#The Captain and The Medic

[archi-pelago]

maybe never forgive. but things are different now. so we'll use maybe.

[saggitary]

There is no greater bond than the one between a person and the fictional character they’ve written 50k+ words about

[reaping-the-benefits]

Imagine you're the medic assigned to the task force. You're not some dainty little thing. You're snappy and will drag them by the ears if you have to. You're constantly getting into arguments with Price because he won't listen to you when all you're trying to do is help him.

Anyway, the rest of the team has bets on how long its going to take before you two finally fuck. Gaz gives y'all another month. Soap says two weeks. Ghost thinks that you've already done it.

Now, imagine how mad Gaz and Soap are, both giving Ghost 50 quid each when Price casually drops that not only do you have sex on the regular, but you've been married for the last five years.

[meandtheyeehaws]

have some uhhhhh clone content based on sth from one of @tattycoram 's incorrect quotes :]

[yourstrulyrani]

thinking about simon riley and how he gets worried when he gets his labs back from medic!reader:

"Bloody hell, Doc. You could include this in my dossier if you wanted."

You let out a chuckle at his words when you saw him skim through his blood work, a whole packet worth of vital information, from the number of red and white blood cells he has, a basic metabolic panel, and so much more. He skims through the information, every row a new test and labeled with a green "normal" on each one.

Until he reached one of the rows: testosterone.

A red "above average" was next to his testosterone count and you could see the panic in the man's eyes but you didn't know what caused it. You decided to let him speak up about it.

"Hey, doc?" You could see the stress manifest into a physical form the way you saw his thumbs clutch the packet of paper tighter, causing the paper to crease upwards in submission at his grip.

"Yeah, Ghost?" You turn around, your body language evident that you are all ears for what he has to say next.

Ghost had to collect himself before bringing this up. He knows this hormone is a normal thing in males, but why is his so abnormally high? He clears his throat before speaking up, "My testosterone," he pans the packet to face you now, "the lab says it's quite high. That's not normal."

"For you, it is."

The man's eyes squinted behind the mask.

"What? It says 'above normal' right..." he points to the row with a gloved finger, "there. What do you mean for me it's normal?"

You walk closer to him, gently taking the packet out of his tight grip. You turn around and sit next to him, and because of the height difference, Ghost noticed the way your shoulder grazed his bicep.

"It's normal for you because of your muscle mass, sir." You point to his muscle mass percentage. "More muscle means more testosterone in the body. Testosterone helps to support your body in maintaining the amount of muscle you have. If you had a man's average amount of testosterone, you wouldn't be built like a tank."

Ghost snickers at the last remark. "I'm a tank now, Doc?"

"Have you seen yourself, sir?" You scoff. You point to his weight on the paper, "Your muscle mass is also why you're technically obese. You're 6'4 and 250 pounds. But nothing to be worried about. You have more muscle than fat, and muscle weighs more. So I can assure you, you're perfectly healthy."

Ghost at the moment thought the way you nerded out on all of these medical technicalities was quite hot. You were smart, he always knew that. But it was something about the way you were talking in person about all this health and medical stuff that got to him. It didn't help either that you looked even more professional with a white lab coat and scrubs on. You adjusted the glasses on your nose while you looked down at his labs and Ghost swore he felt six inches of some of his muscle and fat twitch.

"Perfectly healthy, Doc?" He repeats your words.

"Perfectly." You skim over the paper once more. "If anything, you have the highest muscle mass and testosterone in the task force."

Ghost felt his pride swell at that statement. Not only did you say he was perfectly healthy, but you basically just called him the most ripped out of all the guys?

"I'm trying to be modest abou' this whole thing you know. You're not helping." He replies sarcastically and you giggled, throwing your head back a little. "I'm serious."

"Well you can thank your hard work on missions and the extra hours at the gym." You nudged his arm with your shoulder, causing Ghost to tense at the sudden contact but he surely didn't mind. The cute little medic that works for the task force just touched him, how could he possibly complain about that?

After that encounter, Simon took no time in bragging about his "abnormally high" testosterone and "obese" weight to the group chat that consisted of him, Price, Gaz, and Johnny.

He sent a picture of his labs with the message: "Not only did Ms. Medic tell me I'm built like a tank but told me I'm more of a man than you all can ever be ;)."

Johnny replied with, "You mean "the missus"?"

Gaz replied with, "You better snag her before I do, Simon. I didn't see a ring on her finger last visit."

Price replied with, "It's only because of my age, you know. If I were in my prime I would have more testosterone and muscle mass than all of you combined."

(lol i love these men)

~ yours truly, rani ♥︎

[dumb-djarin]

so what if I sucked his dick. his knuckles were split and bloody from defending my safety and my honour what else was I supposed to do

[secretly-a-trekkie]

have some more 501st shenanigans

[ct-tupperware]

Kix + caring immensely about his brothers

[snotbuggle]

2-3 years of war and your brother officially starts to lose it

Rex doesn’t have much going good for him rn…Let him have this, Cody

[padawan-snack-packer]

Don't imagine Rex quietly fixing a younger clone’s armor after hours, muttering, "you gotta take better care of yourself, kid," while he polishes each scratch like it’s sacred.

Don't imagine Fives trying to teach shinies how to play cards, cheating outrageously so they win, whooping and hollering like they’re champions of the galaxy, and slipping a few credits into their pockets when no one's looking.

Don't imagine Cody staying up all night after a tough battle because he's personally stitching medals of bravery into the empty bunks of fallen troopers, so when they’re remembered, they’re remembered right.

Don't imagine Hardcase giving away his dessert rations to any clone who looks even remotely sad, acting like it’s a prank or a dare so no one knows he’s doing it out of love.

Don't imagine Echo re-learning how to shoot left-handed after his injury, stubbornly, painstakingly, so he can teach other injured clones that they’re not broken — just different.

Don't imagine Jesse carving tiny little messages into the walls of every base they’re stationed at. Messages like "501st were here. We fought. We lived." like he's trying to leave proof they mattered.

Don't imagine Dogma leaving tiny notes in people's lockers that just say "you’re doing good." "you’re brave." "I believe in you." — and then feeling too shy to admit it was him.

Don't imagine Wolffe pretending to be annoyed when Boost and Sinker sneak stray animals into the barracks, but secretly building a little hidden shelter for them behind the hangar.

Don't imagine Kix memorizing the medical charts of every single brother in his battalion — birthdays, allergies, old injuries — because he doesn’t trust the GAR systems to care enough (and he's 30000% right).

Don't imagine Tup tending to a tiny makeshift garden in the middle of a warzone with whatever seeds and scraps he can find, because "something’s gotta grow, sir."

Don't imagine Rex carrying every goodbye letters and notes he never got to say or give tucked in the seams of his armor or in a chest under his bed — every brother he couldn’t save, every friend he couldn’t reach — and still standing up the next morning because someone has to lead, and if not him, then who?

Don't imagine Waxer carrying around a crumpled, dirty drawing of Numa from Ryloth in a hidden pocket inside his armor, smoothing it out and smiling every time he feels like the war is eating him alive.

Don't imagine Boil pretending to grumble about it but secretly checking the drawing too, mouthing, "stay safe, little one," before every mission because part of his heart never left Ryloth.

Don't imagine Bly sketching little comic strips in the margins of his field reports to make Aayla laugh during debriefings — and still carrying the last one he never got to show her, tucked inside his chest plate.

Don't imagine Colt teaching his new ARC trainees how to properly tie a tourniquet and lecturing them seriously, but at the end quietly handing each of them a little lucky charm, like an old Republic credit or a braided cord, "for good luck, kid."

Don't imagine Appo still wearing a piece of Fives' blue paint on his armor as a "tradition" without telling anyone where it came from or why it matters so much.

Don't imagine Fox locking himself in his office after long shifts guarding Coruscant because he can’t stand seeing the brothers’ faces when they look at him like he’s a stranger now — so he sits in the dark and listens to the old 501st comms chatter recordings, just to feel something again.

Don't imagine Jesse and Kix starting a stupid prank war in the barracks where they replace each other's ration packs with terrible "mystery meat," laughing until Rex threatens to demote them — but Kix sneaks Rex a spiked caf packet later as revenge.

Don't imagine Tup painting tiny flowers on the inside of his helmet where no one can see them, tiny bursts of color against the cold plastoid — because he wants to carry beauty into battle even if no one else knows.

Don't imagine Dogma standing at the memorial wall and reading every single name out loud, even the ones he never knew, because he thinks someone should.

Don't imagine Waxer and Boil talking about "after the war" plans, like opening a repair shop on Ryloth, taking in lost kids, making sure no one else has to grow up the way they did — and laughing about it like it could actually happen.

Don't imagine Fives pulling a prank so chaotic that even Rex laughs — real, loud, helpless laughter — and Fives looking absolutely stunned before grinning like he'd just been handed the whole galaxy.

Don't imagine Rex tracing the scars on his hands sometimes without realizing, as if he’s trying to memorize every mistake, every battle, every time he almost didn’t make it — and then closing his fist around them like a promise to keep going.

Don't imagine Kix secretly saving every "thank you" note the boys have ever given him — crumpled sticky notes, bad handwriting, a piece of torn armor that just says "thanks doc" — tucked into his med kit like the most valuable supplies he owns.

[misstoodles-doodles]

Patching Up & Post-Mission Debrief (AU)

AKA a 3 character sketch that got way WAY out of hand.

Close ups:

[thelastd0mino]

oh no more shitposting!!! this time it's star wars as headlines!!! exciting!!!! (I have more...)

[goaskangel]

bedtime routine with john price mmm

nice and warm light hits your complexion just right as you get ready for bed in front of the bathroom mirror. in john’s much too big t-shirt and your panties, simple get up just to sleep in tomorrow on a saturday, as if this wasn’t your daily set of pjs. 

you see your man in the side of the mirror as he walks up into the bathroom. groaning as he stretches his arms up, standing just behind you as you giggle at his entrance. his muscles flexing so perfectly. filling his own sleep shirt, which he will take off later in the night, when he rests them back down, his hands finding their place on your hips. 

“what a beauty.” coming down to rest his chin on your shoulder, his beard scratching up against your face. 

“ready for bed?” he grunts a reply as you smooch a kiss on his jaw before he straightens his back. you continue to massage your moisturize into your skin while his hands never leave your body. tracing firm shapes into your body with his palms, pulling back the fabric to see the pretty dips and curves of your body. he hums in satisfaction as a result and goes back to hold your body in his arms. 

john’s careful not to slip his hands underneath your his shirt, knowing how warm his hands are, you’d jolt immediately to the sudden change. so he gropes your body through the little clothes you have on, massaging his large hands up and up to cup your breasts from underneath. “jus’ perfect, you are.” you press up against him, your hands pausing as you watch and feel his hands rub and soothe the swells of your chest. his own hips pressing to your ass, his boxers failing to conceal the bulge he’s got going. a throb aching behind your panties when he kisses your neck.

“bedtime can wait, yeah?” 

more cod!

[differenteagletragedy]

Price gets shot, it's not super serious, like there's no "will he make it?" conversation, but it's bad enough for him to require surgery, which he is NOT happy about. Keeps insisting it'll be fine, he'll heal up, he always does, but when it becomes obvious that he can't just walk it off this time, he gives in and gets transported to a hospital.

And he hates it, every single second of it. Having to wear a hospital gown, laying in an uncomfortable bed, people poking and prodding at him all day. On top of it all, he's not allowed to smoke, and he ends up wishing the bullet would have just taken him out, because hell would be better than whatever this is.

But then he has the surgery, and he's taken back to his room to recover. Everything's a bit hazy from the drugs, he's trying to get his bearings, and then you come in -- a pretty little nurse he hadn't seen before. He doesn't say anything, not yet, but he notes how soft your fingers feel as you take his vitals and check his wound, and how good you smell when you lean in closer to see it.

The next day, you're back, and he's a little high on the painkillers they've been giving him, but he's more or less back to his usual self. Just a little looser with the meds, you know. He speaks a little freer.

"Haven't seen you in here before, dove," he says gruffly when you come in. "Would've remembered that fat arse."

You laugh -- it's not your first rodeo with a heavily medicated patient -- and tell him, "I was on vacation. I'm back now, so you're stuck with me during the days until you get better."

He gives you a little grin, a slight little curve of his lips behind his beard that you can't help but find a little charming, and replies, "I might end up staying sick then, if it means I get to feel your hands on me."

"You're not sick," you remind him playfully, going over his monitors. "You got shot."

"Now, now, pet, you might want to check again, I'm not so sure I haven't come down with something in here."

You roll your eyes, still grinning, and move to check his forehead with your hand to humor him. When you do, he lightly grabs your wrist, moving it to his mouth to place a soft kiss on it.

Again, this isn't the first time a patient's gotten fresh with you, and normally you'd shut it down immediately. But there's a glint in his pretty blue eyes, a softness in his touch that makes you hesitate. He sees his, and that grin widens into a real smile, one that crinkles the corners of his eyes, making him look even more handsome.

"What do you say, doll? Time for a sponge bath?"

[sillyandquiteawkward]

forcing curly to have an even worse day one mocktail at a time 👍

[secretly-a-trekkie]

they deserved a beach episode