself break down

[theywrites]

17 wins in row, the God of Glory, master tactician - wherever Sun Xiang turns there's always Ye Xiu. Ye Xiu's legacy in Glory is an all-covering, and Sun Xiang is always in his shadows. He, Sun Xiang, has replaced YeXiu as Team leader and One Autumn Leaf is his. Yet, it's like he is picking up the leftovers that YeXiu has allowed him. He hates it.

***

He cries in the bathroom behind the scenes. Losing hurts, hurts so much not only because they are eliminated, but because he thought he could do something against their losing streak, change their downfall, and he struggled all he could but still, inevitably, lost. He was not enough. In the end, he didn't do a damn thing.

And then of all the players, the staff, hell, even sneaky fans who sometimes find their way backstage, Ye Xiu walks in on Sun Xiang leaning over the sink, crying. And Ye Xiu, the bastard he is, doesn't have the decency to walk away and pretend he didn't see. He rubs salt in Sun Xiang's wounds, and really, he'd always been the reason for Sun Xiang's problems.

"Sobbing like this after losing a match.... Young kids these days lack resilience."

Sun Xiang raises his head and glares. Ye Xiu smirks. Damn him.

"Get out," Sun Xiang hisses as he turns to look away. He can't tolerate that bastard mocking him.

"Oh? Is that so." SunXiang doesn't look up, but he hears footsteps walking towards him. Sun Xiang feels like a rabid dog, he wants to bite YeXiu's head off.

"You know-" he whips his head around, his still wet eyes, he hates YeXiu for being such a despicable being who is kicking SunXiang when he's down. Ye Xiu is leaning against the sink beside him, smiling at him. At least SunXiang sees that YeXiu halts, and he stops saying whatever he was about to say. There is a small moment of victory, but Ye Xiu was charging to strike back harder. (You look too cute glaring like this Dont look at me like that you look too cute.) "Don't look at me like that," he starts, he's looking straight through SunXiang, saying the next words. "You think it's my fault that you lost. You're blaming me for all your failures." He advances, he's building up for the final blow. "When will you learn to improve yourself?"

Sun Xiang feels small and childish standing in the bathroom with YeXiu who's caught him, a mess, after crying because his dream is shattered and his effort were for nothing. YeXiu is looking down at him like he's a toddler and it doesn't help. SunXiang resolves himself to stare at the dirty floor until YeXiu leaves.

He doesn't speak, so YeXiu continues. (Perhaps knowing he's right, because SunXiang doesn't retort.)

"You should not have charged in like that into the enemy, knowing that your team cannot keep up with your movement. A battle master with.. has un.. movement speed, yet you charge right on and leaves your teammates behind fully knowing that, instead of adjusting your tempo ti make a coordinated attack. That's a huge mistake, as a player, but even more as a team leader. Also,-"

Blood rushes to SunXiang's head as he stares at the floor, his ears are flooded with the rush of his own pulse.

"I did everything I could!" Sun Xiang interrupts. He's yelling at the dirty spot on the pale bathroom floor. He sucks in a breath. "I practised so damn hard every day, I always put my most into the drills, I stayed behind to practice pressing the right buttons to stay in my best shape, I mastered new combinations to surprise the enemies, I even made myself watch vods to notice the details of our enemies and the playstyle of the opponent team even though it's not my strong point, I tried to motivate the others even when nobody listens to me, I tried everything- everything I could and could not - even when I knew that everyone in the team thinks I'm a complete idiot, and even when I made a fool of myself trying, I still tried my best!"

He's crying again. Damn it.

Damn Ye Xiu for making him cry.

“You’ve beaten me in every way possible now. Are you happy? Knowing that even having the account card you left behind I’ll never fill your shoes, and I’m not cut out for leader position I took from you, I can’t lead my team to victory like you did and whatever I try in Glory I’ll always be in your shadow.”

Sun Xiang feels utterly defeated and it’s the first time he admits so. “What more do you want?”

He’ll never beat YeXiu. He hates YeXiu for being better than him, he hates himself for not being better. The truth hurts too much.

SunXiang tries to quench down the sobs, but he knows that his shaking shoulders are giving him away. His hands are white from clenching on the cold porcelain sink. He feels YeXiu's warm hand on his. And he hears YeXiu tsk.

"Sun Xiang," he calls. Sun Xiang looks up despite his resolve to only stare at that dirty spot on the laminated floor. His face is pale, his eyes are red, his mouth is slightly open and he's heaving through his mouth. Too late, he notices that YeXiu is too close to him, and that there is a something in YeXiu's eyes he cannot decipher, and that YeXiu is leaning in on him.

YeXiu's lips are soft on his

***

“I’ll never fill your shoes,” YeXiu is laughing again. “That was really cute.”

Sun Xiang scoffs. He confessed in a moment of weakness. Trust YeXiu to exploit that.

YeXiu snuggles his head in the crook of SunXiang’s neck. “Don’t be mad at me,” he says, his words tickle.

[chopper-base]

In the Vents

212TH ONE-SHOT

@metalhusbands :one of the clones gets stuck in a vent - chaos insues

As you wish!!!!

(got the idea from @212th-chaos and @obiwanshusband tooka chaos)

---------

"What do you mean it's IN the vent?!?!" Cody practically yelled, throwing his arms up in exaggeration.

Waxer bowed his head, hiding his hands behind his back. "I didn't realize the vent cover was off so it sprinted towards it, I tried to grab it and it bit me and disappeared…"

Cody pinched the bridge of his nose as he let out a drawn-out sigh. "There's a tooka loose in the ven- wait did you say it bit you?"

Waxer shrugged, still hiding his hands. "It's not that bad, sir."

Cody gave him an unbelieving glare. "Nice try. Med bay. Now," He pointed down the hall. "I'll go find someone to help find the damned thing."

Waxer nodded, heading towards the medbay as Cody started towards the barracks.

As the Commander got closer, he could hear laughing and yelling coming from beyond the door to the barracks. He wasn't sure what he expected to see beyond the door but he definitely didn't expect what he did find.

"Commander!" Boil shot up from where he was crouched on the floor. Next to him, someone was sticking halfway out of a vent, their waist up hidden inside. Boil looked from Cody to whoever was in the vent, back to Cody.

Cody crossed his arms, trying his best to refrain from laughing. "What the hell happened?"

Around Boil, other troopers were failing to control their laughter. "Well, sir," Boil started, barely containing his own laughter, "Waxer lost a tooka in the vent and Wooley saw it and tried to grab it and well…" he motioned to the pair of legs, "he got stuck."

Cody couldn't stop the amused chuckle as Wooley started to kicked his legs.

"Will you stop karking laughing and get me the kriff out?!?" Wooley's muffled yell only caused the boys to keel over laughing once more.

"I'm assuming pulling him out didn't work, then?" Cody asked, leaning against the door frame.

"We tried," Longshot piped up. "But his squeaking as we tried to pull him out-" he fell into a fit of giggles.

"So what you're saying is you bunch of di'kuts were all laughing too hard to pull him out?" Cody asked, his amused smirk never leaving his face.

"No, yeah. That about sums it up sir," Trapper put in between wheeze.

Cody was more laughing at his troopers trying their best to say things in a professional manner all while doubled over wheezing than Wooley screaming profanities through the vent.

"So," Cody made his way over, lightly kicking Wooley's leg. "How bout you lot get him out of the vent so we can find the missing tooka before it bites someone else?"

"I like that plan!" Wooley called out, kicking his legs again, accidentally hitting Cody in the process.

Unfortunately for Wooley, that just sent them all laughing again. Crys, who hadn't said a word since Cody arrived, was now struggling to breath, curled into a ball on the floor.

"What the kriff did I miss?"

Cody turned to see Waxer now standing in the open doorway, a bandage wrapped neatly around his hand.

Cody leaned his back against the wall, sparing a glance at Wooley. "Seems your tooka caused a bit of chaos in your absence."

Waxer chuckled to himself before walking over to Wooley, grabbing his leg and yanking hard. Wooley slid free from the vent and Waxer landed on his ass, wincing as his bandaged hand hit the floor.

Wooley rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling before getting up and launching himself at Boil who practically screamed. Wooley wrestled his vod to the floor. "This is for not getting me out, you karking di'kut!" He yelled as he put Boil in a headlock.

No one came to Boil's rescue and he squirmed to attempt to free himself.

Cody didn't move from his spot against the wall, content to watch the chaos unfold.

Wooley released Boil and latched himself to Longshot who started screaming at Crys to help him. Crys was of no help, still fighting to catch his breath.

Waxer stood up, stopping beside his Commander and his vode rolled around on the floor. "Should we-?"

"Nah," Cody interrupted. "They'll figure it out,"

Cody's attention was quickly drawn back to the vent as a soft meow was heard. Beside his foot the tabby tooka, also watching the chaos it had unknowingly caused.

"There's the little shit!" Wooley's voice called out.

"GET IT!"

[arcanadreams]

That time you and your demon boyfriend went viral

hi yes hello obey me fandom!! my name is Gabbi and i have never played a single second of the actual game but i have read enough fanon content for the past year to have this idea swimming around in my head and now i am finally letting this accursed thing out of my brain and putting it in yours

also i’m only doing the brothers because any more than that and i’d have an aneurysm probably. oh and shoutout to @obeythebutler and @beels-burger-babe for inspiring me with their works to feel brave enough to write for this fandom

Lucifer:

You and Lucifer go viral on Asmo’s Devilgram story!

You’re in the kitchen helping Asmo with dinner duty and singing along to one of your playlists of human realm music that you like to show him.

Asmo starts filming your cute little dance while you stir the pot on the stove because you are just adorable!

About ten seconds into him filming, Lucifer appears in the doorway with quite the stern look on his face. You know, the one that comes right before a “MAMMOOOOOON” and strikes fear into the heart of all those with functioning eardrums. That one.

He opens his mouth, presumably to tell y’all to shut the fuck up, but then there’s a lull in the music and the eldest can hear your voice ever so slightly above the song’s vocalist and he freezes.

Man stops in his tracks like someone just smacked him in the face with a midair volleyball.

Asmo can be heard stifling a laugh behind his phone.

Lucifer’s face gets so soft and he almost, almost, loosens his metal-rod-through-the-ass posture before you notice him and give a little wave and ask if you and Asmo were being too loud like the considerate darling you are.

Lucifer clears and his throat and says something like, “No, you aren’t. I was just coming to check on how dinner is coming along,” and leaves, after which Asmo immediately presses the post button.

Screenshots of Lucifer’s heart eyes for you go absolutely viral because every demon on Devilgram goes absolutely feral for seeing the eldest demon brother lose his dignified composure. It becomes a meme template. “Get you someone who looks at you like Lucifer looks at MC” and “me at the delivery demon when he shows up with my spicy bat wings” posts become commonplace. (Asmo thinks the memes are totally worth getting strung up with Mammon for laughing at them.)

Mammon:

Much like Lucifer, you and Mammon end up going viral off Asmo’s Devilgram. (Noticing a pattern here?) 

He pulls a silly prank on your asses and honestly I don’t know how you fell for it. But hey, they say “idiots in love” for a reason, so...

You and Asmo are sitting in the common room of the House of Lamentation just chillin. Well, he’s chillin, you’re on the floor studying for an upcoming exam.

The video starts in the middle of a conversation you and the avatar of lust were having.

“No, Asmo,” you say. “Mammon and I don’t use pet names for each other.” Now that’s just a darn lie, and every demon and crow within ten miles of Mammon and you together knows it.

“Really? I find that very hard to believe, MC.~” 

You sigh in response to Asmo’s teasing. “Okay, he has a lot for me but I’m just not much of a pet name person, y’know?” The rest of the exchange goes like this:

“Oh, I totally get it.” *pause* “Hey MC, what do human world bees make again?”

“Honey.”

Cue a sheepish Mammon sticking his head in the doorway at the bluntness of your tone when you answered Asmo.

“Yeah, babe?” he looks like a puppy left on the side of a highway oh my god hUG HIM-

Asmo turns the camera back to his smug ass face and in the background you can be heard tripping on the damn carpet trying to get up and hug your mans. (”MAMMON GET OVER HERE SO I CAN HUG YOU” “W-WHAT? I THOUGHT YA WERE MAD AT ME?!?!?!?!”)

Leviathan:

Streamer Levi? Streamer Levi.

You guys go viral the first time you make an appearance on one of Levi’s weekly (insert cool Devildom streaming service name here) streams. 

It’s completely unintentional. You had been asking him for weeks to play with him on there, but he’s the avatar of envy after all. He doesn’t like sharing his partner, even if it’s with random strangers who have no real access to you.

However, he has his stream on a Thursday instead of a Friday one week, and you come into his room carrying dinner because 1) You didn’t realize he was streaming and 2) No matter what he was doing, the boy needed to eat. It wasn’t unusual for you to bring him dinner, so you had no idea why he was blushing and stammering even more than usual this time in particular. Boy was speaking in beached whale trying to tell you what was wrong.

Then you notice his screen. Oh! “Hi chat!” You wave, setting Levi’s food down on his desk in front of his keyboard. “M-MC!” He full-on whines, slamming a hand over his mouth afterwards when he remembers his viewers could hear that.

Honestly, they’d meme the fuck out of him if it weren’t for the fact that they are FINALLY SEEING HIS HENRY!!! THE MYSTERIOUS MC!!!

Chat is bombarding you with questions while you make Levi eat dinner. And by make him eat dinner, I mean literally feeding this man forkfuls/spoonfuls while he games because you love how flustered he gets when you do that. 

Does it impact his score? Absolutely. Does he care? Not really when you’re pampering him like that.

You start answering chat’s questions about you while he’s chewing so he can’t tell you to stop LMAO-

You’re a natural on stream. The VOD becomes the most popular on Levi’s account in a matter of hours and soon cute highlights compilations of you and him on that stream start making the rounds on Devildom Twitter.

Satan:

There was buildup to Satan going viral, similar to Levi in a way. 

Satan does have a Devilgram, but it’s basically a white woman’s Instagram with added book reviews for variety. Unless you’re a reader his account is pretty boring: candles, books, fireplaces, and cats.

However, after you two started reading together fairly often he began posting pictures of your legs draped over his while you sat together. They’d always be captioned with vague ass pretentious literary criticism. 

This goes on for months, and he gains a lot of (horny) followers after the leg pics start up. He doesn’t really get why but you both joke that it’s because you have some damn nice legs and I mean neither of you are complaining about the new following.

You two go viral when he finally shows your face, entirely by accident.

The post is a video, which is already strange for him and grabs attention. In it, you’re scoffing and reading an excerpt of a book, mocking its understanding of female anatomy.

“I’m quoting here, Satan: ‘her breasts bouncing around like giant pacmen.’ I’M SORRY?? THAT ISN’T HOW BOOBS WORK SIR. WHY ARE MEN ALLOWED TO WRITE?” 

(fun fact that is a very real quote from a very real book I really read last month pls save me)

Originally the camera is focused on your body, with your head out of frame to protect your privacy, but your righteous anger made Satan laugh. Like, a real laugh. The one that makes you and everyone in earshot wonder if he truly was never an angel cause he sure as hell laughs like one but anyway-

When he threw his head back, his DDD angled up just a tad without him noticing, and your face was in view for like .2 seconds. Screenshots of it are making the rounds on Devilgram almost immediately: FINALLY THE LEGS’ OWNER HAS BEEN FOUND.

Satan apologizes profusely but you honestly find it funny and you two opt to just start taking selfies while reading with both of your faces in them from now on. 

Asmodeus:

I’m gonna be real with you: you and Asmo go viral all the time. Pretty much everything Asmo posts can be considered viral because of his social media following and his status as one of the seven avatars of sin.

However, there are some fairly cute highlights to be pointed out among the times you were both featured in a post that blew up.

Your favorite is probably that time Asmo livestreamed on of you guys’ ‘Nail Nites,’ as you call them.

You’re both on the floor, doing your nails and kicking your feet back and forth while talking to chat. A lot of the questions are about your relationship, and there’s a lot of flirting back and forth between the two of you.

A particular clip of the stream does blow the fuck up on Devilgram, though, when someone screen records it and posts it with a bunch of heart emojis edited over it.

“’What colors do you think best describe each other?’ Ooo, that’s a good one, chat!” Asmo claps his hands together excitedly, making sure to be  careful of his nails.

Pretty much everyone expected you to say pink, but you surprised both your boyfriend and your viewers when, after a pensive few moments, you replied with “Hmm...probably yellow or orange.”

“Can I ask why, darling?” Asmo tilts his head in confusion. I mean, yeah, those colors look good on him, but he doesn’t wear them often so he’s wondering about your thought process. 

“Well, in the human world those colors often represent happiness, optimism, and positivity. You’re always the cheerful presence I need in my life when things get hard, so you have the vibe of those colors.”

Asmo proceeds to burst into tears and hug you, messing up both of your nails and prolonging the stream since you both have to start over. But neither of you particularly care. 

Fun fact: Asmo has the clip that demon made of that portion of the stream saved on his DDD and watches it whenever he feels sad.

Beelzebub:

Beel and you probably go the most viral out of everybody. Like this moment is an entire phenomenon across the Devildom internet. 

It’s a video, or well, multiple videos, taken at the end of a Fangol game that Beel’s team had just won. Everyone is cheering and going crazy, yourself included, and you just really wanted to congratulate your boyfriend.

So, like the rational person you are, you elect to climb up onto the railing of the bleachers and wave to get his attention. 

You were absolutely fine up there, and sat all comfortably motioning Beel over to you. He notices, of course, and jogs over, standing right beneath you and looking up. (Back where you were sitting, Mammon is screeching like a hyena in heat and Belphie, who is laying down, has one eye open to glare at him. The youngest knows Beel would never let you hurt yourself; you’re fine.)

A bunch of assorted demons at the game has started filming while you were sat atop the railing since you were rather noticeable. Therefore, there’s a shit ton of different angles of the adorable events that follow:

You slide off the railing, landing right in Beel’s waiting arms bridal style. You’ve got this brilliant smile on your face as you pull his helmet off. None of the DDDs filming can hear it over the crowd noise, but Beel asks you why you just went through all that trouble and you tell him it’s because you wanted to tell him how proud you are.

Soft boy’s chest puffs up and he smiles this big cheesy smile at you reach up to run a hand through his hair. You feel him practically purr at the contact, and with a laugh you pull him in and plant a big ole smooch on him.

The crowd, at least those of them that can see, scream. Everyone is running high on adrenaline and happy emotions; something that cute causes a ruckus!! When you pull away Beel proceeds to put you on his shoulders and you celebrate with him and the rest of his team.

The videos of you two being adorable go completely viral and there are some threads dedicated to stockpiling every single angle taken of the event. Beel is completely oblivious to the attention but you have a lot of them saved on your DDD.

Belphegor:

If you think Belphegor has any sort of social media presence whatsoever then you are sorely mistaken. (Well okay he actually does run some anonymous troll accounts to meme on Lucifer’s posts but that’s neither here nor there-)

Therefore, naturally, you two go viral off of Asmo’s Devilgram. 

Okay so someone in the obey me tag the other say headcanoned that Belphie will go out of his way to nap in ridiculous places and my brain really took that and RAN WITH IT.

So what happens is that Belphie will fall asleep in the fucking weirdest places. I’m talking on top of the fridge, underneath the dinner table, on top of bookshelves...you name it, he has slept there, no matter the effort it takes to get there in the first place. 

And, ever since you two started dating, you would join him. Sometimes it involved putting yourself at risk of great bodily harm, but the little smile he gave when you he saw you fucking scaling the countertop to reach him made it worth it.

So anyway, since Beel adores the both of you to no end, he takes pictures whenever he sees you two napping together, whether or not it is in a crazy place. He sends these to the family group chat because he thinks they’re adorable.

Over a span of weeks to months, Asmo has built up a stock of images of you and Belphie cuddles up in seemingly impossible places. Once he has about ten or so, he posts a compilation of them to his Devilgram with some cheesy ass caption like “The things we do for love <3″.

They become a meme SO QUICKLY. Like UNBELIEVABLY quickly. 

The picture of you and Belphie sleeping on top of a bookshelf, in particular, is a big hit. Memes abound.

“If my girl doesn’t climb up a bookshelf to cuddle my ass, she don’t love me.” “Get yourself a partner who scales bookshelves just to be with your ass.” Etc etc...Belphie doesn’t give a shit but you laugh at a lot of them so he sees that as a good outcome.

[rexsjaigeyes]

divs my absolute beloved ✨ can we see something from Sweet Dreams from echo’s pov?? i love how he take a bit more control in that fic than we usually characterize him in fanon 💖💖

Vee bestie, thanks for sending the first pov ask! This was a bit of a challenge, but hopefully it's still hot lmao. I cheated a little bit and started the scene right before the fic began, so I guess it counts as a prequel too.

From a certain point of view ask game

Sweet Dreams... Are Made of This (Echo’s POV)

Read Sweet Dreams - I recommend you read this first if you haven’t already!

Pairing: Echo x female reader x Fives

Words: 1.4k

Warnings: threesome, mentions somnophilia

Echo’s mind screams at him to sleep, but he’s stuck in that weird space between being fully awake and dreaming of you. He can’t help it when you had taken such good care of him and Fives just a few hours ago. His tired brain replays the images of you arching your back when his fingers hit that spot deep within you and the way you moaned when his vod sucked hickeys on your neck. He can feel himself slowly drifting off before his eyes snap open, and he realizes the moans he thought were part of his dreams are actually spilling from your mouth.

He has to stop himself from immediately reaching out to you, noticing that you’re still fast asleep even as your moans become more frequent. His eyes travel down your naked body, glad to have suggested that the three of you forego pajamas tonight due to exhaustion. Holding his breath, he stifles a groan when he sees you rocking your hips ever so slightly. He smirks, wondering what you’re dreaming of that's making you this desperate for some friction. It’s cute that even after all the fucking the three of you did, you’re still so horny, even in your sleep. But as Echo bites down on his tongue to stop himself from waking you, he notices his brother has other ideas.

Echo glares as one of Fives’s hands slide around your waist, holding you tight to his body and pulling you closer to him. Echo would have ignored his greedy hold on you if Fives wasn’t so bold as to groan right in your ear too.

“Di’kut,” Echo whispers harshly, “you’ll wake her up!” He watches Fives go rigid for a second before he lifts his head to peek over your shoulder.

“You’re awake too? Was it her moans that woke you up? Or was it the way she was writhing?”

Echo rolls his eyes, feeling his exasperation for his vod rise. Maybe it’s the fact that Fives doesn’t seem to care about the possibility of waking you up with his low moans and wandering hands. Or maybe he’s frustrated that Fives always gets a free pass to do as he pleases while Echo is the one behaving nicely for you all the time. He doesn’t mind being good for you of course, but Fives’s bratty attitude never fails to piss him off. You’d tell Fives to do something simple, like keep his damn mouth shut, and he’d still find a way to test your patience — as well as Echo’s. Earlier tonight was yet another one of those nights when Echo had put on his best behavior, but every cocky word from his brother’s mouth had him aching to see you put Fives in his place. He doesn’t blame you for not doing it tonight though; you were tired, and Fives was a lot to handle. But if he isn’t going to listen to you tonight, then maybe he’d listen to a fellow ARC trooper instead.

Echo grimaces as he watches Fives grip you tighter before grinding into your backside. Your moans have only gotten louder, and Echo can’t take it anymore. His cock is hard and throbbing already, and his fingers itch to feel your soft skin before digging into the flesh of your thighs. He knows you wouldn’t mind waking up like this — in fact, you had begged for it to happen before — but that doesn’t stop him from scowling at Fives over your shoulder.

“If we’re going to wake her like this, you better fucking listen to me very carefully, Fives.”

“Oh so you get to be in charge now? Are you sure you can handle it without the reg manual?”

Echo clenches his jaw and fights the urge not to smack the back of Fives’s head or risk hitting you in the process too. “Fucking brat,” he mutters to himself. “Remember what Rex said? If we work together, she’ll have the time of her life. And you want her to feel good, don’t you?”

“Of course I do.”

“Good, then follow orders.” He sees the unconvinced look on his brother’s face, so with a sigh, he adds, “If we do this right, we can have her cumming for us as many times as we want while she actually gets some rest.”

Finally, it looks like Fives fully understands what he’s getting at, and Echo hopes he’ll actually do as he’s told tonight. It’s the only way this plan will work since Fives always tries to jump the gun or dive head-first into things too quickly. This time, he’ll need to learn to be patient in order to get what both he and Echo wants.

Fives nods with a gulp, and Echo feels a surge of relief upon seeing his agreement to do things his way. Your soft whine breaks Echo’s staring contest with his vod, and he watches Fives shudder as you push back against him again. He can’t wait any longer — not when his brother’s hand makes its way up to your tits to roll one nipple between his fingers.

Echo shoves his hand away from your chest. “Keep your hands on her waist. If you get to feel her grinding against you, then I think I deserve to feel her tits.”

Fives scoffs but fortunately does as he’s told, tracing a path back down to your waist. You start to stir in your sleep, likely hearing all the whispering and feeling Fives’s large hands grabbing your body. So Echo scoots closer to you and finally allows himself to touch you properly. Fuck, you look beautiful like this — your body moving effortlessly even while you’re half-asleep, grinding back against Fives with needy whimpers. If Echo had less self restraint, he’d push his vod away and fuck you deep into the mattress. But he wants to take care of you; you deserve it after giving him and his brother such a warm welcome home. He brushes his thumbs against your nipples just in time to see your tired eyes fluttering open.

“Hm, what happened?” you ask softly.

“You were moaning in your sleep, mesh’la.” Echo can’t help the satisfied smile that grows on his face as he whispers those words. The way your eyes widen make him want to kiss the embarrassment off your face.

But as usual, Fives has to join the conversation as well. “She was squirming too.”

Echo doesn't have time to give his vod a stern look because he notices the way your body stiffens as you finally process the situation you’re in. Even with the way Fives groans shamelessly, Echo can hear the telltale sound of his brother’s cock slipping between the back of your thighs. You shudder as Fives continues rutting against you, and Echo relishes the sight of you so desperate to meet each rocking thrust. He holds you close, feeling every inch of your heated skin as you look to him for some sort of relief. In this moment, he doesn’t care that Fives is taking what he wants; it’s slow torture for you, so Echo allows it. He loves the way you look up at him as you cling to his biceps. And he’d bet that if he reached down between your legs, he’d find the evidence of how much you’re enjoying waking up this way — and how much you’re enjoying your dreams. Which reminds him...

“Were you dreaming of us?” Echo asks, noticing the way you tremble upon hearing his question.

You nod your head sheepishly, so he returns a reassuring smile. You look hesitant to admit it, but Echo loves the fact that even in your sleep, you want to be taken care of by him and his vod. He chuckles as you try to hide your face in his chest, but he wants to see all of you tonight. Echo gently lifts a finger to your chin, tilting your head up so you’ll look straight into his eyes.

“Don’t be embarrassed, cyar’ika.” He glances over your shoulder to catch a glimpse of Fives helplessly rutting against you, and Echo has to stop himself from laughing at the irony; if anyone should be embarrassed right now, it should be Fives for how easily you reduce him to a whimpering mess. “Don’t you feel how much of an effect you have on us too?” Echo leans closer to you so he can be heard over his brother’s low moans. “We dream about you too.”

He’s not lying. His dreams from a moment ago still feel fresh in his mind — just the thought of it makes his cock throb harder. But now... he’ll get to make his dreams a reality.

---------

tagging some besties: @sirianisrock @bobas-missing-codpiece @sgtdogmastyle @ladyopress @zinzinina @saradika @thiccumz @bucketsimp @shiny-mando @milf-thrawn-nuruodo @dreamydroid

[rowansparrow]

By Any Other Name: Chapter Three

Summary: Rex follows you to the back room of the bar to check on you, and you trade stories about what used to be.

Chapter Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: mild drinking and cursing, a bit of gambling? 

Ships: Rex x Female!Reader, Fives x Female!Reader, Clone OC x Female!Reader, other ships tbd.

Tags: #ByAnyOtherName, #BAON

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: It’s going to get much spicier after this chapter. Once again, bless @fat-zygerrian for being my beta reader!

Comment if you want to be tagged! Reblogs are SO appreciated!

Chapter One Chapter Two

You had not expected to see him again.

Of course, a part of you had been hoping you would run into him at 79’s again. But what were the chances he would be there? Stars, what were the odds he’d have even remembered your name?

You entered the bar with measured caution knowing you didn’t have your girlfriends with you this time around. Although they didn’t really offer you much in the way of moral support the last time you’d been here for a night out, it still felt so strange to come alone. You hesitated, looking around for Rose, wrapping your arms around yourself and suddenly feeling incredibly anxious when he didn’t immediately appear. 

This had been a stupid idea. 

You shook your head. If you were already second guessing yourself maybe it was best to just leave and save yourself the embarrassment. You turned back towards the exit quickly, ready to get out. Whatever little gods out there must have been watching over you that night, because just before you stepped through the doors, somebody crashed into you.

“Ah, kriff, sorry ma’am!” The clone chirped, careful to steady the multiple glasses in his hands as he shifted quickly around you. You recognized the handprint on the trooper’s armor. He had been one of the two men who pulled Rose away from you the night you had met.

You stood on your tiptoes, eyes trailing him to a round table pushed into the back corner of the cantina. The trooper hurried over and slid into his seat, distributing drinks and then passing one of the amber drinks to the man on his right. You recognized him too. Even from a distance, the goatee and numeric tattoo on his temple were hard to miss.

The troopers appeared to have been waiting for the replenished drinks, because as soon as the soldier with the handprint on his armor took his seat, the tattooed one immediately began dealing out cards. 

You inched closer, trying to catch a glimpse of the other players while not being too obvious about it. Maybe coming here was a good idea after all...

“No, no, you dealt last hand, di’kut.” A trooper with a Republic cog tattooed on his face swatted at the other man’s hands. “It’s my turn.”

“Did not!” He protested. “Echo had the last one. Then he got drinks so now it’s my turn!”

“The entire point of me getting drinks was so you could deal while I was gone.” The one named Echo drawled.

“Quit bickering and just deal the damn cards.” Another clone griped. “Force knows I’ve already lost enough hands to Rose. Let’s get this over with!”

Your heart skipped a beat. Rose. You tried to look inconspicuous as you shifted even closer to see the rest of the table.

“Ah, don’t be such a sore loser, ‘Case. You’d have better luck with your cards if you’d stop flashing them at me half the time.”

“That’s cheating!”

“Then hold your kriffin’ cards up, vod.”

Rose’s laugh was what finally made you turn fully to face the table. He was not in full armor this time. Instead he wore armor below the belt, but the upper half of his body was just the black bodysuit the clones wore beneath the plates. The top of the suit had been unzipped slightly, showing off a triangle of Rose’s chest and what appeared to be tattoos adorning the bronze skin. Something about the tease of flesh was enough to make your mouth go dry, a more tantalizing intimacy than if he had been naked to the waist.

You suspected Rose must have sensed your staring. As the trooper's gaze shifted from his cards, those beautiful eyes of his darted directly to you. Then for a moment you froze, jaw opening and closing in a panic as you tried to think of something to say, an explanation for why you had been lurking in the shadows, just watching them.

But Rose beamed at you.

“Hey! I know you!”

The men at the table turned and you felt heat creep up into your cheeks.

“I was just – I’m sorry, I-I didn’t mean to intrude -.”

“Nah, come here! We’ve got room.” He reached over his shoulder, grabbing an empty chair from a nearby table and swinging it over effortlessly. He placed it right at his side. “Y/N, right?”

You nodded in response; your voice gone for now. He remembered your name?

“Boys, this is Y/N,” Rose waved at the men around the table. “Over there, that’s Fives and Echo.”

Echo gave you a little wave and Fives smiled, offering a small, two fingered salute.

“This is Jesse, Kix, and -.”

“Hardcase,” The trooper immediately to your right introduced himself then offered you his hand. You took it and he shook it with vigor. “You know how to play Sabacc?”

“Er.. no.”

“You’ll pick it up fast. Rose can coach you! He’s a natural.”

“That’s because he’s a strategist and cheats at cards.” Jesse mumbled, taking a long swig of his drink. Rose scrunched up his nose and flashed Jesse a little smirk. Fives then dealt the cards out to everyone and when each man had a full desk, Rose handed his cards to you. 

“This here is the hand pot,” Rose explained, gesturing to a little pile of what looked like junk in front of him. “And that bigger one is the Sabacc pot. Hand winners get the hand pot and whoever wins the game overall gets the Sabacc pot. Make sense?”

You nodded, trying to follow along. “What’re you betting?” You asked, picking up a small canvas bag off the pile closest to you. You risked a glance inside and were surprised to find two hard candies.

“Contraband.” Hardcase replied conspiratorially. “Or whatever else we’ve got. Not like we’ve got credits to bet.”

“Cards up, darlin’.” Rose told you, reaching around to the back of your hand to tilt your cards back up towards your chest. Even through his glove, you could feel the heat of his palm against your knuckles. You glanced up at him and he gave you a charming little smile.

“Alright, Fives dealt.. so Jesse should lead, yeah?” Kix nodded towards the table. Rose shifted so that he was sitting slightly behind you. His arm settled around the back of your chair and he looked at the cards over your shoulder. He moved his head low, his lips just barely brushing against your ear as he spoke.

“Your goal..” Rose murmured in a voice meant only for you. “Is to not break twenty-three. Each card has a different value.”

You felt a shiver run up your spine and tried to focus on the game as Rose coached you quietly from behind. Hardcase was the first to bomb out, theatrically tossing his cards on the table in a huff. Jesse, Kix, and Echo were eliminated when none of them broke twenty. Then it came down between you and Fives.

Fives studied you from across the table, cocking one eyebrow up. He drew a card and smirked, holding his deck close to his chest.

“You’re at twenty.” Rose whispered in your ear. “If you draw anything higher than a three, you’ll bomb out. You can choose to stand and hope your hand is higher than Fives’...or you can draw.”

“What do you think?” Fives grinned while tilting his head at you. “Do you feel lucky?”

You glanced up at Rose again for guidance but he just shrugged his shoulders. You smiled, turning back to Fives.

You drew a card.

~

You pushed your way into the back storage room, bracing your palms against the shelves while trying to steady your breathing. You simply couldn't catch your breath; your chest squeezing tighter with every raspy inhale you attempted.

You sank down to your knees, hands steepled behind your head and curled in on yourself as you fought for air.

You briefly registered the door opening and closing again behind you. The sound of rustling of armor properly caught your attention as Captain Rex knelt down in front of you. He gently guided your hands off the back of your head.

“Breathe.” He murmured. “C’mon. In with me, out with me.”

You tried to match his breathing, tears streaking your cheeks and ruining your makeup.

“In… out.” Rex repeated, reaching up with one hand to brush your tears away.

“Don’t!” You snapped, jerking away from his hands. Rex held them up in surrender, sitting back on his heels.

“Y/N, I need you to breathe or I’m going to have to find Kix.”

You closed your eyes, trying to ground yourself. Blood pounded in your ears, and you sucked in another sharp breath.

“In… out… in… out… that’s it.”

Slowly, your breathing relaxed and you leaned back against the wall, head thunking against the durasteel.

Rex sighed and sat cross-legged opposite you. “I’m sorry. I… I shouldn’t have come.” He said softly. “I never wanted to upset you.”

“It’s not your fault.” You said finally while rubbing your hands down your face in exhaustion. “It’s just…” You took a deep breath. “Hard.”

You sat in silence together for a long time. The distant thrum of the music and shouting from the cantina was the only sound around you until Rex finally spoke.

“He was one of the few I could stand.”

You let your head loll over towards him and raised an eyebrow.

“Rose, I mean.” Rex said, looking at his hands. “I love all my brothers. But the boys in Torrent… they can be insufferable.”

You chuckled. “I can’t imagine. Fives is bad enough when he’s planet side and comes to bother me. You’re stuck with him all the time.”

“You have no idea.” Rex cracked a small smile and picked at the fabric of his glove. “Rose… he’d act like the others, sometimes. Get into mischief with Fives and Echo. Do something stupid on the field and wind up with Kix, sure. The usual stuff. But Rose…” Rex shook his head fondly, as if he was recalling some far-away memory. “Rose was kind.”

You pulled your knees up to your chest and closed your eyes. A wave of relaxation calming you as you listened to the clone Captain.

“He was the kind of soldier who the shinies would always flock to.” Rex’s voice carried through the little room and you hummed softly, picturing Rose talking to the younger bright-eyed vode fresh off Kamino.

“He’d take ‘em under his wing. Show ‘em the open bunks.. tell ‘em where to stash their gear. After their first battles, he’d be the one to sit up and talk until they fell asleep.”

You cracked an eye open upon hearing a dull thunk. Rex had shifted to lean against the wall beside you, his eyes closed too, his face relaxed as he spoke.

“He was a good kid.” Rex mumbled. “And stars... did he love you.”

“Don’t.” You whispered while shaking your head, giving him a small, sad smile. “Not… not right now.”

Rex understood and put his hand over yours in an affectionate gesture. He gave it a small, reassuring squeeze. Then he seemed to suddenly remember who he was talking to and quickly pulled his hand back. Rex cleared his throat and rose to his feet.

“So,” He grabbed his helmet off the floor then began awkwardly inching towards the door. “I’ll ah – I’ll leave you alone. Congratulations on the opening. You did good.”

He quickly left after that and you lingered in the back, staring up at the ceiling and thinking of the past.  

TAG LIST: @fat-zygerrian @ladydiomede @pro-fangirls-unsocial-life @threevie @cheesemachine44 @bubblyace @fivedicksinatrenchcoat @loverofclones @starwarsgarbage @crazygirlwithasword

[spr1ngchester]

no cause I need to talk about the potential of dsmp!basti or my head will literally explode I’m serious.

so, canonically, the real event Minecraft Mondays is referred to as “The Monday Massacres” in dsmp. a massacre generally refers to a mass killing, commonly in very brutal ways, implying to me, that either civilians - people watching the events - or participants went down in numbers during the events, grotesquely dying to each other’s hands.

basti, as well as quite a few dsmp members, participated in minecraft mondays (as well as minecraft saturdays). in a few of techno’s mcm vods, he makes one or two remarks on basti, saying that he doesn’t know who he is, but he knows that he’s pretty good. mcm 11 is actually one where technoblade lost his number 1 individual placement to basti’s temporary team mate aqua, but got his place on the top podium back quite fast. now, what is my takeaway for my dsmp-related hc for this? easy, technoblade was a player in the monday massacres, feared for his abilities, and in relation to it being a massacre, his lust for blood. basti also participated with his original team mate Papaplatte, and slowly became a worthy oppenent to techno. unlike the real life circumstance of papaplatte going on a vacation during mcm 11, and because we need more casualties for this to be a convincing massacre, because the people of dsmp who were all in mcm are obviously still alive (except for wilbur, kinda), i say that c!papaplatte died and then aqua teamed up with basti to break techno’s record and push him off his high horse. now, you know techno, you’ve probably seen the potato war trilogy, he wouldn’t let a single failure be stenciled on his persona for eternity, so he trained hard, and took down basti for good, killing both him and aqua (and I know it makes no sense with mcm continuity but i like to pick and chose what i consider for my headcanons okay), becoming the best player once again.

and what happens to c!basti after gruesomely dying? unsure, honestly, but his body being robbed of his wealth goes hand in hand with the disturbing nature of the Monday Massacres. the mcms 12 (one after 11) and 13 (when cc!basti returned to mcm) happen around august/september 2019. bad discovers the egg in december 2020. while at the moment im unsure how the passage of time is warped in dsmp compared to when events happen in streams, but i’m positive it makes events in canon last longer than they do in streams (do correct me if i’m wrong). so, either the old villa of sir billiam still stood back then, belonging to a new, shitty rich man, who the people finding c!basti’s body sold it to for a few diamonds, so it could be fed to the egg. or, they had dignity and gave him a proper burial, and the bloodsoaked body came in contact with underground vines that pulled the body toward the egg so it could devour it. but, i don’t think it just ate basti’s body - i think the egg is actively hosting the body, having healed and re-grown it, waiting for it to be ready to hatch.

it seems very out of pocket, and like im trying to shoehorn my favourite streamer into dsmp, but i have a nice parallel that goes with him being in the egg.

on the very left is the skin, that basti worse during the mcm era, or at least around mcm 11/12/13. he’s had a few skin changes between left and middle, but the all white skin came with him hitting 500k and releasing special occasion badlion client cosmetics for his viewers. those included a cape, shield, and wings. butterfly wings, to be exact.

the shape of these wings would also carry over into Zickzack v2 (the cosmetics line is called zickzack, which is a word that basti’s associated with largely through a pvp project, but he’s been using it for a pretty long time) 

but, currently, we are on zickzack v3. and zickzack v3 is special, because...

they’re a red edition, going perfectly with the theme of the egg, and references to blood and violence (the skin he’s wearing in my current pfp is a temporary v3 skin btw, i like it bc it looks like the red is slowly soaking up his skin, it’s a nice gradient). so, over time, after mcm, basti is taking up the appearance of a red butterfly, as though he’s slowly becoming one. as though he is turning into one, inside the egg. and ik it’s an egg, but hey, it may as well be a weird shaped cocoon.

another point i want to bring up at the end, though you have to take my word here, is that cc!basti can be pretty damn determined to prove a point when he’s sure he knows something (/lh). like, let me tell you that one time, during a minecraft challenge he got mining fatigue on the highest possible level, and went “btw guys you can actually break blocks with mining fatigue, it’s a myth that you can’t. i’ll show you.” and proceeded to place an obsidian block, take out a stone pickaxe and mine it. and he mined it until hsi effect went away and he had no more way of proving his point but to tell people that it is in fact possible.

and well. if c!basti is determined like his counterpart, determined enough to prove he is the best player and the best fighter in the world, and if he’s determiend enough to get revenge on techno, then maybe he’ll sit out egg time for that. btw disclaimer cc!basti isn’t as win-focused as i made his counterpart seem just now gdgs just saying that bc i dont want there to be misconceptions about him.

[damerondala]

🍒 Okay tub time with Kix? 😗👌🏻 Exquisite. So good. Where do i find such a caring man ugh and a clean bathtub chores suck

New Cherry Thot of the Week… This one’s hella self-indulgent but don’t worry bestie, i’m dragging you along for the ride too… Picture it: The Marauder, 19 BBY (did i spend 3 minutes looking that up for this dumb joke? yeah…) Somehow, you and I have joined up with the Bad Batch on some kind of mission. Details don’t matter because the important thing is we’re sharing a tiny spaceship with 5 hunks. 🥰 But obvs we have our favorites… I’m going with Wrecker for you (i know you love Hunter too, but just hear me out, this thot has a purpose) and Crosshair for me.

But here’s the thing. We somehow figure out they like us back (maybe Tech spills the beans), AND they have a bet going… Who can win us over first? Because these 2 are always competing over something with each other right?

And like hot damn, but also ohh there’s so much we can do with this info 😈 We both start teasing our respective guys, leading them on a little, not giving in to their flirting or anything so they can’t say they’ve won the bet for a while. They get more frustrated. More… pent up… And… well… so do we…

Uh oh. Maybe we can’t play this much longer. Maybe one day it’s too much, and one of us races to our crush prepared to just kiss them silly, only to find they had the same idea. And then afterward we try to find the other, and discover they couldn’t hold out with their guy either 🙈 And maybe it’s awkward, maybe Wrecker and Crosshair argue over who actually won forever, but it was kinda weirdly fun anyway. We’re happy, and happy for each other. /EndofSappyStory 🍒

cherry. my love. my life.

this might be the best thing that you have ever gifted me holy fuck the way i BLUSHED while reading this??? whooooooo jesus i love this so much!!! 😭 okay lots to unpack here:

1. excellent golden girls reference again. made me giggle and i appreciate the research tech would be proud of u hehe

2. you and i being bffs in this thot made me so happy aw

3. EXCELLENT CHARACTER CHOICE FOR US OMFG i couldn't stop thinking about the "don't worry wrecker you'll top him next time" "no he wOnT" while reading bc omfg those lines applied to this kind of bet????? AAAAHHHHH IM HAVING A CRISIS

i'm gonna write this in sections, actual encounters with the boys happen in sections 3 and 4 with our sexy murder toothpick man being up first! also this is gonna be pre-omega but post-echo joining the batch 

self indulgent filth and fluff in the form of some reader insert thots below ;) 

18+ as always kiddies. i really hope you enjoy! this was so fun to write 

section 1: the bet 

so i imagine this happening right after you guys joined the squad

and it certainly didn't take long for crosshair and wrecker to realize their feelings for you two beautiful women, although one was more brazen about his feelings than the other

one day when hunter had sent you and your friend into a market to pick up a short list of supplies, they got to talking 

crosshair made an offhand remark about his girls’ ass which made wrecker fidget, he never was very composed when it came to pretty girls and this caused all the other members of the batch share knowing looks and smirks

“wrecker if you’re trying to be discreet about your feelings for ___ you’re going to have to do stop fidgeting.” tech noted, rolling his eyes when wrecker started stuttering out excuses but he was cut off by echo

“give ‘im a break. at least he isn't as vulgar as crosshair” 

“you’re just jealous she doesn't flirt with you, mir'osik” (i had to search up insults in mando’a and this one means shit for brains and when i tell you i died laughing okay anyways sorry)

this made echo roll his eyes, deciding it wasn't worth it to fight over whatever stupid insult the sniper threw at him

wanting to stir the pot juuust a bit, hunter proposed a challenge for his vod. he should be the good influence on his brothers, but he couldn't help but want to see where these crushes would take them

he could hear the girls’ heartbeats intensify around their respective crushes anyways, so he had a pretty good feeling that they felt the same about his batch mates

“don’t know about the rest of you, but i want to see who can win his girl over first” this was met with a smirk from crosshair, a blush from wrecker, and side glances shared between echo and tech

“easy.” crosshair drawled, he knew he had this in the bag

he may be quieter than the others but boy was he was observant, taking note of the way her words had a hard time flowing out of her pretty mouth when he was in close proximity of his girl

wrecker on the other hand didn’t want to make her uncomfortable, in his eyes she was just so sweet. innocent, really. she wouldn’t want the same treatment he knew crosshair had in mind for his girl

the peering eyes of his squad made the large man cave with a sigh, “fine.”

section 2: the slip up

weeks had gone by since the boys established their little competition and you, your friend, and tech were working on some small repairs around the ship

you and your friend had noticed some increased...flirting from your respective guys

crosshair paid more compliments and lingering touches that seemed genuine

and wrecker flirted the best way he knew how; lifting too heavy objects and reaching for items in the tall cargo holds, handing them down with a gentle smile

tech, being the most blunt member of the squad, commented on the whispers you exchanged, dropping a surprising truth on both of your ears:

“well of course they are trying to flatter you. how else do you settle a bet to win each of you over the fastest?” 

tech watched the two women freeze before him, sharing shocked looks before turning their attention to him, realization hit his gut like a crate of durasteel, and he swallowed under your stern gazes

“what do you mean, goggles?” 

“they...like us?”

tech’s cheeks burned red hot, was his brow beginning to sweat? maker, it felt like it 

this was the one time he didn’t feel like explaining himself, instead choosing to coyly excuse himself from the two pairs of watchful eyes

he left you and your friend to stare at each other before both rolling your eyes, “well now we know who spills secrets the easiest” your friend chuckled, shaking her head 

after a few moments of silence you both spoke up, deciding there wasn’t that much harm in playing along with the two members of the batch. you were fond of them, after all

you both continued chuckling about the situation, mostly out of disbelief that the flirting and teasing wasn’t just a hopeful facade your minds made up

once the repairs were completed, you both retired to opposite ends of the ship, minds full of deliberation of how you would handle this new information 

section 3: the gunport 

you were sat in the gunport, musing the situation you found yourself in, hands picking at your fingernails in an effort to curb your nerves 

on one hand you didn’t want to ruin the bond you had with the marksman

what if he was just flirting out of pure boredom? there isn’t much to do in a confined ship like this anyways, he might as well pass the time flirting with a woman in his general vicinity 

but it just had to mean something

no way the whispered compliments - most of them accompanied with a wink, no less - meant absolutely nothing to him 

you decided that you had enough, this was going to eat you alive if you didn't get to the bottom of what was going on in that head of his

with a huff, you stood straight and turned around to exit the space

but you were met with a silver haired man climbing up the ladder

you both froze, both internally freaking out at the basically forced confrontation

oh gods what is he doing up here? did he read my mind??

...shit what do i do i forgot everything i was going to say to her 

you nervously chuckled, figuring that you were going to go talk to him anyways so might as well get this over with

“crosshair... um i need to ask you something”

“no, i need to tell you something cyar’ika. i’m tired of sitting here and watching you walk around all day, not being able to show you how i feel.”

now that left you speechless, mouth slightly hanging open in shock to which he deeply chuckled at, “hope this isn't the first time i leave you speechless.” 

there it was, that smug attitude that made you roll your eyes but also ignited a heat in your lower abdomen

with a smirk, you decided to play it back to him. two can play at this game, lanky

“well it’d be pretty rude to not demonstrate what you had in mind, trooper”

this was the green light crosshair needed, quickly heaving himself up the last few rungs of the ladder, his hands immediately finding your waist and snatching you close, pressing a firm kiss to your lips

your hands flung up to catch the sides of his sharp cheeks, humming at the feel of his scruff under your palms as you coyly push your tongue through his lips, hoping he’ll welcome your tongue into his mouth

he does, and you are exploring each other in the most delicious way, causing soft moans and sighs to leave both of you

while you were entranced by crosshair’s mouth on yours, you didn't realize he was pushing you back onto the chair of the gunport until you were sat down and he was kneeling in between your legs, his nimble fingers clutching your thighs and hips

in a matter of minutes crosshair had managed to get your bottoms completely off, your slick panties hooked on one ankle, and your thighs over his shoulders

for a man who could run his mouth, he sure proved it 

expert fingers entered your weeping cunt while his tongue prodded your bundle of nerves with sharp, quick strokes

he’s beaming at the way you’re trying to support yourself on shaky arms and trapping his head to your cunt with the backs of your calves, the sight of your head thrown back and the whimpers coming out of your mouth making him harder than he had been in a looong time

his fingers and mouth brought to your orgasm quick and hard, nearly screaming his name as your toes curled in bliss 

he took his time in working you through it, making sure he could draw it out. he could get used to this.

when you can finally open your eyes and look him in the eye, you’re kissing him again, enjoying the moan he lets out at the feel of your tongue tasting yourself on him 

you decide it’s his turn, and you’re pushing him into your previous spot, smiling at the way his eyes slightly widen at the way you took charge 

crosshair wants to say some sexy remark, something that he knows will get you to sheepishly smile and look away but he can’t, not with the sight of you sinking down to your knees and slowly pulling down his blacks, keeping eye contact and granting him a playful glint in your eye

you can't help but want to tease him just a bit, running your tongue over the bulge in his blacks

he tries his hardest to not be loud but maker, is he loud when you finally take him into your mouth and down your throat 

you’ve quickly found that he enjoys eye contact while in this vulnerable state, nearly shaking when he sees your eyes brimming with tears trying not to choke on his length 

one hand sneaking down to alternate cupping his balls is what pulls him over the edge, crying out with your name living on his tongue 

you swallow his release, again utilizing eye contact to your benefit and drawing out another prolonged moan from him 

it makes you smile in pride, loving how this hard, unyielding man turned into such a mess while you had your way with him 

crosshair pats his lap and expectantly looks at you, waiting for you to perch up onto his lap, straddling him 

despite being a skinnier guy, crosshair wraps you up in the warmest, most secure-feeling snuggle you have honestly ever experienced 

after sharing such an intimate moment with you, he began whispering sweet nothings into your ear, about how gorgeous he thinks you are, how much he cares for you 

it’s honestly kind of shocking but welcome nonetheless, cross can be kind when he wants to and you are very glad that this was the outcome of your dancing around each other for months 

section 4: the interruption 

you retreated back to your room, honestly just wanting to sleep and get your mind off the day

it was becoming harder and harder to not just pounce on wrecker, but you didn't want to just give it up so quickly 

and to be honest, you had a bad feeling that tech was full of it

you struggled with self esteem issues for as long as you could remember, so it was difficult to believe the 'genious’ of the batch when he said that wrecker had feelings for you 

despite your trepidations, your mind couldn't stop thinking about him, his broad shoulders, toned arms, huge thighs...

your hand slithered down your torso, slipping underneath the waist band of your bottoms and slowly circling your clit as images of wrecker effortlessly lifting anything that crossed his path filled your mind, honestly wishing it was you he was lifting

perhaps lifting you to brush your pussy on his nose, his tongue exploring your womanhood enough to make you shout his name

but apparently that last part was not all in your head

although you didn't shout it, wrecker definitely heard the way you whispered out his name in a moan in the dark room

he really hadn’t meant to barge in, but after a few knocks with no answer  he began to worry

he came by to tell you how he felt with absolutely no expectation of sleeping with you. truthfully, he gave up on trying to get into your pants, he was willing to lose the bet with crosshair, he knew he wasn’t as smooth as his brother anyways 

while he obviously would never be opposed to making love with you, he figured that you deserved to be courted beforehand, and he thought there was no way you’d want to share your body in such an intimate way with somebody like him 

but the sight he was greeted with was enough to prove himself wrong

you, spread out on your bed with your hand moving diligently under your thin lounge shorts and you moaning his name made him subconsciously let out a loud gasp 

that you absolutely heard, eyes snapping open and hand coming to an abrupt halt, ripping out from under your bottoms

“wr-wrecker! what are you doing here?!”

“i- uhhh- i didn’t see anything! erm, i'm sorry, mesh’la”

by now you had your blankets covering you, despite being fully clothed, and were looking at him with mortified eyes

wrecker still stood in the doorway, unsure if he should let this opportunity pass him by

if you had told him to leave he would, he’d do anything you said, but the fact that you made no move to force him into leaving made him linger

“i'm...sorry if im overstepping mesh’la but i just- i can't stop thinking about you. and well,” he gestured to your form, still cradling the blankets to your heaving chest, “i think you think about me too”

of course you couldn't deny it, he had just seen you pleasuring yourself and moaning his name, what the hell kind of excuse could you come up with? none, that's what 

his sheepishness made your heart soar, realizing he probably was just as nervous as you

deciding to cut him some slack, you slowly rose up, blanket falling to the ground as you sauntered over to his frozen frame

whispering, “you're right. do- do you want to stay?” 

you had the poor man at a loss for words, eagerly nodding at your proposition and allowing you to take his hand and lead him to your bed, pushing him down so you could straddle his lap

his large cock bulging through the thin fabric of his blacks and pushing against your already hot cunt made you cry out

pure adrenaline coursed through both of you, hushed moans leaving your mouths as you steadily ground down onto him, his hand tangled in your hair and the other kneading your breast

your lips broke away from his mouth and you smirked at the look on his face, absolutely fucking giddy that this was finally happening, he had been dreaming about this moment since he first saw you

the sounds he made while you sucked on the sensitive skin of his neck encouraged you to slip a small hand down the front of his blacks and pull his thick cock out, heat flooding your body at the hiss he let out when you started slowly jacking him off 

your legs were in the perfect position for him to push your shorts down and over your ass, fingers picking up where you left off and circling your clit, working you open to take one of his massive fingers

the more you squeezed his throbbing shaft, the louder wrecker became 

and not wanting anybody to hear you two fooling around, you glued your mouth to his, tongues mingling in heat

the excitement of the entire situation made it not last very long overall, but you both had intense orgasms regardless

wrecker curled his - now two - fingers inside you just right, and your continued squeezes and strokes of his cock made him finish, his cum coating your palm 

both of you were shaking, muffled groans and gasps filled the room until you were coming down from your simultaneous orgasms

after coming back down to the moment, wrecker chuckled and flopped down on his back, bringing you with him to crash onto his chest

you both giggled like a couple of smitten teenagers who were experiencing their first love, relishing in the butterflies in your stomachs, we just did that

“been waiting a long time to do that, doll” wrecker’s big hands rubbed up and down your curves, closing his eyes and smiling at your laugh, “i know”

his head shot up at that, “you know?” the way his eyebrows furrowed up made your chest tighten with admiration, smiling cheekily down at him, “of course i do. tech told us gals.” you leaned down to place a peck on his chin, “you think you won the bet?”

“dunno. but I feel like i just won the entire galaxy.” 

it honestly didn't make much sense in your post-orgasm daze, but the endearing tone made you smile and kiss him once again

section 5: the hallway 

after your respective encounters with your boys, you ran to your friend, bumping into her in the hallway, the tight space echoing your giggles and shrieks of excitement throughout the entire ship

you both were so flustered and giddy that you were talking over each other, just needing to tell her about what just happened 

“i just sucked-”

“you will not believe-” 

you both stopped and laughed even harder, holding onto each other for support, then your friend took a deep breath and smiled, “you first.”

the sounds emitted from you two not only made your boys smile and their chests swell with pride but also coerced some chuckles from the other members of the batch 

they all knew how long these...events were in the making and how eager cross and wrecker were becoming 

and in all honesty they were glad their brothers had found happiness in two girls like yourselves 

nice, funny, and obviously in love with their brothers

they really could’t have asked for better women to take care of their family 

~

taglist! (fill out this if you’d like to be added): 

@djarrex, @pastelpanda19, @rebelpitstop, @sageislostinspring, @shiny-mando

[dinthehottotty]

Catch Me If You Can

Summary: Din finds new meaning to old words.

Warnings: Straight, unadulterated, violently disgusting fluff. It's gross.

A/N: translations at the bottom. No editting.

Those five stupid words got him everytime. They always stirred a childish rivalry between the two of you and he hated it. He was well and grown, those insignificant words should have no effect on him.

But they did.

From the time you were both foundlings it burned him. Not because you were faster than him, because he managed to grab you everytime, but the fact that it always worked on him. He idly wondered if that's why he was so drawn to bounty hunting. Had you trained him to chase?

Often times, when he's flying through the endless streaking that is hyperspace he thinks about you. Hyperspace is to you as visiting the armorer is to his parents. The whirring of hyperspace makes him dream of you saying that like some sick nightmare.

He remembers the first time it's said to him, a couple weeks after he was rescued. He'd seen you, both of you young enough that you hadn't sworn the creed. He remembers you watching him with excited eyes and sneaking over to him when all he wanted was to cry again over the loss of his parents.

"It's easier not to think about it," you'd told him, "and when you do, think about the good things." It had surprised him. He'd never spoken a word, he quickly discovered you were a foundling yourself, rescued only a short time prior. You'd eased him a bit, accepting his quiet nature with your chatty one. He thinks often of your cheeky smile from youth. It's hard to imagine what it looks like now, all he sees when you laugh is just the endless times as children he saw your grin. How you stayed so upbeat he didn't know.

But when he'd dried his tears you begged him to play and he had. "Catch me if you can!" Was shouted and so began his rage because you flashed a devious look over your shoulder as you ran.

You dared him to try.

Then it continued.

Catch me if you can, as you were trained to fight and he'd chase you across the training fields. In the middle of brawls, you'd call it out and he'd immediately turn to chase. It was purely instinctual. How you found him that one time on some outer rim planet, magnitizing trouble his direction, he decided you were bad luck. You'd weezed it as you both sprinted from an unidentifiable creature that was ready to tear you both limb from limb. He'd punched the back of your helmet for it when you were both in private (and you found it hilarious as he shook his knuckles free from pain).

It turned into a joke you'd say. Because he might be faster than you but he always have to push himself to keep up with you. It was competitive but effortless on your part and that brought out the childlike indignation he buried down. You pushed all the buttons in the perfect sequence to rile him up. He hated it. He dreaded it.

You'd appear in the furthest reaches and the most annoying manner, sneaking up on him to whisper it like it was the funniest thing. Swooping in to steal his bounties at the most inconvenient times. He never understood it. You'd catch them just before him and dump them at his feet like a lothcat dropping a womp rat on its owners doorstep. Smug and proud.

You'd jibe him with those five words whenever you could. Some of the most difficult, dangerous bounties that could yield a mighty reward and you'd just... hand them over like it was nothing.

It frustrated him to no end. But there was nothing in the world that felt better than sacking you to the ground, he swears. He loved to win against you, even if it felt like you let him. He always second guesses himself when it happens because you laugh! Like it's all in the fun.

You snare him everytime with that line and he knows he's lost. You were a fierce warrior and honestly he was glad you didn't bounty hunt often. If you did he wouldn't have even half the credits.

You swore the creed before he did. Earned your signet before him. Won a blaster before he did. It was endless chasing and even when you lost he could never understand just why you seemed to enjoy yourself so much. He could never tell if you were a rival or a friend but deep down he always hoped it was just an annoying friend.

He felt like it was a waste of your talents for you to transfer to the covert under medicine instead of mercenary work. To be honest, though he had seen you work, fingers flying effortlessly. They were steady, even when covered in blood.

He tried to tell himself that he was just too exhausted from the last bounty to not clean up his newest wound. A few shallow stabs that he'd acquired in the scuffle of a twi'lek that refused to give in. Din had closed it with an emergency cauterizer but it was mess and awkward, especially the one on his hip.

The excuses kept rolling in his head of what he'd tell you on why he didn't just clean it up himself before he realized he couldn't stop thinking about your modulated laugh or the lightness of your gloved touch compared to his. (He was fully aware of how hard you could hit and was always amazed by the delicacy of your gentle touches.)

It was after he left the Cantina, delivering bounties, collecting rewards, internally punching Kreef, that he finally just admitted he missed you. He missed the only person he might call his friend.

Din is aware that this will be the third time in the last two months that he's sought you out in this manner. That it's becoming a habit instead.

So he tries not to limp to badly to the convert. When he reaches the medical room he feels disappointed that your armor doesn't catch his eye at first. You'd probably been requested on a mission, somewhere important.

That is until he spots you half hidden behind a curtain, hunched over another mandalorian and focused intensely on whatever was under the bandage you were staring at.

He'd seen you do that. You were evaluating. You'd stand still as a droid, thinking about whatever wild random thoughts came out of your head. Another thing that marveled him. You were so creative, always looking for a different way to do things, just for the fun of it. It frustratingly worked in your favor but he thinks it's got more to do with stubbornness than good logistics.

He shuffles that way, and if you notice, you don't acknowledge him as he sinks awkwardly into one of the chairs. He keeps his weight off his hip.

"There is an avaliable baar'ur on the otherside, vod." You murmur without looking up. You'd noticed him, however not noticed it was him.

"I'll wait," he rumbles and your head jerks up in response. He likes it more than he cares to admit because your straightening and evaluating him instead of the man on the table who is no doubt glaring at him. Din thinks it's one of the many that float around and boast for your attention.

"Did you get stabbed again?" You demand.

"Not deep." Your laugh flutters about and then your turning back to your current patient who relaxes as your finally return your attention on him.

"If you want an excuse to see me just ask, you don't have to hurt yourself to do it. Just stop by, bring me some shig." You say and begin to pick up tools. When you remove the bandage Din sees a healing wound. You were checking up on him.

"I'll remember that." He can feel your grin through your helmet.

By the time he was settled on the table for examination, you were already hovering over him. He shifted onto his good side, rolling toward you as he jerked his tunic up. He had to unclip his belt to lower his pants enough for the wound on his hip to show.

You were forced to ignore the glorious dark trail of hair beginning to peak out from the top of them.

He very nearly sighed in relief as your hands carefully braced over either wound and prodded gently. It makes his heart race. "Maker, Din," he could hear you hiss minutely. "Do I have to board your damn trash ship in order to keep you from doing this shit to yourself? I'm giving you bacta."

"Don't need it. And my ship is not trash." He grunts, making you twist your helmet toward his.

"Or'dinii," you grunt lowly. Maybe he was a bit of a moron. "I'm taking your cauterizer away." Finally, you draw away and begin to pull out supplies to clean and dress his wound.

"So I'll just bleed out next time?"

"It'd be a mercy." Din smiles under his helmet as you begin gently cleaning his gashes. You knew by this point that he also refused the local anesthetics by now. He couldnt feel your hands the last time.

Din relaxes against the table, calmed by your presence. "Do you want to stop by for dinner tonight?" You prompt him.

"I have bounties to hunt."

"Tell you what, have dinner with me tonight and I'll help you catch your next few."

"I don't need your help."

"Sure. Sure. I mean, you're totally up to catching me right now." Din feels the spike of emotion in his chest and groans in annoyance.

"I have caught you everytime, wounded or not," he growls. "Were not children anymore." He doesn't expect you to lean down to his helmet. It startles his heart into a sprint as you rub your thumb affectionately over his hip bone. What game was this? All he can see is his helmet reflecting in yours.

"If you haven't realized that I enjoy you chasing me at this point, I may have to spell it out for you, Din." Your threat has a mocking to it that pisses him off more, but he's tense under your thumb stretching to the inside of his pelvic bone. It's taunting, teasing.

"What's the point?"

"Maybe you'll have to try again and find out."

And you rose back to work silently on his wound, letting him mull over your words and over think the tension.

Finally, he's patched up properly and sits up on the table. "What time are you done here?" He asks.

"Twenty minutes ago."

"Why didn't you say anything."

"Doesn't matter, does it?" You make quick work of cleaning up your supplies. "So dinner?" You demand. Din grins under his helmet.

"Fine." He relents, climbing to his feet.

"Good. Oh, and Din," you lean close, backing him into the edge of the stone table your hand presses into his chest plate. "Catch me if you can." Before you take off like there's blaster fire.

You let him catch you this time, right in the entrance to your quarters. He tackles you through the curtain and you roll across the floor, laughing all the way. Clearly, you're enjoying as much as you did playing tag or hide and seek as kids. Despite the bite of pain in his wounds he wrestles your arms to the ground on top of you.

"You like this?" He demands, half amused.

"Yeah, you were the best part of my life when we were growing up, it brings me back, you know?" He tenses when you casually admit that. And the silence hangs heavy, only heavy breathing and the tap of beskar chests heaving against each other.

Then he headbutts the helmet to yours. "I... I think about your smile a lot... from when we were kids." You shift slowly under him, legs framing his hips.

"It's strange isn't it? That we've known each other so long and we don't look anything like we did the last time we saw one another." Your voices lowered.

"We... we could see each other again," he finds himself suggesting. You gasp quietly underneath him.

"Like... like leaving the covert?"

"If you... if you wanted. But..." he hesitates, trying to remember how annoying you were supposed to be. "What if we got married?" He feels more nervous than he ever remembers feeling.

"Okay," you whimper, sounding as breathless as you feel.

"Okay?" He finds himself repeating. Your helmet nods frantically against his.

"Yes, okay!" And he's letting you go of your arms when you sound like your ready to sob. He kind of likes the sound of the beskar armor sliding against more beskar, but suddenly he's exhausted and all he wants is to sink into your warm embrace unhindered. Only rumbling bellies reminding the both of you to detangle.

...

His jump to hyperspace was welcomed this time. His brain swimming around you, his Riduur. His love. His best friend. He could embrace the thoughts of you in hyperspace.

Navarro darts out of view and he settles back in his seat, a pleasant sort of soreness filling his body from his eager activities you'd both participated in. He just wished he could have seen your face after the ceremony, but there wasn't enough time.

"Hey, Din," he hears you call from the doorway of the cockpit. But it sounds different, lighter. You weren't wearing your helmet. A thrill of excitement filled him for a split second. He soaked up a moment before he slowly pilots his chair about.

You weren't just not wearing your helmet, you weren't wearing anything. It stalled his brain to see the shy but mischievous smile as you casually lean against the doorframe. He knows the tightened nipples are due to the cool air of his ship and he takes in the face he's been imagining for nearly three decades.

You smile up at him, mocking him. "Catch me if you can," you murmur softly, but there's no motion to run. Din smiles behind his helmet.

There's no rage this time. Only thrill and awe at the face he's imagined a billion times and how he still couldn't have gotten it right. He reaches for his own helmet lifting it off his head to see his spouse for the first time since they were kids.

....

Baar'ur - Medic

Vod - Brother, sister, comrade

Shig - a hot, tea like beverage

Or'dinii - Moron or fool

Taglist:

@lxdyred

[clonecest-bin-account]

Hurt/Comfort: Wolffe/Cody (Maybe during Rebels???) Wolffe and Gregor decided to help Rex and the Ghost crew with a little mission given to them by the Rebels, what they didn't know was that the Empire sent a purge trooper after them. The the three instantly recognize the actions of the vid but there was something familiar to all of them that they couldn't quite tell. So, they decided to help him get free from the chip but when the helmet finally came off they froze to see Cody, they instantly became even more determined and tried their hardest to make Cody remember them and fight the chip.

Then Wolffe became all fluffy and acted like how he was before the war 🤗

(Boy I don’t know what to say. This is the longest prompt I’ve ever written. It kinda too a life on its own lmao. Hope you like it!)

Another day, another war to fight. Wolffe should be used to it, but to be honest every day feels harder that the previous one, even though now he has weekly appointments with a mind healer; he’s been told that it’s normal, that progress isn’t always about going up, but he’s tired of this nonetheless.

It’s during these moments of particular weakness that he allows himself to imagine Cody sitting beside him, calling him a di’kut and a chakaar; he has to bite his tongue not to reply to him, knowing that if someone saw him talking to nothing it wouldn’t be pretty.

It hurts, hurts like nothing else, but it also brings him a strange sense of comfort to imagine his lost love. In Wolffe’s mind, he hasn’t aged a day since the last time they saw each other: his hair isn’t white, no wrinkles adorn his face, his gaze is still fiery and determined, body toned and ready to jump to action if the situation requires it.

 In moments of even greater weakness, Wolffe wishes he were there with him.

He’s failed him, he’s failed him so bad: instead of trying to rescue him, he’s decided to hide, broken and afraid. Now he doesn’t even know if he’s alive or not; deep down inside, he hopes he’s dead, knowing that Cody would hate what the Empire has done to him and the rest of the vode.

 Even deeper down he really must want him to be alive, because as soon as the news of the Empire having sent a squad of purge troopers after them, he immediately begins to hope that he’d find a familiar face behind one of the buckets.

By the footage they’ve gathered of this squad, one of them does appear to move like one of them; it’s not a feeling that can be described, a sort of sixth sense that makes him, Rex and Gregor understand immediately that it’s a brother.

Now comes the hard question: what should they do about the mysterious vod? Trying to free him would be a tedious task, but if Wolffe has learned something about the Ghost company - he can’t speak for all the Rebel Alliance cause he still doesn’t trust the organization as a whole - is that if there’s a chance that they might get to save even just one life, they’ll take it with no hesitation.

So they ask, almost beg even - if only their pride didn’t stop them before they could - to help, and are all relieved when they agree to help them free their vod.

 “Wolffe, do you think…”

“I don’t know.”

He was about to chew Rex out for having had enough courage to say what Wolffe himself has been thinking for a while, but he supposes he should at least be grateful of the fact that he’s been sensible enough to wait until he and Wolffe were alone to talk about it.

Rex sighs, sitting beside him. They weren’t built to sustain being alone for too long, meaning that the closeness is now much appreciated.

“I don’t want to believe it,” Wolffe admits in the end. “Because if it’s not him, then…”

“I know,” Rex nods, understandingly. “I know…”

They remain silent, knowing that it’s best to close this discussion before they can begin making theories that would only result into them getting hurt once they find out the truth.

It must seem pretty gloomy from an outside perspective, because when Gregor finally gets to join them, he too doesn’t say anything; he just walks up to them, settling on the other side of Wolffe and immediately closing his arms around his brothers.

Even as old men, they’d never say no to a good ol’ cuddle pile.

 The plan is simple: they need to isolate the clone from his companions, so that they can drag him away and have his chip removed. Ghost company will take care of the other troopers, while Wolffe, Rex and Gregor will take care of the clone.

All three of them have been granted a tranquilizer syringe that they will use to get the vod to sleep; it doesn’t feel good having to do something like this, but it’s necessary.

Wolffe’s so nervous…

 This feeling of uneasiness accompanies him throughout the entire mission. He and his brothers are supposed to pretend that they’re on a recon mission, and that they haven’t noticed they’ve been followed, thus convincing the purge team to strike and ambush them, only to be then ambushed by the rest of the Ghost team.

Well, it doesn’t sound like a professional tactic at all, but it’s not like Wolffe isn’t familiar with unconventional tactics at all; his Jedi - traitor, no, Jedi… no! - might’ve been more reasonable than Skywalker, but he’s winged it many times as well, with Wolffe that had to chase after him to keep him alive.

Honestly, as long as it works…

 Somehow, it does work.

Wolffe will have to thank whatever cosmic entity governs the universe that it did, but not now. Now he needs to focus on the task at hand.

They have surrounded the vod, though he doesn’t seem intimidated by the situation. Wolffe wonders if he’s capable of feeling anything at all.

Just hang on, brother. You’ll be free soon.

 Despite being flanked, the trooper’s holding his own: he’s knocked the blaster right out Wolffe’s hands, and the two of them are stuck into a hand-to-hand combat. Wolffe isn’t as young as he used to be, and it’s hard for him to keep up; just what the hell have they given to this trooper? He should be as old as Wolffe and yet he moves faster and hits harder than he should be able to do.

The worst thing is how familiar this all feels to Wolffe: he’s spent so many sparring sessions dancing around like this with…

He gets kicked to the face by a powerful roundhouse kick, which makes him stumble, but after shaking his head slightly, Wolffe recovers immediately, knowing that even a moment of distraction could be fatal in situations like this one.

There’s no time for hesitation, and after yelling his heart out he rushes at him, tackling him to the ground in one go. The trooper immediately tries to free himself, kicking and screaming, but no matter how much he’s hurting him, Wolffe doesn’t let him go. He’ll be damned before he does that.

 Immediately Rex and Gregor rush to him, Gregor going to remove the bucket while Rex prepares the tranquillizer.

As soon as the helmet’s removed, Wolffe feels the bile rising in his stomach - he’s so close to vomiting. There’s no mistaking that brow scar: indeed the trooper that has been sent after them is Cody.

“Cody…” Wolffe can’t help but to mutter.

Cody doesn’t stop struggling; it’s like he doesn’t even recognize his name. It hurts watching him like this, it hurts so much, but soon he’ll be free.

Even with him pinned it’s hard for Rex to get him tranquillized: not seeing any alternative, Cody has begun biting. Wolffe’s gotta give it to him, he still has his combative spirit.

 Once Cody goes limp, eyes closing as unconsciousness takes over, Wolffe can finally relax.

He should pull away, get up and take Cody to the ship, but he still doesn’t move, curled protectively around Cody, his Cody, who is back to him, or well, he will be hopefully.

“Wolffe, we need to go!” It’s Rex the one who brings him back to reality. Right, Gregor’s cover fire can protect them only for so long.

“Right…” he mutters, only now getting up. He’s still the first one who reaches for Cody, resting his body on his shoulder as they begin to make their retreat, leaving the Ghost crew to deal with the rest of Cody’s squadmates.

Wolffe would feel bad about leaving them on their own, if not for the fact that they need to bring Cody to safety. This is his priority, now.

 “It’s going to be alright.”

Wolffe knows Rex is saying it more to reassure himself than to reassure him, so he stays silent. On the other side of the wall, Cody is undergoing to chip removal surgery.

He has no idea about what he’ll find after it’s over: first of all there’s not even the certainty that it’ll work, secondly, if it does, will Cody be the same Cody Wolffe knew and loved, or will he be different? Just how much of his old self will be in there? Wolffe’s afraid to find out.

In an attempt to distract himself from those thoughts, he focuses on how Cody looked when they’ve found him; his hair has gotten completely white as well, and it’s shorter than his usual cut. What caught his attention however isn’t that, nor the wrinkles or anything else that he already sees on his own old face, but the new scars he had at the corner of his mouth and on his right eyebrow, which makes him wonder how he got those; if he finds the cause of them, he swears to the Force itself…

 He gets pulled away from those thoughts when the medic comes out of the room.

“How did it go?” Wolffe immediately asks, worried. Please let him be fine please let him be fine please let him be fine--

“The chip has been removed successfully, but… He doesn’t remember anything.”

Wolffe freezes in his place, what does he…

“It’s still too early to discern if it’s just a momentary condition or not. For now let him rest and recuperate from the surgery, then I’ll see that you can visit him.”

Wolffe almost drops to his knees as the news comes crashing down upon him.

Have they really lost Cody then? Just right when they thought they had gotten him back?

Why? Why did this have to happen to him?

 “Wolffe? Wolffe!”

Rex shakes his vod, who only then comes back to his sense.

“Y-Yeah? What is it?”

“You need to calm down, vod. Get some rest.”

“I can’t, Cody… He’s in there,” Wolffe replies. He must be so pathetic, but he doesn’t have the energy to put himself together at the moment. This is all so confusing and painful it makes him want to scream.

“And he’d want you to get some rest,” Rex retorts, gently - but firmly - grabbing Wolffe by the shoulders. “I want to stay too, but I know Cody wouldn’t want us to neglect our health for him.”

He’s right, damn it, he’s right, Wolffe knows it, but… He sighs. Fine.

“Alright, let’s go…”

 There have been only a couple of times in which Wolffe has felt this defeated, and yet, in the bleakness of it all, there’s still a ray of hope: Cody’s condition might not be permanent, and even if it were, Wolffe swears he’ll still stay by his side.

It’s the least he can do, as a penance for not being able to save him sooner.

 “Did it really happen?”

“Of course it did! Would I lie to you about it?”

“Well…”

Wolffe should be mad, but there’s a smile on Cody’s face as he speaks, so he can’t really bring himself to do it, even at the cost of his own dignity.

 He’s gotten used, by now, to Cody not remembering. It was painful during their first visits - he couldn’t even stay in his presence for too long or else it would’ve become too much - but they’ve made progress.

Cody’s still in forced rest, and Wolffe does whatever he can to remain by his side. He might’ve reverted to some old habits he had before everything went to shit, but he still tries to keep his distance, since he can’t be certain that Cody would want him to act like he used to, not while he doesn’t remember him.

One thing that surprised him the most is that Cody asked him - and not just him, but Rex too since they were close as well - to tell him stories of their past. Wolffe has no idea if it’s just so that he can distract himself from everything else that is going on around them, or if he genuinely wants to remember. Nonetheless, he’s more than happy do to it, which brings us to the present.

 “You’re telling me that you pushed me forward when Alpha asked for a volunteer to show off a grappling move, that I got my ass kicked, but then I used the same move on you on our next sparring match?”

It pains Wolffe that he sounds so doubtful of his skills, or of anything else about him. He’s familiar with how it feels like not knowing who you are anymore - he’s gone through the same things, and he’s not even sure he’s over it now. This Cody has no idea about how great of a person he used to be, which makes it Wolffe’s job to remind him.

“Yeah, you whooped my shebs,” he replies. “Somehow you’ve managed to pull that move off after being subjected to it only once. It was infuriatingly impressive.”

A light smirk appears on Cody’s face.

“Sounds like someone’s jealous.”

Despite everything, Cody still teases him like he used to do when he was himself. Maybe this isn’t such a lost battle after all.

 Days pass, then weeks. Wolffe still doesn’t stop visiting Cody and staying by his side, alternating with Rex since Cody himself seemed quite unhappy about the fact that he was neglecting his health for him - Rex was right about that.

His memory still hasn’t come back completely, but he’s beginning to remember some small things, especially names, which might’ve not been that great, since now he must also carry the weight of the knowledge that, of all his old friends and acquaintances, very few remain.

Even though sometimes Wolffe can’t help but to feel hopeless about this whole deal - what if Cody never comes back? What if he doesn’t want him anymore? - he still keeps going, pushing himself for him.

Until…

 “Oh, Wolffe…”

“What is it, Cody?”

Cody stretches a trembling hand towards him; he’s shaking.

“Wolffe, I remember…”

A chocked sob escapes his lips, and Wolffe’s immediately beside him, keeping him tight in his arms, whispering that everything’s fine, that he’s safe.

“I-- We… We kissed, I remember,” Cody continues. “It was right before Utapau. You told me that I’d better come back alive or that you would’ve killed me again.”

At those words, even Wolffe can’t hold back some tears. What Cody just said really happened: it was the last time they saw each other before the Republic fell. The fact that Cody remembers it now is… great.

“Yes, we did,” he says then, knowing that Cody needs a confirmation that yes, it’s all real.

 Silence falls between the two, before Cody reaches a realization.

“Shit,” he mutters, eyes wide and a horrified expression on his face. “Wolffe, I’m so sorry--”

“Nothing about this is your fault,” Wolffe interrupts him before he can say some really di’kutla shit. “You didn’t ask for this, and don’t you think that I blame you for this, because I don’t.”

Cody nods, not saying anything about it. Nobody mentions the fact that they’re both crying.

 They must be such a pathetic view, two old fucks crying their eyes out like a bunch of shinies, but that’s not what matters.

“Do you want me to stay here?” Wolffe asks, afraid that, now that he’s beginning remembering things, his presence might be too much for Cody. He doesn’t want to leave him, but if he needs a moment - or more of them - alone, he’d be willing to grant him that.

At those words, however, Cody grabs his arm, keeping it tight in his own.

“Please,” he says, sounding so vulnerable that he breaks Wolffe’s heart.

 They make some space on the cot to accommodate both of them. It’s a tight fit but it works just fine.

Things are still pretty bleak but there’s still hope.

Who knows, maybe it’s really beginning to get better.

[crimson-dxwn]

AT ODDS 6 (Kal Skirata x F!OC)

Summary: Tea gets spilled at Kyrimorut. Ordo gets involved. Ori makes a choice and a new enemy.

Warnings: Mando profanity, pregnancy, SPOILERS for Republic Commando books (all but the last one), medical shit, surgery, fucking SADS

As always, so many thanks to @detroitbydark who lets me screech about my weird fic and Kal and Ori! Also this is barely edited be kind, I’m on my psych rotation and barely scraping by. 

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

Kal realizes he’s slipped the figurine into the pocket of his bodysuit semi-consciously in his hasty retreat from the apartment. Knotted Jonah wood whittled smooth forms two stylized figures, one large and one small, their hands joined between them. 

He barely registers the ride back home and comming Mij. They need a plan, and they need one fast if they are going to find her. He knows little about how the Empire treats their prisoners compared to the late Republic, but he isn’t about to have any illusions of honor or fair play. After all, he doesn’t play fair himself. But there’s a hydrospanner thrown into the mix. What he doesn’t know is how the Imps treat prisoners with … unique health conditions. Or if they even give half a bantha’s shebs. Odds are they send men and women alike to those osik’la camps he’s gotten word of. Yeah, the Empire was equal opportunity like that. 

If Mereel can’t slice into the system remotely, they were going to have to do an old-fashioned infiltration. He’d ask his ad’ike if they were up to task, there’s no way he could ask to put them in danger, not after the entirety of their lives being war. It hurts him to even think about asking. But he has to do this, even if it’s just his sorry shebs. 

He tries to put on a good Sabaac face when he’s back in the karyai, discreetly gathering up all the surplus weapons they have that he finds might be useful for an infiltration into a heavily armed and fortified position. 

Mereel of course, catches on within minutes. 

“You’re going to find her,” Mereel interrupts. Kal yanks his head up out of the gun locker to look at his son. “And you didn’t even think to ask for backup?”

His son’s tone is accusing, edging on hurt. That he did not expect.

“It’s my fuckup, son,” he replies, “I’m the one who needs to fix it. I can’t ask you to do this.”

“What’s so special about this doctor?” Mereel slams the door of the locker shut. It’s obvious his ad’ika is protective. They all are. 

“She delivered your ba’vodu’ad, Mereel. I’m pretty sure she saved Parja’s life.” Kal says, keeping his eyes on his work, cleaning the weapons, arranging the ammo he needs. Sharpening his father’s three-sided knife. 

“And that’s enough to go up against the Empire? ”

He’s going to have to spit it out. Mereel is looking at him expectantly, sure that he’s going to change his mind, see reason. 

“She’s pregnant, son.” Mereel, who has been away for the events of the last few months, just stares back at him in a puzzled fashion, brows slightly furrowed. Looking at him like he’s lost his damn mind. Maybe he has. 

“It’s yours, isn’t it?”

In comes a second voice, and the accusatory tone startles him enough that, when added to his baseline urgency and anxiety, causes his hand to slip and nick itself as he sharpens his knife. 

“Osik,” he hisses, holding pressure to the cut as blood wells, looking up to the figure in the doorway. Ordo. Mereel stares at his brother, unsure whether he is joking. Kal sighs. He should know better, trying to keep things from them. The last time he was successful at that was when they were four. 

“Does it matter?” 

“Maybe,” Ordo replies, just this edge of indignant, “is she carrying my vod?” 

A strange and protective piece of him flares at Ordo’s tone and Kal stands, still holding the cloth to his cut hand. 

“Most likely.”

“Then we need to get her back.” Ordo meets his eye finally and Kal nods, satisfied, and starts gathering ammo from the safes. This time Mereel moves to help, still in a rare state of stunned silence. 

By the time they’ve gathered what they need and loaded it into aayhan, Mereel has a willing team assembled and what they know of the building schematics up on a datapad in the karyai. Fortunately for them, the team won’t be breaking into any prison blocks, which are bound to be heavily guarded. 

“All we have to do is get into the information security room that houses the main terminal,” Mereel starts confidently. “We can stay far away from the security blocks and the bucketheads.” 

“Though it would be fun to bust some vode out of there,” Scorch adds. 

“Not our mission,” says Mereel, regret plain in his voice, “we’ll have to get them another time.” The realization that they were leaving prisoners at the mercy of the empire sobers the group even more. It was becoming more and more apparent that more planning was needed before they could root out the Empire on Mandalore. Meanwhile, Kal had set Uthan to the task of trying desperately to make their own homebrew vaccine. 

---

It’s been many many years since he’s fastroped. Lately, he has been finding that it’s been years since he’s done many things. Fastroping, underwater diving...fathering kriffing kids. He swallows, hard and regroups himself. Every single one of them needs to be focused if they’re gonna pull this job off. 

Yes, he’s fast roped before. But he’s never liked it. Where his sons get twitchy when confined to tight spaces, he finds himself sweating more than usual under his beskar the more stories they climb. Right now, they’re about ten stories up, far above the sensors of the garrison and way above his tolerance for heights. They have about a minute to pull this off before the Imps realize this transport is lingering too long in their airspace. 

Mereel, Sev, Scorch, and Kal are in Aayhan, hovering silently above the Keldabe imperial garrison in the inky black late summer night. The humidity sticks his tactical garments to his skin, making it itch and crawl in addition to his surging adrenaline. That was one thing that never changed, no matter how old he got, no matter how many missions he’s finished - that nauseating spike of pure fear and bliss. 

He gives the signal to move move move and soon he’s roping down, strong north Mandalorian wind whipping around him, soaking through his underlayer. The four of them land silently on the roof of the compound, and Scorch starts laying a strip charge along the floor to create a hole leading below, straight into the admin offices. Four sets of Mando armor gleam lowly in the moonlight. It’s a perfect night for an op like this, whipping wind obscuring any slight noise they did make and the faint whine of aayhan’s engines. The charges detonate with a controlled bang and flash of bright light that briefly blinds his HUD. Kal switches to night vision.

*His child*. It’s barely a concrete concept in his mind yet, but an instinctual piece of him knows the truth. The timing is too perfect for him to be wrong. The way Orla had looked at him in the med center…

The stakes are too high to fail, and distracting thoughts get men killed. Mereel leads the way through the door, rifle at the ready, and Kal banishes his musings to the back of his mind, pushed away by a fresh rush of adrenaline. It’s a stealth mission, and they navigate by night vision, as silently as their boots will allow. 

They stalk through dark quiet hallways lined with innocuous office doors until they reach the end, what is presumably the CO’s office, with its durasteel double doors and obviously larger size. 

Mereel starts in on slicing the door panel while Sev shoots out the camera in the hallway corner while the rest of them listen for any approaching patrols. It was only a matter of time before someone noticed they were there, whether it was the hole in the roof or the blacked out camera. The double doors open quietly and they head inside. Vau’s boys guard the door while he and Mereel crowd the desk in the middle of the room. 

“I need a few minutes to get into this,” Mereel says, eyes locked onto the screen before him. One of his slicing tools is between his teeth.

“You’ll get it, son. We’ll take care of anything that tries to get in our way.” 

So far it looks like no one has noticed them. The imps must really be confident in the plan to neutralize Mandalore with so few guards and patrols. Sweat drops trickle down the back of his neck and into his bodysuit.

Mereel studies the datapad stripping the system for a few more moments and turns it towards Kal. There’s a concerned look stretched across his handsome face. Together the watch the recorded scene on the screen before them. 

There’s Orla, still in her work clothes, talking with an Imp who’s behind this very desk, flanked by two stormtroopers. He knows those gestures - she’s spitting mad, barely containing the fury that was directed toward the man behind the desk. Without audio he can only guess as to the contents of their conversation. The Imp behind the desk gives a short reply and nods curtly to the right-hand trooper who, without hesitation, raises his blaster rifle and cracks her across the face with the butt end. She doesn’t even see it coming. Even in the shades of blue from the holoprojector the blood is obvious, trickling down the side of her face. 

Kal is livid, trembling so finely it’s barely visible, and he almost forgets where they are for a moment. Deep in enemy territory, with hostiles incoming any minute. 

Mereel makes a disgusted noise from deep in his chest as they watch her be pushed to the ground. They follow the video feed where she’s led to a cell. His breath catches. There’s a chance she’s still here. His hope is tempered, however, when an alarm starts to sound from within the garrison. A patrol must have finally found their breach point.

“Sarge?” warns a voice from outside the door. It’s Sev, by the gravelly tone. 

“Almost finished,” he shouts, over the screeching din. Mereel continues to work furiously, his bulk hunched over the console. He’s able to parse through incredible amounts of data with immense precision; Kal can practically feel the concentration rolling off him. 

“Wait,” Mereel says. Kal looks over at the screen. They’re centered on a video feed again, this time outside. The sheer amount of prisoners in line for the transport is shocking enough, but the fact that none of them are in armor is even more appalling. The Imps are slowly stripping their culture away, plate by plate. 

“She’s not on the manifest for this transport, even though the records say she leaves.” 

It doesn’t make sense. Unless… Kal knows Mereel must be thinking the same as him. Judging by the brutality of the footage they’ve watched, the stories from around the planet, he wouldn’t put it past the Empire to take care of a pesky problem in the easiest way they knew how. It wasn’t something that supposedly peaceful, orderly governments liked to keep records of. His dread and guilt intensifies, leadening his limbs already weighed down by heavy beskar. 

He chokes the words out. He has to know. “Is there any footage of…” Kal can’t bring himself to say them. It doesn’t need to be said, Mereel knows what he’s looking for. He’s been in a war zone long enough to know that armies aren’t sentimental. 

“No, no footage. Just them leading her away.” The alarm continues to blare. It could be minutes, seconds before they have to blast their way out. 

“Here.”

Kal steels himself to watch. It’s his fault, he reminds himself again. Two more fresh marks in his ledger. His arm reaches automatically to his son’s to steady himself. He feels Mereel’s slump ever so slightly, whether it’s in relief or defeat, he can’t tell. 

“I have what I need,” he says, “time to go. Debrief can wait for later.” Distant footsteps start to echo towards them, modulated shouts following close behind. They were about to be grossly outnumbered, by the sound of it. Kal shoves his helmet back on, heading through the doorway and signaling Sev and Scorch to follow. 

They wind through the garrison, avoiding both patrols and squads of stormtroopers sweeping the building. It’s laughably easy compared some of the other heists they’ve pulled - except he speaks too soon. As they make their way out of the back door of the garrison onto the Keldabe streets, one squad catches up to them. Ordo has aayhan back at Kyrimorut - earlier they had decided it was too risky for the four of them to fly home and possibly expose the homestead. So instead their plan was to run the winding streets and strategically borrow a transport. The problem is that Kal is pushing sixty and the other men are - physiologically at least - still in their early twenties. They’re a lot kriffing faster than him, even with his ankle fixed. 

The streets and alleys twist and turn, switching from ancient cobbles to smooth duracrete without warning. Easy enough to get lost if you’re a local, they are impossible to navigate as aruettiise. Soon the four are panting, ducked into an alcove off a cobbled alley. Finally, it seems they’ve dodged the patrol. Only time will tell if they were recognized. Kal finds he doesn’t much mind if they know his face. In fact, he hopes they do. He wants to meet that garrison officer. 

-------

Imperial Rehabilitation Center

Weeks later

19 BBY

Life isn’t all doom and gloom. They are kept...occupied. Like rats in a maze. Ori shares a bunk with another Mandalorian, the only other there. Taren is a kid really, small and slight except for her distended belly. It’s obvious she’s used to wearing armor by the way she walks, how upright she holds herself, arms swaying slightly away from her body. And how she closes in on herself when she realizes it’s not there, when it’s nighttime in their room and thinks Ori can’t hear her sob breathlessly into her pillow every night. 

It’s almost childish, the way they’re herded from room to room. Chaperoned and on a schedule, like one would handle a naughty child needing extra discipline. It was how she imagines Coruscanti boarding schools some of her medical school classmates attended - polished stone floors and crisp uniforms, all strict routines and synchronized repetition. It’s meant to numb the mind, making days run into weeks. She suspects they’re kept intentionally disoriented. After all, most of them are still political prisoners, and many she’s found have important connections on their respective homeworlds. 

They’re at lunch, scattered around their assigned tables. Generously, they are allowed to converse during meals, though their seats remain assigned. The ‘rehab center’ has proven to be much more expansive than she expected - some rooms are swallowingly large, like the one she is in now, and some are as small as a broom closet, connected by narrow winding hallways. The building itself could have been any number of things in a past life - a school, factory, or prison. She supposes it doesn’t matter much now. Today there’s a newcomer, sitting quiet and sullen at a back table with the Corellians. Time would tell if she was one of them or if she hailed from a different world. 

An arm jostles her, hitting her square in the ribs. It successfully knocks her out of her analysis of the newcomer. 

“-did you hear what I just said?” Taren says, mouth full of tasteless nutritional paste. It’s far from delicious, but you ate what they give out and she is hungry *all the time* nowadays. A fleck lands on Ori’s face and she wipes it away with a raised eyebrow.

“Sorry, al’verde.” Commander. Her eyes roll automatically. She knows she doesn’t deserve the title. Discreetly, Ori shushes the younger woman - they’re lucky the stormtroopers here don’t understand Mando’a. 

They put together kit for new stormtroopers, morning and night. It’s another endurable humiliation. She stabs at the cubes bitterly with her spoon, scattering crumbs across the table. They’re not allowed forks or knives, not after Taren’s first week. A tiny smile flits across her face as she thinks on the memory. 

 Ori feels like a geriatric compared to the spry warrior, though they’re less than ten years apart in age. She’s seen things in that time, lost people, buried dreams. Though Taren is looking older and older by the day, cooped up in this place. 

“Theera is gone,” Taren says, “she wasn’t at breakfast either.” 

Looking around and finding no sign of the woman, Ori hums an agreement. She’ll be gone for good soon, and her baby as well. Every time someone delivers it sends a sense of unshakeable dread down her spine and into the pit of her stomach. All of them are marching slowly towards that finish line. 

The artificial hierarchy into which they are forced has made the two Mandalorians de facto leaders, despite Ori being one of the newer inmates and to cement her as *alverde*; her medical expertise makes her invaluable. 

The room hushes as Dr. Loesch sweeps down to the cafeteria, all business in crisp grey scrubs, so confident in his admiration. He insists they call him ‘Doctor L’ like he’s a popular lecturer at a university. He’s the worst kind of hut’uun, just as bad as the rest of the Imps she’s met here. Loesch is in charge of their medical care, all 100-some of them, including herself. Loesch towers over most of them, even herself. 

As a physician, Ori is personally insulted at his complacency, the fact that he is perfectly content in his post and cemented in his belief that what he was doing is just, his complicity. She stabs at her cubes some more to try and make herself feel better. 

As a woman, she’s decidedly less surprised. Men like him are everywhere, tall and handsome, handed success on a silver platter, born into families of privilege and power. Taking and taking with no thought of the carnage they leave behind. 

He saunters his way over to their table and sits with a charming smile. 

“Beviin,” he starts, “I heard through the gossip chain that you were an obstetrician before you came here?”

It’s physically painful to keep her retort in hand. She’s been here long enough to see women sent to solitary. And to see them come back, changed indefinitely. 

“Mmm,” she mumbles affirmatively through a mouthful of cubes. She swallows. “Yes.” Keep it simple, that’s easy enough. 

He smiles sardonically. “How ironic,” he adds, obviously pleased with the revelation. Expectantly, he looks around the table to gauge his joke, and they catch on, laughing softly, nervously, afraid of what might happen if they don’t. Even Ori joins in, the butt of the low blow, though her simmering rage ratchets up another level.

They finish the rest of their lunch largely in silence and Loesch pulls her away when she files out with the others. 

“Ms. Beviin,” he says conspiratorially, “I know it must be difficult for you to be here.” 

The man over her, face too close for comfort, his voice deep and low. Alarm fills her as the other people in the room dwindle until it’s just the two of them and the scattered troopers on the upper level. All Ori can think about is where the nearest exit is located when she realizes he’s still speaking to her. 

“...what do you think?” He waits patiently, a benevolent expression in his face. He blinks too little, she thinks, and his eyes are devoid of expression, shining with an amused sort of malevolence. They’re a strange shade of brown...no, green? The little noise he makes in the back of his throat brings her back to their conversation.

“Ah...sure?” she replies weakly, stunned and frozen.

“That’ll be nice for the other inmates,” he says. Incredibly white, straight teeth flash as he smiles down at her. “I think it will give them comfort to have you there. I’ll have the guards collect you when it’s time.” 

——

Three nurses eye her from across the suite. They wear sweet matching hospital uniforms, in the same soft fabric as hers except in a delicate petal pink. With a pang, she misses her fellow nurses and doctors on Mandalore. Who knows how many had fallen ill? Been arrested? The way they clustered in a little group reminded her of her schoolmates, when they found out she didn’t like fighting, whispering rumors from across the room. That she thought she was better than them, that weird girl who was more concerned with grades than winning fights and impressing boys. Now they stand across the room from her like a little bunch of flowers in their coordinated outfits, identical and perfect. She’s an other in their world, someone to be feared and hated, pitied at best. 

Orla stands awkwardly, waiting for the show to start when her stomach flips. The scrub top she has on stretches across her middle awkwardly, pulling at the seams and the soft shoes that cover her feet are obscured by her bump. The strange sensation returns, a little differently this time, just the barest flutter, deeper down than that nervous feeling. Her baby. She lays a gentle palm over the swell, as discreetly as she can, still feeling the scrutinizing looks of the women across the room.

Another nurse wheels a bed into the room, complete with Theera shivering atop it, her hair and gown drenched in sweat. Orla rushes to the head of the bed as she’s prepped for the operation. Theera is dazed, too exhausted to make much sense of anything right now, glassy eyes focused on the ceiling. She smoothes back the sweaty hair from Theera’s forehead. 

“Hey cyar’ika. It’s Ori,” she says softly. The woman’s eyes focus a little, just enough to meet hers. She bumps their foreheads together. It was as much to comfort herself as much as the other woman. Non-mandos typically didn’t understand the meaning behind the gesture. She can’t squeeze her hand like she wants to - it’s being hooked up to IV tubing.

“I’m cold,” she mumbles. Some of it is adrenaline, some from fear, and the rest from the icy operating room temperature to keep the surgeons comfortable. Drenched as she is, it’s no wonder Theera is shivering. 

Ori asks the wary tech for a warm blanket, terrified of overstepping and getting her shebs kicked out of the operating room. She’s promptly ignored in favor of his work. Dr. Loesch enters the room and the nurses titter around him while he ensures everything is prepped to his liking. Ori settles for as much skin to skin contact as she can get with Theera, trying to warm her, mumbling comforting nonsense into her ear as Loesch starts to work. A warming bassinet waits ominously against the wall for its prize. 

A thin cry interrupts their mumbling and Theera’s eyes sharpen at the noise. Loesch holds the little thing over the curtain separating them indulgently, just for a moment. A boy, he says, and she and Theera find themselves mesmerized by the bloody little thing and his tiny squished face and flailing arms, already so angry at the world. He’s held up for a second, allowing Theera a cursory glance and then whisked away by the nurses to the bassinet. His mother is still paralyzed on the table and it makes it all the more unjust that she isn’t even allowed to touch her son, see him up close. The nurses at the bassinet laugh and coo, oblivious to Theera, who starts weeping pitifully. Fat tears slide down the side of her face, wetting the starched white sheet beneath her head.

Ori is in the middle of the absolute emotional chaos around her. Theera crying, Dr. Loesch talking with his assistant about weekend plans, and the nurses with the baby, who have turned back at the sound of crying to glare at them judgementally. She can practically hear them now. Serves her right, their looks say. She deserves it. The rage congeals around Ori, settling itself in her throat. This feeling is exactly what had put her in this place to begin with and she knows she has to control it, use it somehow. She watches them place a little bracelet around the infant’s ankle and scan it into a datapad. They don’t bother with Theera. It dawns on her then that if she’s lucky - incredibly lucky - she can use the Empire’s obsession with order against them. 

She makes her way over to the bassinet under the ruse of joining the indulgent cooing that is going on, trying not to throw elbows before she’s kicked out of the room. The little boy’s leg is caught for a heel stick an she gets her chance. The number on the leg band is just visible, only for a second. She sends a prayer up to the Manda that she gets it right. 

Taglist

@clonewarslover55 @simping-for-fives @808tsuika @jedi-mando @cherry-cokes-world @nelba @fractiouskat @passionofthesith 

[clonemando]

Meeting the Tribe

Din convinces Boba to join him in meeting back up with his Tribe. Boba really doesn't want to but he can't resist his little brother's puppy eyes. AO3 Link

Boba sighed as he and Din entered a rather populated city together. The stares didn't bother him much, no one would be stupid enough to try to take on a pair of Mandalorians together without a full team and even then, he and Din could handle it. Plus if they recognized him and his armor, which by the terror he could feel as they walked slowly towards the market they did, then that was even more incentive to leave them alone. No, he wasn't so much bothered by the place than by the reason they were there.

Din needed to see his people. See who remained of what was once his tribe. Boba understood that. But what he didn't like was that Din insisted he come too.

"Din, I respect your beliefs but I'm not one of them. They won't want me there. I shouldn't know where the covert is located." He had tried to argue but Din had turned big brown puppy dog eyes on him and damn they were even worse when he could actually see them without the helmet in the way.

"You are one of us through me and they will not challenge that. If they do, I'll deal with it. I need to speak with the armorer. There was a lot of Beskar on the cruiser and it should be returned and used for foundlings. Not to mention you could use some repairs. And as part of my clan, you need the signet somewhere on your armor- if that's okay? I know it was your father's. Maybe we can get a new piece made instead…" Din had dissolved into muttering and Boba knew he wouldn't be winning the battle.

So now here they were slowly making their way around twisting and winding roads. Din finally dragged him under an arch and down some stairs and then they were there. Children were running around, all covered with a buy'ce on their heads but none seeming to even notice as they played. Parents watched nearby, eyeing the newcomers warily with the fierce protective streak all Mandalorians shared for children, especially their own. Boba felt like he was intruding and really wanted to leave but Din strode through like he belonged and getting separated seemed like an even worse idea so he kept up.

Even in the dark, in this place Din had never been, it was like he had a map in his mind and they were shortly standing in front of a forge. Din kneeled and Boba hesitated unsurely before following his example while a woman in a gold plated buy'ce made her way around to look at them. Boba knew this must have been the leader of Din's tribe, the armorer he spoke so highly of.

"You have returned. Was your task successful?" She asked Din, completely ignoring Boba's presence and he wanted to feel upset about it but mostly he was grateful.

"It was. The child has been delivered to a Jedi who can train him. He is safe now." He said and Boba wondered if the Armorer could hear the pain in Din's voice as he spoke the way he could.

"Jate. Good. Now tell me why you have brought this dar'manda amongst us?" She said and Boba winced because she said it so calmly. She wasn't even judging him, it was a statement of fact to her. That he existed with no soul. Maybe she was right.

"He is not dar'manda. He was… echoy'la… lost, searching. A foundling of our own kind found by others. Now he has been returned to us. He has been reborn and should be offered cin vhetin." Din said voice sharp as a knife and Boba could admit he didn't recognize all words. His Mando'a was rusty. But he knew Din was defending him.

"I told you I don't belong here, Din. It's fine. Let them call me what they wish. I'm not a child who needs to be coddled." He hissed at him, not sure how to handle being defended. It felt wrong.

The Armor's gaze shifted. "You brought Beskar." She said ignoring their staring contest to look at the container Din had brought with them.

"Yes. The imperials that we fought to get the child to his people had a large amount. It belongs back with our people." Din said setting the container in front of himself and opening it.

The Armorer examined a bar before looking over Din. "Your beskar'gam is still in repair. What do you wish me to make for you? Or shall it all be used for the foundlings?" She asked and Din met her gaze and held it even through their helmets.

"He is part of my clan and requires a signet. His armor is in disrepair and to let my Aliit suffer injury when I have means to protect him would be to break the creed." He said and Boba wanted to growl that he wasn't part of the damn creed or stomp out and leave Din there despite, or maybe because of, how generous he was being.

The Armorer looked between them again and sighed. "You have always had the most stubborn of hearts Djarin. Very well. What will you have me do for your vod?" She asked and Din looked at Boba who was trying to find a way out of this mess that wouldn't offend Din or shit all over how hard he was fighting for him.

"This armor was my father's I don't-" He started his voice coming out less firm that he wanted it to and more pleading. The Armorer seemed to accept that and she backed away, taking the Beskar and starting to work. Boba didn't know what she was doing but he flinched at the loud sound of the hammer feeling confined and on edge. He didn't belong here. He should have told Din no and stayed on the ship.

"Din, go out now. Paz was hoping to speak to you. When you return I will be finished." She ordered and he saw Din hesitate before nodding and leaving. The Armorer finally directed her gaze to Boba and he resisted the urge to squirm like a child. She wasn't Jango about to give him a scolding for sneaking out to play with the other clones. But she definitely had a similar energy to her.

"Boba Fett. Son of Jango Fett. Son of Jaster Mareel who was once Mand'alor. Din Djarin has claimed you as part of his clan and house. Do you know what that means?" She asked and Boba sighed shoulder's slumping despite himself. So he was getting a scolding. Mandalorians had to drag your whole family line into it too.

"We're just brothers. It's not like we're getting married." He grumbled.

"Family is family, no matter position. Love is love no matter the type. Your houses shall be one and the same. Your past will be his past and his your own. That is our way. Cin vhetin… He wishes for you to be given a clear start. Free of what you were before you were Mandalorian. He is offering a soulless being like you a piece of his own so you might join the Manda when you die. That is what it means. If you tarnish and ruin him, I will find you, and nothing you have ever done will compare to the wrath I will let fall upon you. Do you understand?" She said voice still level and calm, but that only made it worse.

"Yes. You are his mother." He said meaning to ask but it came out like a statement. The Armorer looked towards the door.

"They are all my children but the Mandalorian who found Din and raised him here died when Din was still young. To lose his birth family, and then the one who found him, he needed someone who would not fail him again. I claimed him. And now that means I must accept you. Do not let that make you think I like you, however." She said and returned to her work and Boba's head bowed as silence filled the space now, besides the hammering and sounds of her tools.

Boba wanted to be angry. He wanted to hate her for judging him on a life she knew nothing about. He wanted to tell her to stuff it and that this was all a mistake. But mostly he was tired. He found himself wondering instead how his father would like Din. Jango would probably remind Boba that trusting led to betrayal but he wouldn't dislike Din. He might even eventually come around when he saw how good Din was. His lips twitched slightly at the thought of his father arguing with this woman for the right to take Din as his son the way he had heard him argue with the Kaminoans. It would have certainly been a fierce fight.

"Stand." She interrupted his musing and Boba stood looking at what she held out for him trying to identify what the strip of metal would be used for but she didn't wait for him to ask.

"A neck guard." She murmured and fitted it between his helmet and armor and he felt his mouth go dry.

"Oh" Was all he could say and she met his eyes through their helmets.

"Stay still while I place your signet," She asked instead, and Boba was glad she didn't expect him to say anything. When Din returned followed by a hulk of a Mandalorian in blue painted armor, she had finished adding the mudhorn signet to the pauldron that didn't have his mythosaur.

"Boba, Paz will be coming with us when we return to Tatooine. He has some business there." Din said and Boba turned to pierce his gaze right to where he knew Din's eyes were.

"Are you suddenly the one who decides who can come onto my ship to my planet?" He asked in a low growl. Din didn't even flinch though at least Boba knew he wasn't losing his touch because the big guy that must have been Paz tensed. Din could just read him too well.

"I forgot. Oh great and powerful Boba Fett, who rules over Tatooine with a fist of Beskar, I beg of you to humbly allow my pathetic brother Paz to accompany us back to your home." Din said dryly and Boba grinned at the offended. "Hey!" From Paz.

"Hmmm… I suppose, when you ask so nicely, we can arrange to have him loaded in with the rest of the supplies." He said and he could feel the heat of Paz's glare which made him grin. This was more comfortable.

"I always wanted to stuff Paz in a box. Let's go then." Din said leading the way out with Boba and Paz following him. Maybe Boba didn't belong with the tribe, but he definitely knew he belonged with Din. So he'd accept this too.

[captainrexisboo]

Rex x Reader Drabble #1

Why not. Note: reader is a lady, because I am a lady. I can try my hand at other genders if you’d like, just request it, but only if you promise to beta it as well (I don’t want to get anything wrong)

Title: Dumb Luck

Warnings: some suggestive dialogue, very brief, nothing graphic

Link to next part

~

Rex looked down into her face, the nat-born’s eyes flurrying with unrestrained passion. Separated from the rest of the battalion, and the planet having absolute shit transmission, himself and Jesse had stumbled upon a short mechanic by the rare stroke of luck. Dressed in a blue denim jumpsuit stained in grease and oil, thick belt cinching the waist of her form, the mechanic was able to walk with them to their karked up speeder bike. Now, the bike fully functional again and neither of the vode having credits on them, he blinked underneath the visor of his helmet, completely at a loss for words at her request for payment.

“You want us to do what?”

“Take me with you,” she repeated, eyes shining with a special type of determination as her hair fell in a frame around her face, “This dirtball has been my home for twenty years and I’ve been bored out of my kriffin mind. But you two, you guys travel the galaxy, you see new worlds every day-”

“And fight more battles than you could ever be prepared for,” Rex backtracked his words, “No, that you will never be prepared for. This sand pit is good for one thing, and that’s staying safe. I’m sorry, but you’re not coming.”

She crinkled her nose at the Captain’s logic, “I-”

“-fixed our bike, yeah, and thanks,” Jesse finished the sentence, “But even if you could come with us, you’d be fixing a lot more than speeders. You’d be out of your league, sweetheart.”

“Sweetheart?” she sputtered out as the soldiers continued packing their things. She huffed, growling to herself and crossed her arms firmly over her ribs, “Then at least take me to where you’re going? I’d rather pack up my belongings and move someplace not in the middle of nowhere if I have to stay on this planet.”

“Sweetheart, we’re-”

“Call me that one more time,” she spat out, short as she might be there was still an air of scrappy danger to her, “See what happens.”

Rex didn’t have to see Jesse’s face to know that he was grinning at the audacious woman, and put a hand on his brother’s shoulder to keep him from riling her up even more. He jerked his head to the speeder, silently telling Jesse that he would take care of this.

As Jesse put up his hands in a mock surrender and walked off, Rex walked forward, copying her solid stance, “What’s your name?”

“Y/N,” she quirked an eyebrow at the Captain, eyes sizing him up.

“Well, Y/N,” Rex cleared his throat, putting on his best civvy voice, trying to make that connection that the Republic was telling the clones they had to have to make relations with the public easier, “You see, our speeder only has room for two. Even if we were taking you with us to base camp, we couldn’t fit you on the bike.”

“Oh please,” she rolled her eyes, “I’m sure you could make room. It’s not like I’m your size.”

“Well sure, but would you really want to be sandwiched in between two sheets of plastoid armor?” Rex combatted, holding out a hand as if he could show her exactly what he meant in his palm.

A sly look came through her gaze as she looked him up and down again, smile absolutely sinful, “You mean being in the middle of two strong, solidly built men? If I’m being honest Cap, it’s nothing I haven’t done before.”

Rex seemed to freeze in time at the words, the woman putting a scandalous image into his head, and if his helmet were off then Jesse would be howling with laughter at how red his face was getting as opposed to her retort. She was a very attractive woman, he’d have to be blind not to notice, so the picture of this stranger being handled in that way was nothing less than enticing to him. Especially as she cocked out a hip and bit her lip to him, eyes going smoky as she let a finger lazily trail down the side her torso and dance over the top of her thigh, “What’re you thinking of, Captain?”

He grit his teeth, clenching his jaw as he bit out, “Nothing of your concern, since you’re not coming with us. And that’s final.”

She groaned, flipping her demeanor over again as he turned around to help Jesse, “Awe, c’mon! I did your labor, I just want a ride!”

Jesse chuckled, “In what sense?”

She puffed out her cheeks, blazing red in outrage, “Look, either you’re taking me with you, or I’m...I’ll-”

Her emotions swelled inside her, making it hard to think. Overwhelmed, she stalked off, grabbing her tool box and then coming back. She shoved her way between the soldiers, throwing a leg over to straddle the seat and holding her head high, “This is all I ask in payment for fixing your kriffin bike, sirs. I could charge you outright, I could give you a debt to pay, I could make you clean my tools, but no. I want a ride.”

She kept her eyes screwed shut, waiting for rough hands to come out and throw her off.

Rex looked over to Jesse. It had been a long day for the two of them, getting lost because of Jesse’s terrible navigation skills, having a break down in the middle of all these dunes that look the damn same, walking in the kriffin dry as hell heat to just find a rascally woman with just the skills they’d need, only for her to be an absolute pain in the ass. Being soldiers, they knew there were some battles (even if you were on the right side of them) that you just couldn’t win. Jesse confirmed his thoughts with a shrug, and Rex sighed, low and slow, “Fine.”

Her eyes shot open again, registering that one little word said in a gruff and annoyed tone, it bouncing around in her headspace as she smiled wide, stars dancing in her eyes, “Thank you, thank you so much!”

She let a giggle bubble up through her, the light sound tugging at Rex’s heartstrings, before her next words made his cheeks dust pink, “You have no idea how much this means to me! If you didn’t have a helmet on, I’d kiss you!”

He cleared his throat at her starstruck stare, “You say the damndest things.”

“Call me bold,” she winked at him, and Jesse could hear his Captain’s jaw snap shut. Taking his chance to get behind the wheel again, he snuck up to Rex.

“Should I drive-”

“You, trooper,” Rex snapped out of whatever spell the mechanic had him under as he immediately turned around at Jesse’s voice, “Got us lost in the first place.”

“Captain,” Jesse put an arm around his pauldrons, turning Rex around so their backs were to the woman humming, satisfied with herself on the speeder, “Vod, if you’re driving then that means that pretty little thing will be pressed up against your back the entire time. Think you can handle that?”

Rex surprised Jesse by stating almost immediately, “Better than me holding her up against my front.”

“...why are you being the one she holds onto or whatever in either scenario?” Jesse questioned, slightly dumbfounded at his Captain’s train of thought.

Rex could only shrug in response, “Call it a hunch, ‘sweetheart’.”

Shortly after, they were on their way to meet the rest of the vode and General Skywalker, Rex driving with Y/N pressing herself tight to his back, arms laced around his waist. Jesse, much like Rex had predicted, was not given the same treatment from Y/N. The woman was as stubborn as a gundark, and when Jesse did attempt to secure himself by wrapping around her, took a swift elbow to the ribs. “Hold the seat,” was what she seethed to him. It was about a full hours drive, but they eventually found their way to the camp, being immediately spotted by the general.

“Rex! Jesse!” he called, walking over, “Where the hell have you two been? We’ve been trying to comm you for-”

He paused upon seeing their guest, and looked between the two of them asking a silent question with a set jaw.

“General Skywalker, this is Y/N,” Rex introduced, “Our speeder broke down, we had no transmission to call for help, but she was close by and able to fix us up. In record time, I might add.”

“A mechanic,” Anakin stroked his chin, “Glad fortune was on your side today, boys. Miss Y/N-”

“Just Y/N, if you could, General,” she interrupted, holding out a hand, “Ask your men here, I’m not miss anything.”

He quirked his scarred brow up at her, “All that matters is that you’re a mechanic. Know anything about droids?”

“Sir?” Rex questioned. Jesse had a hunch of his own, deciding to walk off and start unloading the supplies from their bike.

“That’s my hobby,” she smiled up at the Jedi, “Love finding old parts, cleaning them up and putting them to good use. The programming can be a little tricky, but it’s so fulfilling once your droid knows what it’s made to do.”

“Perfect,” Anakin smirked, “You’re with me, Y/N.”

“Sir!” Rex exclaimed, feeling out of the loop, “What are you doing? She’s a civvy!”

“I need her for this stunt to work, c’mon Captain,” Anakin motioned for the two of them to follow, taking them to a tent, “We’re gonna reprogram some seppie droids and get them behind enemy lines for intel gathering. So kriffin lucky you were able to find this one, Rex!”

“Looks like you’re stuck with me for a while, Cap,” she purred to him, giving him one more wink before sauntering off. Rex could only groan to himself as he watched her hips sway away. Yeah, it sure was some type of luck he had today.