#choked by a commando droid

[inky-for-a-bit]

The Bad Batch creators making Crosshair suffer more every time he appears:

[mylifeisactuallyamess]

Nar Cyar’ika

Crosshair x Jedi!Reader

A/N: Thanks you so much to @starrylothcat and @a-single-tulip for going over this for me!

Prompts given: Telling someone you love them while you think they’re asleep and tentative kisses in the dark.

Warnings: 18+, unprotected p in v (wrap it up irl), Crosshair being Crosshair, canon battles, violence, clone deaths 😭, if I’ve missed anything please @ me.

Word Count: 6.8k+

Tagging: @techs-feral-wife

“General! Look out!”

Upon hearing the warning, you automatically threw your hands up as the debris littered the ground around you. Casting the force shield as wide as you could to cover your troops, but still, the finer dirt rained down. The hiss of it was accompanied but the smell of burnt alloy, broken droids, and the freshness of the gauged earth.

“Captain?!” You called, choking on the fuel heavy air.

“All in one piece,” He responded wearily. He was feeling a little grim and tired but he was still there unharmed, as were the rest of the clones that held the line. A whole month you’d been out here. Fighting back droids in an endless barrage, constant casualties as men dropped around you, something you took personally.

Too many nights had been spent holding a dying man’s hand, trying to ease his passing and take away the pain of his wounds. You knew the name of every single one, taking a piece of their armour for their brothers, because that was all you were allowed. Your ship wasn’t built to carry home dead troopers, only the ones still breathing.

“Incoming!” A trooper’s yell alerted you to act. It was instinctive, reaching out with the force, directing the missile off to the side of your positions, and exploding in a shower of wood and earth. The trees groaned, crashing to the ground and taking out some advancing clankers under the thick trunks; starting a chain reaction of more explosions that beat the air around you.

“ETA on our reinforcements?” You had requested help, a few extra platoons would tip the scales in your favour and you hoped they were arriving in the next few minutes. You hefted your DC-17m and began to shoot some droids, the repeat blasts kicking back into your armour as you swept some bolts along the Separatist front line, picking your targets through the trees and hitting the mark every time.

Captain Wilco was shooting beside you, his helmet nodded and you knew he was talking on the internal com. It was frustrating that as a Jedi you didn’t have a helmet and only a com on your wrist. That was no good while you were shooting.

“ETA 2 minutes, General,” he relayed steadily.

“Do we know how many?” He hesitated at the question and you felt his faint emotion change through the force.

“Make me happy, Captain,” You ordered as you took out another B1 droid.

“Just a single Commando Squad…”

“Beexes! Heading straight for your position, General!” The warning came through the comlink this time and you lowered your blaster, hiding behind a wide tree trunk as Wilco slammed in beside you, blasters upright and pointing at the sky as he took a second to breathe. The swift thunk of bolts sounded loud, shedding some splinters of wood near your shoulder. You hated these droids.

“Hold this,” You said, holding out the deecee.

“Is it time to show off?” He asked, twirling his blasters and shoving them in their holsters before taking your blaster.

“Yeah, it’s time to show off.” Drawing your twin blades free was always an exhilarating moment. The yellow-green cast of the plasma was a beacon to your troops. When the lights were lit, it meant their General was getting personal with the clankers.

You could feel the fresh prick of adrenaline, spinning away from your cover and stabbing the first droid under the chin. The alloy melted, no match against your lightsaber and your nose wrinkled at this smell of ruined circuits.

Shedding the dead weight you bounced some bolts away, noticing three more heading straight for you. Three. You were tired, your shoulder ached and your entire body was being pushed to its limit but you soldiered on. Wilco fired from the cover you provided but they barely slowed the droids down.

Any second…any second. You could sense them, the squad that had been sent to help hold your position and now you knew why they had only sent one. At first, you’d expected Omega, maybe even Delta if they were ordered hard enough…no. They’d sent the squad you would take above all others.

You flowed through the motions, relying on the force to tell you what was headed your way a few seconds before it actually happened. A bolt aimed at your shoulder penetrating your armour, another coming to pierce your side. Your blades swung, reflecting the bolts away not having the time to direct them. The droids crossed paths, their legs easily picking over the uneven terrain as they jogged. Bringing your blades in an X, you clashed them together before wrenching them apart and pushing with the force.

To your annoyance they contorted, refusing to fall over and you felt a flash of anger. Spinning around you concentrated, letting go of your left saber to guide it in an arc slicing off the head of a droid.

Two down, two to go.

Now they were upon you, one constantly on the move as it shot at you while the other pulled a vibrosword from literally nowhere. Going toe to toe with a BX droid was not on your to-do list today, let alone four of them. It met you swing for swing, with the added distraction of the other one shooting at you, this really wasn’t a fair fight.

An explosion that made the earth roll beneath your feet caught you completely off-guard, and you stumbled. The tremor rocked through your body, jolting your sabers from your grip and the droid saw its chance. It lunged to grab you by the throat, lifting you as you clawed at the metal arm that had you in a vice-like grip.

“General!” You closed your eyes at the sound of Wilco’s desperate yell.

No, please no! Your mind was frantic and you did the only thing you could think of. Throwing your hand out, you pushed Wilco back. You didn’t need him coming to your recuse and getting himself killed. He was swept off his feet, landing heavily on his back. Your legs were kicking, trying not to succumb to the panic, but you couldn’t stop it. You weren’t a born soldier, all your years at the temple could not have prepared you for this side of war. You were a peacekeeper. That’s what they’d told you anyway.

You began to gasp, reaching into the force to try and find the strength to ease this droid’s grip but your concentration was slipping. Your body was failing and so was your mind as your lungs burned for some air.

“Oh, no you don’t.” Light flared across your blurred vision, the sound of your lightsaber cut through the fog in your mind and you felt yourself fall to the ground. Dragging the tainted air into your lungs you were finally able to take a breath. Hands grabbed you, hauling you to some cover and you were able to see who your saviour was.

Captain Wilco was shooting with your repeat blaster around the side of the tree, his shots sporadic to indicate fewer targets were in his line of sight. It was the other soldier that interested you right now, his black and red helmet thrown into stark relief in the light of your saber.

The light side of his helmet was a complete dichotomy to the dark tattoo that marked the same side of his face. He now cocked it as he peered at you from behind the wide visor. “You’ll be needing these.” He remarked, retracting the blade before depositing them firmly in your grip. Hunter yanked his knife free of his vambrace, staying in a crouched position, and peered around the tree. “Crosshair...” you heard him murmur through his vocoder and you knew he was talking via the comlink.

“The clankers are regrouping.” You smiled at the bite in the sniper’s voice. You couldn’t see him but you could feel him high up the side of the hill, his presence was always loud to you through the force. Even across the distance that had been between you the last five months, you’d always been able to reach out to him.

“Are you all right, General?” Wilco had that smooth tone to his voice, the one that told you he had shut down all his feelings and was reacting purely on instinct right now. This man was going through the motions.

“Fine. I’ll be sporting a new collar of bruises though. Now I know what Captain Rex was moaning about.”

“Orders?” Crosshair’s voice slithered through the com channel and Hunter turned to look at you as he waited.

“This is your party, Sarge. Go, do what you do.”

“You heard the General, boys. Let’s finish this.” Hunter melted away, prompting you to get up.

“Captain,” Wilco was by your side, letting you lean on him as your legs shook. “Let’s watch the show.”

“Not a single clanker left,” Wrecker announced loudly as they walked through the carnage to your position. Your robes were singed, and the armour you wore over the top was carbon scoured and would need a good clean. Your throat was still sore every time you swallowed but you wouldn’t let the medics near you. There were far worse injuries littering the field.

“I’m glad you boys decided to make it.”

“Sorry,” Hunter replied, pulling his helmet off and giving you a cocky smile. “Had to stop and ask some clankers for directions.”

“And there I was thinking we were making enough noise.” As you spoke your gaze drifted over the Sergeant’s shoulder to fix on the figure that was striding to join his squad. He was tall, his long legs picking their way easily over the droid shrapnel; the firepuncher pointing at the ground but held in a way you knew it could lift and take out a droid in less than a second.

“Your position was easy enough to triangulate. Plus, we sourced the coordinates directly from your ship when we answered the call.” Tech had his nose in his datapad, no doubt keeping an eye on the com chatter so he was alerted to any change in the GAR.

“What’s next?” Hunter asked.

“General.” You turned to face Wilco, he was holding a holodisk in his hand, depicting an image of your Admiral who was currently in orbit over the planet you stood on.

“Orders from Coruscant?” You queried and he nodded.

“We have been told to return immediately. The Fearless is coming to relieve us.”

“We do all the hard graft and then someone else sweeps in and just holds it for us.” Shaking your head you tried not to be tempted by the anger that loomed. You knew why they did it, you created results. The 71st made waves, they got things done and you all were a formidable force against the droids. “Say, you boys fancy some RnR? It’s been a while since we caught up.” You could feel Crosshair scrutinising you from under his helmet, you felt the jolt that your suggestion gave him except it wasn’t his decision.

Hunter cast his eye over the squad but it was Wrecker that answered. “Aw, yeah! Been a while since we had some decent food.”

“Plenty of that up top. What do you say?” Your offer hung in the air for a moment as they all exchanged glances with Hunter.

“Yeah, why not,” Hunter said slowly.

“Saves on fuel,” added Tech.

“Captain, contact the ship and let them know Clone Force 99 is going to dock with us. They’re going to need supplies and fuel if we can spare it.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He turned away to the sound of the lartys as they landed.

“I need to accompany the wounded. See you on the flight deck.” Hunter gave you a salute, briefly touching his bandana and flicking his fingers away, but your gaze was settled on the sniper. He backed away, his attention clearly on you and it took all your concentration not to physically reach out to him.

So you used the force instead, stretching over the few metres that separated you, frustrated that he was so close and still so far away. A frown tugged on your brow when you felt he was…angry. It created heated spots in the force around him and he suddenly turned away, spinning abruptly and stalking after his squad mates.

Walking in the opposite direction you distracted yourself as you did after every battle, by concentrating on your clones.

You hated the aftermath. The way their adrenaline trickled away just left exhaustion and pain. The air in the gunship reeked of blood, dirt, sweat, and men. You were used to it, aware that you didn’t smell any better yourself. The whole battalion had been planetside for five days this round and they deserved a well-earned rest.

“Jumper…” you crouched beside a clone who was slumped in a brother's lap, barely able to hold his head up. There was a mark on his white chest plate, the red cross of no treatment, and tears sprang to your eyes.

“General,” He wheezed.

“Hang on soldier, we’re going home.” You took his hand and concentrated. Nothing you could do would stop the inevitable, all that was left was to ease his pain. “You fought bravely today,” you murmured. He sighed loudly and you hitched up a smile. “The meds working?”

“Yeah. Thanks, General…” You had no idea if he knew what you’d done or not. By the time you’d stood up and moved to the next soldier, he had taken his last breath.

You waited on the flight deck, supervising all the wounded being taken, giving a comforting word to the exhausted ones left behind. You were hurting, trying to keep your brave mask on until you could fall apart in your quarters. Attachment rules be damned, how could you not feel the ache with each life that was lost? When you personally felt their passing through the force and the void they left behind?

“Ship docking!” The Marauder glided effortlessly onto the flight deck, turning so tightly, it made some of the troopers watching hold their breaths but you’d seen Tech pilot this beauty before.

“Get a fuel line ready,” you ordered a clone and he jumped up to carry out the task.

The squad disembarked, casting uneasy glances around the matching faces that openly stared at them. You knew if any other Jedi had asked they would have refused the hospitality.

“Jet’ika! There she is!” Wrecker wasn’t one for protocol and acting appropriately and you didn’t care, letting the large clone pull you off the ground and into a bear hug that you so desperately needed.

“Wrecker, the regs are watching,” Tech murmured.

“What do I care?” He replied loudly and you grimaced as it echoed over the deck. “Wha’ you looking at?” He demanded from the nearest group.

“You’re embarrassing yourself, Wrecker.” Crosshair shoved past, his golden gaze avoiding yours. Something was up with him, maybe he was just pent up with frustration at not being able to greet you like Wrecker had. You wished he could, your entire body ached to be touched by him.

Five months was a long time.

“You boys hungry?” You asked when Wrecker finally put you down.

“I can guarantee one of us is,” Tech sighed as the big clone proclaimed he was starving again.

“No food fights this time,” You told Hunter, raising an eyebrow. “I had to do a lot of smooth-talking with the Admiral and Captain Wilco last time, not to mention the clean-up droid.”

“They’ll behave this time,” the Sergeant told you in a firm voice.

“Actually, I behaved last time,” Tech stated with a small frown on his face as they all followed you into the turbo lift.

“Only because you weren’t there,” Crosshair pointed out with an annoyed motion, pulling his toothpick out and flicking it at his brother.

Tech shrugged and barely flinched when the small stick bounced off his armour. “A minor detail.”

The doors opened and they stepped out, turning as one to face you. “Go relax, I need to get freshen up and then I’ll come and join you.” Hunter gave you a small nod of acknowledgement, Wrecker beamed, Tech gave you an absent wave and Crosshair didn’t even look at you. The door began to slide closed. Every fibre of your being wished Cross would look at you, so when his blazing, amber gaze finally locked with yours it felt like you’d been stunned, your breath stolen along with all the thoughts in your mind.

Five months was too long.

You went through the motions, raking your fingers through your hair and cleaning the grime of battle from your skin. Dirt and blood swilled away in the stream of water before the timer ran out and you sighed in the quiet space. It was never long enough but you understood the water had to be spread between an entire ship and everyone got the same amount of time in the shower.

You towelled yourself down and then wrapped up your body before stepping into your quarters. You had been so absorbed in what you were doing you didn’t expect someone to be standing by the door, leaning against the wall and you automatically threw your hands up.

“Jumpy,” He sneered.

“Well no one should be in here,” you snapped, still ashamed he’d managed to sneak up on you. Crosshair pushed away from the wall, uncrossing his arms to brush his fingertips against your grubby armour plates. You became acutely aware of how underdressed you were, clutching the towel tightly to your chest.

“You were reckless today.” With his words came a ripple of frustration, prickling at your senses and making you bristle in return.

“Isn’t that what we do on the battlefield?” Your answer made him scoff, dropping the armour with a clatter and looking up at the wall.

“You are not invincible,” he spoke with a sharp tone and his eyes held something hard and disclosed.

“I never said I was!” You gasped when he advanced on you, jabbing a finger into your bare shoulder, making you step back.

“I saw what you did!” He seethed in his icy voice. “For that…reg.” Drawing yourself up with as much dignity as you could muster while naked and only wrapped in a towel, you fixed a heavy glare on him.

“Captain Wilco is a fine soldier and I will not have you talk badly about any of my troopers.”

Crosshair straightened, crossing his arms as he regarded you with a displeased look on his face but that just wound you up more.

“Okay, you know what, Cross? I don’t have to listen to this. I have been down there for the past month watching men, your brothers, drop dead around me as they follow my orders.”

“They are not my brothers,” He spat, his gaze drifting away as though bored with the conversation. You sputtered angrily, the happy image of your long-awaited reunion was being replaced by this—anger and jealousy.

“No. You’ve never lost a brother, have you Crosshair?” Your voice had that hard edge you usually reserved for the Seps and you felt the briefest flash of doubt as it flickered through him before he squashed it.

“You are not one of them. No matter how hard you try.”

You laughed at his harsh statement but it held no joy.

“No? I may not have been pulled from a tank but I have no parents, I was holding a weapon that I knew how to use by the time I was 4 years old. I have seen as much, if not more death than your squad put together. Do you sense the moment a trooper passes? Do you feel it when they just…cease to be?”

His gaze flicked to your face, his eyes softening slightly when he saw the tears that sparkled in your eyes.

“I am not a clone, but they are a little pocket of family that I never had.” Turning away you grabbed your spare set of robes. “Now get out. That’s an order.”

The surge of anger from him was like a whip, making you flinch as he slammed a hand into the panel and shoved his way through the door before it had even fully opened. Your insides quivered as you tried to contain it all, but your shell was cracking, allowing the emotion of the last few weeks to finally show and you covered your face with shaking hands.

If only this wasn’t so hard.

“…and then, I picked him up by his neck.”

“What did Rex do?” Your eyes were wide as you nursed a cup of caf at the table with three members of the Bad Batch. Hunter was eyeing anyone that came too close, he was on edge here and you didn’t blame him. Your troops eyed them just as suspiciously. Tech was splicing some data he’d acquired from the Seps, you weren’t entirely sure and you didn’t have it in you to ask this time. Wrecker was doing a great job of distracting you from dwelling on the fact Crosshair wasn’t here. You could sense Hunter’s focus on you every now and again but you ignored it.

“The Cap couldn’t do much, but Crosshair took on that medic.”

“Kix?” You nudged Tech’s arm. “What did you do?”

“I asked Wrecker to put Jesse down. He didn’t listen.”

“Then I ruined all their fun,” Hunter said. “We can't afford to quarrel amongst ourselves. Crosshair needs that reminder more than most at the moment.”

“Where is he?” Tech looked up from his datapad. “Have you seen him?”

It was such a direct question and for a moment you panicked over what to say before shaking your head.

“He’s probably back at the ship.” Hunter pushed away his tray and went to stand up. Tech instantly followed but Wrecker moaned.

“Is it time to go already?”

“Not quite yet,” Hunter reassured him. “The General here is letting us go before they reach triple zero.”

Tech pushed his goggles up his nose as he looked at his brother. “I need to do some maintenance on the ship before we leave and I could us your assistance, Wrecker.”

“Take food with you,” You told the larger clone, pushing your own untouched tray in his direction.

“Bonus! Thanks, Jet’ika.” You grinned at the nickname. Wrecker had donned you with it the first time he saw you a couple of years ago. He followed Tech out of the food area, chomping happily on the extra food but your attention drifted to Hunter who paused.

“If you see him,” You said in a low voice.

“I’ll tell him.” This time you returned the salute and watched them all leave before making a move yourself.

You visited the medbay, checked on the injured clones, and had a chat with them as your ship sped through hyperspace. Keeping their spirits high was easier because they were heading for some leave. They certainly deserved it. Wandering the almost empty halls you debated heading to the bridge. Casting your senses you tried to get a feel for your ship. It lived and breathed like a living creature, the sheer amount of people in this flying city made it so. But one signature stood out. And he was back in your room.

You followed a familiar path, sensing his inner turmoil even as he slept, drawn towards it like a moth to a flame.

The first time you and Cross had given in, it gave you a thrill. Smoothing out the frustrated ripples in such a clone gave you a deluded sense of power. Not that you had any control over him, that wasn’t what you sought out, it was being needed by someone in a way you’d never been needed before.

You had life experience, more than most of your troops put together but it wasn’t something that was encouraged within the temple. You had seen, felt, and witnessed things that blew your mind. Love, you assumed, was a feeling reserved for civvies, not for Jedi. Compassion, a sense of caring was encouraged but love, raw passion. That was shut down.

And then you met Crosshair.

You had sensed his interest, the curiosity had been hard to ignore and he intrigued you just as much. It had taken you spending months with the Batch on a covert mission for the stoic clone to finally give in. And when it did, it opened your eyes to a feeling that encompassed you both completely. An all-consuming fire that burned whenever you were together.

Except this time. Because you had risked your life to save that of your Captain.

The door opened quietly and you slipped into the dark room. His armour was stacked up at the end of your bed and his breathing was even and steady telling you he was asleep. Crosshair was pressed up against the wall, a pillow of yours held close to his body and you felt a pang of guilt that you had spoken to him in such a way earlier. Sitting on the edge of the bed you sighed, plucking at your Jedi robes.

“This was not how I imagined my day going,” You whispered. This was a cheap move and you knew it, but if you told him now then maybe it would be easier to repeat when he was actually awake. “I’m breaking all the rules,” You confessed into the dark. “I feel like when I’m not with you I’m losing myself but when I am with you…I am not who I should be.” Biting your lower lip you stood up. “I love you, Crosshair. I’m aware I shouldn’t, I know that…but I can’t stop.” Glancing over your shoulder you saw he hadn’t moved, still curled around the pillow that smelled like you with his legs tucked up. “I hope I’m brave enough to say it to you when you’re awake.”

You debated going to find somewhere else to sleep, yet you knew this was the last time you’d probably see him for months and you couldn’t bring yourself to leave. Shedding your robes you carefully slipped in beside him and stared at the ceiling. He shifted and you froze. Crosshair uncoiled, rolling over to face you with the tiniest sigh.

“Look at me.” His was soft, whispering over your skin like the lightest of touches.

You obeyed, turning your face to catch his expression in the lights of hyperspace from the viewport in your room.

“Cross…” You stopped when he put a finger across your lips.

“It’s my turn.”

Your heart was pounding, you hadn’t paid attention to if he’d been awake or not, just assuming he was sleeping because of how even his breathing was. At least he was still here.

Crosshair’s eyes traced the way his finger trailed over your lips, rolling your bottom lip a little and your body responded instantly. He had so much to say, it crowded all inside him but he was never good at expressing how he felt with words and you saw his brow furrow. His fingers ghosted over your cheek, hooking around the curve of your neck and he dared to bring you closer. Your hand shot up to cover his, desperate to be close, to feel him everywhere at once.

Your eyes fluttered when his nose brushed yours, lips parting in a minute gasp when his breath pillowed against your cheeks. Maker help you, but you wanted him. You needed him right now and it coursed through you like the light of a supernova.

His lips were tentative, touches light as he gauged how you were responding to his hesitant advance. Both your mouths were open, neither of you wanting to break the delicate string that held you both suspended on this fine ledge. Anticipation swirled in your chest, it made each breath ache and your limbs tremble as the moment built to an almost perceptible hum in the force.

Your fingers tightened over his, giving him the permission he needed to close that gap between you both and sealing his mouth over yours.

The fall was glorious. Throwing you headlong into the taste of him as he crowded you against the bed. His body half covered you, pressing against your leg and letting you know he was there. A soft moan tumbled from your throat, succumbing to the sensations you had denied yourself for so long.

His mouth never stopped, burying his tongue deep into you and he manoeuvred over you completely, his arms on either side of your head as he swept his hands the sides of your face. Bringing your legs up he settled heavily between them, his body responding to the heat of yours as he rutted gently into you.

Your hips flexed, the friction against your clothed core was enough to make you moan again when you felt how hard he was through his blacks. His mouth left yours to trail wet kisses and nips along your jaw, making you arch into him, exposing your neck. He swept his tongue along your pulse point, pausing to lavish some attention on that place that made you shiver.

Your hands roamed up his muscular back, scraping your nails over the crop of short grey hairs, making him groan into your neck. You felt his lips draw back, the feel of his teeth pressing into your skin made you tense, only to surrender yourself to him completely.

He pulled down your vest top, letting out a warm breath that danced over your clavicle, making goosebumps erupt all over your body. He felt so good in your arms, his weight a comfort you realised you had missed as he slipped down. His hands were urgent, now rucking up your top to expose your heaving chest to him and he wasted no time in taking a nipple into his hot mouth.

Crosshair took his time, making sure you were writhing beneath him, whimpering with need before he moved on to the next part of your body. You pulled your own top off, glancing down to see him watching you with those eyes that almost glowed with the fire that burned within him.

His long fingers curled over the waistband of your pants, exposing your hip which he gently kissed, his gaze drawn to the way your stomach contracted at the teasing contact. Crosshair always noticed everything about your body, the way you moved, how you reacted in a certain way, and he used that to figure out your weaknesses. Of course, you’d never admit he was your ultimate weakness, all he had to do was look at you.

He moved over to repeat the motion on your other hip, tugging your pants down to expose you completely, finally rearing up to detangle you from your clothes. You hooked your legs around his slim waist and ran his hands along the line of your thighs, curling you up as he leaned forward to give you a kiss that had you gasping for air.

You knew what was coming next, Crosshair hardly ever deviated, wanting to get the most out of your encounter every time because neither of you knew when it was going to happen again.

His touch was slow but firm, dipping between your bodies as he leaned over you, supporting himself on one hand, his eyes watching your face when he gifted you with a teasing touch along your slit.

You heard the deep growl in his chest and his eyes closed. Long fingers deftly parted your lips and he brushed against your clit making your hips buck into his hand. When he pushed a finger into you it made your back leave the mattress. Your cunt fluttered around his touch, grasping desperately as he added another finger. He buried them deeply, pushing up and into you with a moan, his shoulders flexing from the motion and you leaned back against the pillow.

Your hands held onto him, legs quivering as he tortured you by drawing his fingers out of your wetness, making sure he was completely coated before shoving back into you, ripping a blissful cry from your chest.

He set a steady pace, dragging his fingers against the clenching walls of your sex, his need to feel every inch of you was something you were used to but never prepared for. Cross stroked that tender spot inside you, his fingertips winding up the coil in your lower belly that would have you eventually melting into the mattress.

His eyes intently watched your expression, his lips parted when he felt you shake around him, he knew you were close, he could feel it. And he pushed you over the edge. His breathing became ragged as you fell apart, his fingers not letting up, carrying you through the pleasure. Finally relenting when you hooked a hand around his tense neck and passionately kissed him.

Crosshair planted a hand on your shoulder, pushing you back onto the bed as he moved further back. His eyes devoured you, fingers sweeping up your inner thighs to collect the wetness that had leaked onto your skin. You watched, your body still thrumming with bliss as he put his fingers into his mouth, lifting his predatory gaze to lock with yours.

“You’re as sticky as uj’ayl,” He murmured.

“Cross…” you whimpered.

“Patience, nar cyar’ika.” His lips connected with your inner thigh, once more dragging his teeth against the softness of your skin, enjoying the way you gasped, hips undulating in a shamelessly desperate motion. He directed his attention to your core, using the flat of his tongue, slowly, teasingly, swirling around your clit.

You felt his fingers there once again, exposing you to his warm breath as he sighed. His mouth covered your entrance and you curled your fists in the covers. His tongue delved deeply, tasting you with a satisfied hum that vibrated up your spine, making you tremble.

Crosshair let you use him, grinding your hips against his face as you moaned desperately. One hand travelled up your body, pressing along your stomach to settle between your breasts, fingers spread so he could feel the throb of your heart as it beat in your chest.

It was gathering again, liquid fire searing through your veins and creating a reaction you had no control over. Your legs came up either side of his head, trying not to crush him so you settled your feet on his back. Your fingers slipped through the short, tough strands of his hair as your whole body flexed.

Your cries filled the room, a hand clenching in the pillow behind your head and your back arched wildly. Still, Crosshair persisted, his tongue stroking you into a blaze that only he could handle. His hips pressed into the mattress, his cock needy and aching to be buried inside you, but he could wait.

He groaned when you flooded his mouth, licking up every drop as your pleasure stole every basic function from your body. Each muscle contorted, holding you in a suspended state as the seal broke on the flames that licked across your sweaty skin.

Eventually, he released you, letting you flop bonelessly among the sheets. You protested weakly when he kneeled between your legs, only to shed his blacks before falling back into your arms.

He kissed you fervently, licking as deeply into your mouth as he had your cunt. He wasted no time in lining himself with your weeping entrance, his cock twitching in anticipation, dragging along the seam between your thighs and notching right where you wanted him the most.

Your hands slid down his back, following the lines of his tense muscles to hook in the plushness of his backside. You left him in no doubt of your intentions, not breaking a motion in the kiss as you widened your hips and used your arms to pull him forcefully into you.

He gasped when you clenched around him, seating himself to the hilt in your slick as his face rested on top of yours. His breath was strained and lust laden, his tongue coming out to lick at your lips making you whine as you did the same.

Crosshair filled you, creating a pressure inside you that was unrivalled, and it made your body quiver. Your grip on him relaxed when he began to move, pulling free until only the pulsing head of his cock was nestled comfortably inside you.

The snap of his hips was loud and you cried out together, breaking apart his resolve. There was urgency in his movements, a neediness that transcended words as he worked you both to the point of no return.

It didn’t take him long, already working himself into a state of desperation that he was finally feeding as he rutted into you. “I want to watch you,” He snarled into your lips, pushing up from the bed to kneel again. He lifted one of your legs, holding it up against his flushed chest, and worked his hips, hitting that spot that made your eyes roll. He planted a kiss on your ankle, his ferocious gaze magnetised to yours.

Your body was rung out and taut at the same. Your throat hurt, torn from the cries he pushed from you with each thrust. You knew you were going to ache all over for the next few days but it would have been worth it. Crosshair’s fingers imprinted on your skin, the sweat of his body dripped with yours creating a heady cocktail that sent your senses soaring. He was everywhere, suffocating you in the most desirable way as he began to lead you to the precipice once more.

His thrusts became sloppy, his cock pulsed inside you, eyelids fluttering as he tried to keep his attention on your face. A faint roar sounded in your ears as your blood flushed. Lightning shattered under your skin, electrifying your body to the point where you became hyper-aware of every nerve ending.

Crosshair bared his teeth, sweat beaded on his temple and he picked up the pace to bring you both drastically to a catastrophic end. His spine curled toward you when he came, his form juddering as he growled, pushing his hips into you and exploding deep in your cunt.

You were incoherent, only able to scream his name from the pressure, your nails dragging along the firmness of his sides. Your vision faded out, your heart was fit to burst with every slight thrust that sent intense shockwaves through your body.

He released your leg, letting it flop down and he fell on your lips once more, heaving in your scent and coming down from his high. His arms slid under you, gathering you into his embrace as you both listened to the knock of each other's hearts.

You lay entangled together, your face tucked against his chest and he rested his chin on the top of your head. Your fingers were tracing lazy patterns on his cooling skin, trying not to dwell on the fact he was leaving soon.

“Did you mean it?”

You froze at the question, suddenly remembering what had started this whole encounter.

“Mean what?” You focussed on the way his throat tensed, frustration coming through the turbulent calm because you were forcing him to explain.

“What you said.”

“I thought you were asleep.”

He sighed.

“I’m not anymore.” His voice was quiet, almost hesitant and you risked leaning back to look into his face. His gaze roamed openly over your features, almost as though he was committing you to his memory and so you did the same.

Using your fingertips you followed the cut of his jaw, feeling the stubble that was starting to shadow his face. You brushed a thumb over the darkness of his tattoo, knowing what resided behind such a mark. It didn’t matter how many times this man tried to push you away, or how strongly he believed he wasn’t good enough for you, nothing could stop you from wanting him.

“Yes, I meant it.” There was a wave of warmth, tinged with surprise, he hadn’t expected you to admit outright. “I don’t care about the consequences,” You whispered.

“You might.”

You shook your head, fingertips delicately tracing the curve of his ear.

“Not when it comes to you.”

His arms tensed, pulling you back into his chest and you curled willingly against him, closing your eyes and letting yourself relax. He hadn’t said the words, he didn’t need to. You could sense that he loved you too. He wanted to voice them, you could sense that as well, but he knew the ramifications of what such a declaration meant.

And he was willing to protect you for as long as he had to.

[cl-01-kestis]

Lavender - Obi-Wan Kenobi x Wife!Reader

Summary: The war is almost over. There is thick tension in the Jedi temple and you seek refuge with your husband after a particularly difficult battle, just before his trip to Utepau to defeat General Grevious, but neither of you are prepared for what lies ahead.

Warnings: angst, war, canon typical injuries and violence, injury description, blood, nudity but nothing smutty

The panic in the temple was overbearing. Whispers spoke of the end of the war, rumours rounded back to your ears about the Jedi’s soon to be success. But you couldn’t help but feel anxious. Your stomach twisted in knots every time someone brought up the finale of the war that went on for decades, even centuries, well before your lifetime.

You almost couldn’t believe you’d be there to see it. You pictured yourself much older, in a rocking chair somewhere in the middle of nowhere living a much quieter life. But not at 27, still a Jedi, and still carrying the burden of fighting this war. You didn’t want the war to continue, but you feared what would become of you after it ended. What would the Jedi do afterwards? Would you finally be able to run away and live the life you always dreamed of with your husband, without any repercussions?

One could only dream.

As you walked through the temple, you fought back tears caused by stress. You recently came back from a mission on Naboo, defeating the remaining Seperatist forces alongside your clone squadron, but something felt wrong. You had so much pent up emotion, your eyes cursed from seeing innocents die at the hands of Seperatists once more. You couldn’t save as many as you wanted, you couldn’t think about anything else.

Different parts of your body were marked up from a Commando droid, it’s dagger cutting into your skin and scarring you permanently, forever reminding you of battle. You didn’t see the medic, blood was staining the inside sleeve and other parts of your Jedi robes as you bit into your lip, trying to distract yourself from the stingy pain that tore into your muscles.

Your steps became quicker, more hasty, tears in your eyes as you eventually made it to your apartment in the temple, shoving the door open and closing it in a hurry.

“Darling?” The sweet, familiar voice of your dear Obi-wan called out in surprise. He was sitting by the window on your lounge chair, a cup of tea beside the laminate table next to him. He offered you a smile, but it immediately died when he saw the state you were in, when he saw the tear that ran down your cheek, the tear stinging a cut near your jawline.

“Maker, (Y/N), what happened?” He sat up quickly, running over to you and immediately wrapping you up in his arms. You didn’t say anything, instead bursting into tears and clinging to his robes in panic. You sobbed against his chest, your body trembling violently in his arms as he stroked your back and kept you as close as possible.

“You’re safe now, sweetheart, they can’t hurt you now” He didn’t read your mind to know you’d been attacked, the cuts and slices through your robes told him enough. Seeing your blood sleep through the fabrics of your uniform made him seethe in anger.

“I couldn’t save them” You choked, your tears staining Obi-wan’s collar. He swayed you in his arms in an attempt to calm you down, running one of his hands through your hair and keeping his lips firmly pressed to your forehead.

“Tell me what happened” Your husband gently pulled away from you, his arms still wrapped around you. Your hands relaxed on his robes, causing crinkles in the material, but he didn’t mind one bit.

“W-we were on Naboo, there were civilians,” You tried wiping some tears away but they kept coming back.

“The droids slaughtered them, I tried to save everyone but I didn’t make it in time” You started hyperventilating, your body trembling as you blinked through your tears. Your husbands eyes glistened, but his tears didn’t fall. He listened closely as you described what happened, and he knew the feeling of guilt all too well. This wasn’t the first time you couldn’t save civilians, but there were children on Naboo, and their mothers who were too scared to move. Their fathers had been slaughtered already, and you couldn’t even save their families in the end. It crushed you to no end.

“I’m sorry you couldn’t get to them in time, but it’s not your fault” Obi-wan cupped your face with both hands and tilted your head up so you could look into his eyes. You sniffed, shaking your head and closing your eyes to prevent any more tears.

“Come, let’s get you cleaned up” Your husband whispered.

Obi-wan ran a bath for you as you got undressed, wincing as you peeled off the bloody robes from your sticky and drying wounds. You were a mess, dirt and blood stained almost every part of your body, you didn’t want Obi-wan to see so you wrapped yourself in a towel.

Your husband came out of your shared bathroom and offered you his hand. You realised he removed his top layer of his robes and rolled his sleeves up. He was going to help you clean up.

Obi-wan did this many times since you first dated 4 years ago, his sole purpose in the relationship was to love and protect you. That’s all he ever wanted, it gave him closure beyond comprehension. As his wife, seeing you get hurt was the worst feeling, it made him feel like he failed somehow. And even now, seeing you wrapped up in a towel to save his eyes from the damage caused to your body, he couldn’t help but feel like he should’ve been there to defend you.

You took his hand, your feet patting against the carpet of your suite as you followed him into the bathroom. The room smelled of lavender, but there were no bubbles in the bath. The smell might’ve originated from a candle, or a diffuser. You couldn’t care less at the moment.

Your husband helped you step into the bath, looking at your face to save you any humiliation as you unravelled the towel from your shaking body. As soon as your body was bare to his eyes, you let go of his hand and submerged under the clear water, bringing your knees to your chest. Obi-wan had seen you naked many times before, he knew every inch of your skin like the back of his hand, he spent years memorising every crevice and curve. You were a work of art to his eyes, and it pained him to no end to see you shy away from him because of your wounds.

Your knees were scuffed, he assumed you might’ve tripped and fallen during battle, but the scrapes and bruises on your thighs proved to be worse. Obi-wan sat on the small stool which was stationed beside the sink, readjusting his sleeves so they were past his elbows. He noticed a layer of blood coat the surface of the bath but he couldn’t find the source, you were covering your entire torso up.

“Can I touch you?” He asked gently, and felt relieved when you nodded. He grabbed a cloth and soaked it in the water, bringing it up to your face and cleaning your dirty cheeks. You felt so weak, so fragile, but the feeling of warmth around you made you want to fall asleep and stay curled up forever.

He dabbed the cloth on the cut near your jaw, careful not to irritate the wound.

“Give me your arm, darling” He instructed you softly, waiting until you reached out and took his hand, letting him stretch out your arm so he could clean more of the dirt and blood. It was all over your face and chest, your hands were stained by blood from holding your wounds. Every cut Obi-wan cleaned, the more his heart broke.

“It hurts” You pouted as you washed your hand in the water, rubbing it against your legs beneath the surface.

“I know dear, I’ll be as quick as I can” Obi-wan kissed the back of your hand before letting it go, continuing over to your other arm.

You gradually grew more comfortable with your husband, lowering your knees from your chest and letting them submerge in the warm bath water. It stung the scapes on your skin, you bit back a whimper as the pain of your knees and Obi-wans cleaning combined.

Obi-wan slipped a glance at your newly exposed torso, finally finding the source of the patch of bloody water on the surface. There was a deep gash right under your chest, beside your ribs. The wound was deeper than the rest, but not fatal. It needed stitches, or else you’d be left with a horrendous looking scar.

“Why didn’t you go to the medic first before seeing me?” Your husbands question made you roll your eyes, but you bit back any snide comment which could ruin the mood.

“I didn’t care about the medic, I just had to see you” You whispered, leaning further into the water as Obi-wan pressed the cloth to another cut on your arm.

“You need stitches for some of your wounds, you know I’m not trained to do that” Your husband put your other arm down, turning his attention to you. His eyes raked down your body, but his only emotion was concern. He saw the gash on your ribs and his ears rang with worry, but he tried not to cause you anymore distress.

“I know, I’ll go after this” You dismiss his comment, making the older Jedi shake his head.

“You’re so stubborn” Obi-wan smiled.

You sat up, wincing aloud as you crossed your legs in the tub and turned to face him. He looked so handsome right now; he always did. Those blue eyes staring so deeply at you were the first thing you noticed about him, all those years ago on the training grounds when you were still a Padawan.

He was already training Anakin by the time you met, your master was a close friend of his and the two stumbled into one another during your training. You were 22 years old, you barely knew him, but he made your heart flutter.

You didn’t start speaking to him until a year later, Anakin was your partner in combat for a short while but it wasn’t to do with Jedi training. The two of you sparred in the gymnasium occasionally, and Obi-wan just so happened to come across your fight. You beat Anakin everytime, holding him down by his neck or his arms as he struggled and eventually gave in beneath you. Obi-wan admired your strength always, but it was clear something changed in the midst of your acquaintanceship.

You had no idea you’d end up marrying him 4 years later. Time was a funny thing, but you wouldn’t change him for a single thing in the galaxy. Not even all the credits in the universe could make you leave him. He was intimate, caring, playfully flirtatious at inappropriate times, he was perfect to you. And now, as he cleaned your wounds from battle, you only saw love in his eyes.

“I love you” Your hand found his cheek, cupping it gently and tracing his cheek with your thumb. Obi-wan leaned into your hand, kissing your palm which made his beard scratch against your skin.

“And I love you” He smiled.

You brought him in for a kiss, it was familiar, repetitive, but addictive. His kiss was ingrained in your brain, you received enough of them, but you’d never grow tired of it.

Obi-wan cleaned the remaining wounds on your legs and only dabbed the wound on your torso, not even going near the gash to prevent any further irritation. He wrapped you up in a towel as you stood from the bath, helping you out so you didn’t slip. Your towel was draped over your shoulders, tepidly following your husband as he escorted you back into your living quarters and brought out some clothes from your wardrobe. You sat down on your bed, looking out of your large window which displayed the scenery of Coruscant.

“Are you feeling okay?” Obi-wan asked, crouching down in front of you and taking your hands in his larger ones. You felt so safe with him, the shivers calmed down as you felt his warmth, there was no other feeling quite as unique as him.

“I’m better now, thank you Obi” You squeezed his hands, looking down at him and tracing his face shape with your eyes. A strand of auburn hair fell over his forehead, scraping his eyebrows. You tucked the strand back behind his ear and smiled.

“I hope life continues this way after the war ends” You comment absently, the smile quickly drifting off your face, replaced with a wary expression.

“It will, darling, and when that time comes, we can finally settle down” Your husband reassured you, leaning up to kiss you tenderly.

“Now let’s get you dressed, we need to get you to the infirmary” He instructs.

“Yes sir” You smirk.

“It might be a while until I next see you, I’ll be leaving soon to deal with General Grevious and I’m not sure how long I’ll take” Obi-wan handed you underwear, his eyes drifting away to give you privacy as you dropped your towel.

“Promise me you’ll come back in one piece?” You chuckle, pulling your pants on and slipping your bra straps through your arms.

“When have I ever broke your promises?” Your husband grinned, passing you a clean T-shirt and grey joggers.

“You’ve got a point” You roll your eyes, continuing to dress whilst pondering on Obi-wan’s safety, and what could come after the war ended.

You hoped it would come soon, and you hoped you’d be able to live the life you always wanted with Obi-wan. You dreamed of leaving, finding a home, starting a family. It was all planned out.

But an itch in the back of your head told you things wouldn’t pan out that way. Something would get in the way, wether it be the Jedi or something entirely different. Something would happen, and you feared you couldn’t stop it.

Maybe that’s just you though, right?

[37-children-of-the-dreams]

When Crosshair was being choked by that commando droid, his voice was full of fear and he was begging Cody to save him.

It also didn’t sound like the first time Crosshair was scared and begging someone to save him.

How many times does Crosshair secretly beg someone to save him, only for him to turn them away? How many times will his own conscience beg him to save himself, but get disappointed in the end?

How many times will we see him beg again that someone saves him only for things to go down the drain?

[onemoresideblog]

OK, we need to start keeping a tally of all the horrible things that keep happening to Crosshair, because this is getting ridiculous.

Since Season One ended he's been left on a platform with no food or shelter for over a month, ostracized by fellow clones, choked out by a commando droid, caught in a damn avalanche, nearly died of exhaustion/hypothermia, had the first person who's shown him kindness in years die because of an officer's pettiness, and is currently being held under observation/sedation by Imperial scientists. All this...in two episodes.

I don't want to feel bad for the guy who willingly stayed with a genocidal occupying power that had him kill civilians, but damn.

[dritacircle]

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[speechlessani]

Good girl, go back now though. Need you to cover the men resting.

I hop into a full ship and take down several droids, grunting as a blaster shot goes through my stomach, “fucker.” I slice the droid’s head off.

I’m on my way. She changes course and immediately heads for the base.

Jet notices a commando droid bolting straight for you, raising its arm to fire of a shot as you’re distracted with the other droid.

“LILI!” He grabs you and quickly turns so his back is to the droid, tucking you into his chest as the shot goes off. The bolt strikes his neck rather than his back, which he had predicted, and he chokes out a pained noise, trying his best to stay on his feet to protect you.

[letitrainathousandflames]

They all had apologized. Each in their own way.

Kix, with a silent hug that squeezed him to no end, his shoulders jumping softly with the quiet shifts in his breath which were a tell-tale sign of a man holding back tears.

Then there was Rex, hand clasping at his shoulder and his eyes boring into Fives’ with a fire brighter than a sun. That should never had happened, he had said, I hope you can forgive me.

And Tup, whose gaze kept sweeping to the floor and back to Fives’ face and to the floor again, his hands twisting in a nervous fidgety cycle as he apologized, profusely, over and over again, in his name and Dogma’s. Sorry for not trusting you. Sorry for aiming at you. Sorry. I’m so sorry.

And Fives laughs, stroking his own nape for comfort, shaking his head in a dismissive gesture. Don’t worry, it’s in the past, you did what you had to, you were following orders.

But in his heart, he feels something fraying at the edges until it snaps. That unbreakable connection between all clones, severed in that dark night in that dark planet, as he stood in the hangar under the aim of the men he would sleep next to, eat together with, share stories to, fight alongside with.

Brothers in arms in every sense of the word, identical to the last shred of DNA, part of his as he was a part of them.

When Kix, Tup and the others retreat, Fives is left alone with Rex. The Captain hesitates to then call out his name.

"Fives-"

"Y'know, sir," Fives cuts him off, voice dry and raspy as he raises his eyes to Rex's, the ARC trooper's expression weary and his gaze lost "I've seen most of my batch dying horribly in that moon outpost, eaten by giant eels, shot down by clankers, blowing themselves up for the Republic, and the last batcher I had left was blown to pieces right in front of my eyes. I have been right next to you in every assignment, getting closer and closer to death at every battle, and you know every impossible odds I've ever faced, you've seen all of it."

Rex doesn't interrupt him, and Fives is glad because he needs this, he needs to say it or the grief and anger and despair will choke the life out of him from the inside out-

"But I've never felt so scared as I did that night in Umbara. I've had commando droids aiming right between my eyes and clankers shooting rockets at me but, nothing scared me more than seeing our rifles trained on Jesse and I. My brothers taking aim at us both. A c- A clone..." he grits his teeth, baring them at the memory of Dogma "issuing an order of execution directed at me."

Fives' breath is becoming shallow, his entire face twisting in unspeakable rage.

"Me! An ARC Trooper! Your right! Hand! Man!" every word is punctuated by a sharp jab of Fives' finger at Rex's chest, stabbing right at the core of the Republic's cog on his black uniform "Every kriffing day I put my life on the line, and I do it gladly, and hells knows I'm not afraid of dying, never was, not since the kaminiise made it clear to us as cadets that it's part of the job, and our duty to lay down our lives for the Republic. But not like this, Rex! Fuck! Not like this!"

Fives is panting, inches from Rex's face while his scream still echoes in the empty barracks. His face is red and his forehead is dotted with droplets of sweat, the veins on his neck jutting up along with the tendons on his shoulders.

Rex holds his gaze, not blinking, not inching away despite the anger and threat emanating from the other clone. When he speaks, it's quiet enough to be barely above a whisper.

"I know. I won't apologize again, because I know it changes nothing. I failed you. That's all there is to it, in the end. I failed you, brother."

The anger on Fives' face morphs into incredulity before he lets out a sardonic laugh, shaking his head.

"You know what? Fuck your apologies. Fuck you, Tup, Kix, everyone involved in that insanity, and yeah, fuck poor Dogma too! You know what, Captain?" he pauses, looks to the floor and back up at Rex "You don't understand what it feels like to have your own men - you own brothers - aiming their weapons at you, ready to shoot to kill."

Rex stares at Fives, sees something full of horror and haunting ghosting over his features, the ARC trooper's eyes staring right through him, lost in those horrifying memories that will forever be burned into his mind.

"You can't understand what it feels like to have a brother's blaster miss the shot that's aimed at you and wonder if it would've been better if he hadn't missed, because you can't come back from something like that! And you know what? I hope you never do."

Years later, living in hiding, Rex remembered that conversation. Fives was gone. Kix was missing. Jesse had tried to kill him, but he'd missed his shot, and now he was dead too, buried in a nameless grave along with hundreds of their brothers, Rex's men.

And Rex wondered, too, if it would've been better if Jesse hadn't missed.

[nimsajlove]

No one gets left behind!

I did it! This took forever and I am so glad to get this of my document. Please point out obvious mistakes, thx.

WARNINGS: vomiting, biting/killing with bare hands, freezing

This also contains some good old sick cuddles, so soothe my own soul

Brothers-AU         Ao3

.

.

.

Oh kriff, her head hurt! And her arms. And legs. Just…everything. Blinking, Ahsoka got up. Bad idea! Immediately her stomach made a strange jump inside of her. Great. Choking, she dragged herself to a corner of the dark room and stumbled back exhausted after her stomach had emptied. What had happened? „Ahsoka?“ She quickly turned to the low voice, it belonged to a brother.

But of course, the mission. On that shitty cold block of ice of a moon! Echo. „Are you okay?“, Echo mumbled and Ahsoka padded carefully in his direction until two hands caught her as she stumbled. One warm and soft, the other cold and hard. And without a glove. Ahsoka carefully ran her hands over Echo's arms and shoulders, no armor. „Are YOU okay?“, she asked the counter-question and Echo shrugged his shoulders under her fingers. He seemed to be leaning against the wall. „I'm fine. After all, I didn't throw up in the corner.“ „Ha ha, very funny.“, Ahsoka grumbled and sank down next to him on the cold floor. Damn it, this would practically freeze her butt! And she only wore her thin robes, her coat was gone. Great. 

„Are you okay?“, Echo asked again and a hand, the cold one, wrapped itself around her shoulders. „Headache and cold, but that's nothing new.“, Ahsoka sighed and rubbed her forehead, even if the pain didn't come from there. The stinging sensation ran through the tips of her montrals and the pain seemed to swell near the back. „I think we found the remains of the seps.“, Echo muttered and Ahsoka rolled her eyes, even that hurt! „And the aggressive locals. And the pirates. But yes, you are probably right.“, she agreed and moved closer to him.

She winced slightly as Echo's warm hand ran over her montrals. "You are mumbling.", he complained quietly and when he touched a point on the back of the hollow bone structure she winced violently. That kriffing hurt! Echo grumbled and ran his fingers over that spot again, this time a little slower. „That's a big bump, I'm not sure if there is something cracked.“, he stated annoyed and Ahsoka sighed. That explained the headache. And her stomach having a great party. „And now?“ Ahsoka turned her gaze to Echo, in the darkness he was nothing more than a shadow. She shrugged, but thoughts raced inside her head. „We wait, I think. They can't let us sit in here forever and when they come to get us, that will be our window.“, she decided quietly and they both prepared for a very long and cold night.

*~*

„What does this mean? They have to be somewhere on this moon.“, Rex growled and stared at the holomap with his arms crossed. Bly had crossed his arms too, but he was studying Rex and not the map. They already had a second Jedi and a Commander with them and still everything went wrong that could go wrong. This mission was cursed. From the beginning there had been nothing but problems...

General Secura picked up her comlink. „Scout, I could really use some good news now.“, she tried to joke, there was silence for a while. Then the answer came in with a soft crack. „Well Sir, what should I say? Found a bunch of commando droids, clean cuts right through them. Otherwise nothing, neither from the ARC nor the general.“ Collective sighs. An icy gust of wind swept through the camp and drove a little snow in front of it. 

„We should expand the search area.“, suggested General Secura quietly, Rex wished he could simply agree. „I don't know how long the men can comb through the snow in this weather.“, he bitterly pointed out and Bly shook his head too. „Aayla, if we lose contact with a group under these conditions, we will never find the men again.“, he muttered and the Jedi nodded in defeat. There was another tense silence for a while, then two figures made their way into the tiny command tent. „I can't stand this moon anymore.“, Jesse huffed and pulled the helmet off his head, Fives also revealed his face. He looked frustrated, downright angry. „Please say you came up with something.“, General Secura pleaded, both ARCs shaking their heads. „We wanted to ask you the same thing, Sir.“

*~*

Ahsoka wasn't sure how much time had passed, a couple of hours for sure! Her headache was no longer a glaring pain, but a dull throb that made thinking difficult. And she was pitifully cold. Her lips and fingers were numb, not to mention her bottom on the cold floor. Whenever she touched Echo's prostheses, she winced violently, they seemed to be covered with hoarfrost and cracked every time Echo moved. Which was becoming increasingly rare. Coupled with his heavy breathing and his slight shuddering, it was a good cause for concern for Ahsoka.

Then came the first cough. Quiet and muffled behind a hand. Ahsoka immediately shot up and held out a hand to her brother. „Are you really okay?“, she asked softly and felt for Echo's shoulder, from there she slid her fingers up to his face, he wasn't that cold. But not much warmer than Ahsoka's own fingers, either. „It's okay, it's just so kriffing cold.“, he grinned against her fingers and Ahsoka raised an eyebrow marking, it wasn't Echo's way of complaining. Especially not in situations like this. „What's up? Talk to me.“, Ahsoka asked and moved closer to him, ignoring the icy hand on her waist skilfully. „The prostheses hurt, I think they are frozen over without the armor.", he muttered and Ahsoka carefully rubbed her fingers through the little hair that had grown back on Echo's head. „Not for long. As soon as we have our chance, we will be on our way home.“

*~*

„We could just look for blind spots, then we would at least know that we could be nearby.“, suggested Bou, an ARC in yellow armor. The two battalions had all ARCs, scouts and other clones with special skills brought into the command tent. Until now, all four ARCs had been silent and only occasionally tilted their heads or shrugged their shoulders. Bou was the first of them who seemed to have a possibly sane idea. „I've already thought about that.“, Fives interjected. Rex was silent, the idea wasn't that bad. 

„It's better than doing nothing.“, General Secura suddenly blurted out, the Jedi had become extremely moody in the last few hours. For a moment she was so calm and collected that no one would suspect that they were missing people. And the next she was full of energy and wanted to go out and do something to improve the situation.

„I agree.“, Bly nodded and everyone left the tent without asking any further questions. Bly and Rex were the last. Bly reached out and caught Rex at the shoulder. „Are you allright?“ Rex hesitated and considered lying for a moment, then shrugged his shoulders. He chose the truth. „Ahsoka and Echo were both gone before and then they seemed to rise from the dead and were back. How long will this luck last?“, he admitted quietly and Bly seemed to consider his words seriously. „As I know the Jedi, it would be under their dignity to just go out this quiet. We would know if Tano was dead. And well, Echo is the brother of Fives right?“ Rex nodded. „Then I think it would be also beneath his dignity to freeze to death here too. He would go out with a big blow.“, Bly smiled and Rex had to smile thinly, stress and fear bubbling beneath his surface. If Bly only knew, that Echo had done this before already.

*~*

The chance didn't come for the next few hours either. Ahsoka estimated their stay for maybe a day already. It was hard to tell, after all, they were crouched in permanent darkness. Echo's head was now on her shoulder, he was unhealthy warm. Ahsoka carefully stroked his clammy face with one hand, with the other trying to convey at least a bit of warmth to the point where the metal met the rest of his arm. The skin there was freezing. His breathing was shallow and heavy, and every now and then a cough shook him. 

„We will get through this.“, Ahsoka muttered after another cough and tried to wrap herself completely around her brother. She had opened her robe to be able to transfer her own body heat more easily. „I know, thank you vod’ika.“, Echo muttered, patting her head. Ahsoka was glad he was still talking to her! Whenever he coughed, she remembered men who were long dead. Clones who, in the end, no longer had the strength to speak. The pictures kept popping up, it really sucked!

A noise interrupted her thoughts and she got to her feet. Echo held his breath, they both listened. Yes, there was definitely someone or something in front of the cell. Immediately Ahsoka was on her feet and moving towards the sound, so there was the door! She waited... A faint hissing sounded, a tiny beam of light fell into the room and without hesitation, Ahsoka threw herself on the plump figure of the native and sank her teeth into his hairy throat. She would bite his head off if necessary. Together they went to the ground, the battle droids around them making startled noises. Dumb tin cans! Then there was a rumble behind her and she jerked her head up, a piece of her opponent she ripped out with the sudden motion, and only saw how Echo threw himself with all his might against the next droid. For a moment she felt panic rising in her chest, without weapons they would never get out of here! Suddenly Echo had already grabbed one of the blasters from the droids, they didn't last long after that. The man on the ground, a native covered in white fur and with a rather round build, made a last gurgling breath and fell silent.

Searching they looked around, where should they go? Suddenly Ahsoka laughed. „What's so funny?“, Echo gasped, suppressing another coughing fit as best he could. Ahsoka hurried over to a pile of boxes and tore open the top one, jackpot! At least a little one. „They are and will remain so kriffing stupid.“, she triumphed and pulled out her lightsabers and Echo's blaster pistols.

 .

They were down a long dark corridor when Echo began to cough heavily again. Worried, Ahsoka stopped and waited, if they couldn't make it out of here...

Something white slipped through her field of vision and she looked up. It was cold, colder than a few seconds before. An there was light and- „Snow!" Startled and confused, her brother looked up, Ahsoka pointed to a hatch in the ceiling. Powdery snow trickled through the opening. „Our way out.“

*~*

„We found a blind spot.“, Jesse reported, he didn't have to wait long for an answer. „We'll be with you in a moment. Hold your position!“, General Secura instructed and the ARC looked around again. „Just snow and more snow!“, Droidbait cursed softly. „You forgot the ice.“ „Shut up Cutup.“, Kix grumbled, the Medic had become particularly thin-skinned in the last few hours. Jesse suspected why but didn't mention it. Neither of them wanted to think about what could have happened in the last few hours. „It's okay, he's just scared himself.“, Droidbait mumbled and Cutup clicked his tongue unimpressed, but even under the thick snow gear you could see him shrugging his shoulders.

Jesse didn't know whether to laugh or scream. It was all maddening. They had already lost so many and he would, without hesitation, turn every stone on this goddamn moon to find his siblings again. But first they were stuck here, an order was still an order. Fives was the one with the free pass, not him. Sighing, Jesse swung off his speeder bike and walked over to Kix, shoulder to shoulder they peered out into the white landscape. Clouds had gathered on the horizon, a storm was coming in... 

„How are you?“ „I'll kill them, both!“, Kix growled and crossed his arms over his chest. It has always been like that. One of them did something stupid and Kix got mad. That was kind of reassuring, shaking his head Jesse bumped his shoulder against Kix‘s and they both fell silent.

Until Droidbait broke the silence. „What is that over there?“, he asked and pointed with one hand into the distance, everyone followed the hint with slightly narrowed eyes. Jesse held out his hand and Droidbait handed him the binoculars. There were two dark spots on the horizon, someone trying to run away from the blizzard behind them. Although... running was a bit of an exaggeration. Jesse was fiddling with the binoculars, somehow there had to be more to get out of this thing! Another look and the two points could now be seen as figures. „Are those droids?“, Cutup asked and Jesse heard the others reaching for their blasters. A good question. „They don't move like ones.“, he muttered and Kix snatched the binoculars from his hands to take a look himself. „Those are wounded!“, he announced, jumped on his speeder and was gone faster than the others could process his words. They followed him hastily.

*~*

„Come on...“, Ahsoka growled and if Echo had had more energy in him he might have smirked at her frustration. But as it was, only a slight panic welled up in him. His legs still carried him (what luck that these didn't give in as quickly as his old ones), but it was almost impossible to put one foot properly in front of the other. The blacks offered no real protection from the cold and every breath stung his battered lungs.

Ahsoka glanced back over her shoulder again, the clouds and thrown snow approaching fast. They just weren't fast enough! And Echo was karking heavy! Another, real, growl came from her throat and doggedly she dragged her brother on with her. She wouldn't leave him behind, not this time! Echo coughed and she almost stumbled, her legs ached from the cold and she couldn't feel her feet anymore, not talking about her arms or fingers at this point. Ahsoka gently patted his back and took a deep breath, the cold stinging in her eyes. It was impossible to see exactly what was ahead of them. She just made sure to keep the storm at her back at all times. She was about to start moving again when a faint noise vibrated through her montrals.

Ahsoka jerked her head up, the sudden movement causing Echo to look up too. And whatever was coming, Ahsoka seemed to see it better than he could. She screwed up her eyes for a moment and stared forward, then her bloody lips pulled into a small smile. She took a step forward, then another. And then they fell. An icy gust captured them and threw them to the ground with its force. The storm had caught up with them. It was COLD.

*~*

Droidbait brought his speeder to a stop next to Kix's and jumped to the ground. The wind tore at the clones' equipment and the snow almost blocked their view. But the two piles on the ground were easily identifiable as living beings. He hurried after Kix when a figure lifted its head from the icy floor and looked at them. The blood-smeared face nearly made Droidbait's heart pop out of his throat, then Ahsoka grinned broadly at them. „Where were you!“, Kix yelled and when he reached out his hand to her, the young General picked herself up with surprising speed and avoided his hand. „Not my blood. Take Echo with you, quick!“ Droidbait only recognized at second glance what Ahsoka was talking about. His brother was still lying in the snow, the warm armor was missing and a thin layer of ice shimmered on the metal legs. Jesse and Cutup joined them and the ARC hurried past them all, lifting Echo up by one shoulder, Droidbait awakening from his stupor and leaping forward to grab Echo under the other shoulder. Together they heaved him onto one oft he speeders and the medic swung himself on it again. „Cutup, go with him. We'll follow you.“, Jesse instructed harshly and within the blink of an eye the two speeders were gone in the snowstorm.

Jesse only now turned to his sister. Ahsoka was still sitting in the snow, her gaze blankly fixed at the distance. She wasn't trembling. And all the blood on her face seemed frozen to her skin. What did she do? Torn someone's head off?! „Up with you.“, he sighed and grabbed the young woman under the shoulders. She brought her legs under her, but Jesse didn't dare let her carry her own weight. Instead he nodded Droidbait over to him, the two of them lifted Ahsoka and placed her on Jesse's speeder.

*~*

The entire way back somehow slipped past her. Ahsoka remembered Jesse sitting behind her on the speeder. Also that at some point a few more speeders had joined them. But how she got into the protective tent remained a mystery to her. Even when she had taken off her frozen clothes, she no longer knew. It was only when familiar pain shot through her body that her head seemed to be able to keep up again. Someone had wrapped her in several blankets, heat pads covered her skin and made her grind her teeth in pain. But she was still alive!

A slight jerk went through her stretcher and gratefully Ahsoka pressed her forehead against the offered fingers. A wave of deep calm rolled through her and the pain faded into the background, sighing Ahsoka unclenched her jaw and blinked at Aayla Secura with watery eyes. „Thanks.“, she muttered and the older Jedi smiled softly. Ahsoka liked that smile, even if it wasn't the same as it had been a few years ago. But at least Master Secura had always been honest with her, had always stood by her. She was a good friend, Ahsoka dared to say. „Where's Echo?“, she asked then. She could think clearly again. The Jedi frowned, but continued to send calm to Ahsoka. „We sent him back to the cruiser with our best pilots. Your medic, Kix, won‘t leave his side.“, Secura reported quietly and Ahsoka shuddered. That was good and bad news. Kix would do anything to help Echo, but it was a bad sign that they were sending them both back.

Master Secura looked as if she was about to say something when the panels of fabric in front of the tent entrance were opened and a few figures hurriedly forced their way into it. „Seal that up again! I won’t tolerate anymore snow in here!", Coric barked a few beds further and two men immediately closed the tent again. „What did you do?!“ These were the first words Hevy uttered, as soon as he had taken off his helmet. Fives was next to him, studying Ahsoka with narrowed eyes. Droidbait and Cutup also revealed their faces, the shock clearly visible in their eyes. Rex and Commander Bly stepped forward. „General.“, Bly greeted and Ahsoka might not have had much to do with the clone, but she was damn happy to see a familiar face that exuded security and control. „Commander.“, she replied, the chattering of teeth started and Coric scurried over to her. With energetic movements he pulled one of the blankets up and over her head. Before turning back, he pulled one of the heating units closer and patted Ahsoka's shoulder. „General, you really should stop challenging the cold.“, he sighed and although she was trembling all over, Ahsoka grinned. „Where's the fun in that?“

„So that's what you call that now?“, Rex grumbled, his mood had only slightly increased after their return. The sight of Ahsoka didn‘t make any of this any better. She grinned broadly at him and the dried blood on her lips was streaked with thin cracks. „Hey Rex.“, she greeted him with a clatter of teeth and Rex sighed, none of this was entirely new to them. „Coric is right, you know that, right?“, Droidbait tried to joke and squeezed past the commanders and General Secura, as he sat down on the edge of the stretcher, Ahsoka reflexively leaned in his direction. But no sooner did she get near his armor, she hastily moved away from him. „You're freezing!“, she grumbled and Cutup and Hevy rolled their eyes when Five's comlink broke his silence. „Any news Hug?“, he asked. „Not Hug, but Burnes said he'll make it.“, answered a slightly tinny voice and they all looked up at Fives, Ahsoka blinked. She was so grateful that her brothers kept an eye on everything. Fives sighed and for the first time since entering the tent, a thin smile graced his face. „Thanks. And Dogma, I owe you.“ A long pause. „Yes, you definitely do.“, Dogma grumbled and then the connection ended.

Ahsoka's violent shaking and chattering of teeth subsided and when Aayla Secura pulled the covers from her head with one hand, her montrals were no longer so worryingly pale. Only the blood was still a terrifying sight on her slim face. "Did you kill someone?", asked the Jedi Master and carefully turned Ahsoka's face back and forth, who’s grin was now much smaller. "Maybe...", she mumbled and Rex exchanged a brief look with Fives, who shrugged and nodded at Hevy. "I said bite, not rip out their throat.", he grumbled and although Ahsoka winced, a wave of amusement went through the group for a moment. "Two minutes left, you're taking up too much space.", Coric informed them from the other end of the tent and General Secura rose again, as did Droidbait. "Where's Jesse?", Ahsoka asked quietly while the men grabbed their helmets and brought their armor back up to temperature. The lack of the ARC left a clear gap between Rex and the others. "He prepares the camp for the attack.", Rex explained and immediately regretted his words again, Ahsoka hastily began to push the blankets away.

 "Sir, you should stay here.", Bly interjected calmly and everyone else nodded in agreement. "I can't let you go alone!", Ahsoka protested immediately, Cutup and Hevy stopped her attempts to escape by wrapping the blankets around her again. “Don’t you dare to stick even the tip of your nose out of this tent. Understood, vod'ika?", ordered Rex and for a few seconds she stared at him morosely, then she looked down. Satisfied, Rex nodded and put his helmet back on, the men and General Secura left the tent quickly and he was the last who hesitated briefly on her stretcher. Sighing, Rex reached out a hand and pulled one of the blankets a little higher over her shoulders. "I'm sorry.", he muttered and Ahsoka glanced at him. "It's okay.", she replied just as quietly and then sighed. "Please bring everyone back home with you.", she asked even more quietly and Rex sensed his chance to lighten the mood a bit. "Hevy found the flamethrower, so I guarantee nothing." They laughed softly and then Ahsoka watched as Rex left the tent and closed it behind him.

„Don't worry. I think since we fought Maul with you, nothing can surprise Rex anymore.“, Coric assured her and came over to her again, this time with a small scanner, a bowl of water and a rag. When Ahsoka didn't answer immediately, he shook his head slightly and changed the subject. „You should look in a mirror. Looks creepy.“, he commented and dipped the rag into the bowl, Ahsoka huffed but had to grin slightly. „Thank you for the compliment.“

*~*

Echo blinked and looked around, his head hurting. The surroundings were not unknown, but unexpected. The medbay was almost empty, but Fives and Cutup were sitting right next to him. They played cards... How long has he been here? „Hey.“, Echo muttered and his brothers raised their heads, Cutup's face lit up with a big grin and Fives looked extremely smug while collecting the cards again. „How are you feeling?“, Cutup asked and Echo tried to sit up, immediately Fives was right at his side. „Careful vod.“, he sighed and Echo looked at him, Fives looked tired. Much more than Cutup who propped Echo's other shoulder. „How long was I out?“, asked Echo, letting the hands push him into a more upright position. That was better, he found it easier to breathe. „A couple of days. Kix thinks that was the best lung inflammation he's ever seen.“, Fives grinned now and Echo let out an amused gasp. He had never, NEVER, got sick before. To catch a cold like that after such a short time in the cold was a strange feeling. He didn't like it at all! He wanted to keep up with the others, especially the ARCs. Echo had the training and it was extremely frustrating not being able to use it any longer.

A faint rattle drew Echo's attention to one of the doors, he knew there was a tiny fresher behind it. Cutup left his seat to tap the door gently. „Are you okay?“, he asked and for a while no one answered. Then came the warm voice of Jesse: „Yes. Nothing new, the bucket just fell over.“ Fives sighed and Cutup returned to Echo's free side. „What's up with Jesse?“, asked Echo. What had he missed in the last few days? „Oh no. Not Jesse, Ahsoka. Severe concussion, she suffered a few fractures while throwing herself between a couple of shinys and the locals.“, Fives grumbled and Echos blinked once, then twice. „She was still fit for battle?“, he asked and raised a hand to massage his temple, the headache increased. It was an uncomfortable throbbing deep under his skin. „No, she wasn't.“, answered a rough voice from far back in the room. Echo turned his gaze to find Burnes, who was just getting up from a chair and stretching his arms high above his head. His back cracked audibly and Cutup shuddered slightly. Echo had to smile. Of course, his sister had found a way past the medics. Clever girl, even if she had a talent to be pretty dumb from time to time. Burnes pulled a large bowl over one of the tables towards him and began to pull out some medication and bacta patches.

„She could have it so much easier.“, the medic muttered and Echo cocked his head slightly. Burnes was right, in a bacta tank they could fix the breaks in her montrals in a few hours. So why was she still out here? Did she want to wait for him? Echo looked at Fives and his gaze seemed to convey every thought. Years of training probably paid off after all. Fives shrugged. „Rex had suggested it to her, she bit him.“, he explained quietly and Echo hung his head thoughtfully. Lead tiredness crept slowly into his bones, sitting and thinking and talking were extremely exhausting! „Coric and Kix won't force her. That's the way it is.“, Brunes mumbled and while Echo's chin sagged on his chest and his brothers carefully directed him into a lying position, the medic slipped into the fresher.

*~*

To say Rex was tired would be a huge understatement. He exchanged a quick look with Bly, yep. For the last few hours they've both been just running on caf and a sense of duty. General Secura, who was half a step ahead, seemed to know that too and rubbed her hands together with a sigh. „Just one last detour and you will be dismissed, I promise.“, she assured them. „As if I ever had a break with you.“, Bly muttered and the Jedi smirked as she made her way to medical. That was just right for Rex, he would have checked on Echo and Ahsoka one way or another. „Hush, otherwise I'll hide your caf supply.“, threatened Secura and the light banter lifted Rex's mood a little. At least they both seemed to have had a good time now, despite everything.

Silently they turned into the corridor in front of medical, the door to their destination slid open and a trooper slipped out. Echo's prostheses were tucked under one arm and a datapad held in the other hand. „Target, what's this?“, asked Rex and Target looked up, a crooked smile gracing his face. „Evening Commander, I'm so free and I will borrow this for a moment.“, he grinned and Rex saw Bly preparing himself to say something about this. But this was one of his men, one of Ahsoka's men. If Target took other people's equipment, then nothing bad had come of it yet... „Do what you can't help but do. Bring them back before breakfast, understand?“, Rex said before Bly could open his mouth and Target nodded a little more seriously, then he scurried down the hall and disappeared around a corner. „Some troopers enjoy a certain fool's freedom with you, don't they Rex?“, grinned General Secura and Rex shrugged. As long as no one came up with ideas that could cause harm, he was only happy if the men made decisions on their own now. Ahsoka had shown him how important it was to be able to do that.

The door slid open and the general and two commanders silently glanced into the room beyond. A medic looked up and gestured to be quiet, then pointed his hand to a bed about in the middle of the row. Echo was on his back, pillows spread around him to support him without his prostheses. The remaining arm he had wrapped tightly around Ahsoka, who was half on top of him and had her nose buried in the blanket. Next to them were Cutup and Fives. The former slept with his head leaning against the wall and snoring quietly while the ARC worked on his datapad with a small smile. Jesse sat on the floor in front of them, his head on Five's knee and the top of his armor stripped. Between his outstretched legs was the little bucket that he had always had with him as Ahsoka's companion for the past few hours. Neither of them looked like they had showered or eaten in the past few hours. Still, Rex decided to leave them all where they were. With a small smile he pulled back and Bly and General Secura followed suit.

[originaljediinjeans]

A Star Wars comedy special a la The Office where characters are interviewed about what they do or don’t know about events of the Star Wars universe and major characters. Maybe do an episode about the Empire and one about the Rebellion, pick different groups from different periods. 

For the Empire episode, interview some of the mid-tier officers and maybe a couple of stormtroopers or pilots. Have them share their opinions and (wildest) theories about Darth Vader, for instance.

“I get why people would think he’s a droid--but droids don’t breathe like that. Or move like that. Definitely cyborg.”

“Maybe he used to be a soldier during the Clone Wars, like a really really good commando...that just had a really really bad day.”

“I think he’s always brooding. Constantly. He’s obsessed with making sure everything is done perfectly. Always making sure things are to the Emperor’s standards. (Whispers) I think he and the Emperor are in an abusive relationship.”

“Yes, I am a mental health specialist for Imperial Personnel...no, I have never seen Darth Vader in this clinic. I have never seen his records in our patient databank. If he did have mental health problems, I would not be legally allowed to disclose the specifics to anyone. If he was in therapy, his files would probably be super classified, and whoever has seen them has probably been warned not to share anything under pain of getting choked to death. Yeah, I’d say he has problems, though, if he’s capable of choking his own therapist.” 

“What does he even...do? I mean, he is known for going out and hunting surviving Jedi...but there’s not that many left and I don’t think he catches one every time...if that were the case maybe he’d be in a better mood.” 

“He reports to Grand Moff Tarkin? Hmm, better file that fact under ‘information that could potentially save my life’.”

(also this doesn’t have to be an official series, this would be a great concept for a fan film)

[whirlybirbs]

                                                  (   gif by @barissoffee​     )

      ---   STARJOCKEY & CO.   ;   1 of ?

summary: the bad batch gets a pilot.  pairing: twi’lek!reader x hunter word count: 2.1 a/n: i love the bitter enemies to friends trope, i love twi’leks, i love racer characters, and i love smashing them all together. hunter is a babe and i love the boys. will contain spoilers for s7 of tcw. set loosely before s7.

Cody wonders, as himself and the four soldiers behind him amble towards the GAR’s main hangar bay on Coruscant, if this is a fool’s errand.

But -- Clone Force 99 isn’t like all the other squadron’s in the Grand Army of the Republic. They were special ops. Independent, reporting to no one but themselves. Arguably the best of the best, and...

They needed a pilot.

Cody had raked through the file and rank trying to find someone suitable to run details with the Bad Batch, but... he kept coming back to you. 

That’s saying something, really, because good civvie pilots rarely stuck around -- more often than not, they came in the form of racers caught on the upper levels of Coruscant who were offered two choices: serve out your sentence, or fly a few transport missions under the GAR for compensation and waived time in general population. 

A win-win for some.

The truth was pilots were few and far between with the height of the Outer Rim Sieges in swing -- the GAR’s AirCorp was busy running dogfights rather than transport details. The piloting courses were the longest inscription time of all, aside from Commando-bas training. So, somewhere along the line this business model was cooked up.

Serve the cause and drop the charge.

You were no different from all the others... at first. 

You’d been bagged by Fox sometime last year while being crowned the winning racer in a tourney on the 34th level. Fox’s boys clocked you coming over the line well over the legal speed limit -- and then, you proceeded to lead them on a chase through the entire Financial District that ended with a wreck that left your ride in a ball of fire and Lt. Dive in the medbay for two days. 

When you were bagged you took the latter of the deals offered. One week later, you’d flown Cody himself and five other 212th boys through the thick of Felucia’s frontline on a medical supply run. When the Sep’s spotted the LAAT/i and began laying down cover fire, you’d somehow managed to get the ship outta the drop zone without a single scathe. 

And then it happened again. And again, and again. You were good. You’d managed to land an LAAT/i with only one working engine on Ithor, flown steady through a sandstorm on Jakku, and deployed an entire battalion’s worth of reinforcements to Umbara in the short time you’d flown for the GAR. Under your wings, not a single casualty.

You flew Cody on six runs total, to various Outer Rim siege points, before your charges were waived. 

But, you stuck around. 

Lucky for Cody. 

In all honesty, it was better work than what you were used to -- racing was just a hobby. In reality, it was smuggling paid that bills. And it did enough, sure, but it was dangerous work. Especially if the supplier doesn’t disclose you’re hauling a Class-45B controlled toxin and a canister ruptures mid-flight. Or, if the Nexu kittens decide to orchestrate a coordinated prison break from their crates half-way to the trade markets on Zygerria. 

You still had scars from that one. 

The GAR paid civilians well enough. You could afford a decent apartment on the 56th level of the Senate District; a quick zip to the Garrison. You’d even gotten a wiped record on the third month of running supplies. 

You hadn’t seen Commander Fox’s face when he’d handed over the datapad explaining the details, but you could tell the head of Capital Security was not pleased. Not surprising. But, you’d waltzed outta that office with your head held high. 

This gig was a new start.

You liked Clone Marshall Commander Cody. 

He was -- by far -- your favorite of the upper-ranks to work with. He was kind, but beneath the exterior of leader there was a bit of an attitude. It all made sense when you’d met the General Jedi he served under. Two sides of the same coin. Cody laughed when you’d explained that you got it now. 

It was reassuring to know Cody liked you, too. Trusted you, even.

You suppose if that wasn’t the case, then you wouldn’t be here now. 

... Getting a squadron assignment.

"Cody, this ship is a nightmare.”

The first time the Bad Batch ever lays eyes on you, you’re swaggering off of the jet-black ship’s landing ramp with gloved hands on your hips. The look on your face is one of playful anger, directed directly at the Grand Marshall Commander who barks a laugh at the jest. 

“Is it now?”

“I hate this!”

From around the back of the ship, it’s the voice of a FA-4 pilot droid that cries out the indignant exclamation -- you grin, watching as the droid in question wheels out from the underbelly and waves it’s skinny little arms. It’s got a bundle of chewed through wiring in it’s hands.

“I could kill you, Commander,” the droid whines, female-coded voice emerging from it’s vocalizer. The matte black body of the droid is littered in neon graffiti -- on it’s faceplate, a lopsided smiley face is painted in hot pink. It’s wheels kick up with a wwwwiiiirrrrrr as it skirts around the trooper in question, “We’ll be lucky is this ship flies.”

“Calm down, Deemi,” you wave off the droid, D-M1, as she rounds the nose of the ship to discard the useless wiring from the landing gear, “It’ll fly.”

“Says you!”

You roll your eyes, scoffing at the flustered droid as you approach Cody. 

“Is it really that bad?” he asks lowly, suddenly concerned.

“It’s certainly not great,” you mumble, looking back over your shoulder. You swipe at your forehead. Your red-tinted goggles sit around your throat, “... How’d you get this ship again?”

“Repo,” Cody says curtly, “Smugglers. Maybe you knew ‘em.”

"Ha, ha.”

Hunter is skeptical. 

He’s heard enough about you from Cody, but -- the Twi’lek before him looks less like a street racing criminal hotshot and more like a holo-star. Your skin, peachy and dappled, paints you softer than he imagined. He’d expected someone... taller. Scarred. Rough.

A man, maybe.

Not a pretty little Twi’lek.

“This the pilot you’ve been talkin’ about, then, Commander? Or is it the droid?”

Both you and Cody turn around, then, and you notice that four visored eyes are glued on you. The one in the front, tall and broad with half a skull painted on his helmet, is the one that spoke. Low and rough. Different from all the voices you’d come to know in the hangar. 

Bitter. Condescending. Cold.

And just like that, you settle on the fact you don’t like him.

You watch his visor move down your figure, then; your lekku curl, swatting despite the fact they’re pinned back by the black headpiece strapped tightly across your crest. 

Tech, from behind Crosshair, can read the gesture of obscenity with ease. He has to hide a laugh into his fist.

Your cross your arms across your chest and lean, cocking a hip. You mimic the gesture, dragging your eyes up his long legs and battered, jet-black armor. He’s built different from Cody. More compact. A bit taller.

“Eyes are up here, boc’ara,” the Ryl sounds foreign, more like a hiss than anything, and when Cody sees the flash of your incisors, he knows to step up. 

“Er, boys, meet your new pilot,” Cody says your name, eyes bounding between you and the Leader of the Bad Batch, “Zip, this is --”

“Zip?” the soldier scoff, arms crossed over his chest plate.

Cody pinches his brow. Is he gonna have to explain the nickname?

“It’s --”

“It’s nice to meet you, Miss Zip,” suddenly offers a small trooper, squeezing around the leader of the squad. His eyes are big and brown behind goggles -- but kind, nonetheless, “My name is Tech.”

Suddenly, a hand is in your personal space. You can’t help but quirk a smile. You shake his hand easily, watching as the smaller trooper lights up at the friendly exchange.

“I’d enjoy speaking Ryl with you, sometime.”

“Yeah?” you ask, realizing that he must have caught the insult earlier.

“Ka,” the trooper chirps in Ryl, eyes squinting happily, “I am not very good -- and I enjoy the language. Sounds pretty.”

“Arni,” you grin, thanking him as you nod, “I’d like that, Tech.”

With a amicable smile, the trooper weaves around you and moves towards the ship.

“Th’ big one is Wrecker,” Cody says, then, gesturing to the biggest one in the back who offers a wave -- he moves forward, clapping the leader on the back as he does. You hear a light oof emerge from his vocalizer. 

“Ignore Mister Moody,” the man bellows, “Welcome to the Bad Batch, girly!”

You watch as the towering man moves to follow Tech, most likely to inspect the ship. You turn to Cody, raise a brow, and cock your head. “... Bad Batch?” 

“We ain’t like the others,” comes a fourth voice, raspy and coarse. This trooper is similar in size to the leader, with a charcoal colored helmet. The sniper rifle on his shoulder gives away his position in the squad, “An’ you ain’t a reg.”

You’re not entirely sure what that means, and you can’t tell if this one is trying to size you up or not. 

So, you offer a hand, unwavering from your spot. He shakes it after a moment of consideration. 

“Crosshair.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“Is it?”

“Maybe,” you measure, “Haven’t decided yet.”

That earns a laugh from the sniper -- and Crosshair swats at Cody’s arm. 

“I like her.”

“Yeah, well, what did I say?”

“You said she was good,” comes the last voice -- the leader, who has yet to move from his spot. He’s rooted there, with his arms crossed and his eyes narrowed beneath his helmet, “Real good.”

“Zip, this is Hunter,” Cody says slowly, “Sergeant of Clone Force 99.”

“Sergeant? With an attitude like that?”

Cody chokes on his words. 

Hunter rolls his eyes, pushing off his pose and moving towards the ship. He changes the subject quickly. “The droid says it won’t fly.”

“The droid,” comes an aggravated voice, “has a name!”

D-M1 proceeds to bonk straight into Hunter’s leg, then, spurring a laugh out yourself and the other members of the Bad Batch. You cover your mouth, shaking your head slightly. 

“My designation is D-M1,” she barks, “Don’t be ungrateful.”

Cody smirks. 

You push past the Sergeant, shrugging. “You heard the droid.”

Hunter’s eye twitches. 

Cody offers an apologetic look to the Sergeant as he enters the Havoc Marauder, following your lead. With a sigh, Hunter follows. The inside of the ship is in decent enough shape, and Tech pokes around the navicomputer as you throw yourself into the pilot’s seat. That droid whirs by Hunter again, bonking his leg on the way by, and moves to your side. 

“The biggest issue is the transmission,” you say, “And the fact the navi-coordinates are, like, half a klik off. That will be a problem come the jump to hyperspace.”

“How long ‘til it’s fixed?”

“Give me a day.”

Hunter leans in the cockpit doorway. “We don’t have a day.”

“Then find another ship and find another pilot,” you spit past Cody, swiveling to toss the insult his way, “Not my problem.”

“We can push the op back a day,” Cody cuts in, settling his between you both, “Do what you can, Zip. Tomorrow -- 0600 -- I want you up on deck. We’re gonna cover op in the debrief.”

“Oh, yeah, forget the droid --”

You snicker. 

Cody rolls his eyes. “Deemi, you can come, too.”

“Thank you.”

“You boys are dismissed,” Cody calls out, “You heard the time?”

“0600,” Crosshair nods, waving off the Commander, “Got it.”

“Try not to screw our ride in the mean time, yea?” Hunter shoots your way, “Baca’ra.”

The insult he tries to land in Ryl misses by a long shot. You snort at the mispronunciation. 

Behind him, Tech corrects the leader. 

“It’s boc’ara.”

“Whatever.”

When the entirety of the Bad Batch exits the ship, you give Cody a look. You swivel in the pilot’s chair, arms across your chest. You cross your leg, ignoring the grease smears along the neon green flight suit. You drum your fingers on your arm. 

Finally, when you hear their voices receed, you make a face. “Th’ hell was that?” 

“I should have warned you,” Cody groans, “They’re... different.”

“What’s with the...?” you gesture to your face, referencing Tech’s glasses.

Cody pinches his nose again. “The Bad Batch are... genetically different. Clones, but... with desirable mutations. They’re a shadow ops team and -- and you’re the only civilian pilot I know that can handle them and their assignments.”

“There’s nothing desirable about Hunter --”

“He’s a little rough around the edges. He’ll warm up,” Cody promises, “He will. He always does.”

You plan on holding Cody to it. 

Cody wonders, as he wanders back to the barracks through GAR’s main hangar bay alone, if this really is a fool’s errand.

[twitchstoleyourbagel]

So I’m posting my fic here until my AO3 account gets approved :) this is my first fic, please enjoy!

EC - 8538

Gender - Female

Chapter 1

85 walked down the blinding white, lifeless halls of the Kaminoan cloning facility. Most if not all of the cadets who had passed her raised a brow or stared at her as they passed, and she didn’t blame them. A human female living in the same facility as a bunch of boys who had probably never seen a girl before would be an odd sight. 85 was an experimental clone, she had been told there was another experimental female but she never had the chance of meeting her.

There had been a few batches that the Kaminoans took creative liberty with but none survived. All but one anyways. Though she didn’t know if the squad had a name or not (she wasn’t told much) like most batches such as the Domino squad, or Hurricane squad, she did know that they had enhanced senses or something like that. One had good eyesight, the other was really big and apparently strong, one was smart and the other could feel things. She didn’t even know if those were the actual enhancements of the squad, she had only heard it from other cadets talking about them.

Finally she reached the training facility, apparently she was going to train with the Spirit squad today, hopefully she stays with this one. After so long of jumping around, training with different squads trying to see if she got along with any of them, this better be the last one. She quickly changed into her training gear and ran out to meet the clones. They turned to meet her and their eyes grew wide.

As expected. She internally sighed to herself.

“Hey guys, I’m EC - 8538, or you can just call me 85.” The girl with fluffy purple hair stuck her hand out for them to shake which instead they just stood there, glancing at one another. That was until one of the clones with longer, curly hair, stepped forward and shook it firmly.

“Pleasure to meet you, 85. I’m Hopper, that’s Quill, 77, and 24.” He gestured to himself and then pointed to the men behind him. They had to be 7th or 8th year cadets, Hopper was extremely professional and cut to the chase. 77 gave her an awkward wave and a lopsided smile, his messy hair fell down into his eyes and he reached up to fix it, not looking as happy as he did a second ago. And 24 nodded but kept quiet

Huh. He looks a little shy? Or just reserved?

She brought her hand back to her side and it twitched, soon her neck followed suit and she cursed under her breath. Damn Kaminoans and all their testing. Hopper raised a brow when her face scrunched up while her neck twitched.

“Hey she twitches!” 77 called out like they couldn’t all see. He received a smack in the arm by the brother standing next to him. “Ow.”

85 cleared her throat and rolled her neck, trying to shake it off. Hopper still looked at her as if waiting for an explanation and Quill had a concerned look on his face.

“It happens all the time, don’t worry it doesn’t affect my fighting if that’s what you guys are worried about.”

Quill glanced at Hopper and then back at the girl.

“Are you an experimental clone? Are you even a clone at all?”

She barked a Hah! At his question. It wasn’t a bad question, in fact his curiosity was to be expected. However she made a bet with herself on the way to the facility. The bet was if someone was gonna ask something along the lines of that question.

“Yeah, I am. I know there’s been a few batches before me but none made it. I know of one that is out on the field, I think there’s also another female clone who’s been dispatched with a squad but I never met her.” She frowned at the thought, staring at the ground thoughtfully.

The doors hissed and the trainer walked in. Joy. A tall, red, Togrutan male walked through the doors with his hands folded behind his back. Reese glared at them and they immediately snapped to attention, staring straight at the wall. 85 tried to hide the shudder that the trainer had sent down her spine as he walked by. She felt a twitch coming on from nervousness but tried her best to keep it down, however her hands did begin twitching.

“You are going to be doing a level 8 difficulty training exercise today. With a new.. addition to the team,” He flicked his eyes to 85. “I want to see how you 5 will work together as a team dynamic. EC - 8538 is an experimental clone, her particular… difference and skill I want to see today is her enhanced reflexes,”

Quill shot a quick glance at Hopper while the trainer wasn’t looking.

Kriff kriff kriff-

Her neck jerked to the left and her arms were brought up to her chest. Rule number one when a trainer is addressing you (especially one as strict as Reese) do not break attention. And that’s exactly what she did.

“Is there a problem, EC - 8538?” Reese snapped in her face. She tried her best not to flinch and get back to attention.

“No, Sir.” She stood straight, chin up, chest out, shoulders back, stomach in.

“Stay at attention when I address you. Am I clear?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Now, as I was saying, you will be running a level 8 training course today, and if you do not pass, you will restart.”

Tension arose in the room after 85 was yelled at by Reese, it only escalated when he threatened to restart the simulation if they failed to complete it.

“Grab your guns. The test will begin momentarily.” With that, he turned on his heel and made his way to the top of the room where he could oversee the course.

Hopper glanced at her before picking up one of the training blasters provided and handed another one to Quill. She sighed and found one for herself. 77 came up behind her and placed a hand on her shoulder and nodded to her. What kind of nod it was supposed to be was unknown, but she liked to think it was a ‘you got this’ notion. She smiled at him before taking her place on the floor, waiting patiently for the rest to join her. Hopper stood next to her and the rest followed after him.

“Alright everyone, take your positions. 85, I want you with me.” He glanced around at the squad and then to her.

“Yes, Sirrrr.” She raced after him behind cover and the simulation began. The ultimate goal was to take the ‘capital’ preferably without losing a team member. Granted they would only be stunned but it still didn’t help much. Hopper peeked over the cover they were standing behind and landed a few shots on a B1 training battle droid, taking it down. Across the left to them, Quill yanked 77 down just in time for a blaster bolt to skim over his head. With wide eyes he nodded his thanks to his vod before peeking over again.

The girl stayed by Hopper through most of the simulation. After 30 minutes they had finally advanced to the capital, all they had to do was to take out the droids inside. Rushing into the building, a battle droid aimed and shot for her. A bolt skimmed right by her nose but due to her enhanced reflexes she had dodged it just in time, right after it had passed she raised her blaster and killed the droid.

“Nice work, 85!” Hopper praised through comms. Across the room she could see him take down two droids

“Yeah! Twitchy here is doing pretty good!” 77 chirped in her ear as he pushed 24 out of the way of what was going to be a direct hit.

Twitchy… I like it.

“Why thank you, gentlemen. Not so bad yourself.” If there was one thing she was certain about in life it was that she liked this squad. When she was first told she was training with the Spirit squad she had low hopes. Like the rest of the squads she had trained with, they had seen her differently, not as a sister but a freak.

“Man, they really weren’t joking when they said level 8!” Quill yelled while running from three droids, all firing at him. 85 whipped around and downed two of them, Hopper finishing the third one. He bent down to help his brother up from his hiding spot from the floor. “Thanks, vod.” With a nod, he ran off with Quill following close behind.

“Almost there, boys!” She ran down the hall and began to vault herself over the wall to reach the mark that ended the simulation. Sudden searing pain in her abdomen sent her crashing into the ground, her gun falling out of her hands. When she looked up to see what had hit her, a training commando droid was rushing towards her.

“Commandos!” She was able to choke out through the pain. It wasn’t as painful as a real blaster wound but man did it still hurt. Her neck jerked to the side and her legs seized up.

Not good, not good, not good-

77 came crashing through the course, shooting the commando droid with Hopper to his left, taking out any threats. Once the droid fell he rushed over to 85s side and tried to help her, but he wasn’t Quill. He didn’t know what to do in a medical situation! Nervously, he tried to hold her legs still and calm her down, which seemed to work a little. “C’mon, twitch. We’re almost there.”

She groaned and slowly sat up, after a few seconds she braced herself on 77 arms and stood up. He bent over and handed her the gun she dropped, giving her an encouraging smile. “Alright, let’s go! I don't wanna do this again!” They ran side by side, shooting droids and climbing over the obstacles. After a few more minutes of running and vaulting, the pole was in sight. All they had to do was show Reese that they had the pole and he would end the simulation. Sweat trickled down her forehead as she and 77 booked it for the finish, soon enough she could hear the rest of them following.

77 was the first to reach the pole and yanked it out of its place cheering in excitement, Hopper, Quill, 24, and 85 all gave each other pats on the back.

“Great job everybody!” Hopper praised everyone and playfully punched Quill's shoulder. He looked back with a smile but his focus remained on the girl, she had taken a blow from one of the blasters and it seemed to have a decent effect on her. The training simulation shut down and the squad was released to their barracks to change and head to the mess hall.

_______________________

85 slipped on her boots and hurried to catch up with her new squad. “Heeeyyyyy!” She raised her hand for a high five at 77 once she saw him in the hall, instead he just stood there. “... you’re supposed to hit my hand. It’s a high five?” If these boys didn’t know what a high five was, there might be a slight problem. He hesitantly tapped her hand with his and she smiled.

“Nice job back there! You got some good reflexes.” He began walking down the hall that led to the cafeteria.

“Thanks. That’s my ‘enhancement’ or whatever you wanna call it. I got freaky fast moves.” She wiggled her fingers. Before 77 could reply, the rest of Spirit Squad came up behind them. They walked through the doors to the cafeteria and got in line with their trays. 85 could practically feel the others' eyes on her but she tried her best to just ignore them and get her food. Once she filled her tray, she followed Hopper to an empty table and sat across from him. The rest followed, 77 sitting next to her while Quill and 24 sat on Hopper's side.

“Welcome to the squad, 85.” Hopper smiled at her, happy to have a new addition.

“Twitch.”

“What?”

“Twitch, my name is Twitch.”

It was at that moment she saw 77 grow the biggest smile she had ever seen on a person, he was pretty much grinning from ear to ear.

“Well, Twitch,” Hopper's cup rose in the air. “Welcome to the Spirit Squad.” They all raised their cups and clinked them together before taking a sip. Everyone was smiling, even the more shy, 24.

“It’s good to be her-“

“Well well well, if it isn’t the freak. How did a lab rat end up in a squad like this?” Another clone squad passed their table, taunting Twitch. They laughed at the clone's harsh words but were cut off when Twitch replied.

“You lookin’ for a smack in the face, shabuir?” She had turned around to fully face the clone and stare him directly in the eyes. No bullying today, she would not let these idiots ruin her good day. Out of the corner of her eye she could see the rest of her squad stiffen, they seemed shocked like this wasn’t a regular occurrence.

“Oh it talks!”

It? Oh you’re dead.

Anger bubbled up inside of her and she reached up and grabbed his wrist, twisting it backwards causing him to drop his tray and food. He broke free from her grip and if looks could kill, she would most definitely be dead right now. The squad behind him puffed up their chests, ready for a fight. While she really didn’t want to fight, she was having a nice lunch with her new squad, it was their fault they picked on her. She couldn’t help the way that she was. Her neck twitched to the left and she sighed when they started snickering,

Hopper stood up from the bench he was sitting on to speak. “Listen, Fellas. We don’t want any trouble, just go your own way please.” The clones looked at Twitch once more before walking over to their own table, still side eyeing them occasionally.

“Sorry guys, I didn’t mean to start trouble-”

“Why are you apologizing? They should be the ones asking for forgiveness, you don’t deserve that. No one does.” 77 placed a hand on her shoulder, trying to get his point across.

“Yeah, Twitch it’s okay. We’re not mad at you, but… does that happen often?” Hopper scooted back into his seat.

“Uhm…” She didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, it did happen a lot. So often she just accepted that it was normal. “Yeah… yeah pretty often, but I shouldn’t have grabbed him, I don’t know.”

“Well he deserved it.” 24 piped up. That was the first time Twitch had heard him speak, and it was defending her. “Next time anyone does that to you, you have every right to fight back.”

“Thanks guys.” She took a bite of the food that was on her plate, casting a glance at the table that the clone who mocked her moved to. One locked eyes with her for a second but quickly looked away, snickering to the table.

Yeah, you guys are real comedians.

77 slid his hand off her shoulder and continued to eat. Quill had that look on his face, one he had seen too many times, the one where he wanted to ask a question but was unsure of how to approach it. He very slightly motioned to Twitch, who was very focused on her food, all her spark had fizzled out. Oh if he could beat up those clones right then and there he would’ve, but he didn’t want to start a mess hall fight, those happened too often and he didn’t wanna get written up for misbehavior.

“So… if you don’t mind me asking,” Quill finally voiced his curiosity. “Why do you twitch? And wouldn’t it throw out your neck if you did it enough?”

“No, I don’t mind at all. You actually have a really good question there. I personally have no idea why I twitch, it could be the result of testing or just that I’m an experimental clone. It could just be a defect,” She shrugged. “My neck takes the brunt of it and it’s sore sometimes, some days worse than others. Apparently,” Twitch rested her elbow on the table, holding her fork. “I twitch a lot when I’m experiencing ‘extreme emotions’ at least that’s what the Kaminoans say, I’m not told much.”

“Oh…” He wasn’t exactly sure how to respond to that. “W-Well if you have a sore neck sometime I might be able to help.”

“Quill here has a dream of being a CMO so he takes whatever chance he gets to practice medical.. things.” 77 explained.

“Hey, that's not the right term!”

“Oh who cares.”

“Uh- I do??”

“Guys, guys. No bickering.” Twitch raised her hands to shush them before anything else could be said. “Quill, that would be awesome if you could help my neck sometime, it’s been giving me some problems lately.” His eyes lit up and he nodded.

Hopper sent a kind smile her way before he continued to eat his food.

Once they finished in the mess hall, Twitch was summoned to the medical bay. With a very heavy sigh, she waved bye to her squad and trudged down the cold halls reluctantly.

If you got this far, thank you! ♥️

[colehasapen]

(ONE SHOT) it hungers, it eats you whole STAR WARS

Rating: M

Warnings: Major Character Death, Death and Violence, Sith Magic, DARK, Horror

“Whatever that is, it’s not Rex.” Fives’ voice is hushed, shaky and quivering, as he watches the thing in his ori’vod’s armour trail behind General Skywalker like a trained Akku pup, eyes empty of anything but a blind devotion to the Jedi in front of it. He doesn’t dare raise his voice any higher than a whisper, not wanting to draw the attention of the General or the empty thing that used to be his Captain.

Their yellow eyes send chills down his spine, their mere presence makes him feel cold. There’s a hunger about them, one that can never be sated and gnaws at everything around them, making the world seem dull and lifeless, and it makes every animal instinct in him scream from the wrongness even as the cold freezes him in place and hollows out his bones. He feels like he’ll never be warm again when they’re around, like all the energy and heat is being sucked out of him until it leaves only a husk in his place. A husk like Rex had become.

Fives remembers, as well as any trooper of the 501st, the sight of his brother’s bloody body in their General’s arms. He’s haunted by the sight of crimson blood and viscera spilling out into the sands around them and Rex’s empty empty eyes and blood stained lips pulled into a defensive snarl. He had gone down protecting the General’s back, the vibrosword of a commando droid slicing through his armour like warm butter, and General Skywalker’s ripping screams still tear at his chest and steal the breath from his lungs because it meant that Rex was dead . He remembers the vortex of pure power that had exploded out from their Jedi, it had disintegrated the army of droids that had separated the bulk of Torrent Company from their commanding officers, and had warped and shredded the ground under their feet, turning the sand to dangerously sharp shards of red-stained glass.

There had been a bloody handprint smeared across General Skywalker’s face when he’d stood, unnaturally smooth even with Rex’s heavy body in his arms, his eyes glowing a sickly yellow in the shadows of his face. He had snapped Coric’s neck with his mind when the CMO hadn’t been able to help Rex and had choked Kix until he was unconscious and Jesse had had to drag him to safety, even after Coric had told their General that there was nothing any of them could do for Rex, but he had tried anyways, because no one had wanted to accept that their Captain was dead so soon after Commander Tano had left them. General Skywalker had used the Force to throw them all out of the way when they’d tried to stop him, and he’d taken Rex’s body from the biobed it was laid out on. No one had dared to approach him, no one had dared to try and find him, not after Ridge had come stumbling back from his self-imposed mission to speak to the General missing an arm and dragging Vaughn’s body with him. The only reason why the Sergeant hadn’t bled out was because of the cauterized stump that ended above where his elbow used to be.

A lightsaber wound.

Then the shinies started going missing, their bodies found strewn about the halls like broken toys with no sign of wounds that could have caused their deaths. Some of them were found with chunks of flesh or entire limbs missing, some even disemboweled , like they had been eaten . The men were scared, and Fives didn’t blame them.

Stuck in dead space, they couldn’t call for help, couldn’t update anyone on their situation or the bodies that were steadily piling up. The Resolute’s power was low to conserve energy the longer they floated without orders or leadership, the halls dark and lit only by red emergency lights, and it didn’t help with the smothering atmosphere of fear that had fallen over the troopers. Moral was lower than it had ever been, even during campaigns like Umbara. With Rex dead and General Skywalker AWOL with his body, and something roaming the halls and killing men, Fives had tried to keep everyone together, to keep spirits up, but everything had only gotten worse.

General Skywalker had come out of his isolation, and the thing wearing Rex’s body had followed, wearing clean, undamaged armour like nothing had happened, but Fives had known immediately that something was wrong. The thing’s skin is greyed out with death, lips blue from the lack of oxygen even as it breathes, and veins under paper-thin skin growing darker as time continues to pass. The premature lines of stress that had been etched into Rex’s skin were gone, replaced with an artificially smooth and passive expression that his brother never would have worn. It doesn’t eat, it doesn’t sleep, and it doesn’t speak, all it does is follow General Skywalker like a droid, uncaring of the world around it and without a spark of life in its eyes. The smell that clings to it is stomach-churning; the stink of a rotting body that couldn’t be smothered had sunk into every crevice on the ship, and yet General Skywalker doesn’t seem to notice. Doesn’t seem to care that it’s wrong . He just continues to openly touch and kiss the thing in a perverted parody of how he used to treat Rex in the secret of their bunk, uncaring of the terrified troopers around him.

Troopers had stopped going missing, for now, but still no one dares to speak too loud, to draw attention to themselves, in fear that it would break the tense atmosphere of the star destroyed and make General Skywalker snap again. No one wants the Jedi to look at him with his yellow eyes, or risk breaking whatever spell that keeps the thing wearing their brother’s face enthralled with the General. They fear what it would do to them.

Next to him, Tup shakes with mute fear as General Skywalker and the thing sweep past them and onto the bridge, bringing with them an icy chill and the sickening smell of rot, and for a moment, Fives can swear he can see ice crystals on his breath and frost crawling over his armour as his energy suddenly flags. He needs to lock his knees to stop himself from collapsing completely.

They watch, silent and still, as General Skywalker steps up to the holotable, and the Jedi turns to the thing wearing Rex’s face and body like an ill-fitting suit of armour.

“I’ll fix this, my warrior.” General Skywalker promises, expression intense in the way that has fear crawling up Fives’ chest. He reaches forward, gripping the back of the thing’s neck, and drawing it closer. It stays passive and blank as the Jedi presses their lips together with eerie tenderness, cradling the thing’s face like it's something precious, and Fives mentally rails against the sight.

Rex would have never been comfortable with this public display of affection, and seeing General Skywalker, the man his brother had fallen in love with despite the problems their relationship faced, disregard this to kiss his brother’s rotting body in an insult against the dead Captain. Fives wishes desperately to step forward, to put a bolt in the thing’s head and finally give Rex peace , but Tup’s shaking hand on his belt stops him and pulls him back into line and the troopers around him shake their heads frantically.

They’re all afraid. Afraid of their General, of the thing that used to be their Captain, and staying unnoticed means staying safe.

“I’ll fix this.” Skywalker repeats, voice reverently hushed. “I’ll bring you back, I promise, Rex.” His yellow eyes are manic-bright, staring into the thing’s empty face and tracing his thumb under its matching sickly eyes, so far from Rex’s warm brown that it makes Fives shy back in animal fear. “We’ll be together again, a family - like you always dreamed of.” He kisses the thing again, fast and full of passion, before he turns away, stepping up to the holotable and dropping to his knees in a grovelling bow as a call connects, and a figure in heavy robes appears, a deep hood pulled over their face. “Master.” Skywalker greets, and Fives shares a nervous, fearful, look with a pale-faced Tup as the figure smiles, slow and pleased.

“Rise, Darth Vader.”

A birthday gift for @padawantam

[a-lil-perspective]

The Bad Batch and Axe/Knife Throwing

A/N: Uhhh I’ve had this in my drafts for weeks. I don’t actually know what this is. Just funky bro stuff that spiraled into like 2.5k words because I just don’t know when to stop, do I. The working title for this was “Bullshit and Bullseyes”, if that puts anything into perspective (I nearly made that the actual title haha). Anyway. Enjoy?

Technically, no; they didn’t need to spend credits on booking the space. By all accounts, there’s nothing wrong with chucking weapons against the Havoc Marauder’s hull. You wouldn’t believe the damage it’s withstood over the years.

Nevertheless, its walls had been taking quite the beating lately (honestly how many times has it actually been said “no weapons in the house”?) and quite frankly, Hunter was getting sick of grousing about the fact.

But when you’ve been cooped up in the vacuum of space for days as the Bad Batch has, you become acutely aware of the perpetual sensation of losing your mind—and of the stagnant air beginning to fester.

Let’s put it this way: Intelligence work is not kind to four Super Commandos, who’d just as soon wrangle a herd of Gundarks than allow anymore strategic analysis to keep them huddled around a comm system for days on end with no intermission in sight. It can’t be stressed enough the way this work was far, far beneath them. They’d just as soon tell High Command to get on with the invasion already (where their skill sets actually applied) and that if they want Clone Force 99’s help, they had best find a better way to hold their attention, because “tapping into enemy comm channels” ain’t worth a damn.

But, until then: there were other things that would do the trick.

Back within the planet’s gravitational pull once again, the Bad Batch prioritized their short timeframe of respite by not actually participating in the act of respite at all, instead seeking out the nearest weapons range. It felt something like freedom upon discovery.

The axe throwing establishment was practically empty when they arrived, which was the driving force in their eagerness, having booked the last session of the night. More room to work.

And, no one to tell you you can’t bring your own arsenal.

Hunter removed the strap of his weighty knife bag from his shoulder and set it down as the boys settled in their designated lane. While Wrecker and Crosshair dove for the bag like deprived womp rats, Tech had more gracefully found a spot on the nearest bench and planted himself to it, tapping away at the little box atop his vambrace. Predictable.

“Don’t even give me that look, Hunter,” Tech didn’t even look up, already privy to the quizzical gaze while fixated on his slew of technology. “You knew good and well I would be taking notes and collecting data during this session for the purpose of enhancing our overall performance going forward.”

As if he hadn’t been taking an infinite amount of notes the past five days.

“How ‘bout you take some notes on how to have fun,” Crosshair mumbled through the toothpick he anchored to the corner of his lip (Hunter always felt nervous when he worked out or trained with that thing in, just waiting for the day he finally chokes). The sniper didn’t bother looking back at Tech as he rummaged through Hunter’s bag in search of knives he deemed fit. He grinned wickedly at a particular set of five, all of them airy and tapered and perfect for his nimble fingers to sidle around. They were similar in size, if only a few inches wider, to the darts he usually threw in his quarters. He considered them with a sleight of hand, quickly piecing together an accurate projection of air velocity and the weapons’ overall weight.

Crosshair would make his mark. He always did.

It further came as no surprise that the Sergeant excelled in his turns from the get-go. He wasted no time in nailing bullseye after bullseye with a variety of weapons big and small. It was comical, the way Tech would make sounds of marvel and adjust his recording lens accordingly when Hunter would nail a pair of axes with a backwards throw or something of dramatic flair.

And Wrecker, oh, Wrecker.

Let’s say his turn was cut rather short—as were the rest of his brothers—when his very first throw, bearing as much care a demolition expert could muster, drove straight through the target in its entirety and brought the entire structure down wall-to-board. Hunter shuddered, grimacing instinctively at the harsh clang of colliding metals and wood that ended in a timbering heap.

Wrecker merely flashed a sheepish smile.

Hunter bit back his frustrated sigh, but the one expelling behind him was unmistakable. He whirled around to find the sensation to be correct, and that the expression marring the Devaronian’s features was unsightly.

Great. The owner of the establishment.

“I’ll pay for that,” Hunter offered immediately, gesturing awkwardly to the ghastly pile of materials. It was an auto-pilot response, really; Hunter was used to cleaning up after his rowdy bunch by now.

“Got that right,” the Devaronian rumbled, cracking his brooding knuckles as a statement that seemed more mindless than anything; he must’ve realized it foolish to get into it with four Super Clones. He turned around and stalked off, but not before grumbling something about the Clones being “mindless rank weeds” and “no better than droids”.

Wrecker must not have heard thank the Maker, otherwise the entire building could’ve been brought down on their heads in nothing short of an emotional outburst. Crosshair simply threw a crude gesture to the Devaronian’s retreating backside. It was either that or the knife in his hand.

“Cross, put your finger down dammit, we’re trying not to cause trouble here,” Hunter hissed. “You really wanna piss off a Dev?”

“You really wanna piss off a Crosshair?” Wrecker interjected with a wicked chuckle, always at the ready to tango with Crosshair and trouble.

He had a point, though.

Crosshair made a deep scoffing noise in his chest and simply turned his attention back to the dilapidated target. The sniper with no fear. Or so he’d like everyone to believe.

“Sorry, Sarge,” Wrecker rubbed at the back of his thick neck, having gone back to anxiously surveying the damage.

“Let’s just switch lanes,” Hunter countered coolly, helping Tech gather up their weaponry and move over one. It’s not like the owner would let him (or his pocket) forget, so there was no use worrying about it.

With a fresh target and a fresh turn at the ready, Wrecker eagerly began to ask for a re-do with the axes he skewered with moments ago only to be let down—gently, of course. Hunter wasn’t a mean brother, for fierfek’s sake.

He felt a bit guilty over limiting Wrecker’s turns but honestly, what was he thinking, bringing them to a place like this? It’s too... normal for Commandos—whatever ‘normal’ is. They would’ve been better off back on the Marauder.

No they wouldn’t have.

Maybe that’s why Hunter willingly ventured out on a weekend evening in the Coruscanti Districts for that sense of normality for he and his brothers; as if it could actually be found in the bustle of city life and whatever resided within.

It’s not that he wanted them to fit in, per se—Hunter can speak for the four of them in that they’re secure in their abilities and standings. But it’s as if he wanted something... grounding. In the middle of a war. Certainly a foreign term to both soldiers and citizens alike.

Grounding. Something to give the boys a sense of fulfillment and a taste of youth, even if only for the night. No expectations, no methods. Just Serotonin and sibling rivalry. Fulfillment.

Wrecker was certainly feeling fulfilled over the knives he opted to throw instead, much lighter and more controlled than the axe—which was a shame, really; he was very good at them. You haven’t quite lived until you’ve seen Wrecker at full capacity in his brute strength. The axes were just an inkling of his potential. Despite the fact that the majority of knives completely disappeared in his wide expanse of palm, he could still stick them with deadly force. Tech especially made relevance of the fact, insisting he show Wrecker a recap of his feats later.

When he wasn’t recording and plugging in data for the other throwers, Tech went a few rounds with Hunter’s smallest knives: quick and sleek and agile, much like the goggled member himself. The preference of axe or knife was divvied between the group: axe’s were more Hunter and Wrecker’s thing while knives were more Tech and Crosshair’s.

It took a bit of encouragement for Tech to actually complete his turn, as he was more concerned with the preliminaries and technicalities instead of the actual throwing. He’d stand there for what felt like several minutes, considering and trying to incorporate the use of his tech until Crosshair—how dare he—cut through his concentration with a sharp demand to “Just. Throw.”

It was rather unfortunate that there was only one target available to four people wanting to use it simultaneously. It seemed the members of the elite Commando squad still hadn’t mastered the art of patiently waiting their turn.

Hunter couldn’t help but find the hilarity in that Tech managed to land several of the knives as ‘butt sticks’: handle side in. He chuckled to himself. Only Tech.

The engineer claimed the act was wholly intentional. Hunter thought his witty brother was just trying to excuse a simple over-rotation. Tech had the aptitude for speed under his belt, but sometimes he had trouble controlling his speed. But if you thought that hindered Tech’s ingenuity or prowess in the slightest, you were sorely mistaken.

It’s times like these Hunter felt that familiar swell of pride in his chest as he relish his brothers’ unique array of strengths, weaknesses, and opportunes. All of it played a monumental part. The Sergeant in him couldn’t ask for a more proficient squad. The brother in him couldn’t ask for more unique siblings.

In no time, all four men had each accumulated their own sheen of sweat, the byproduct of a solid hour’s workout—no, two hours (Hunter should know by the way he grudgingly dumped another handful of credits into the Devaronian’s on the hour), their allotment extended all because the bros refused to be done, reduced to acting like petulant children because of.

Speaking of petulant.

“Who’s in the lead now, Tech?” Crosshair asked through a lingering pant, breaking from his turn as he took a seat next to the human scoreboard. He accepted the cool rag Tech handed him with a curt nod and slung it over the back of his neck to soak up the sweat, rolling his toned shoulders and shaking away the thought of potentially having to break from the rifle tomorrow because of how much he overdid it with the knives. Sore shoulders made for shit shots.

Tech chewed his lip and shot a single, timid glance up to Cross, who suddenly realized that maybe the gifted rag rapidly warming behind his neck was actually just an act of grooming for the disappointing news to come.

Tech cleared his throat. “In the current overall standing, it appears that Wrecker takes the lead, with Hunter a very close second, me of course making the ranks, and you being last—”

“Aw hell no,” Crosshair yanked the rag off and threw it to his feet as he pulled the toothpick out from between his now grit teeth, jabbing it around the room in emphasis. “I’ve easily got the best aim around here, I ain’t the one who destroyed an entire target and I didn’t miss one damn time—”

“It is not about missing, Cross; there are many factors to consider in the overall performance,” Tech answered matter-of-factly, with maybe the slightest hint of sympathy (more like irritation) laced within.

“And that includes humility,” Hunter chimed in, crossing his arms.

Wrecker and his lack of knowledge on appropriate social cues left him cheering over his victory, and Hunter forced himself to swallow the smile tugging at his lips. Few things in life filled him as much as Wrecker’s youthful exuberance. It was infectious.

He gave a light shove to the solid mass of man. “That means you too, Wreck.”

“Bullshit...” Crosshair sulked, numbingly processing his loss. He found himself leaning into Tech’s supportive pat on the back, suddenly too tired to care about his dwindling dignity or even any of his prior winnings in the past. He’ll forever be consigned to his dangerous competitive streak and that’s that.

“You’re just a sore loser!” Wrecker was grinning wide again, all teeth and triumphant. Crosshair scowled further and yes, he was actually pouting up from his spot on the bench thank you very much. Blackmail him later.

“The only thing that’s gonna be sore is your ass when I shove my foot up it.”

“Hey.” Hunter’s cue to intervene. “Settle it down. We had a good run tonight, blew off some steam, got a nice workout and stretched the legs. Let’s head back home, yeah?”

Hunter received murmurs of agreement save for Crosshair, who responded with silence, which was his answer.

The Bad Batch gathered their things and headed out, with Hunter paying the owner for the property damage on the way (reaching up to smack Wrecker in the back of the head just for good measure), and the alien made no attempts at subtlety in his relief over the way the chaotic bunch were finally departing. Apparently, the Bad Batch showcased some of the more poorer examples of decent clientele.

Funny that one might assume ‘decent’ and ‘Coruscant’ actually go together.

As they emerged back into the flow of the planet-wide city, the near-midnight breeze quickly catching in all of the sweat spots, Wrecker stopped in his tracks, having been eyeing a dejected Crosshair on the way.

“Hunter?”

“Yeah, vod?”

A timid pause. “Can we get ice-cream? I think Cross here could use some. With sprinkles and a starcherry on top, just how he likes it.” Wrecker scooped up the lanky brother in question, who squawked in protest. “And a nice, squishy Wrecker hug.” He pet Crosshair’s head. “That always helps him feel much better about me winning.”

[gaythingliker69]

Not to Me

Inspiration

CW: descriptions of duelling, violence, mentioning of wounds

Read on AO3

Wolffe had been left in charge of the outpost, with a couple of squads at his disposal. As the squad he commanded moved through the outpost, more men turned up lifeless, necks broken or with wounds that went straight through their chests. Wounds he’d only ever seen inflicted by the Jedi. Then the power went out.

The lights on their helmets offered little help with cutting through the darkness, and he was running from memory to the generator room. Then he heard light footsteps to his right, and a snap. One of his men collapsed, and the hallway lit up with blue bolts. Nothing. No one.

Him and the two remaining men kept moving, until he heard the same light footsteps, this time behind him. He span around, only to see a helmet fall to the floor and his brother’s scream abruptly cut short. The man slumped over, but Wolffe couldn’t stop. Not to check on him, not to mourn. Then a choking on his left, cut short by a red saber appearing in the dark. Then nothing.

He changed course for the armoury. They wouldn’t have the base, he’d blow it sky high before he let the Seppies have it. As he entered the armoury he stopped. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

“Good evening, my dearest Commander, I’ve been expecting you.”

The voice was almost too harsh to be feminine. It felt like sandpaper in his ears, as if it hurt her to speak and she wished to share that pain in any small capacity she could. The voice made his blood run cold with fear. Then, she was lit up in a deep, red glow, her terrible smile covering her hairless features. Her eyes piercing through the sun, red light at the clone, like a predator does before the kill. Wolffe grabbed an electrostaff from the wall and tried desparately to remember the training all that time ago on Kamino.

She sprung forward, screeching with shrill hatred. Wolffe was forced back through the unlit corridors, blocking and parrying as best he could, but his size and strength advantage wasn’t proving much use here. But he knew this outpost, and used a turn round a sudden corner to knock her blade away.

Before he could take his opening, the assassin drew her second weapon, and pushed him back like the Jedi could. She called her disarmed weapon to her.

“Mistake.”

She launched herself at him, and Wolffe knew it was only a matter of time. The constant strikes were near impossible to block. There was more light in the corridor, but only from the cuts she was making in the walls. One of her strikes was so powerful, it knocked him back a few paces, and she landed a high kick, knocking his helmet off. Next, a hard kick in his midsection, doubling him over. She flipped over the top of him, and as Wolffe, now blinded tried to turn to face her. She struck diagonally downwards with her right saber, into his face. Into his eye.

Wolffe collapsed to the floor, screaming and clutching the right side of his face. His screams were cut short by a boot at his throat and a saber hovering above his other eye. He heard the sound of a conlink activating, and the harsh voice spoke again.

“Commander, send in the commando droids to secure the outpost. And send a transport - we can learn more about the Republic’s intentions here from CC-3636.”

—-

“General, we may have an issue at the outpost.”

Plo Koon looked up to see Sergeant Sinker jogging towards him. Though he couldn’t see the cline’s face, the concern was clear in his voice.

“What has happened, Sergeant?”

“Not sure sir. We’ve lost contact with outpost command. None of the men there are responding, not even the Commander. We’re not being jammed.”

The Kel Dor seemed to flinch slightly, and was silent for a second. Wolffe wasn’t responding. This was bad. Very bad. His concern was replaced by a new, steely determination. He would not lose his men, not Wolffe, not after all they’d been through.

“Abort the mission. We must relieve the outpost and rescue any survivors.”

They began the quick match back through the foliage to the outpost, Plo’s strides making it so his men struggled to keep pace. On reaching the base, he saw a gunship dropping off commando droids, and a shuttle which appeared to be leaving back to Separatist command. Plo thought of simply rushing the droids, but he stopped himself and breathed. Emotions were clouding his judgement. He must not fall prey to desperation, fear, or anger-

What if Wolffe was on that shuttle?

Plo flew forwards, cutting the head from two droids with a single cut. His men began raining bolts from the treeline, chipping away at the enemy numbers. Plo cut and swept them aside, easily dispatching more than half himself. He then stormed through the doors and through to the command centre. Four droids. He simply elevated them with the Force and crushed them.

“Was that the last of them, sir?”

Sinker sprinted through the door, panting slightly.

“Yes. Losses?”

“None, sir. But We found the Commander’s armour in the east hallway,” said Sinker, holding up Wolffe’s helmet as proof.

“There are no other men here. Stay here and make it look like the droids still have control.”

Plo turned to leave.

“General, where are you going? The other men are gone.”

Plo looked back at Sinker, his helmet now removed, head lowered in the acceptance of defeat. The Commander was on his way to a painful interrogation. They’d never get authorisation for a rescue in time. He was gone.

“Not to me, Sergeant.”

Sinker watched the general run to the landing platform, presumably to look for a ship the commandos hadn’t got to yet. He sighed heavily and sat down at the control terminal. He remembered the pod in Abregado. The Jedi had shown the same determination then, and it had been ok. Sinker could only trust his general’s instincts were correct again.

—-

Wolffe came to with his arms chained above his head. He wore no armour - only his body glove, which offered scant protection from the cold that gripped the shuttle cabin. He strained as he heard the hum of an electrostaff but saw nothing. A commando droid emerged from his right hand side. And then he remembered. He was blind. Wounded. Maimed. He had failed.

“Sir, the prisoner is awake.”

The commando’s deep and hollow tones summoned an awkward and boxlike frame into the light of the cockpit door. Blue screens piercing through the dark at the clone. The tactical droid advanced slowly, and, even without an exoression, emitted a smug air of superiority.

“CC-3636, I will ask you this once. What are the intentions of the Republic on this world, and who are the oersonnel involved?”

The droid’svoice was a low pitched electronic warble, cutting through Wolffe’s ears.

“Wolffe,” he spat.

“So you refuse to answer, 3636?”

“You’ll regret this. They’ll come for me and make you suffer for what you’ll do to me.”

“I think not. You are only a clone, no matter how skilled. Unit 47, continue to stand guard.”

The tactical droid returned to the cockpit and shut the door. Was the droid telling the truth? Would they leave him? He shut his eye, and saw an escape pod window coloured deep red. He felt the pressure slowly leaving the only thing keeping him alive. Abregado. Over the coms, he heard another crew sucked to their deaths. He knew the same fate awaited them.

“…just clones… supposed to be expendable.”

“Not to me.”

He opened his eye. General Plo would come back for him. He’d cared then, and he’d care now. He just had to hold out long enough to see the masked Jedi again. He scowled and gritted his teeth. He suspected this could be a long few hours as they scrambled crew.

He took further stock of his surroundings, realising there were five B1s as well as the commando. One in each corner of the canon, and one stood opposite him. The commando was stood in his blind spot, at his right shoulder.

As he drifted toward the edges of consciousness, he heard another engine. A Y-wing engine. The tactical droid opened the door, showing no signs of nerves that they’d come for the prisoner already. But how could a tactical droid show nerves?

“That fighter is carrying a Jedi. Terminate the prisoner.”

He heard a thump on the roof. The commando adjusted the electrostaff to lethal voltage. Wolffe bowed his head. The room suddenly lost the little heat it held and wind whistled through a rapidly forming circle in the ceiling. A blue lightsaber was cutting through. The circle fell through and the Kel Dor dropped in, engaging the commando. He quickly cut the droid apart at the waist then neck, and turned his attention to dispatching the five B1s.

The Jedi held his saber to the droid’s neck. The droid, seemingly forgetting it was so awkward and unsuited to combat, tried to pick up a blaster dropped by one of the B1s, only to be beheaded. The Jedi then beheaded both pilots with one cut. It had hardly been fifteen seconds since he cut through. He quickly typed in a new deatinstion, and freed Wolffe from his bonds.

Wolffe let his arms flip to his sides, exhausted. The Jedi knelt down in front of his commander.

“General, I-“

“Save your breath commander. You may rest.”

And Wolffe simply allowed himself to drift.

—-

Wolffe had fleeting memories of the next few hours. Being lifted into the copilot’s chair, being stretchered off the ship, a bacta tank, and being sat here, on a gurney, with a medical droid looking at his eye for what felt like the thousandth time. The droid placed a new bandage, another layer of bacta patches, over the right side of his face.

“Rest, and avoid touching the afflicted area,” was the droids advice. It was the thousandth time he’d heard that, too.

He allowed it to waddle away, hearing the doors open and shut. He heard new, heavier footsteps. One of the boys come for a look at the famed gruesome saber wound, most likely. He wondered if he could muster the typical commander’s bark in this state. He felt a gloved hand on his shoulder, and realised the figure was slightly taller than one of his brothers.

“General?”

There was silence for a moment, as if the Jedi was waiting for him to speak.

“Didn’t… didn’t tell ‘em anything sir. I didn’t compromise the mission. I did my duty, I’d never betray the Republic. No matter the cost, never sir. But I…”

The clone trailed off and looked down across his chest and arms, littered with scars and cuts. Some new, some nearly as old as Wolffe himself.

“You may speak freely, Commander.”

“I know you care for the lives of your men, sir, I just…”

Wolffe paused again. A single year dropping from his eye. He turned away from the Jedi, who put a hand back on the clone’s shoulder. Wolffe collapsed into the Jedi and cried. Sobs racking his muscular frame as he reeled at the impossibility of it all.

“Not to me, son. Never to me.”

[oceanera12]

Fives has the Force (AU edition)

“Ooooh... meteor shower.”  - Hevy (Rookies)

Part 2: Rookies

The Rishi Outpost is… boring. Which is good for Fives. This is something everyone agrees on. Away from Jedi, away from the battles, away from other clones. Fives is hidden away, safe and sound. As such, no one complains, despite how boring and dull the routine becomes.

It also gives Fives time to read through and practice the notes General Shaak Ti left him.

Domino takes turns helping Fives with the exercises. Most of them involve just sitting on the ground and clearing his mind. But even if clones are trained to sit and wait (ambushes, scouting, etc.) just sitting on the ground, eyes closed, and focusing on breathing is so boring.

Of all the Dominos, Droidbait is the one most willing to sit and do nothing. Actually, he grows to enjoy the “meditation” things.

After a week on Rishi, Fives wakes up in a cold sweat, holding in screams and tears. He wakes up Echo in a panic and the next hour is Fives shakily explaining he saw Droidbait get shot, Cutup get eaten by a Rishi eel, and then the Rishi station blow up in a massive fireball with a bunch of droids and Hevy inside.

Echo’s pretty sure it was a nightmare at first. Obviously not fun to watch and concerning. Then Fives has it again a few nights later. And then again. And then he snaps out of one of his “meditation sessions” with it. And now Echo is researching Jedi abilities again and finds something called “Force visions” and he’s just “WELP. This might be a problem.”

Course they can’t tell their commanding officer about it because “clone’s don’t have the Force.”

Also, they don’t know exactly what’s going to happen or how to really prevent it. Or if they even can prevent it. But Force curse it all, they’re going to try and at least be prepared to fight or something!

So Domino is now doing a lot of target practice during their freetime, looking at battle tactics and strategies of invasions of the base, and familiarizing themselves with all weapons and ammunition on the base.

Cutup and Echo team up on researching the Rishi eel’s and also other giant animals looking for ways to kill them. 

Hevy and Fives practice hand to hand almost constantly, getting tips from Sergeant O’Niner who has never seen shinies throw themselves into this much training on a station outpost.

Droidbait throws himself into medical procedures and practices. Some of them he learned on Kamino, but most of them new. 

And unbeknown to all, Fives is trying to lift things with his head. Or at least nudge them. Tripping a droid or edging a grenade closer to it’s target seemed like a good idea. At first, he practiced alone, in his barracks, using a training ball clones used for hand-eye coordination practice. But when he started making progress, he tried tripping anyone who walked by him in the commander center. Sometimes, it worked. But mostly, it didn’t.

It was a month, maybe two later.

Meteor showers happen often on Rishi. About once a week. So Fives doesn’t know exactly why he was on edge. It didn’t help when the sentry didn’t respond to the Sergeant. Droidbait and Nub are ordered to find him.

Out of pure instinct, Fives grabs two blasters and tosses them to Droidbait and Nubs. Nubs looks confused but takes the blaster anyway. Droidbait is immediately on guard.

“DROIDS!”

Twelve Commando Droids vs seven clones (and pretty much zero battle experience on the latter’s account)

Nub goes down almost instantly. Droidbait was able to back up and get towards the command center before getting shot through his arm. He was grabbed by Sergeant O’Niner who threw him back into the room and to cover.

The rest of Domino is able to take out four of the Commando droids before the Sergeant goes down. With that, it’s just Domino. Cutup manages to close the main doors and hardwire it shut. Hevy and Echo carry Droidbait behind the control panel to better cover while Fives readies the emergency supplies the squad had hidden around the base (aka, the backpack of droid poppers and thermal detonators in the ventilation shaft, along with a Z-6 and sniper rifle)

Echo starts working on cutting the all clear signal just as the droids break through doors. Two Commando’s go down instantly from Hevy’s Z-6. The other six began to press in. One manages to get through but is heavily damaged and taken down quickly by Cutup and Droidbait, both covering Echo. The next follow suit. Two more are taken out by droid poppers and some well placed shots.

Three droids remain and Hevy’s gun overheats. Cutup and Fives take the fight to the droids, hand to hand. Droidbait takes a few pot shots here and there. Echo hurries to turn the all clear signal off. 

Everything happens at once.

Droid #1 grabs Fives and throws him clear across the room with a very hard punch. Then the droid pins Cutup to the ground, his arm is snapped in two and then given a few broken ribs for good measure, before the droid reaches for his gun. Droid #2 yanks Echo away from the control panel and throws him across the room. Echo hits his head and falls unconscious. Then Droid #2 finds Droidbait, lifts him by the neck and begins to slowly choke him to death. Droid #3 shoots Hevy through his arm twice, then through the torso, sending the clone to his knees, then to the ground. 

Pushing himself to his feet, Fives finds himself looking at a scene of certain death. He screams, “NO!” and reaches out his hands in desperation, like he can stop it. A shockwave spreads from Fives and it throws all the droids back (think Ezra in Rebels when Zeb is almost killed by Kallus).

Cutup manages to grab his gun in the confusion and shoot his would be killer. Droidbait ignores the pain in his injured arm, grabbing the commando’s head and ripping it from the body with full force (while screaming in pain). Fives is too shocked to recover from what just happened to help Hevy but Echo wakes up just in time to shoot the stupid thing.

No more droids left.

Echo heads to the medbay, leaving Fives to position the three injured Dominos and get Cutup to stay down. The two treat their brothers to the best of their knowledge (Droidbaits the best medic, but he isn’t exactly able to help other than give some friendly advice or things he’d read). 

None of the Domino’s mentions Five’s Force push. Echo doesn’t even ask before he shoots the video surveillance module, effectively destroying all video evidence of the attack.

The radio was destroyed in the fire-fight and the “all-clear signal” button had also been destroyed, leaving it hard-wired at the moment.

Echo and Fives grab a blaster for each injured man, then take the Z-6, sniper rifle, and a few other goodies for themselves. Then they face the door and wait for whatever comes next.

With the radio down, no one receives the call from the inspection team.

When Commander Cody and Captain Rex find a dead deck officer, a few downed Commando droids, and a cut hole in the blast doors, they’re ready for anything. So it’s a bit of surprise to see five shinies (three of them lying on the hard ground, injured but alive, and two of them holding blasters ready).

General’s Skywalker and Kenobi is alerted immediately through the inspection ship’s radio and Rishi is secured in a matter of minutes.

Domino is taken aboard the Resolution, all five being placed in the medbay, despite some protests. Some bacta and rest for a few days fixes the crew right up, ready, and willing, to return to Rishi base. 

Except for one problem:

Rex had asked Echo and Fives to explain what had happened on Rishi. Echo had done most of the talking (as Fives was a terrible liar) and even without the Force visions or powers, the tale had impressed the Captain. 

He had told General Skywalker, who had also been impressed.

Which is how Domino squad finds they are now assigned to the 501st Legion.

Under a famous Jedi General

Around a lot more clones (which translates to eyes and ears)

And in more dangerous situations (in which Fives may or may not do something stupid, whether on accident or on purpose)

...

...

...

None of them can sleep that night.

((Random note that I noticed rewatching Rookies recently: Did anyone else notice when Nub and Droidbait went to look for the deck officer THEY DIDN’T TAKE A BLASTER? Seriously, they just walk down the stairs, come face to face with the Commando droids and yell “DROIDS!” as loud as they can and then they both get shot and die. I mean, I get nothing is supposed to happen on Rishi and they’re all relaxed but TAKE YOUR KRIFFING BLASTER, DANG IT. THEN YOU MIGHT HAVE LIVED LONGER.))

Part 3: https://oceanera12.tumblr.com/post/615352813810302976/fives-has-the-force-au-edition