#cfgepromptathon25

[captainpains]

Caught in the Rain (Sergeant Hunter x reader)

Apart of the Promptathon held by @cloneficgiftexchange. It was so fun to write! I hope you enjoy💕

Season: Spring Prompt: Caught in a sudden rainstorm

Warnings: gn reader, fluff, meet cute, 

~~

Pabu was beautifully peaceful. For the first time in his life, Hunter felt almost relaxed. But, he was also bored. After so long of constant missions and life threatening situations, it was hard for Hunter to just stop that. He knows it was his choice, and he could’ve chosen to join Rex and Echo. However, he also needed to think about Omega; she would go wherever he did. 

So, Hunter established a routine to cope with the sudden lack of activity. 

He would wake up early and go for a run. Then, he would make breakfast, eat, clean up. Next, Hunter would talk to Shep, asking if there was any work to be done. Lunch was after that, and so on and so forth. Monotony and routine everyday. Yet, it was suffocating.

While moving some crates for Shep one day, Hunter saw a small stand on one of the island's terraces. It was filled with colorful flowers and fresh plants that looked native to Pabu. You were managing the stand, wearing a sun hat and speaking to a child. You handed her a flower, and her face lit up. The girl bolted away. You went back to tending your stand.

Hunter’s eyes lingered on you for a moment. You moved carefully and were so gentle with the flowers. It was a refreshing sight after a lifetime of fighting and harshness. 

From that day on, he would see you around. Mostly at your flower stand, but also at the town festivals and down by the beach. The sergeant felt odd for never officially meeting you, but he just couldn’t do it. Someone else always jumped in: Omega needed something or Shep needed help and whatnot. Hunter wanted to meet new people, to break up the monotony of this new life. 

But one day, he finally did get his chance to talk to you.

It was a sunny day like any other. Hunter was not doing anything, so he thought it was time to buy some flowers. However, his luck was of course shit. 

The rain started a few drops at first before the sky unleashed a crying downpour. The wind picked up, screeching past his ears only to be deafened by the thunder creaking though the sky. The villagers in the square began to rush, desperate to get inside and stay dry. 

You were trying to shut your stall, attempting to keep any more of your flowers from being stolen by the wind. Your hat blew off as you forced the doors closed. You turned expecting to watch your beloved sun hat fly away, but a man had caught it. A devastatingly handsome man.

“You need to get inside.” He insisted.

“I can’t lose my stock!” You yelled over the noise of the wind.

“I’ll help!”

He grabbed the stand doors and forced them closed in an impressive feat of strength. But with the storm getting worse, there was no time for you to appreciate it. You swiftly locked the doors. The man still held your sun hat. When you thought he was going to hand it over, the clouds unleashed their horrid downpour. 

In his quick thinking, the man grabbed your arm and pulled you slightly down the pathway towards an empty house. His grip was firm yet not too tight, allowing you to pull away if you wanted to. You didn’t.

“Sorry,” he anxiously panted out, releasing your arm. “I figured you didn’t want to be soaked by that storm.”

“It’s alright.” You smiled, “Thank you for your help. I don’t think I would have been able to close up on my own in the wind.”

“It’s no problem.” He noticed then that he was still holding your hat. “Here. I’m Hunter, by the way.”

“Thank you for saving my favorite hat too.” You giggled a little, then introduced yourself.

“It’s nice to finally meet you. I’ve seen you selling flowers, but never got the chance to say anything.” Hunter awkwardly scratched the back of his neck.

“Yeah. You're new here, right? Well, newer.”

“Only a few months or so,” Hunter admitted. “It’s a nice change of pace for us. And the kid needed some stability and friends her age.”

“Kid?”

“Yeah. Her name’s Omega. Short, blonde girl who hangs out with Shep’s kid.”

“Oh, I’ve seen her around. Her and Lyana come to my stand all the time to see what new flowers I have.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, they walk all around town saying hi to everyone and looking at all the stores. She really seems to like it here.”

“Well, as long as she’s happy, I’m happy.”

“But, how are you settling in? I mean, your kid is doing great, but how do you feel?” You asked.

“Fine. It’s… soldiers are trained to cope with change.”

“But no one prepares you for the transition when you leave the military.” You empathetically offered, checking on the rain out the window.

“I can't say it hasn’t been interesting. We were never supposed to exist without the Republic.” Hunter admits. You were thankfully easy to talk to.

“It’s alright. The rain looks like it’s lightening up though.”

Hunter looked out the window. Downpour had turned into a drizzle and seemed it would soon disperse. The weather on Pabu was particularly fickle and ever changing.

Hunter hummed, “Before you leave, I hope to see you again, with less rain.”

“I’d like that.”

[ghostofskywalker]

What Happens on The Ferris Wheel (Only Stays There if You Can Keep A Secret)

Crosshair/Fem!Reader

Words: 1,806

Summary: At the annual spring festival, Crosshair ends up spending some quality time with the batch's next door neighbor, who he happens to be harboring feelings for.

Note: this was written for the @cloneficgiftexchange seasons prompt-a-thon! the prompt i picked was: there's an uneven number of people in the group for the spring festival's ferris wheel - looks like we have to sit together now with crosshair - it was so much fun to write! i took inspiration from modern carnivals, and it's set during a fun springtime festival on pabu :)

Clone Troopers Masterlist

Winter had been as short lived as it always was, but that didn’t mean the inhabitants of Pabu let the changing of the seasons pass them by. As flowers began to bloom once more on the trees and the sound of birds chirping outside grew more frequent, plans were put into action for the annual Spring Festival, an event that (according to Shep and Lyana) should never be missed. 

Despite the excitement that seemed to grip the entire island, Crosshair would have been perfectly content to sit the festival out, relishing in an empty house as his brothers and sister enjoyed themselves and ate the various fried foods Pabu had to offer, but he should have known that Hunter wouldn’t be thrilled with the idea of leaving him home. “It’ll be fun,” was his brother’s declaration, said in a tone that made it clear there wasn’t much Crosshair could do to avoid this event completely. 

And now, as he walked with his brothers and sister through the buzzing fairgrounds, he was already planning out an expeditious retreat. 

“Look!” Omega was saying, practically pulling Hunter ahead of the rest of the group by their joined hands. “There’s a ferris wheel!”

“That one’s pretty tall too,” Echo responded. “It probably has a great view from the top.” 

As the group made their way over to where a line was already forming, Wrecker moved much slower than he had when they first arrived. “I think I’ll hang onto everyone's stuff,” he said quietly, staring up at the towering attraction before them and sucking in a breath. Everyone else simply nodded, Hunter passing over the backpack of their things to his brother as he stood outside the roped off area that directed the line. 

As they joined the group already waiting to be assigned a car, Omega’s had a realization. “Without Wrecker we have an odd number, and the cars seat two people,” she said quietly, looking at Hunter, Echo, Crosshair, and Tech. “Someone is going to have to sit next to a stranger.” 

“Oh, you’re right,” Tech responded. 

“Maybe we can find someone else we know,” Omega added, looking around at those who had also joined the wait. Crosshair was about to tell her not to worry about him, that he didn’t have an issue waiting with Wrecker on the ground, but his sister cut him off before he could open his mouth. “Wait, there’s Y/N!” 

At the sound of your name, Crosshair paused. As their next door neighbor, you had become friendly with all of the Bad Batch, and he should have guessed that you would be at the event (if he had to guess, most of the island was here to socialize, eat, and enjoy the games and other entertainment). 

As he watched his sister begin to explain their current predicament, someone gently elbowed Crosshair in the ribs, and he turned around to see Echo with a mischievous smile on his face. “Shut up,” Crosshair said, voice low so that the others didn’t question him about the topic of discussion. 

Echo simply raised his eyebrows in response, and his grin grew slightly wider as you accepted Omega’s offer to join their group and make an even number of passengers on the ferris wheel. “You can sit with Crosshair,” Tech said, and the man in question turned back to Echo with narrowed eyes, only to be met with a shrug and a raised eyebrow. 

 You nodded, glancing over in his direction before accepting or denying the invitation, as if waiting for him to push you away. Admittedly, he had been the last member of his family to get to know you, but it wasn’t because he disliked you. 

But in fact it was quite the opposite reason, his hesitation coming from the fact that  he still struggled with the way you were just so nice (and to him, of all people). Many people on the island had been friendly, and it was probably because they didn’t know the truth about his past. But you had come to learn more about him from your friendship with the others, and still you were the first person who had made him feel truly welcome. He felt something stir in his heart every time you stopped by to share some freshly baked treats, spend time with Omega, or to invite them to some kind of event so they didn’t feel left out. Spending time with you alone as you took in the view that the ferris wheel offered was certainly enticing, even though it made him more nervous than the prospect of taking on a battalion of clankers without any kind of backup. 

“That’s fine,” Crosshair said, and he could see a small smile begin to ghost across your face. Hunter lifted the rope for you to climb under, and immediately Omega began telling you about all the things she wanted to do this evening, and all the things she wanted to try. 

“Sure you’re up to the task of talking to her?” Echo said quietly. He had been the first to clock Crosshair’s infatuation with their next-door neighbor, and unfortunately, as a byproduct of all the time he spent in the 501st, he had no qualms when it came to teasing Crosshair about it. 

“Did you tell them?” Crosshair hissed in response, hoping the ambient noise of the fair would be enough to keep their conversation out of Hunter’s earshot. 

Echo shook his head. “I think they just have eyes, Crosshair.” 

With a narrowed glare that only spent a moment on his face, Crosshair shook his head. “I’ll be fine,” he said quickly. 

“Good, because it looks like we’ll be at the front of the line soon.” 

Against his own wishes, Crosshair’s heart skipped a beat.

***

Despite not being a permanent fixture of the island, the cars of this ferris wheel were not only spacious but sturdy, and both you and him had plenty of room as you climbed in and got settled. Glancing over in your direction as the car moved upwards to allow the next pair to get in, he didn’t expect to meet your gaze. “You’re not afraid of heights, are you?” he asked, wondering why you might have been looking at him. 

“No,” you shook your head. “I probably wouldn’t have accepted Omega’s invitation if I was.” 

“Yeah, you’re right.” Kriff, this was already awkward, how was he supposed to survive the entire ride without combusting? 

Then you turned the question back on him. “Are you afraid of heights?” 

“Of course not, why?” 

“You turned to look at me rather than looking out as we moved up,” you said. “I just wondered if you would rather remain on the ground.”

The ferris wheel actually began to move continuously, with all the cars now full, and the conversation fell silent as you and Crosshair looked out at the Pabu skies. Although the flowers were beginning to bloom after winter’s end, the days had not quite yet reached their longest, so the light of the early evening was marked with the oranges, purples, and pinks of a setting sun. 

“Wow,” you were the one to break the silence that had settled over their car. “I’ve lived here all my life, but I’ve never seen the island from this far up.” 

Crosshair turned to look at you, immediately feeling his heart flutter at the expression of amazement on your face. “You’ve never been on the ferris wheel before at these events?” 

“This is the first time the festival has had one,” you said. “Phee was the one who first told me about them, I think this might be her doing.” 

The wheel was turning at a consistent pace now, and the sounds of laughter could be heard from the fairgrounds below. He knew that eventually they would have to step back onto the ground, but he selfishly wished that moment would never arrive. “I didn’t want to come to this thing at first,” he said quietly. “But I am glad Hunter dragged me here.” 

“I am glad you’re here too,” you said with a laugh. “At least so I didn’t have to go on the ferris wheel with a stranger.” 

Crosshair smiled. “Well then, I’m happy to be of service.” 

By the time their car was coming to a stop at the base of the ride, his heart was truly soaring, well above the height that any ferris wheel could offer. Spending this time alone with you had only made his feelings more persistent, especially since he had learned that the two of you had so many shared interests. He desperately wanted to take your hand and lead you out of the car, but he resisted, both because he didn’t know how it would be received and because he didn’t want to incur any more teasing from his brothers than he already has. 

“Where’s the rest of your family?” you asked, looking around for any signs of Echo, Hunter, Omega, Tech, or Wrecker. 

“They got in the cars before we did, they should have already gotten off,” Crosshair responded. He glanced at the steadily growing line to see if Omega had dragged everyone back there to go again, but saw no sign of his brothers or sister. “I don’t even see Wrecker, and he has our stuff.” 

You shrugged. “Omega probably just dragged them over to the ice cream stand or something.” 

“Wow, they keep leaving me behind.” You of course had no context for that comment, and Crosshair didn’t really feel any resentment for this particular instance, but the words came out before he could stop them. 

“At least you’re not all alone,” you said. “You wanna try your hand at some of the games with me? I’ll even let you win if there’s a shooting one.”

“I don’t think you need to throw the game on my account,” he said, a smile slowly growing on his face to match the playful expression you wore. “I would still win even if you were actually trying to beat me.” 

You gasped in (mock) offense. “Wow, you certainly are sure of yourself, Crosshair.” 

“It helps to know that I have certain genetic advantages.” 

“Good, then let’s go,” you said, grabbing his hand and beginning to pull him over towards the line of booths. “Because I have my eye on that giant pink moon-yo and I might need your help to win it.” 

As he registered the feeling of your hand in his, Crosshair couldn’t help but smile even wider than he already was. At this moment, he didn’t really care where his brothers and sister were, he just wanted to spend more time with you. 

Hopefully he would be able to keep the lovesick expression off his face when he returned home though, or Echo’s teasing might get even worse.

- the end -

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[ireadwithmyears]

Sweet as Honey, Right as Rain

Pairing: Kix/Gn Reader

For the @cloneficgiftexchange 2025 clone xReader Prompt A Thon

Prompt: Hurt/comfort after a bee sting

Word count: 2.3 K

Tags/warnings: domestic fluff, hurt/comfort, reader gets stung by a bee, minor injury/medical procedures, reader has hair long enough to tie back.

Summary: You get stung by a bee whilst picking flowers for your boyfriend. Luckily, though, you’d be heading to the medbay to find him regardless.

Authors note: It was truly so silly of me to think no, I don’t have time to participate in this event, but I’m just going to have a little peek at the prompts for curiosity’s sake... and then I saw this one and the idea just took root in my brain and would not go away so, here I am📣 Also I promise, I will get back to writing my follower event requests after this. Just wanted to get this one up right now because I like meeting deadlines early.

It’s still following you. 

Your heart pounds within your chest, fingers fumbling to tie the ribbon you had removed from your hair to hold the bundle of flowers together, because after all you had gone through to pick them—the bee sting on your palm a sharp and constant reminder that seems to pulse in time with every heartbeat—you were going to make them look presentable and pretty, even as your fingers struggle to correctly finish off the knot.

But the back of your neck is prickling, both anxiety and instinct warring for your attention because kriff, somehow the stubborn bee in question is still following you! You tilt your head, your ears straining as you continue to move on quick, quiet footsteps through the ship’s narrow hallways.

Buzzz.

Maybe it’s your mind being paranoid and playing a trick on you. Maybe it’s just the low hum of the fluorescent lighting that lines the corridor you’re currently hastening along. Surely, you think, breaking out into a jog just for good measure, surely it can’t be.

Buzzz.

It’s much closer now, and you can feel yourself breaking into a sweat. Bees are supposed to die, you remember, a fact that you had learned from the pages of an elementary school book rented out from your library that always brought you comfort when you found yourself near the small creatures as you grew up. Bees could only sting once, and then, once they lose their stinger, they die—unless it’s the queen, which can sting up to five times. 

But considering, as your hand jostles in front of your face as you run, you holding it up so you can try to catch a glimpse of it to reassure yourself, that the stinger is sticking out of the lump that’s quickly beginning to blossom on the face of your palm, it should be just a standard, run-of-the-mill worker bee.

Buzzz.

Of course, you’re on the Outer Rim, and you’ve quickly discovered that many things here aren’t standard or run-of-the-mill in the slightest. You really shouldn’t assume, you suppose, that any of the creatures you encounter here are normal.

Buzzzzzz.

It’s close, too close, so close that you swear you can feel the angered hum that it elicits against your skin and you squeak, terrified, throwing yourself through the double doors of the medbay with all the grace of a bantha.

“Cyar?” Kix’s voice, lovely and smooth and familiar, breaks through the panicked ringing that’s quickly overtaken your ears, safe, soothing, and warm. “What’s the matter?”

You don’t respond, instead skittering to hide yourself behind him, taking immediate comfort in the broad, muscular set of his shoulders accentuated by his armor, uncaring of how childlike you might look as you instinctively crouch down, wrapping your arms around his legs as you shiver

“K-Kix,” you gasp, body tense and your eyes anxious. “There’s a, there’s a...”

You can’t finish your sentence, but he must already see it, because he’s raising his arm in a swift, fluid motion, brandishing a datapad, and before you have time to react, he’s moving, lightning fast reflexes guiding his arm to move, a quick arc through the air and thwack! The no longer buzzing bee lands harmlessly at your feet, still and silent as he lowers his arm back to his side, placing the datapad back down on a medical cart.

“Pesky little buggers,” he sighs, his lips turned downward. “They’ve been trying to get into our medical supplies all week ever since we got here...” he trails off his ramble, brow crinkling in concern as he angles his head to look back and down at you. “Hey, sweetheart. It’s gone, I promise. It’s all okay now.”

You nod your head, sheepish as you release the iron grip you’ve had on his legs, suddenly embarrassed as you bite your lip, glancing down at your hand. 

“Hey,” he says again, voice much softer now as he crouches down at your level, eyes evaluating and observant. “Did you get stung, honey?”

“Honey?” you ask, your eyes still watery but unable to help the small giggle at the sense of irony mixed with overpowering relief that seeps into your bones now that you’re no longer being chased.

“Oh,” he says after a moment, his eyes quickly darting down to the bee on the ground as he processes. His ears turn pink, and he reaches up, subconsciously scratching at the back of his neck as he looks back up at you, offering you an apologetic smile. “Sorry, mesh’la. I really wasn’t thinking there.”

“I don’t mind,” you rush to say, reaching out to touch his arm before your hand twinges with pain and you remember. “And yeah, it did sting me and then proceeded to chase me all the way here,” you admit, grimacing as you slowly turn over your hand.

“What a harrowing experience,” he says dryly, taking hold of your hand to get a better look at it. “Come on, Cyar’ika,” he says, lightly tugging you to your feet by your uninjured hand. “You can tell me all about it while I get this taken care of.”

You meekly follow him over to one of the medical beds, taking a seat as he instructs you. “Don’t worry,” he says, leaning down to press a light kiss to the top of your head as he speaks reassuringly. “I’ll have you right as rain in no time.”

He moves away, rummaging around for several quiet moments before returning, placing some supplies down beside you on the cot.

“First,” he says, taking your hand in his and facing the palm upward. “I need to remove the stinger.”

You flinch, and then your eyes visibly widen as he lifts a small, blunt edged knife from the tray. 

“Kix,” your name falls from his lips in a small, almost embarrassing whimper as you look up at him, your gaze anxious.

“Hey.” His voice is warm, the octave pitched low and soft as he leans forward, setting the instrument back down as he lightly presses his forehead against yours, continuing to soothe. “Breathe, mesh’la. Just breathe.”

He inhales a slow, exaggerated breath, so close that the exhalation of air is felt as it brushes against your lips. You swallow, shaky as you breathe, and Kix smiles encouragingly, leaning forward to press several soft, fluttering kisses against your cheek, the corner of your mouth, and your jaw.

“There we go,” he whispers, his tone soft and patient as he continues. “I know it looks scary, but I promise, the knife is very dull on its own, and I will take precautions to ensure that it won’t cut you. I just need to use something like this,” he holds up his hand, leaning back so that you’re able to get a better look at the tool. “Because using something as thin as tweezers could rupture the venom sac within the stinger, and we want to prevent any further infection.”

“Oh,” you say, cheeks flooding with relief as you slowly let out a long breath. “I-If you’re sure.”

“Do you trust me, mesh’la?” he asks, taking your injured hand and propping it against one of his thighs.

“Yes,” you say immediately, the answer unhesitant and simple.

“Good,” he says, giving you a smile before returning his attention to your hand. “Just keep still and keep breathing, and I’ll have it out quickly, I promise.”

So you do, following his instructions so precisely that you feel yourself growing still as a statue. His hands are steady, the press of the knife cool against your skin as he works. There’s some pressure, a slight scraping as he works to push back the skin, eyes focussed as he pries the stinger out from your palm, using the long, blunt edge of the knife to coax it free.

“Got it,” he says, victoriously holding up the small stinger. You wince, gingerly flexing your fingers and letting out a relieved breath as he discards the small barb into a bin.

“I’m just going to clean it, but that shouldn’t hurt,” he says, turning back to his supplies and dipping a cloth into a bowl of lukewarm, soapy water. 

He’s thorough, but also slow and gentle as he carefully cleans your hand, dabbing around the injury with the cloth until he’s satisfied, raising your palm towards the light to scrutinize it before giving a small, decisive nod of his head and setting it back down.

“I’m going to get you a cold pack for that,” he says, getting up and moving towards one of the refrigeration units. “It should help bring down the swelling a bit.”

You glance down at your hand to find that yes, the bump is quite sizable and swollen now. You wince, because even without the stinger, it still aches and throbs intermittently, not that you’re really inclined to say anything about it. With the amount of injuries that Kix is exposed to seeing on the job, this one is pretty trivial, and you don’t want to embarrass yourself by complaining about it.

He returns, wrapping the cold pack in a small towel before encouraging you to press it against the injury. The cold makes you flinch at first, but it does ease the pain of the sting slightly, and you eventually get used to it.

Kix sits with you, quietly documenting and even grabbing a set of vitals on you for good measure just because he likes being thorough and having a concise, up-to-date chart for each of his patients. After some time, he lifts up the pack, frowning and lightly running his thumb along the swollen skin beneath.

“That still looks quite sore,” he hums sympathetically, continuing to gently cradle your hand in his as with the other, he reaches into his medpack and retrieves a tube of bacta. He applies some onto a cotton swab before gently dabbing it over the injury. Your sigh of relief is immediate, the gel instantly cooling and forcing the pain to retreat, soothing the worst of the irritation, leaving your palm feeling almost blissfully numb in its absence.

“I know,” he says softly, giving you a kind smile as he finishes. “The bees on this planet are a particular brand of nasty. Did you know that they are able to regenerate their stingers within two minutes of them falling off?”

“Oh,” you say, biting the inside of your cheek as your expression turns sheepish. “Well, that explains why it decided to chase me all the way in here after it already stung me.”

“It must have been feeling particularly vindictive towards you, cyar,” he says, his lips quirking  upward as he looks at you with interest. “Speaking of which, you never told me what exactly happened,” he says, his expression clearly expectant as he appraises you, folding his arms across his chest.

“Oh, I uh,” you duck your head, knowing that it won’t be enough to hide the blush that you can feel beginning to heat your cheeks as you avert your gaze. “I was um, I was picking flowers to bring to you.”

“That’ll do it. The bees around here can be quite protective of…wait—” He blinks, his mind slowly processing all of what you had said. “Y-You were picking flowers for me?” he asks, his tone a mixture of bewilderment, genuine happiness, and surprise.

“Yeah,” you say, looking around before your eyes catch on the delicate petals that had reminded you of 501st blue. “I um, dropped them on the floor, but if you still want them, they’re yours.”

His eyes follow yours to the bundle of abandoned flowers that stand out against the medbay’s white, polished floors and they soften. He quietly gets to his feet to retrieve them from where they had fallen.

“These are lovely,” he murmurs, bending to gather them up and brushing his fingers along the soft, fragile petals of varying shades of blue. He observes, his heart giving a little flutter, the recognizable hair ribbon that you’ve used to keep them together. “Thank you, darlin’, they’re beautiful.”

Your cheeks flush, and you can’t hide the pleased smile that pulls at the corners of your lips at his reaction, watching as his eyes dart around, seeming to search for something before they land on a beaker.

“I don’t have any kind of vase, I’m afraid,” he says, moving to a sink to fill the small glass with water. “But this should do just as nicely.”

You watch, your expression soft and your eyes fond as carefully, he pulls out a set of medical scissors and snips off the excess stem, before lowering the bundle of flowers into the beaker, smiling as he arranges them neatly on his desk.

“I saw them, and well,” you bite your lip, glancing up at him as he makes his way back towards you, “I thought that they reminded me of you, so I...”

You shrug, casting a sheepish glance down at your hand with the sting and Kix immediately softens, reaching to gently turn it over in his hand, his head lowering to press a slow, lingering kiss to the back of your knuckles.

“Oh, ner cyar,” he breathes, taking your chin in his hand. “You are sweet.”

His mouth slants against yours in a tender, yet nonetheless passionate kiss, one of his hands drifting down to hold your waist while the other lightly tangles in your hair, closing his eyes as his fingers appreciatively stroke through the soft strands. He doesn’t entirely pull away, he simply rests his forehead against yours, his thumb lightly tracing the contours of your lips, his voice a soft, warm whisper against your skin, butterfly wings stirring, brushing against your stomach as he speaks.

“Just as I thought,” he says, leaning in to kiss you again. “You’re just as sweet as honey.”

•Thank you to @strangergraphics-archive For these adorable dividers.

•If you enjoyed, please consider leaving a comment, and/or reblogg. They are super appreciated here

[cloneficgiftexchange]

The time has come...

...The complete spreadsheet of submitted prompts is now available! Anyone who is interested in writing a fic for this event can now peruse the lists and pick one (or more!) that they want to fulfill! The prompt sheet is linked on the bottom on this post, and here are just a few notes:

Posting can happen anytime from now until April 15th

Tag @cloneficgiftexchange in your post to be reblogged! I won't be tracking the organization tag for reblogs but you are welcome to use it

There are tabs along the bottom of the spreadsheet for you to navigate by season

Some prompts are open to any clone, and some have specific options, you can see specifics for each prompt (as well as if it's okay to do smut for that prompt) on the spreadsheet

The "any season" prompts are open for you to choose the time of year that they happen in, but they should still fit within the overarching theme of the event, which is Seasons. We only had a few of those suggested on the form, so I supplemented with some ideas that will be open to any clone.

there is no limit to the number of people that can fulfill a prompt, but I'm going to be updating the spreadsheet with links to prompts as they're posted. this way, if you want to pick a more lonely prompt you can see which ones they are!

the rules/faq can be found below for your reference, and all the necessary resources are also linked on the pinned post! If you have any other questions, feel free to ask!

RULES/FAQ

PROMPT SPREADSHEET

AO3 COLLECTION

LIST OF COMMON CLONES

[orangez3st]

How Do You Explain Unsolved Murders by Plasma Bolt?!

Clone Commando Sev × GN!Reader 

Season: Autumn - Clone × Reader Prompt-a-thon ✧ @cloneficgiftexchange

✧ Prompt: Monster!Clone

✧ Summary: You always get away from the mysterious deaths of the people who bully you, only because of this dead dude from another galaxy who names himself Sev acting as your avenging angel, if that even exists.

✧ Tags & Warnings: set on our planet earth in the year of our lord, bullying and the classic neglect of some people with position, curse words, mentioned suicide attempt, implied attempt of rape, Sev murders people and is enjoying it.

✧ Word Count: 5.3k

✧ A/N: Heyo and welcome to my first ghost!clone AU 👻 and yeah uh that basically means this is a Sev Dies AU. This may not be my best writing for now, but I really do hope you guys enjoy it still 🫶🏼 thanks for being here, and have a good one!

Masterlist | Read on AO3 | Sev (in-header image)

divider by me -> Delta Squad helmet PNG's by @/stars-n-spice

“You want me to drive you back?”

“No that's fine, I got it,” you refuse to the detective as he walks you along one of the corridors of the police station. You shrug. “I'll just Uber myself out of here.”

He studies you for a moment, a little hesitant at your decision. You kinda don't remember his name—maybe it's Jarrick or something, a thirty something year old man of lanky build with a faint cigarette smell coming from his jacket and a solid, grounding tone of voice.

“Okay,” he says, “Let me fetch your things back from evidence.”

“Okay.”

The detective leaves you in the middle of a bustling office workroom that smells heavily like coffee, exhaustion, and neverending paperwork. Around you are officers and detectives alike shuffling through case files, pens scribbling down details, and parental figures breaking down crying upon learning their loved ones are either incarcerated and charged or murdered.

You're having one of those.

Not willing to stand around and disrupt people's pace working their way through crimes, you shuffle your feet towards an empty couch near the door and sit down, the leaves of some real and typical strangely well-cared office plant brushing against your arm. You sigh deeply, planning. Maybe not going home yet. Some burritos to reward yourself after going through a hassle of a criminal investigation that you certainly didn't do, but always finding yourself in it.

“Hey.” The detective walks toward you in long strides, your backpack in one hand and your phone still inside the evidence zip bag. “Here's your stuff, all cleared. If you could sign this one first, here…”

You nod sort of exhaustedly, going through the supposedly last errand quickly and not really bothering to read the last half of the clearance document. He presents you the bag, unzipped, the content free for you to take.

“Thank you,” he says, slipping the clipboard underneath his arm and fishing a business card out of his pocket. With a tight smile, perhaps out of sympathy, he offers it to you. “If something else turns up, or if you need any help at all, you can call me. Okay?”

Det. William Jarrick

Oh, that's indeed his name after all. You take a few seconds to absorb the police logo, your city and state, and his official phone number. He's new, you heard, taking over the case—the previous one apparently is in jail for DUI.

“Understood,” you say, carefully pocketing the card. Jarrick opens the door for you, and you don't look back to the office. “See ya, Detective.”

He waves you goodbye. “Don’t get yourself into trouble again, kiddo.”

With a deep breath, you happily march out of the police station, willing to put it all behind you. There's nothing more stressful than a busy police station, even though you did absolutely nothing wrong. It's the walls, painted muted dark blue, and just… crowded spaces and coffee machine underneath a low lighting of the cabinet and paperwork scattered all over those desks.

The day is particularly chilly today. It's fall. Northern hemisphere autumn is never boring, you always like the cool air and warm color palette slapped across any surface either man-made or natural—trees, shop decorations, unraked leaves, shawls and jackets, thematic discount labels, video thumbnails.

“How's the new guy?”

If you hadn't known Sev and his tendency to quite literally pop up next to you with his oh-so-intimidating phone-scammer deep voice for the last six months, you'd jump and shriek at his sudden presence.

“He's okay,” you sigh, lowering your voice under your breath and digging for your handsfree in your bag. “Less annoying, more understanding. He's younger. Younger than the old frog who can't tell the difference between talking in a closed space and standing by a running jet engine.”

He snorts. “Where'd he go?”

You stick the device in your ear, running on a pretense that you're on a call whereas you're actually talking to a ghost that no one else can see but you.

“Jail, can you believe it? DUI.” You stretch your arms with a weary yawn before walking off the threshold and the entire vicinity, your pack now secured behind you on your back. “Wait, you've got DUI in your homeworld, right?”

He shrugs. “DUI, public indecency, vandalism, auto theft. You name it, Buggy.”

Buggy. Only Sev calls you that because you refused to tell you his name during your first run-ins with each other. You were too busy screaming and muttering incoherent prayers to the top manager of your belief system, or whatever gods above.

Sev follows you along the pavement, sparse of people, his translucent bluish white form floating above the ground, although he’s practically marching. There isn't any hesitation in his steps as he bears a soldier's stance. Intimidating. How could he not, with all that bulky armor set on him? He dwarfs you easily, and he finds it hilarious that he knows you're feeling kind of safe that he's unable to tackle you. Not that he'd want to. Not without reason, anyway.

“So where are we headed?” he asks from behind you.

“Stress-eating,” you say, laughing awkwardly to yourself. To calm your post-police interview jitters, more like. “I was in that stuffy room for like, two hours.”

“One and a half,” Sev corrects.

“Right.”

“You ain't scared that they'd find you suspicious ‘cause you're walking instead of taking a cab like what you told the new case detective?”

“So you were listening all along,” you muse, ducking into your usual small dine-in burrito place. You exclaim your usuals to the cashier and slide into one of the shabby booths. “To answer your question, it's not their business.”

“Could be,” Sev says, his ghostly (heh) form already slipping into the seat opposite you. His pack is already disengaged. “If there's another murder.”

“You wouldn't.”

“What?”

“Doing another murder.”

“Don't know what you're talking about.”

“Sev,” you groan, “I don't want you to—” you cut yourself off, remembering you're practically in public space. You sigh. “Don't slot anyone again.”

Sev smirks behind his helmet. It's a vocabulary he taught you. “They're bullying the kriff out of you.”

“Ever, Sev.”

“Can’t stand aside and let you be trampled like that. Like you're a useless piece of shit. You're bright. And you're still a person, Buggy.”

“You’re putting dead bodies in my name and making me the prime suspect every time!” you whisper-shout.

“Person of interest,” he corrects you.

You slowly close your eyes.

Sev looks at you. His sniper rifle is leaning casually against the back of his seat. “Can't do much while being a ghost of a soldier with unfinished business, doncha think?”

Before you can retort, your order is slid to the table in front of you, all warm and spicy and invoking the monsters in the depths of your belly. Spicy chicken burrito, ranch and extra pico de gallo, crisps, and cookies ‘n cream milkshake.

“Rough day?” the server, Caleb, asks you.

You blink. “Huh?”

He taps his ear, referring to your handsfree and how you've been talking excessively. “Another murder that frames you or is that your Slovakian ex girlfriend?”

You let out a dry laugh, your fingers toying with the still-warm crisps. “I don't have a Slovakian ex girlfriend.”

“Boyfriend?”

You kick at his feet. Lucky bastard swerves away cackling. “Shut up, Caleb!”

“Yeah yeah anyway,” he chuckles, his gaze clearly holding some genuine sympathy at you, “Hope you get through it and catch the guy. Mustn't be easy for you.”

“Heard that before,” you mutter, glancing down at your lap before smiling at him anyway. “Thanks, Caleb.”

Caleb offers you a smile and a shoulder pat before sauntering someplace else.

Sev scoffs at your meal as you start to dig in. “Scorch would huff that down.”

You slurp on your shake. “Y'all can handle spice?”

“Loved it, even,” he says fondly, which is a strange sight to you still even though you've known each other for roughly six months. “He handled it better than I do.”

It's sensible to talk about people in past tense when you don't know if they're still alive or not. For Sev, he's lost them anyway. He died. In his past life, in some place called Kashyyyk.

Or in another universe or something, because there were no known previous civilizations on Earth rocking the apparatus that he carries with him.

And he just happened to… land into your life as a ghost tied to you. Wherever you go, he follows. It had been hard to live with that, especially when you couldn't handle his dark gloomy jokes some time in the beginning of your acquaintanceship. Friendship. It's easier now. You're considering him a friend. You're stuck with each other, after all.

“Do you think you really have unfinished business?” you suddenly ask.

Sev blinks hard underneath his helmet to digest your question and, ah, it's poking his private compartment again. Why he's here, how he came here—does it matter? He's stuck as a ghost without so much as a memory about the manuals if they even gave him one somewhere in the limbo.

You continue studying him, placing down your ronto roll ripoff and absentmindedly poking at your crisps. “Like a mission? To complete?”

“Does it matter?” It's not usual for him to defy a question from someone other than a clone.

“It might,” you shrug, mid-chew. Sev is used to it. “We should… find out why you're sent here, right?”

“I lived in a different galaxy than yours, Buggy. Why I'm here is up to whoever's in charge of both yours and mine.”

You scrutinize him. Like, actually putting him under an interrogative pressure. You seem not to care about other people in the tiny diner looking. “You don't wanna find out why? Ever?”

There's something else he hides. Something about ‘unfinished business���? It does feel like that. He's a soldier. A hunter. An accomplisher. Those traits drive him to his goals with utter ambition and, sometimes, sadistic hunger. Hunger to get the job done. Hunger to anticipate what comes next after that job is done. He chases after these things. It satisfies him—the success, the crudeness, the raw elements he gets himself high on.

Then he died and he met you. Poor, unsuspecting and unlikely scrawny kid who's doing whatever they can to sustain their ranks in school. Apparently being too ambitious achieving a goal is a crime because it invites envy and jealousy of others. Now that, he can't comprehend. You're only doing your job, you want the best for yourself.

But your classmates attack you. Calling you names, banging at the locker next to yours just to startle the shit out of you, the cold shoulders, the belittling stares. Your teachers don't feel like intervening. You're used to it, but you're tired. Your utter surrender attracted him somehow, that when you actually really attempted to test how good your belt is using the railings on the second floor of your mother's house, the downstairs phone rang.

It was the news of the sudden death of a student in your school. Bertrand Wilson. He was the one who banged the locker every damn day. “We thought you should know,” your principal had said, before ending the line.

Three days later, Jackie Lombardini. She called you names. Next week; Kellan Peterson. He pushed you into a lake once. That Friday, Melinda Brewster—dunked your head in the toilet. The same day, Lucas Martinez—emptying your locker and setting the contents on fire in the dumpster. The next day; Naomi and Hans Grant, twins. They literally continuously threatened to kill you just because you caught them in the act in the lab after hours.

Everything was a mystery. No one knows what hit them. Cameras never caught the perp; no vehicles, no mysterious figure walking by. No blood. Just bodies dropping to the ground with a scorching hole in the middle of their forehead, smoke rising above it. Everything connects to one thing; you. Motive? Vengeance.

But that's the problem. The police can't place you in any of the crime scenes. It's a variety of places you'd never have the intention to go to—bars, shabby diners, rooftops, dingy hotel rooms, biker lot, or hell, their own house. Your alibis checked out—always. It's fortunate that the local police are immune to local media pressure—they stay on the lane. You're always cleared. You always walk away fine, undamaged, and perhaps, albeit a little guiltily…

Satisfied.

They deserve it.

Sev literally grinned down at you—behind his bucket, of course—when he first manifested in front of you. After every phone call, because the killings are always consistent. After hours. Evening. PM. You stopped testing the belt. You chilled out in your room and you were screaming to death while Sev came forward for the first time and asked you things.

“How do you do?”

“Did you like it?”

“What do you think?”

“I wish I could give them the old shank in the kidney like I did to those ugly lizards, but my Deece is all I've got. And I'm an excellent shot.”

“Taken care of.”

“Don’t have to worry about them anymore, Buggy.”

“I've got you, don't worry. I've got ‘em, too. Went out with a pew.”

It takes some time for you to adjust. Sometimes you're wondering if you still have the right to be called ‘victim’. They bullied you, after all. They bullied you first. They started it.

They deserve it. Sev finishes them. Lessons exhibited to everyone in your school. The aftermath? No friends at all, having absolutely nobody to talk to, and a new sick urban legend circulating around mentioning your name seeking refuge to the devil. What bullshit. Except if they want to call a living dead bloodthirsty psycho sniper from another galaxy the devil. Picking victims and taking them out in your name. It's fitting and eerily beautiful at the same time. At least that's what Sev thinks about.

Sev sighs. “Don't need to find out why,” he says gruffly.

You stare at him. “Um… why?”

He tilts his helmet back at you. “I know why I'm here.”

It's to hunt them down. Those who hurt you. He can feel it in his incorporeal body. Every time he lays on his belly on the next building over with a nice vantage point, every time pulls that trigger, every time he watches the body drop. He's never hesitant with his shots, he's always confident. All that, put into a shaker and poured into a fine, cold cocktail glass for him to enjoy.

You play with your straw as you lower your voice, “It's to kill them, isn't it?”

“I got off on it,” Sev admits shamelessly—but not, at all, in a sexual sense. “And it feels like the right thing to do.”

The corner of your lips twitch. Maybe you're just as sick as him, handling that much pressure and suddenly that pressure is ripped away from you without resolve nor closure. “So,” you muse, “Acting as my guardian angel who brutally kills people?”

“Don't see me doing anything else, do you?”

You look down somewhat guiltily. “I never saw you.”

Sev tears his focus away from you and stares into the plain fucking wall. He won't let himself be seen as soft, at least not now, although it's too late. Something is provoking the guess what I actually fucking care bone inside him. You're being vulnerable, so he can't be, too. At least one of you has to look alive.

“It’s for the best,” he says eventually, “You wouldn't like it—”

“Well, look who it is! My sweet darling baby!”

You’ve never turned around so fast. After one and a half hour being interviewed by a detective who's genuinely trying to help your tired hardass, that voice turns this day boring to plain shitty—a familiar assface with a Canadian accent bursting through the door with his sickening grin and, can you fucking believe it, blond pompadour hair.

“Who the kriff is this?” Sev asks aloud, his hand steadying on his rifle.

“Raph?” you gape, ignoring him, “The hell you doing here?”

Sev watches this Raph dude interrupting his intense conversation and sauntering toward your table with a happy skip in his step with a smile that even Scorch would've slapped away. “Flew over for you.”

You shake your head and let out a dry laugh “Don’t be an asshole, Raphael. Seriously, what are you doing here?”

Raph looks at you offended. “Me? The asshole?” he snorts. He makes a shoo gesture at you and forcefully wedges himself into the booth before smiling his smackable smile again at you. Sev actually considers to punch him across the face—doesn’t matter if his fist and knuckle blade goes through. “Don't be silly, baby darling. You broke us up first.”

You stare at him, scooting to the other side until your back meets the wall. “Because reasons.”

“Aw, you couldn't handle me,” he teases.

“Understatement,” you mutter under your breath, throwing a glance at Sev with a sigh. “Raph, we already broke up. There's absolutely no reason for you to fly over and— and babying me!”

“Right, right, but I can look after you while still being friends, can't I?”

“I don't have friends,” you state firmly. Sev gives you a thumbs-up. You bite your lip to stifle a smile.

“Well, but I want to.” This chakaar actually… seems genuine. Sev relaxes. A bit. The boy sighs in resignation seeing your unconvinced expression. “Okay, you want honesty? I'm in town ‘cause my dad's having a board meeting with your city council. Told him I'm gonna drive around town and, well.” He gestures to you with a flashy smile. “See how you're holding up.”

Sev watches your expression carefully with his arms crossing his chest. It's been a hard month with all the murders around you, and he's not feeling sorry for even one. They deserve it. He can't explain it in words, but his intuition has helped him survive many times by identifying two-faced sha’buire before.

“Yeah, I don't know,” you shrug mindlessly, “This mysterious sniper guy is gonna get the second wave of FBI hounding on my back and that'll be bad for me.”

Raph seems taken aback. “Whoa. Second wave?”

“Yeah. They sent profilers, but they found nothing on the crime scenes—all six of them. Pulled out and been working on it remotely ever since so far. Or at least that's what I hear from the detectives.”

“Right, right,” Raph nods thoughtfully, seemingly taking it all in seriousness. “Want me to hire PI for you?”

You scoff. “Raph. The victim's parents literally unionized to hire a band of private investigators to look into me.”

“Are you serious? You don't seem scared.”

“I've got nothing to hide.”

Sev catches one look too long in the far corner of the diner. He perks up, and that slight gesture from him renders your attention at Raph crumbling for a moment. “One in that corner,” he informs you. Your head swivels following his direction.

“What?” Raph asks.

You roll your eyes. “Speak of the devil. One that's hoping I'm gonna buy that… I don't know, librarian persona.”

“Oh yeah,” Raph muses, nodding as if awed he's got to see a real PI for once. “Doesn't that bother you? I can make a call to ask one of my dad's counselor team—”

“Raph, stop,” you shake your head, “I appreciate it, but I don't need your help.”

“Time to go, Buggy.” Sev stands up. Awkward situation that normally could escalate into a varping shootout like this is something he always runs away from first thing, even in the Before where Fixer usually shouted after him, and he intends to drill this when to walk away lesson into you. He grabs his rifle readily, appearing as the cold and deadly sniper he is as if ready to put a nonchalant bolt through Raph's head right there and then. “I'm saving your shebs from this dumbass.”

You release a loud sigh as you begin to wrap the burrito with its own tin foil and shove the last of your crisps into your mouth quite unceremoniously that makes Raph blink in absolutely not amusement. Maybe disgust. Good. You've got enough eyes on you, you certainly don't need your ex boyfriend to poke around, too.

“Want me to drive you?” Raph tries again.

You stall by slurping your milkshake clean, noisily. “I got it, Raph.” You plot your escape, rather quickly, to the front door where Sev is already waiting for you, rifle raised as if Raph could see him then the kid should be scared.

Raph follows you outside, his steps are more hasty rather than concerned. You groan your frustrations, turning to give him a piece of your mind until he cuts you off.

“Hey, hey. Please. I really am concerned. What if they’ve been targeting you?”

“Targeting me?” “I've been bullied for most of high school for having top marks, Raph! If they were targeting me, why would they kill people around me who've been causing me pain and made me nearly hang myself in my own house?!”

“Maybe jealousy?” Of course he doesn't care about your suicide bit. “They're trying to intimidate you by killing people around you.”

You watch in silence as Sev comes up next to Raph, out on the sidewalk and under the autumn late afternoon sun. The commando you've known as a friend seizes your ex—panting and practically begging you to understand and to be on his page—up close and personal with a predator's prowess. His grip on his rifle may seem relaxed, but you know the finger on the trigger guard is itchy to press.

Sev looks at you. “Want me to shut his hole?”

“No!”

Raph looks at you in disbelief, unaware of your slip-up. “Are you serious?”

“Yes I'm serious!” You gain your focus back but already forget what he brought up. Sev nods grimly and steps back.

“Copy that.”

“Look, I care about you, okay?” Raph says, “Watching the news and your name popped up on screen, it's only just last week that it's now up by seven victims. Seven. I was always wondering if you're okay ‘cause these are people you know, people you went to class with, but what if they get to you finally—”

“Raph.” You pinch the bridge of your nose, and then level your gaze with him, giving in with what you hope is genuine plea. “I don't need your help.”

You turn around again, but Raph grabs your arm. “I get that,” he says, sighing. “Let me drive you home? Then I won't bother you again.”

“Promise?”

“You won't see my face again and you won't even know I'm leaving town.”

And that's how you find yourself in the passenger seat of Raph's car.

It smells rental and you try to focus on it instead of your ex’s presence just a mere feet away. Raph wasn't good to you—his dad being a member of Canadian parliament, all he cares about is himself. You were just an object of his love bombing for five months and you're still trying to pretend to ignore that at least a quarter of your belongings were his gifts to you.

So. Him being concerned about his ex partner who becomes a person of interest in their bullies’ strange murders? Even stranger.

Raph insists on a scenic route. Says he hadn't been here long before moving back to Canada—all those five months here were spent wooing you and bombing the lovesick person out of you, both with love and his pompous bullshit.

And now you’re letting him initiate conversations with you again. You let him steer the topic, because you're too tired to think of one, much less speaking about one to your ex. Sev is watching you and the interaction from the backseat, his quietness isn't unusual.

He can sense something's wrong. He’s certain you’ve noticed too, but what could you do in a moving vehicle, if not launching yourself out the door out of paranoia without injuring yourself? Call it his intuition. Out of his brothers, his intuition never went wrong. It’s his patience and attentiveness when he's locking in. 

So when the chakaar pulls up in the seediest corner of a gas station after fueling up, all this poorly executed bullshit ends now.

The temperature surrounding his incorporeal body freefalls. Always, every time, when his trigger discipline can no longer be contained. It makes his head feel hot and crowded with utter focus, his attention fully locking into his new goal—his target.

The search for vantage point? He lets his body do it. Methodical, careful, as if someone ran the program inside his head to do just so, because he's used to moving so discreetly without risking being seen. Even a ghost now—he can't erase that away. He can't be careless, still. It's who he is. Remove that, and he'll be just a shell of RC-1207 who loses his kick.

He's found a tree, but he doesn't climb, so he covers himself behind the gigantic trunk. He wants to see the bolt penetration. He wants to watch his target's head loll sideways as it claims their life that's been spent on stooping so low belittling other human beings. He wants the thrill. He wants to smell burnt tibanna. He wants to smell the death.

Sev raises his rifle and aims. It's already dark outside, and he's surprised why you didn't choose to go on a screaming match with your ex already to demand to be taken home. Raph drives around, errands here and errands there, even taking his time on grocery shopping and delivering packages. He's already been waiting for the cover of darkness so he could lock the doors and turn off the lights in his car…

And pounce on you.

Once the moving shadows inside the car begin to show signs of resistance and oppression, he wastes no time.

He pulls the trigger.

The boom resonating out of his sniper attachment is followed by the sound of glass breaking. The bolt went through the car's rear window, the seat, and…

The head loll. And not a second later, the entire body, dead, flopping heavily onto you. Dead.

You scream.

You've obviously thought of being present in a crime scene. But you’ve never found yourself in it since it's probably for the best and yet; here you are.

It's just like what they say and what they show to you in pictures. No blood. Scorched bullet hole. Smell of foreign gas flooding your nostrils. Dead body. It's also what they don't show you that's overwhelming your senses. You think dead bodies are cold, but you have no idea they'd still be warm. Or maybe, deep down you knew but it's all happening so fast. Freshly dead bodies are still so warm that it makes you want to believe Raph is possibly still alive.

You push his body away from you. Raph’s dead weight slams against his side of the door with a loud thunk.

“Buggy! Hey!”

Sev is on the other side of your window, wishing on everything he could've done including rapping his knuckle plate against the window and hauling you out of there as fast as he could to get you to safety.

“Let's go. We should go.”

And then the fog clears. It's like you're waking up from a nightmare.

“Sev,” you breathe, finding consolation in the presence of his illuminating bluish white form before unlocking the door manually with shaky fingers. Sev arms go through your body in an attempt to catch you as you stumble out. You hit the asphalt and grass followed by Sev's frustrated grunt.

“Buggy,” he calls you, even crouching to meet your level, “Get up. You okay?”

Your sight blurs—it’s your tears pooling in your eyes, and you don't even realize you've been crying. Sev’s translucent rifle, the one he just shot Raph with, lays on the ground next to him. You're expecting to be eye to eye with Sev’s gruesomely painted helmet but the face behind it greets you instead, and it does seem like your questions about the color of his eyes and what kind of scars marring his face would remain unanswered. The frown between his eyebrows and concern reflecting in his gaze bring you into a shared space of vulnerability.

Your breath hitches.

“Sev…”

“You’re alright,” he soothes, voice softer than you've ever heard of him. Sev raises his hand to your head to push some of your hair away but pauses midair, again forgetting his current state. Glancing away in embarrassment, he turns back to you with sudden encouragement. “Come on. We gotta get moving.”

“My bag,” you manage to say, your voice barely a whisper as you try your best to get up even on your jelly-like limbs.

Sev nudges his head. “Go. We'll get out of here.”

You get on your feet with hardship and turn, and you're looking at the nightmare again.

Raph had suddenly become violent when you rejected his advances and landed a solid smack to your cheek. Not three seconds later, he flopped dead against you by Sev’s protective headshot.

“He—” you swallow thickly, “He tried to rape me—”

“What matters now is that you're safe, ad'ika,” Sev affirms behind you, his voice filtering through his helmet again. “He won't bother you anymore, that's what I know.”

It burns. The pain in your cheek has numbed but it still burns. You touch the reddened spot with the tip of your fingers and immediately cringe away—it’ll always be a reminder of a tragedy.

And your mistake.

You're here when he's murdered. You're present at the crime scene, your DNA is all over the place. Within a second, you feel like the best you could do right now is crying again and screaming as loud as you can.

“Buggy,” Sev urges you again.

“I'll never be safe, will I?” Your voice strains as you turn around, your tears hot in your eyes. “As long as this town hates me, I'll never be safe, and you'll never stop.”

“If that's what it takes.”

You know you're supposed to be taken aback by his words—Sev’s sole intention and belief that he should protect you, a vulnerable soul, at all costs. His calling, he called it. But you're not. Your shock has escaped you and you are so used to letting yourself be ushered under Sev’s protective wings that you no longer question his merciless actions. It scares you, your sanity—it scares the little sympathy that's just magically… still there.

After all seven, eight murders.

Have you always been this heartless? Ever since they turn to be so condescending and kick you into the ground that you've had a fair share of the vile earth yourself, and make you swallow what they've spat on?

Maybe they deserve this, after all.

You sniffle, harshly wiping the tears off your sad fucking face. Grabbing your bag to find your phone, there's only one fight left for you.

“Raph’s dad’s lawyers are going to kill me,” you mumble as you tap the three numbers for emergency services. “They're gonna make sure I'll be behind bars for this one. They're powerful people.”

Sev huffs almost boredly. “Then good thing there's a security camera right across from where you are.”

It's a good position, and it's on. It surely caught what had transpired beyond the windshield of the rental car, and all the windows aren't tinted.

“They won't touch you.” Sev raises his rifle again. “I’ll make sure of that.”

You release a breath of laughter—either for him always having your back or the fucking coping mechanism, you're letting the universe do whatever it wants with you, as long as they decree Sev to always protect you against the most vile evil that the world throws at you, at least.

Taglist: @yoursrosie @hellfiresky @filamentlights @heidnspeak @lucyysthings @emmaw18 @leiopython-rat

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[ghostofskywalker]

There Are Many Benefits to an (Unauthorized) Vacation

RC 1262 Scorch/Fem!Reader

Words: 1,507

Summary: The building tension between you and Scorch finally yields something more than glances and wishes while the squad is taking a bit of time to themselves.

Prompt: "There is no shame in using a pool floatie.” - “Yes there is. I’m shaming you.” || any delta squad

Note: this was written for the @cloneficgiftexchange seasons prompt-a-thon event, which is currently open for submissions! there are a bunch of amazing prompts for every seasonal situation, and i was so excited to try out writing for scorch!

Clone Troopers Masterlist

If the Republic or the GAR ever reached out to you and asked why this mission in particular was taking longer than the originally designated two rotations to complete, you would simply tell them that the team had run into complications when it came to surveillance and simply had to extend your stay in the safe house. You would reiterate the importance of the intel that you were gathering, and even go one step further to remind your superiors of the dedication of the group you were working with. 

The truth however, probably wouldn’t get you any kind of medal or award. 

You didn’t really care though, because this was an opportunity that you would probably never get again. Not only did the safe house you were staying in have a gigantic pool and accompanying lounge chairs, but this was the time of year where the weather was best for swimming. With this planet’s sun high in the sky and no neighbors within earshot of the building, Delta Squad had no trouble making the decision to extend the assignment by a rotation or two (even Boss was on board from the start).

You of course did not complain, especially now that you were laying out on an inflatable raft while the cool water lapped up your legs. Every once in a while a few droplets of water hit your face from the boys’ splashing, but it was never anything bad enough that you actually had to sit up and see what was going on. Right now, you were content enough to just listen to their conversations from the sidelines. 

Scorch, as usual, was nothing but humble about his skills, and was more than comfortable in the water. “I bet I could swim laps around you!” 

“I highly doubt that,” Sev retorted. “We’re made of the exact same genetic material, our speed is the same as all the other troopers.” 

“Wanna bet?” 

Boss’ voice floated through the air at Scorch’s proposition. “Save it for the training facilities, why don’t you?” You didn’t even have to lift the sunglasses from your face to tell that he hadn’t gotten into the pool yet, as the lounge chairs on the patio had become his favorite part of this assignment. 

“Why, Sir?” Scorch called back, voice glinting with the joyful mischief you’ve come to expect from him at this point. “Afraid you’d lose?” 

Boss sighed. “No, I just intend to squeeze every drop of relaxation I can out of our extra time here. It’s not like this will ever happen again.” 

“He’s right,” Fixer’s voice joined the conversation. You couldn’t tell where he was simply by the volume and direction of his voice, but if you had to guess, he was probably sitting on the edge of the pool with just his legs in the water. “I have half a mind to relax like Y/N over there.” 

“You should,” you said as the pool water rose just a little higher, providing the most wonderful relief for your sun-warmed skin. “This is the best experience I’ve ever had.” 

“I don’t know if it’s worth it for how ridiculous you look,” Scorch responded. 

“I do not look ridiculous! And there is no shame in using a pool floatie to relax.” 

“Yes there is, especially when said pool floatie is shaped like a bantha. I’m shaming you.”

You scoffed. “I don’t care what this thing looks like,” you said, finally opening your eyes to look at Scorch with your eyebrows raised. “I’m so relaxed right now, I don’t think a droid attack would even affect it.” 

“Oh really?” A small splash accompanied the commando as he swam over to you, and suddenly you were really close to an incredibly attractive clone (who just so happened to be shirtless). “Even if someone…flipped you?” 

Lifting your sunglasses up so that the two of you could lock eyes, you couldn't help the way your heart fluttered. There was something about Scorch in particular that made you act like a cadet, and now that you had more time to relax, the tension had slowly been building. “Not even then,” you said lowly, reaching up to pat his cheek. 

As you lowered your sunglasses over your eyes once more, you could see a glint of something you couldn’t quite place in Scorch’s expression, and you truly wondered if he was going to try and test your statement (and your patience). But no attack ever came, and you spent the rest of the afternoon floating in the sun, a part of you wishing something further had happened with every passing moment. 

***

In your opinion, the time went by too fast. Tomorrow morning you would be getting back on the ship to receive your next assignment from the GAR, and life would once again become dangerous, tiring, and stressful. Everyone else had stayed inside for the evening, but you were determined to get as much use out of the pool as physically possible, so you had kept your bathing suit out when packing the rest of your things away. 

If floating during the day was like paradise, at night it was some kind of heaven. The humidity had cut significantly, there was a cool breeze rustling the trees, and the chirping of birds and bugs provided a symphony of conversation as you stared upwards, the last trails of the evening light slowly disappearing across the sky. 

The sound of the door opening brought you back to the present, and Scorch’s voice entered the space moments later. “Thought I might find you out here.” 

“Yeah, I really don’t want to leave,” you said softly. 

“Me too,” he admitted, sitting down at the edge of the pool and putting his legs in the water. You watched as he slowly lowered himself in, throwing his shirt on one of the lounge chairs before it got completely soaked. 

It hit you moments later: that Scorch was once again standing over you, and that oh-so recognizable tension was once again building, charging every molecule of air around you. If he leaned down and you leaned up, your lips would be touching. 

“All good things have to come to an end I suppose,” you said softly.

“That doesn’t mean we can’t make the most of things.” 

Maker, you were so close to him. “And how would you want to make the most of it right now?” 

There was a pause, it was as if he was considering all the implications of your words. “I think I’d do this,” he finally said, in a voice much softer than you’ve ever heard him use. 

The moment your lips touched, it felt as though time had stopped. None of this felt real, especially not the fact that you would be returning to the front lines of a deadly conflict tomorrow morning, or that his brothers could walk out the back door at any moment and see the two of you in the pool. Right now, you and Scorch were the only two people in the entire galaxy. 

Or at least, you were until you felt the pool floatie begin to shake, and soon your entire body was plunged into the (pleasantly warm) water. That di’kut. 

You opened your eyes underwater, and you could see a grainy figure laughing above the surface. It was the perfect time to strike back, and you certainly took the opportunity. Leaping up out of the water, you tackled Scorch, using his surprise to your advantage as you dragged him down with you. 

You couldn’t really hear that well underwater, but his joy was obvious. The two of you chased each other through the pool, dragging one another countless times into the now choppy waters and laughing with every breath you took. 

Once again, you two were alone in the galaxy.

It was only when your lips had found each other for the second time did someone else walk out the door, and the two of you broke apart to see Fixer and Sev staring in your direction, one of them looking much happier than the other. 

“Ha, I called it! It’s time to pay up, Oh-Seven,” Fixer laughed, elbowing his brother next to him, who looked genuinely annoyed at the situation.

“You guys couldn’t have waited until the next time we hit 79’s?” Sev grumbled, heading inside to pay his lost bet. 

Fixer just winked at the two of you standing speechless in the pool before following his brother inside, and you were once again alone with Scorch. There was a smile on his face that you were sure not even an explosion could wipe off, and you knew that you must have looked just as wild, soaking wet in the evening’s almost-darkness. “Want to keep making the most of things?” he whispered. 

Your response was to pull him into another kiss, one that was instantly reciprocated. 

Tomorrow you would have to return to the war and the GAR, but tonight, you wanted to make sure that was the furthest thing from your mind.

- the end -

i no longer have a taglist! if you're interested in being notified when i post, you can follow my library blog @ghostofskywalker-library and turn on notifications!

[captainpains]

Drive-in Dalences (Captain Rex x Reader)

Apart of the @cloneficgiftexchange prompt-a-thon. Had such a blast writing it. I hope you enjoy! 💕

Season: Summer Prompt: Fireflies

Warnings: gn reader, 1950s/Grease AU (really more for aesthetics than anything else), Fluff, Rex a sap and I will take no criticism, first kiss.

~

Rex shoved Fives off the hood of his blue Chevrolet Bel Air. He laughed as his butt hit the ground. The drive-in was buzzing with activity that night as it was a nice day.

Rex and his four brothers were regulars at Dex’s Drive-in. The food was fine but the town was small and it was the only hangout spot. Fives and Echo were of course being difficult, messing around with the radio of the car while they waited to order. Jesse was endorsing his brothers’ shenanigans by laughing along. It was irritating. Rex didn’t know how his brothers were going to survive when he graduated and enlisted. 

“You boys ready to order?” You skated up to the car. 

“Yeah, can we get burgers all around, fries too. I know I want a strawberry milkshake.”

“Oh! Can I get a chocolate one?” Echo asked from where he was sitting in the passenger seat.

Jesse and Fives scrambled with their drink orders. Tup, the youngest brother at only ten years old, piqued out of the backseat. 

“Can I have a Coca-cola?” He asked with his big eyes at his older brother.

“Of course, sweety,” You smiled as you wrote down the order. “I’ll be right back with your food.” 

As soon as you were out of ear shot, Jesse got a mischievous glint in his eye. He grabbed Rex’s shoulders, jolting him from watching you skate away. He hadn’t even noticed he was doing that.

“So, when are you going to put the moves on our favorite server?” He jabbed him in the ribs.

“Yeah, you’ve been makin’ eyes at her for ages.” Fives added, leaning against the car.

“Oh, shove it.” Rex muttered.

The brothers laughed. Poor Rex had been pining for you since he was a sophomore in high school. You had just started working at Dex’s and were so sweet to him. He was always happy to go to Dex’s before, but after you were there he had wanted to eat there constantly. He was total sap, never overtly flirting but still so focused on your every word.

“But, brother, I’ve already written my best man speech,” Jesse joked. 

“As if you would be my best man.” Rex grumbled back, moving to get back into his car.

“Of course I would be!” He insisted, “You have no other friends.”

Echo and Fives laughed along with Jesse. Tup didn’t join in, more interesting in his book in the back seat. 

“Well, Tup is my favorite brother. Maybe I’ll make him my best man,” Rex declares, stoking the annoyance of his brothers.

“Why – you slimy old boy! I would be shocked if she even said yes to a date with your ass.” Jesse pouted.

“I’m just saying.” Rex shrugged.

“Well, I’m sayin’-” Jesse was cut off by Rex, who threw a napkin at him when he noticed you skating back up with their food.

“Okay. I’ve got five burgers and fries. Two strawberry shakes, One chocolate, and two cokes.” You repeated as you hooked the tray on the car door. “You boys enjoy!”

“Wait! Rex has something to ask you!” Tup, the little traitor, halted you.

Rex glared at his brother, heat crawling up his neck. You waited amusedly for him to say something. Rex remained frozen as his brothers goaded him.

“I do have a shift to get back to, so if you could hurry up. Please?”

“Do you wanna go on a date? With me?” Rex finally managed to force out, mortified as his brothers sniggered.

You gave a gentle smile at Rex. You had always found him attractive, an intelligent and strong peer. You were embarrassed to admit that you had stared at him during the exercise class you’d shared with him that past school year. He was just… so attractive when getting sweaty. He was also so kind to you and his brothers, despite their teasings 

“I get off shift at 9. You can pick me up then.” You replied with a soft smile.

Rex was shocked you would agree. He grinned and promised to be there. His brother cheered as you skated to another car.

Rex took his brothers home, baring his brothers’ teasing. He took time to change into a fresh white t-shirt and black jeans. He even grabbed his new and clean black leather jacket. He cleaned his face and tucked his shirt. Fives and Echo were making kissy faces and mocking gestures. 

As nine o’clock approached, Rex rushed out the house, unwilling to disappoint you by being late to pick you up. As his car rolled into the drive in parking lot, he saw you standing next to the building. You waved eagerly to him as he pulled up. Rex hopped out and graciously led you to the passenger side, opening the door for you like a true gentleman. You giggled a little as you climbed into the car. 

“So, you have a place in mind for our date?” You asked as Rex jumped into the car.

“Well, a few. We can go to the drive-in theater. A new skating rink just opened up. Could head over there.”

“The theater sounds nice.” You agreed.

Rex nodded, a bit idiotically and over enthusiastically. He pulled onto the main road, letting you crank the music up. Fireflies lit up around the car as they pulled into the drive in. Rex paid for the tickets and followed the directions to park near the back of the lot. Rex turned off the car. You cozied up in the car, watching the fireflies dance as the film started. 

Rex rested his arm along the backrest. You snuggled up against him, smiling a little to yourself. The movie played as you and Rex snuggled closer, the warm summer night pleasant and fireflies calming.

Rex would claim that it was always his plan to kiss you that night. You would refute that with how nervous he was when your lips finally touched.

It was a short kiss, innocent. In that drive-in with the noise of a comedy playing the background was where that beautiful relationship started. 

You would always say that the fireflies you saw were lucky, as there were fireflies the night of your wedding too. And Rex would agree.

[cloneficgiftexchange]

That's right, there's more time to join the fun!

The new cutoff to post fics for this event is now June 2nd, 2025 - and the masterlist will be posted by June 4th!

also - there is no more word minimum for fics to qualify for the event- as long as it fits a prompt and is seasonal in nature, you’re all good!

If you're just finding us now, you're more than welcome to check out the prompts and rules/faq linked below to join in on the fun! There's been some amazing additions so far :)

RULES/FAQ || PROMPT SPREADSHEET|| AO3 COLLECTION

[ghostofskywalker]

Operation: Love Potion

Commander Fox/Reader

Words: 1,617

Summary: The entire Guard is tired of seeing Fox stare at you and not make a move, so Thorn takes matters into his own hands after finding something special at the Coruscant Life Day Market.

Note: this was written for the @cloneficgiftexchange seasons prompt a thon! i wanted to get one more fic in before the event ended, and i loved the prompt "hot chocolate love potion" under the winter choices :) i was going to post this tomorrow, but there was an issue with my ao3 draft and i didn't want to risk having to completely re-do it over there, so i'm posting it today :)

Clone Troopers Masterlist

Thorn turned the corner after leaving Fox’s office, eyes alert for any sign of the aforementioned commander. The bright pink box in his hands would clearly spell out his intentions to anyone with half a brain and knowledge of the Coruscant Guard’s support staff, meaning that multiple rotations of careful planning would go down the drain if he were to be caught right now by someone who wasn’t part of the plan. 

Thankfully the next trooper he saw was Hound, and he nodded at the box. “Is the trap set?” he whispered. 

Thorn nodded. “I swapped this with the stuff he had on hand.” 

“Perfect. Is there anything else we need to do to make this work?” 

“The woman at the market told me all he has to do is drink it,” Thorn said. “But I guess we’ll have to wait and see.” 

The two of them walked towards the break room, Thorn immediately taking the time to rip up the box and hide it at the bottom of the trash receptacle. This was too big of a deal for their commander to find out what they’d done (and circumvent their carefully plotted scheme). 

Well, to them it was a big deal. Fox might not be so keen on the concept, but it was for his own gain and the greater good of the Coruscant Guard as a whole. There was nothing written into Republic law regarding love potions anyway, what could he really do about it? 

This had all started a few rotations ago, when Thorn stopped by a Life Day Market that had popped up on one of his patrol routes. He didn’t know what to expect as he casually strolled through the maze of booths, with vendors selling everything from warmly handmade gifts to elegantly gilded decorations. 

And apparently, as he learned when he stopped by one particular booth, love potions. 

The elderly Togruta woman behind the table smiled at him as he approached, and he probably offended her a little when he inquired about the effectiveness of her product, a hot cocoa powder that doubled as a love potion. It works, I can assure you, she had said. It can’t manufacture love that never existed in the first place, but whoever drinks this will have the amorous feelings in their soul amplified by tenfold.

He had bought it of course, with only one target in mind. Despite the fact that the topic had been brought up by multiple members of the command batch, Fox had always denied his feelings for the Guard’s civilian liaison, but everyone who had the misfortune of existing around the two of you could see the obvious pining behind the Marshal Commander’s eyes, and most of the troopers he had spoken to believe that you felt the same way. Convincing his brothers to go along with this plan had been nothing but a breeze, even though some of them had reservations about whether or not this would actually work. 

He was still deep in thought leaving the break room when Fox walked past him, and both men nodded politely at each other. When Thorn saw the nondescript cocoa box and mug in his brother’s hands, his grin widened. Not only was Fox taking his advice to lay off the caf, he was putting in motion the means for guaranteed happiness. Now that the love potion (does it count as a potion if it’s in a dehydrated state?) was placed, all they had to do was wait. 

Things were certainly going to get interesting around here.

***

The sound of his comlink beeping pulled Thorn from his daydreams (despite the fact that he should be paying attention to the topic of the meeting). When he discreetly looked down to check it, Hound’s name flashed across the screen with a message. 

Someone’s looking a little lovesick. 

Fox was sitting across the table from him, and Thorn didn’t even need to look up to know where he was staring. The things you were discussing were mundane in every sense of the word (most of the meeting had been centered around the procedure for renewing their mandatory speeder certifications), but his brother was hanging onto every word you said like it was the most interesting thing in the world. Despite the fact that he still wore his helmet, it was obvious that he was paying attention, something that Thorn rarely saw when other people were presenting (as they all had a bad habit of using their buckets to disguise on-duty napping). 

Smiling to himself, he typed a response back to Hound. 

Definitely more than usual. 

Over the next few rotations, it became more and more obvious that their plan was working. You and Fox seemed to be attached at the hip, always sharing quiet conversations and even spending your time working together in comfortable silence. The smile on his brother’s face was unmistakable whenever you were in the general vicinity, and Thorn noticed that Fox seemed to be forgoing his helmet more often, especially during the days you spent with the Guard. Of course you had other duties within the GAR and responsibilities to other battalions, but the fact that you were stationed planetside meant that the troops in red were the ones you worked with the most. 

“I heard that Life Day market is going to be set up again in a few rotations,” Thorn said to Thire one morning as they walked through the halls. “Do you think I should pick up some more of the hot cocoa mix?” 

Thire shrugged. “You could, but I don’t know how much more we could do. Eventually it’s going to be up to Fox to actually admit his feelings.” 

Thorn sighed. “That is true, I just hope he doesn’t wait forever.” As they walked past the commander’s office, Thorn paused. “Do you think he’s in there? I want to see how much of the stuff he’s actually used.” 

“I don’t know, I can’t hear anything,” Thire responded. “You may just have to walk in like you have a question.” 

Thorn grinned at the idea before pushing the button for the door, stepping through it purposefully, as if his business here was a matter of life and death. 

There was just one snag in his plan, and it was that he was in no way prepared for the sight that befell him. 

Sitting there, on the old couch that Fox and Thorn had dragged into the room during their first week stationed here, you and Fox were kissing. No, scratch that. What the two of you were doing could only be described as making out. 

When the datapad in Thorn’s hands clattered to the floor, the two of you detached from each other’s lips right as Thire stepped up to the doorway to see what was the matter. “What are you doing here?” Fox asked, embarrassment seeping into his voice.  

Thorn’s jaw dropped open, pure shock taking over his face. “I don’t think I need to pick up any more of that love potion,” he said, still not having fully registered the scene. 

Fox looked at him with a confused expression. “What in Sith Hells are you talking about?” 

Both clones in the doorway froze slightly at the admittance, and Thire paused before speaking. “Thorn bought hot cocoa mix at that Life Day market that popped up last week, and the seller said that it would amplify existing romantic feelings.”

“Yeah, because someone had to finally shove you into admitting how you felt,” Thorn added, crossing his arms. “I think you should thank us.” 

There were several responses that Thorn expected to see from Fox as he realized what his brothers had done. He thought anger was the most likely to make an appearance, which was why it was yet another surprise when both you and Fox started laughing. 

“Thorn,” you said, once you finally composed yourself. “When exactly did you start giving Fox this ‘love potion?’” 

“A few rotations ago, why?” 

Fox was the one that spoke next. “You di’kut, we’ve been seeing each other for over three weeks now.” 

Thorn blinked, unsure of how to process the information. “Three weeks?” he eventually said, voice slightly louder than originally intended. 

“This wasn’t how we planned for you to find out,” you said. 

Fox nodded. “I think you got swindled at the market, because I haven’t felt anything change recently.” 

Thorn sputtered, still trying to wrap his head around the truth. “You didn’t fall even more in love over the past few days?” 

Fox laughed. “Technically I have, but I’ve fallen more in love every day since we met.” 

You smiled, reaching down to take Fox’s hand. “Really?” 

Resisting the urge to make fun of his brother even further for that comment, Thorn sighed. “This is ridiculous. You two are ridiculous.” 

“You’re just upset that your love potion didn’t work.” 

Thorn turned around to stare at his brother. “There’s no evidence that it didn’t! These two were just disgustingly in love already, so it didn’t change much.” 

Thire laughed. “Come on, let’s leave these lovebirds to their alone time,” he said, grabbing Thorn’s arm and practically pulling him out of the room. 

It wasn’t like he had much of a choice, but Thorn followed his brother back to the hallway and closed the door to Fox’s office. As the two fell in step beside each other, Thorn’s eyes lit up with an idea. “Maybe we can do a second test of the potion on Stone, there’s that medic he’s always staring at.”

Thire sighed. “If you do, I don’t want to be part of it. One love-based reconnaissance mission was enough for me.”

“You’re no fun.”

- the end -

i no longer have a taglist! if you're interested in being notified when i post, you can follow my library blog @ghostofskywalker-library and turn on notifications!

[cloneficgiftexchange]

The prompt request form is officially open! We're looking for seasonal prompts of all kinds that will be collected on a spreadsheet for writers to create clone x reader fics with throughout the event!

To share your ideas, please fill out the form linked below with your prompts and the clones you would want to see them created with (here’s a link to a list of common clones if you want to get some ideas)

There is a spot on the form for each of the four seasons, and you can submit multiple prompts for each season if you wish! Some examples of prompt types include: dialogue prompts, situational prompts, tropes, concepts, song lyric prompts, or even setting prompts. The only major parameters are that they need to relate to one of the four seasons, and they shouldn't be overly long/specific.

The form will be open through January 29th, 2025, and the prompt spreadsheet will be posted a day or two later. if you have any other questions, feel free to drop the event blog a line!

RULES/FAQ || PROMPT REQUEST FORM

[cloneficgiftexchange]

The first event of the year is actually not an exchange!

Are you a reader with some fic concepts in your brain but you don't know who to request them from, or a writer with an idea you know you probably won't ever get to? Are you new to tumblr and want to ease into participating in events before you join a full blown gift exchange? Or are you someone who just loves clone xreader fanfiction? Whatever the case, this might be the event for you!

the clone xreader prompt-a-thon is a more free-paced writing challenge where writers will be able to adopt prompts that are submitted from across the fandom, and the theme is Seasons! the general event schedule is already available on our pinned post, so make sure to look out for the rules and faq coming soon!

[cloneficgiftexchange]

The prompt form will only be open for one more week!

If you haven't submitted your ideas already for the clone xreader prompt-a-thon, you only have one week to do so!! If you're a writer looking forward to the release of the prompts, my goal is to have them available by January 31st.

I've also added a new subsection to the prompt form, so prompts that don't have a specific seasonal attachment can still be submitted!! These prompts will be compiled on a separate tab in the spreadsheet and writers can then choose which season they want to use that prompt for! You can also add prompts that aren't specifically seasonal to one season's box, so if there's a prompt you want to see with a winter theme but it's not outwardly seasonal, send it over anyway!

If you still have questions, more information can be found in the FAQ/Rules, or you can always drop the blog a line!

[cloneficgiftexchange]

thanks to everyone who has expressed interest in the event so far! here's some more info about the rules, and the faq is under the cut!

Rules:

Word Minimum: 800 words NO word minimum

Fics must be clone x reader to count for the event and be reblogged/added to masterlist 

There is no limit to the amount of people that can fill a prompt

Fics for this event cannot: 

Include unmarked/unwarned explicit content

Be posted without a “read more” cut - information on how to add this to your posts can be found HERE if you need it

Include clone/clone or master/padawan background ships

Be created by AI

Frequently Asked Questions:

What is this event? 

The clone x reader prompt-a-thon is a more relaxed event that will give writers the chance to write prompts from a list submitted by people across the fandom. The theme is Seasons, and will feature fic concepts that include aspects of spring, summer, fall, or winter. 

here is the basic schedule for the event:

Prompt Call Opens: January 8th

Prompt Call Closes: January 29th

Prompt Spreadsheet Posted: January 31st

Writing Period: February 1st - April 15th

Final Due Date: April June 2nd

Event Masterlist Posted: June 4th

What kind of prompts are you looking for?

Dialogue prompts, situational prompts, tropes, and other short requests that revolve around anything seasonal, along with a few of the clones you’d like to see the prompt written with! No matter what kind of weather you’re experiencing right now (or what type of weather you wish you were experiencing), we hope to have prompts for it. 

I want to write something for this event. Can I still submit prompts? 

Of course! The prompt submission form will be anonymous, you’ll be able to submit multiple prompts at a time, and it will be set to allow multiple submissions (in case you want add more at a later time!), so you can submit as many times as you’d like, then check out the sheet and pick some to write yourself. 

Do you have to sign up anywhere to participate? 

Nope!! If you want to join, all you need to do is pick a prompt and write a fic! I’ll be adding links to posted fics next to the prompts they fill, this way people who want to send some love to lonely prompts can see which ones they are. You can write as many fics as you want and there’s no limit to the amount of people that can fill a prompt!

Can I combine prompts in my fic?

Yes, but there are just a couple rules! You can’t combine more than 2 prompts together (otherwise my job would just get more and more confusing!) and the character you choose to write for needs to appear among the options for both prompts. In addition, if you are choosing to write an NSFW fic, both prompts need to have indicated that they are okay with this. 

Can I write prompts for existing universes of mine?

As long as the fic can be read as a stand-alone piece, yes! Basically, you can’t write a fic for this event that’s just the next chapter of your longfic, but you can of course use some of your existing work as inspiration. 

I don’t write smut (or I only write smut), can I still join?

Absolutely! There will likely be prompts submitted by people who want to see them as SFW only, but there also may be some prompts showing that the submitter is open to smut as well. Similar to the exchanges, even if a person indicates they’re okay with smut, it’s still up to you as the writer to decide if you want to write it or not. 

What's the posting situation like?

There’s no specific posting day for these, so you’re welcome to post fics whenever you’d like. The event blog will be reblogging all the entries we’re tagged in up until June 2, 2025 - and all the reblogged fics will be placed on the event masterlist. After the conclusion of the prompt-a-thon, the spreadsheet will remain available for people to still be able to access and write whatever they want, but those fics will not be reblogged/added to the masterlist. 

if you have any other questions, feel free to reach out via ask or dm!

[cloneficgiftexchange]

i had an idea for potentially including a voluntary collaboration aspect for the prompt-a-thon and i wanted to get some quick thoughts! i feel like i see a lot of people talk about wanting to collab but i know it's also a little intimidating to ask <3

basically, writers who are interested in any of the three options below would fill out a form, and i'd put together a list of who is interested in which aspects! interested parties would still have to make their own arrangements, but my thinking is that this way would remove some of the "cold-calling" aspect of collaboration :)

[cloneficgiftexchange]

What about keeping the seasons event open all year?

hi! i had actually considered that, but i honestly wasn't sure if the interest was there

[cloneficgiftexchange]

The prompt request form has been officially closed; thank you to everyone who submitted their ideas!!

I will now be compiling the spreadsheet and should have it posted by January 31st, thanks so much for your patience :)