#clone medic trick

[the-bi-space-ace]

A snippet from what I'm working on today:

“Were you good?” Trick asked with a playful tilt of his head. Crosshair shot a menacing glare at the medic plaguing him. “Yes.” The folded arms really sold it. There was only one way to confirm that. Trick turned to Echo who was enjoying the grumpiness far too much. “Was he good?” Echo made a big show of tapping his scomp against his chin, humming in thought. Crosshair grumbled, already pissed from having to sit still and rest while everyone else got their energy out, muttering something under his breath that Echo wouldn't be repeating. Echo smirked, proud of his momentary win. “Yes. He was good. I’d even say well behaved. I was in awe.”

I love them, your honor.

[dystopicjumpsuit]

Martyrs and Kings - Chapter 7

The Instigating Canoodler

Rating: Mature/18+/Minors DNI

Pairing: Kix x archivist/historian OFC

Wordcount: 3.9k

A/N: OH MY GOD IT'S HAPPENING.

Warnings: a semantic debate; fluff; cuddling; SMUT; slight praise kink; dirty talk; Kix has tricks

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Maree felt light-headed. The man hadn’t even kissed her, for kriff’s sake, and she was already swooning. The way he held her head so gently in his hands, as if she were something delicate and priceless—it left her breathless. When she pulled him in close, she thought he was finally, finally going to kiss her, and when he touched his forehead to hers, it was somehow even more intimate than a kiss.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” he whispered.

Her heart fluttered.

“What is it?” she asked.

He took a deep breath.

“Attention, New Republic citizens,” a loud robotic voice interrupted. “The Hanging Gardens closed to visitors forty-two minutes and thirty-eight seconds ago. Please proceed to the nearest exit. The Republic City League of Master Gardeners thanks you for your patronage.”

Kix and Maree squinted against the harsh spotlight the security droid shined on them. 

“Sorry,” Kix muttered, taking Maree’s hand and beating a hasty retreat.

The droid followed several paces behind, clearly suspecting that two such shameless reprobates were planning to flee down some shadowy path if they were not escorted off the premises. Maree stifled her laughter as Kix quickened his pace, but once they were outside the garden, she burst into helpless giggles.

“I can’t believe we got caught by a security droid,” she laughed. “Canoodling like hormonal teenagers.”

“I do not canoodle,” Kix said with mock dignity.

“I think you were canoodling,” Maree teased.

“I believe it takes two to canoodle,” Kix replied. “If I’m a canoodler, what does that make you?”

“The canoodlee,” she said promptly.

Kix raised an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t canoodlee imply a passive role? I would say you were an active participant.”

 “Yes, but you were the instigating canoodler,” Maree said. “I was just an accessory to the canoodle.”

“The word ‘canoodle’ has lost all meaning at this point,” Kix said, “but you were definitely canoodling.”

“Co-canoodling,” Maree corrected him.

“Co-canoodling is still canoodling, so I’ll take that as an admission of guilt. Your honor, I rest my case,” Kix said.

By this point, they had reached the speeder bike, and Maree was nearly doubled over with laughter. It was late, and the crowded walkways had emptied significantly, but there were still a few stragglers milling about, and some passersby glanced curiously at Kix and Maree. She forced herself to regain some measure of dignity, and once she did, she realized that the temperature had dropped significantly since they entered the climate-controlled garden. Despite the lateness of the hour, the traffic in the skylane was as busy as ever, and the wind from the passing speeders chilled her. She shivered a little and eyed the speeder bike with trepidation. It was going to be a very cold ride.

“I should probably get you home,” Kix said. “Do you have to work tomorrow?”

“I do,” she said regretfully. “I have a few things I need to take care of before I head to Coruscant.”

Kix nodded in understanding.

“I should know tomorrow when that trip will happen,” she added. “I’ll comm you as soon as I find out so you can make your travel arrangements. There are several nice hotels near the Archive. I can have Teejay send you a list, if you’d like.”

“No, thank you,” he said. “I’ve spent quite a bit of time on Coruscant. I know my way around. Besides, I’m heading there in the morning.”

“Oh,” Maree said. “In that case, I’ll just let you know when to meet me at the Archive.”

“That works,” Kix replied.

She felt a little foolish and, if she were honest with herself, disappointed. She had assumed he would be staying on Hosnian Prime, and she had held onto a tiny, secret hope that she would have another opportunity to spend more time with him outside of their research. She thought with sudden, wrenching mortification that perhaps she had misinterpreted his dinner invitation, and he hadn’t viewed the evening as a date at all.

“It’s pretty chilly out here,” Kix said. “Why don’t you wear my jacket on the ride home?”

Maree shook her head. “You’ll freeze. Maybe I should just get a taxi.”

“I’ll be fine,” he said. 

Kix removed his jacket and helped Maree into it. It was wonderfully warm, and it smelled like him, and as he straightened it across her shoulders and zipped it closed, she knew she was being ridiculous. He had made his interest clear enough in the garden. A thought occurred to her.

“Earlier in the garden, before the droid kicked us out, you said you needed to tell me something,” she said.

He hesitated.

“It was nothing important,” he said. 

“It seemed like it might be important,” she prodded.

“I’ll tell you some other time,” he said, holding out his hand to help her onto the speeder bike.

He settled in front of her, and she leaned against him as they zoomed out to join the traffic in the skylane. Even with Kix’s jacket wrapped around her, the wind chilled Maree to the bone, and she could not imagine how cold Kix must be. She wrapped her arms more snugly around his strong body, trying to impart as much of her heat to him as she could.

“I bet you wish we’d gotten that taxi now,” she called over the wind.

He dropped a hand briefly to her thigh and gave it a quick squeeze before resuming his grip on the handlebars.

“I can think of a few things we could do in a taxi,” he said over his shoulder.

Maree laughed and scooted closer to him until she was glued to his back.

“On the other hand, the speeder bike does have its perks,” he said.

Luckily, the trip from the garden to Maree’s building was relatively brief, and before long, she was tugging Kix inside her flat to get warmed up.

“I’ll make some tea,” she said as she switched on the fireplace. “Make yourself at home.”

Kix tugged off his boots by the front door and looked curiously around Maree’s flat. Once again, he felt a sting of doubt, wondering what he could possibly offer to compete with her lifestyle. Her building was in a prosperous neighborhood, and he suspected that her New Republic salary must be even more generous than he’d guessed for her to afford the flat. Much like her office, it was comfortable, tidy, and decorated with an eclectic mix of original artwork. When he crossed to the large bank of windows opposite the front door, he sucked in his breath.

“That’s quite the view,” he said.

“That’s what sold me on this flat,” she said, handing him a steaming mug of tea as she joined him by the windows.

Her flat was on one of the upper levels of the building, and they could see for countless kilometers. The dazzling, innumerable lights of Republic City were reflected on the twinkling surface of the western ocean.

“I didn’t realize you were so close to the sea here,” he said.

“It’s just an inlet,” she said, “but I still love it. There’s a beautiful park along the shore. You should visit it if you ever come back to Hosnian Prime.”

“Does it have security droids?” he asked suspiciously.

She laughed. “It’s the galactic capital. Everywhere has security droids in Republic City.”

“So the Outer Rim does have some advantages over the Core after all,” he said.

“It absolutely does,” she agreed. “For one thing, I can’t remember the last time I saw the stars from a planet’s surface. Too much light pollution. It’s one of the things I miss most about the Outer Rim.”

“Do the city lights not make up for it?” he asked curiously.

“Not even close. My current view, though, is immaculate.” She watched him with open admiration.

“I haven’t heard a pickup line like that since 79’s,” he laughed.

“What is 79’s?” she asked, instantly diverted.

“Just a bar I used to go to,” he said.

“If you are implying that I am making a pass at you like some drunken floozy,” she said severely, “you are absolutely correct.”

“Dr. Finnall, I am shocked,” Kix said with a grin. “A buttoned-up academic like you?”

“Buttoned-up academics party the hardest,” she said. “All that repression is just to cover up our true depravity.”

“Well, you were caught in the act of committing public indecency tonight,” he said gravely.

“Canoodling is not indecent!” she exclaimed indignantly. “And it was barely public.”

“Tell that to the security droid,” he said. “That thing is probably going to have to purge its memory banks.”

“Bold words from the instigating canoodler,” she teased.

Her eyes crinkled with laughter, and her wide smile was more than Kix could resist. She made him feel alive again. He had almost forgotten what joy felt like in the past year. There was something sharp and painful that lived inside him, but when he was with her, basking in her warmth, he felt it crack and begin to crumble. He could almost recognize himself again.

“Speaking of canoodling,” he said, “this tea is nice, but how would you feel about joining me on the sofa?”

“I think that sounds like an excellent idea,” she said with a twinkle. “For warmth, of course.”

“Oh, of course,” he said.

Maree snagged a throw blanket and settled it over them as she curled up against him on the sofa. She dropped her head onto his shoulder happily.

“Your shoulder is just as comfortable as I remember it being,” she said.

“I’m glad to hear it holds up to repeated testing,” he replied as he leaned his head to rest on the top of hers.

“Replication is the soul of the scientific method,” she said.

“So we’re cuddling for warmth and for science.”

He could feel her smile against his shoulder as she replied, “Precisely. We are heroes, advancing the causes of knowledge and coziness.”

“Pioneers in both fields, in fact,” he agreed.

“I’ll contact the New Republic in the morning and let them know where to deliver our medals.”

Kix chuckled quietly, and they both lapsed into congenial silence, staring into the flickering holographic flames of her fireplace. Maree picked up one of his hands and began tracing her fingers softly up and down his forearm in a hypnotically relaxing pattern. Gradually, his chilled skin began to warm under her touch, until he felt as though he were enveloped in a blissful cocoon. He felt his eyes growing heavy, and it occurred to him that he should return to his hotel before he fell asleep. Truthfully, he didn’t want to leave. He could not remember the last time he had felt such a sense of peace and safety.

Almost unconsciously, he pressed a gentle kiss into her hair. Her fingers paused for the briefest second and then resumed their progress. She rotated her head to give him access to her face, and he kissed her again, this time on her forehead, and again, on her temple, and again and again, tracing a path down the side of her face until he reached the corner of her bewitching mouth. At some point, she had abandoned the pattern she was tracing on his forearm and slid her hand up to clutch his bicep.

“Kix,” she whispered, her lips brushing against his.

It was the softest, sweetest kiss he had ever imagined or experienced, yet his chest ached with the intensity of it. He stroked his thumb across her cheek, then tilted his head to align his lips with hers. He kissed her again, feather-light, barely applying any pressure. She sighed and leaned into the kiss, and he felt the delicate brush of her tongue against his lips. He opened to give her more access, and she grazed her teeth gently on his lower lip. A jolt of arousal shot through him, and he rumbled deep in his chest. He slid his hand around the back of her head as he responded, licking the tip of his tongue against hers. She hummed with pleasure. He drifted in the sensations of her—her taste, her softness, her scent.

They came apart slowly, lingering, savoring. They rested their foreheads against each other, sharing the same air.

“Will you stay?” she asked quietly.

Kix nodded. In that moment, he would have stayed forever if she had asked him.

Maree moved to straddle his lap. She kissed across his face, lingering on his left temple.

“What does this mean?” she asked, stroking the tattooed letters at the edge of his hairline.

“Nothing important,” he lied. “I got it a long time ago. I was a different person then.”

She didn’t press him for more details, merely kissed him again and massaged her fingers through his hair, starting from the nape of his neck and working up the back of his head. The sensation was gloriously relaxing, and it sent tingles of pleasure down his spine. Kix groaned and leaned his head back to rest in her hands. She took the opportunity to kiss along his exposed neck. Her breath was warm against his skin, her lips plush and soft. He gasped and clutched her waist when her teeth closed softly on his earlobe.

“Like that?” she murmured.

“Kriff, yes,” he said, as she followed the gentle bite with a soothing kiss. He stroked her hands up her back, tugging a bit at the fabric of her blouse. “How do I take this off?”

“There’s an autofastener at the back of the neck,” she said. “Just press the button.”

He found the clasp and pressed it. The back fell open, and Maree raised her arms as Kix slipped the top off over her head. She was naked underneath. Kix sucked in a breath, leaning back to admire all her smooth skin and lush curves and glorious breasts. 

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he said, awed. 

His hand drifted unconsciously toward her breast, then pulled back uncertainly. He looked up into her eyes and saw only desire reflected back at him. 

“Touch me, Kix,” she whispered. “Please.”

It was all he needed. He surged forward, wrapping one arm tightly around her back as he buried his face against her body, kissing and sucking and biting, cupping and squeezing one breast in his other hand. He was hard as beskar, and he lifted his hips to grind his erection against her. She gasped raggedly and shifted to get better access to his cock. She twined her fingers through his hair again, and the gentle tugging felt incredible.

“Yes, fuck, right there, don’t stop, just like that,” she chanted.

“Your tits are amazing,” he said, as he sucked her nipple into his mouth and scraped his teeth across it.

She choked. “Harder.”

He gently pinched her other nipple with his fingers, and then slid his hand down her body, inside her trousers, to stroke her clitoris. Just as he did, he bit down on her nipple. She let out a guttural moan. His fingers glided easily over her clit to tease her entrance.

“Kriff, you are soaking wet,” he growled.

He wrapped both arms around her and then flipped them over so she was lying on her back on the sofa. He tugged off her pants in one sure motion and then dropped to his knees between her thighs.

“Fuck me,” he said, his eyes riveted to her pussy.

“That’s the idea,” she replied with a cheeky grin.

“Look how pretty you are,” he said, stroking her reverently. “Do you taste as delicious as you look?”

She didn’t reply, only locked her gaze onto him, breathing hard. He took a moment to appreciate the way her tits rose and fell with every breath. He dropped his head to kiss and lick his way up the impossibly soft skin of her thigh, agonizingly slowly, until at last he reached her lovely, silky little cunt and slid his tongue into her without hesitation. She cried out and nearly levitated off the sofa, seizing his head in her hands as her thighs tightened around him. She tasted incredible, and he lost himself in her. He licked and sucked, and when she gasped, “More,” he slid his finger inside her, stroking against the front of her vagina as he circled her clit with his tongue. 

“That feels incredible,” she gasped. “Don’t stop, Kix, please don’t stop. You are amazing.”

Pleasure washed through him as she moaned and whispered encouragement and praise. He pressed his other hand on her lower belly and intensified the pressure of his tongue, until she convulsed around him. She came with the sweetest cries, and Kix nearly followed her then and there. He guided her through her orgasm, softening his tongue as she came down, gentling his movements until she laid a steadying hand on his wrist.

“Good?” he asked.

She nodded and sat up. “Better than good. Who taught you that? I need to send her a thank-you note.”

He blushed. “I was a medic, after all. I studied anatomy.”

“You must have been a star pupil,” she said. “Your turn. Bedroom?”

He hesitated. “I have an implant that prevents infections, but I didn’t bring any condoms.”

“You should have more confidence in your game,” she said. “Besides, I have the full-spectrum implant. No infections or surprise babies.”

“In that case, lead the way,” he said.

He followed her down the hall, admiring her ass as he undressed, leaving a trail of discarded clothing in his wake. When they reached the bedroom, Maree turned to ogle him. 

“Damn, we should have done this after the gala,” she said. “So many wasted opportunities. I could have been enjoying this view all week.”

“We’ll just have to make up for lost time,” he said.

“If you insist.” She led him to the bed and pressed against his shoulders until he lay on his back, then crawled seductively between his legs. She stared appreciatively at his cock and licked her lips, catching her lower lip between her teeth. Her hand slipped around him loosely, and she trailed her thumb down the underside from tip to base. She had small, delicate hands, and she couldn’t quite reach to close her fist around his penis. 

“Is this what you want?” she asked.

“Yes,” he rasped.

“You want me to play with your gorgeous, rock-hard cock?” she asked.

He nodded, and she began to stroke up and down with excruciating slowness. She caressed his balls, and he groaned.

“Did you like that?” she asked.

He nodded again.

“Use your words, love. Do you like it when I play with your balls?”

“Yes, kriff, I love it,” he said.

“That’s my good boy.” He sucked in a breath at her words.

She tightened her grip on his shaft, dragging her finger through the bead of fluid that collected at the tip and massaging it over his frenulum. Then she drew her finger to her mouth and licked the remainder with a blissful expression. Kix bit back a whimper.

“You taste so good,” she said. “Do you want me to lick the rest of it off you?”

“Please, gods, yes,” he gasped.

With a wicked little smile, she leaned forward and wrapped her tongue around his tip. She hummed a pleased sound and swirled around him, taking his cock deeper into her mouth, working with languid strokes as she savored him. Her mouth was warm and wet and impossibly soft, and Kix was so fucking close he wasn’t sure how long he could hold out. 

“I— I want—” he stuttered.

She released him from her mouth and began to pump his cock with her fist again. She tightened her grip, and with the lubrication from her mouth, the friction was maddening. His chest heaved with the effort of controlling himself.

“What do you want, love? Let me take care of you,” she said.

She licked up the inside of his thigh and then sucked one of his balls gently into her mouth. Kix let out a sharp cry as his hips jerked up off the bed.

“Fuck!” he shouted.

“Good fuck or bad fuck?” she asked.

“Good fuck, definitely good fuck,” he gasped.

She made a happy sound and repeated the action with his other testicle. His legs spasmed.

“Shit, Maree, wait!” he exclaimed.

She released him with a gentle suck and gave him a soothing lick.

“What’s wrong, darling?” she asked.

“If you keep doing that, I’m not going to last,” he said.

“I know,” she said with a hint of smugness.

He groaned, pressing his palms over his eyes.

“What is it, sweet boy?” she asked. “Don’t be shy. Tell me what you need.”

“I want to fuck you,” he said at last. “Please. I need to be inside you.”

She gave his cock one final, thorough lick and dropped a light kiss on the tip, then crawled up to straddle him.

“Like this?” she asked.

“Please yes, fuck yes,” he said, thrusting up to seek her warmth.

“Easy, love,” she said, bracing her hands on his shoulders and pressing him into the mattress. 

She slid herself up and down his shaft a few times. She was slick with arousal, and when she lined him up with her entrance, he slipped into her effortlessly. She sank down around him with a gasp, and his mind went blank. She rolled her hips, taking him deeper into her tight, wet heat.

“Oh, Kix, you feel amazing,” she whispered. “Even better than I imagined.”

Kix groaned, long and low. He could listen to her praise him all night long. She began to move in a smooth rhythm that made her breasts sway and bounce enticingly over him. With her hands still braced on his shoulders for leverage, she found an angle that was so deep that he felt as though their entire bodies were fused together. He reached up to cup her breasts, rolling her nipples until they were tight and stiff.

“Yes, just like that,” she said. “Don’t stop, keep doing that.”

He thrust into her as she rode him. Their bodies dripped with sweat and arousal, and Maree kept up a constant flow of adulation.

“Yes, gods, your cock is so good, so big, so hard, fuck yes, Kix, my good boy, my sweet darling, don’t stop, keep going, I want to feel you come so deep inside me, I can’t wait to feel it, so hot, so thick, oh, fuck, yes, yes, yes!”

Kix gritted his teeth. He was determined to make her come first, but he was trembling on the edge of his own orgasm. He could see by the intense concentration in her eyes that she was close. He grabbed her hips and thrust up into her hard, wrenching a scream from her as she tightened around him, riding him at a frenzied pace that demolished his control. He fucked her hard until he exploded with hot spurts into her cunt. 

“Yes!” she sobbed. “Fill me up, that’s it, come on baby, give me all your cum, give me everything you have, that’s my sweet boy, oh yes!”

He clutched her tightly to him as they came down together, their breaths gradually slowing. She rested on top of him with his cock still inside her, slowly growing soft. He stroked up and down her back as she nuzzled his neck and chest, kissing him softly and telling how good he was for her. Kix drifted on a blissful haze, utterly relaxed and luxuriating in her attention.

Much later, they shared a decadent shower, taking turns washing each other, kissing and caressing each other’s bodies under the hot spray. Afterwards, they returned to her bed and snuggled under the blankets, her body curled around him. Kix stroked her hair as she fell asleep with her head resting on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

---

Chapter 8

Tagging: @blueink-bluesoul @secondaryrealm @spicy-clones @wings-and-beskar @523rdrebel @goblininawig @merkitty49 @anxiouspineapple99 @sinfulsalutations

[hello-eden]

Dcxdp idea #2

 so I have an idea. Danny ends up in some sort of cloning body in Cadmus. but instead of you know being Amazed by the bunch of Heroes and aliens and such he is terrified. not because they're Heroes and such but because his powers are locked up and they're scrutinizing him.

He is confused and disoriented and he is not explained what the Justice League is because to everyone else it is common knowledge and they forget to explain it. So from Danny's point of view he is just being moved to a different facility.

Danny does not realize he is in a different body for a hot minute because he was disoriented. I imagine Danny going along with whatever people are telling him because his experience with everything isn't exactly good.

Everyone would be so used to everyone automatically going into heroism that  Danny wouldn't really get a choice in it. Everyone would be trying to help Danny But they're not helping with the right things.

Danny would be seen as a natural at heroism and make it seem like it was something he wanted to do.  Danny wouldn't try and show off a bunch of his powers because he is trying to have a few tricks up this sleeve.

his natural response to being quippy when in danger or scared would be seen as his normal personality and because no one knows him they wouldn't see anything wrong with  how he is doing.

 I imagine there would be a lot of angst when they realize that Danny doesn't know he can say no. He would get really injured and maybe try and hide it or he would literally get up off of a medical bed or ask about other missions and that is when other people start to realize something is up.

if their telling him to rest then him being like I haven't needed rest before and that's when they realize Danny wasn't not injured , he just didn't think he was allowed to be. 

it would cause angst for the heroes because they then realize Danny did not know he was safe and the friendliest they thought he was exuding was really him just trying to be on his captors good side. especially if they don't know Danny was Danny outside of the  clone body.

[cemeteryspider]

A Feathered Destiny

Nightcrawler! Kurt Wagner x Winged! Reader

Summary: Your world and Kurt's faith collide when you join the X-Men.

There are religious themes in this because Nightcrawler is canonically Catholic. I used to be a practicing member of the Catholic Church but I no longer practice this religion. I hope not to offend religious and non-religious people. There is no mention of reader's faith.

Trigger Warnings: Violence, Injury, Blood, Emotional Distress, Religious and Supernatural Themes

Word Count: 1514

When Charles Xavier introduced you to his team of X-Men, shock coursed through you. One moment, you were a nobody, burdened by a painfully obvious mutation that had isolated you from human society. In an instant, you found yourself surrounded by mutants like yourself, each with their own unique abilities and histories.

Some of the X-Men were unsettled by your resemblance to the original X-Men member, Angel. However, Beast quickly dismissed any concerns of familial ties and after verifying your carbon dating matched your age, ruling out the possibility of you being a clone.

One member of the X-Men, however, greeted you without hesitation. Nightcrawler's eyes widened and his mouth fell agape at the sight of your pure white wings, immediately drawn to the divine aura you seemed to exude.

To him you were perfect in every way, a divine gift from god himself.

During your first mission you were sent to stop sentinel activity in Los Angeles. You soared past the sentinels nose-diving into their heads and soaring out the back unscathed.

You worked fast and effectively, working with the other X-Men to keep people on the ground safe. Once the sentinels were taken down and your feet touched the ground once more you could sense the despair of the people around you.

A deep emotional crowd of sadness nearly suffocated you. You scanned the crowd looking for people you could help.

One espeacially strong emotional response coming from not too far away. A little girl hovering over her mother, who was weakly trying to consol her daughter despite the blood leaking from the left side of her mouth and the stone crushing her chest.

You approached the little girl cautiously, kneeling beside her. With a gentle touch, you retrieved a small dagger from your suit's waistband and carefully snipped a lock of your hair. Placing it in the girl's hand, you whispered softly, "What do you wish for the most right now?"

A suprised look crossed the girl's face when the hair in her hand disappeared into a golden light, and the rock on her mom's chest disappeared along with the blood on her mouth.

You heard two small gasps as the mom's once concave chest returned to it's usual position.

The girl launched herself into her mom's arms, and you just smiled at the sight in front of you.

"Thank you," The mom said in your direction.

A team of medics carefully loaded the woman onto a stretcher, their movements precise and urgent. Deep down you knew their tests were going to come back with positive results. The miracle you seemed to have preformed would do the trick. Her daughter ran into the ambulance to follow.

People around you stared standing still, some with their jaw slack others with their eyes wide. You smiled as you brushed the rubble off of your suit and stood up walking past Kurt who looked baffled at the scene he just witnessed, "My God, Samson's hair."

To him, he had just witnessed a miracle of god.

~~~

Later that week you stood across from Kurt in the Danger Room. You watched as Wolverine typed into a tablet changing some of the hologram enemies around the room.

"Alright, let's see if you've got what it takes. Get ready for some action," You almost rolled your eyes. Wolverine was obviously not used to setting up training for others, but you decided that he was trying his best.

Kurt looked over to you, "Let's show them what we've got, ja?"

A smiled crossed your face, "I'm ready when you are."

With a quick glance over to Logan he smirked, "Begin."

The holographic enemies shot into action around the two of you. You allowed your wings to spread and soon you lifted off the ground.

"I'll take the high ground," You shouted down to Kurt.

He disappeared and reappeared behind an enemy in a cloud of smoke and brimstone. He delivered a swift kick to the back of its skull, "Und I will keep them occupied down here."

You knocked a bunch of holograms down with your spread wings, and Kurt teleported rapidly, dodging attacks and taking down enemies with an acrobatic prowess.

You weaved through the various obstecales put in your flying path. You took down an archer that was silently aiming for Kurt in a tree.

"They cannot hit what they cannot see," He shouted up to you, and you smiled. He couldn't help but smirk when he saw your white teeth.

The last few enemies standing Kurt stood straight with a serene look settling across his features as he fought. His lips tumbling out whispers, "Thank you, Lord, for this strength."

You land next to Kurt, with the last enemy defeated. The land evened out with a few taps on Wolverine's tablet.

"Great job, Kurt!" You smiled at him again.

He smiled back, "Danke, We make a good team, don't we?"

When his eyes met yours he took your hand in his, "You are a gift from God, you know."

Your eyes left his to look at the ground, "I really appreaciate that Kurt, but I'm not an angel. I am a mutant, just like you."

He tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and you looked back up at him, "Mutant... Angel. It does not matter to me. You are still a blessing."

You tight shoulders loosened, "Thank you Kurt, that means a lot."

"Alright, enough chit-chat you two. Let's see if you can handle the next level," Logan said rapidly typing into the tablet once more.

~~~

In the evening, you found solace on a weathered bench in the campus garden. The night sky twinkled with distant stars, casting a gentle glow over the blooming peonies. The faint scent of sulfur wafted through the air, drawing your attention to Nightcrawler, who appeared beside you

"Mind if I join you?"

A small smile crosses your face, "Not at all"

He looked at your face as the moon cast a gentle glow on your face.

"It is beautiful out here. Peaceful," His eyes quickly darting to the sky, "Do you ever wonder if there is more to this world than the things we see?"

A subtle crease in your brow formed, "I do. Sometimes I think about where we come from and where we're going."

Kurts arms rested on his theighs, "My faith has always guided me. Even in the darkest of times. I believe there is a high purpose, and that it has guided you to me."

"I admire your faith in a higher power, Kurt."

He turns his body to look at you, "It has not been easy. I have faced hatred and fear for how I look. Through it all, I have always held onto my faith."

You put your hand over Kurt's, "You've been through so much Kurt, I understand why you hold onto your faith so tightly."

"And you? What keeps you going, Angel?" His eyes lit up.

You took a deep breath, "There's something I need to tell you. It's about why I came here."

A gentle concern crosses his face and he leans it a little bit close to you, "Whatever it is, you can trust me."

You scrunch your eyes closed, "I came here because I felt lost. Once my powers manifested my parents kicked me out of the house. My old friends wanted nothing to do with me. When the Professor found me I was completley alone. No one to help me, everyone shutting me out. When I met you I felt like I finally found a place to belong, with the X-Men."

He smiled warmly at you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, "You are always welcome here. The X-Men is a family, and we support each other."

Your eyes shone with unshed tears, "Thank you Kurt. That means more than you know."

Your head rested on his shoulder and you continued to watch the night sky. His head came to rest atop yours as well.

~~~

You stood beside Kurt as Rogue and Gambit animatedly recounted their globe-trotting escapades. Kurt subtly wrapped his arm around your waist, eliciting a chuckle from Rogue.

"Took you two long enough," she teased with a grin.

A blush crossed your face with a shy smile, and Kurt could only grin at his sister's comment.

Soon Scott and Jean walked over congratulating the two of you on getting together, saying it felt like it would never happen despite Kurt following you around like a lost puppy.

"They're just jealous of the two of ya, sugah," Rogue whispered to you when she gave you a hug. You couldn't help but smile looking at the team surrounding you.

You finally found the warmth of friendship among these extraordinary individuals. Perhaps, in time, they would become your family.

From his wheelchair in the hallway, Professor Xavier watched his team with a smile that held both pride and hope. As laughter and camaraderie filled the air, he felt a deep-seated conviction that every obstacle overcome brought them closer to realizing his dream of unity and acceptance.

[nahoney22]

Desperation***

Commander Mayday X F!Reader

word count: 4.6k

When you find yourself supplying the Clones on Barton IV, you’re introduced to the Commander who you find out to be in need of some loving.

warnings: NSFW, 18+ Only. Female reader with medium/long hair, Explicit sexual content, semi-public sex, desperate/needy sex, dirty talk, consensual rough sex, light dom!Mayday, nipple licking/kissing, pussy/ass eating, fingering, missionary position, cowgirl position, doggy position, light hair pulling, explicit language, creampie, sex with a stranger, pet names, neck biting/kissing, spanking, praises/talking you through it, cum denial, slight cockwarming, size kink, very minor mentions of insecure reader, aftercare. Self indulgent tbh.

Authors Note: it’s about time I wrote about this handsome chap. Queued Post.

The wind roars through your hair, and the frigid air hugs your body as you disembark from the ship. Your superiors from the Empire had tasked you with delivering crucial supplies to an Outpost on Barton IV, and the biting cold made each breath a challenge.

"Keep moving!" a stern stormtrooper orders from behind, breaking your trance-like gaze at the shadowy settlements ahead. You apologise softly and pick up a crate, forging ahead through the heavy snow that cascades down on you and soaking your coat.

The door slides open with a hiss, and your eyes gradually adapt to the dimly lit room. Droids efficiently shuttle crates from one side to the other, creating a sense of controlled chaos. Seeking refuge from the chill, you step inside, grateful for the faint warmth the shelter provides, and gently set down the crate you were carrying.

"Can I be of assistance?" A familiar voice calls out – the voice of a Clone. You've had extensive experience working alongside them long before the rise of the Empire, making it easy to recognise the distinctive baritone. It had been a while since you had seen one truthfully, slowly but surely they were being discarded and replaced.

As you turn, your heart skips a beat. Leaning casually against a stack of crates, he watches you intensely with captivating eyes that seem to shine even in the dimness of the room. His long, pushed-back hair and thick beard only add to his undeniable allure. Your voice quivers with timidity as you manage to speak, "I am here to deliver the supplies."

He chuckles, a touch of sardonic amusement in his tone, and takes a step closer. "You mean the supplies my men and I requested fourteen rotations ago?" He stops in front of you, and you find yourself looking up at his imposing figure. Your knees shake, not from the cold, but from the mesmerising presence he exudes up close.

"I only just received the order," you explain with a frown, though it comes as no surprise that the Empire isn't particularly prompt with deliveries. Especially to clones.

He raises a brow, folding his arms across his broad chest. "Typical."

You nod, finding common ground. "Sorry, Commander...?"

"Mayday," he replies with a hint of a smile, acknowledging the use of someone who wasn’t one of his brothers, using his title for once. You shake his hand, replying with your name too.

"I appreciate the respect, and the supplies. My men haven't been faring too well."

"Better late than never, I guess," you offer with a small chuckle, but he doesn't reciprocate the laughter. Instead, he continues to gaze at you with eyes that leave you feeling both intrigued and flustered.

"Are, uh, your men around? I'm a trained medic, and I could take a look at some of them," you ask, trying to divert your attention from the intensity of his stare, wondering if it's just the lighting playing tricks on you or if you had caught him looking you up and down.

He nods, indicating that his men are at the back, and you follow him. The stormtroopers you arrived with stay behind, seeking warmth by a large heated lamp. "I've got men back here—some wounded from bandits, and others suffering from the cold," Mayday explains. Your heart sinks as you observe the living conditions. The place is freezing, and there are barely enough beds to accommodate everyone. In one corner, Clones are groaning and tending to their own wounds.

It's evident that they could have desperately used these supplies months ago, not just weeks.

"This is... this is horrible, Commander," you exclaim, both of your hands cupping your cheeks as you take in the dire conditions. "How long have you been here?"

"Just over a year. But these crates are finally getting shipped out, so we're hoping to get away from this mess soon," Mayday sighs, though the hope in his voice wavers.

You immediately get to work, moving around each of the men, providing your medical expertise and tending to their wounds as best as you can. The men visibly appreciate your help, and you instruct the patrol you arrived with to set up more heated lanterns to provide some comfort. Though they seem hesitant, they eventually comply.

"I didn't know you were a Lieutenant of some kind?" Mayday asks as you kneel in front of one of his brothers, Hetch, carefully tending to a nasty wound on his calf.

"Oh, I'm not. I'm... I'm nobody, really," you admit, feeling a sense of reluctance to associate yourself with any title under the oppressive Imperial rule.

Mayday chuckles, and you look over your shoulder and up at him curiously. "What?"

"You say you're nobody, but you definitely put our replacements in their place," he remarks, a hint of admiration in his eyes.

"Only when I have to," you respond honestly, and he smiles in response. "A woman's touch."

"Maybe it's a woman's touch we all need," he says softly, and it feels like there's more to his words than what's said aloud. He seems flustered by his own comment, quickly changing the subject and distributing the supplies you brought. Meanwhile, you remain stunned, silently continuing your work. His words and the look in his eyes hint at something a lot deeper and it made you very curious as to what.

As the hours pass, you remain relentless in your commitment to taking care of the troops, despite the rude mutterings from the stormtroopers who are clearly eager to leave. Unfortunately for them, the weather conditions only worsen with time, making flying out tonight an impossible task.

"A drink, ma'am?" Mayday offers, and you find yourself seated on a crate near one of the lamps, appreciating the warmth on your hands even though your torso continues to shiver uncontrollably.

"Please," you shudder, gratefully accepting the steaming cup of caf. The addition of caffeine to their drinks provides some comfort to the troopers, who had been surviving on plain boiling water. "And you can just use my name," you smile, not fond of formalities.

He chuckles, acknowledging the request, and sits on a crate beside you, sharing the warmth of the lamp. Mayday notices your shivering and frowns, concerned. "You're still cold?"

"A little. I thought my coat would help, but I think it's still wet from when I went outside earlier," you admit, brushing a hand over the sleeve, which, as expected, leaves behind a trace of snow and ice on the floor.

"Take it off."

He suggests with his voice seemingly innocent, but you can't help but feel a subtle hint of sensuality and allure in his words.

You look back at him, your heart fluttering at the suggestion, finding his simple solution oddly enticing. "If you want to, that is," he quickly adds, his hand tightening ever so slightly on his own caf cup, betraying him.

You laugh softly, barely audible, and take Mayday's advice, standing up to remove your coat. However, the zipper gets caught in some fabric, causing you to silently curse your luck. You turn away slightly, attempting to free yourself, but the snag persists.

"Need some help there?" Mayday offers, stepping closer from behind. Your cheeks flush with embarrassment, but the stubborn zipper leaves you no choice but to nod. You turn back to face him, surprised by how close he is standing.

He hums in amusement, and his skilled fingers effortlessly release the stuck zipper. "Allow me," he murmurs softly, gently opening your coat and sliding it off your shoulders. You watch him closely, noticing how his breath deepens and slows as he takes your coat off. "Wow."

You inhale deeply, flustered by his comment. "What?" you whisper, your heart racing.

He sets your coat aside and smiles gently, a hint of shyness in his expression. "Forgive me for being forward, but it's been a long time since I've seen a woman, let alone a beautiful one like you..." He hesitates, keeping a respectful distance. "And your figure is fucking incredible."

You're left speechless for what feels like an eternity, your heart pounding in your chest and a wave of heat rushing through you and between your legs. "C-Commander, I..."

"Sorry. I came on too strong," Mayday mutters, rubbing the back of his head, seemingly gauging your reaction. Little does he know that you're practically screaming on the inside. "Like I said, it's, uh, been a long while."

As he starts to step back, you surprise him by moving forward, catching him off guard. Your lips part, ready to say something, but the words won't come out. He smirks now, raising an eyebrow with curiosity. "Got something to say, beautiful?" he teased.

You swallow. Hard. Taking a step closer until you're almost chest to chest with Mayday, you tilt your head slightly and look at him with curiosity. "What else do you like about me?"

He licks his lower lip, his gaze locking with yours, and he smirks. "Well, besides your name and your job, I find you lovely, not just on the surface either," he compliments. He reaches up to gently brush a loose strand of hair behind your ear, causing a delightful shiver down your spine. "You're caring and kind to my brothers, and you have a genuine sense of compassion. But would you like to know something else?"

Trying to keep your composure, you steady your breathing, even though your heart is racing. "Go on, Commander," you say, finding your index finger gently trailing up and down his chest plate with a touch of playfulness.

He leans in, his breath hot and demanding on your face. “I really want to fuck your brains out.”

“I won’t say no to that, Commander.” You just about utter until his lips are on yours. Rough. Demanding. Desperate. His hands bite into your hips as you’re backed into some crates, holding you in place as his tongue breaks through your lips and fights with yours. You’re breathless, hands wrapped around the back of his neck and tugging on his hair as he starts to rut his hips into yours.

“Maker, you’re amazing.” He growls against your lips, biting on your lower one and tugging on it before he starts to make work on your neck.

Knees shaking, you whimper his name as his teeth graze and nip at your skin, his hard erection now very noticeable against your stomach and you can’t help but wonder how it will feel inside of you.

“What if someone sees us?” You then ask suddenly, Mayday pulling back to gaze into your eyes and offers nothing but reassurance. Kinda.

“They won’t darling,” he places a tender kiss on your lips and then smirks, “but it won’t stop me from doing what I want to do to you either way.”

You let out a gasp as you feel his hand roam inside your pants, cupping your pussy over your panties and he lets out a groan of satisfaction. “Look at you, soaked already. All we’ve done is kiss.” He chuckles low and hot which is pretty much how you felt. Slowly, he pulls your panties to the side and you let out a shuddered breath as his calloused fingers caress our folds, collecting your arousal on his fingers. “You’re so warm…”

He pulls his hand out of your pants and you have to hold in the gasp as you watch him place his fingers in his mouth, sucking your juices off his fingers, “and you taste s’good.”

Yanking your pants down and kicking them away when they get to your feet, he spins you round and pushes on your back to bend you over. Obliging, you shudder in anticipation as you feel him crouch down behind you, his hands massaging the back of your thighs before spanking your arse cheek making you squeak in surprise.

Your reaction made him chuckle, his warm breath fanning on your pussy that made your toes curl. Slowly, he spreads your legs a little more apart and you softly whine as his finger comes and pushes between your folds, circling.

“That feels so good, Commander.” You sigh, your cheek pressed against the surface of the crate, your hands gripping onto either side.

“That’s so good to hear, baby.” He licks his lips, appreciating the sight of him in front of him, “But I want another proper taste.”

With one hand on your left arse cheek, spreading you open some more, he leans in and you curse aloud as his tongue relentlessly plays between your folds, causing you to shake unexpectedly. The sensation of pleasure is so strange to you after so long and you don’t hesitate to let him know what it does to you.

“Oh wow, please d-don’t stop!” you cry in pleasure, Mayday is pleased with your response and continues to tongue you before inserting his fingers into your pussy, sinking further into your warmth as he manages to both suck and lick your clit incessantly without taking a break.

You wouldn’t think you were on a planet shrouded by snow, you wouldn't even think you were covered in snow just hours ago as your body is completely on fire. You moan and whimper under his touch and your eyes roll into the back of your head as his tongue explores you entirely, reaching areas you never knew you’d enjoy.

He starts to rapidly finger you while he works his mouth on your tight hole. Eventually you begin thrusting involuntarily in response to his stimulation, grinding your arse against his face. With your hands holding tight onto the crate until your knuckles turn white, a loud moan escapes your lips as Mayday continues his sensual assault, and soon, you find yourself at your climax.

He senses that you're close, his tongue moving from your hole back to your folds as he speeds up his fingering pace. Soon, you can’t take it anymore, and you cum on his face, loudly groaning and gasping. Hips thrusting and bucking in response to your pleasure. Within moments, the feeling fades, and Mayday pulls his face away from your now sopping wet pussy. Gently placing a tender kiss to your thigh, he rises and you stand up straight, legs quivering from your high and turn to face him. His beard glistens with your arousal and his eyes are blown with a devilish smirk on his face.

“Did you like that?” He approaches you, arms wrapped around you, swallowing your words that don’t even leave your lips as he kisses you deeply. “No need to say, I know you did.”

His hands tug on your shirt and you waste no time in taking it off and you watch in awe as he strips himself into the nude, too. Feeling a little self conscious all the sudden, as if him eating your pussy and arse did not just happen your hands come up and are about to shield your body from his eyes but he swiftly stops you, catching your hands. “None of that, let me see you.” He speaks soft, eyes drinking you in, “so pretty. Perfect.” His hand gently rests on your bare waist, fingers tickling your skin delicately.

Slowly his hands move to your breasts, gently rotating his wrists as he massages your tits until your nipples are stiff. “Commander… please,” you whimper, clenching your legs together as another onslaught of arousal hits you.

“Eager, darling? Don’t worry, I won’t leave you waiting long.”

Mayday picks you up, your legs wrapping around his torso and moves to a more comfortable place for you both, kissing and sucking on your neck eagerly. Once situated, both of you are sitting on top of a crate with you straddling his legs. You gaze down, gnawing at your lower lip.

His cock stood strong with a thick tip, dripping and glossy with precum already. “You like my cock, baby?” He whispers against your slightly swollen lips, seeing how you admired him, “It looks like it might be too big for your pussy.” He smirks, acting smug but this only excites you.

“I like a big boy,” you bite back, your turn to gently nibble at his lower lip as your hips gently grind down against him, your pussy slicking up his protruding length, “I think I can handle you.”

He chuckles darkly, so needy for you. “Oh yeah?” With his free hand, he grabs his cock while gently gliding the head of his shaft along your sex. “It feels good just pressed against your pretty little pussy like this. I’m going to fuck you so good.” He grunts before sliding himself inside of you without further preamble. Quieting any additional smugness from you but forcing a squeal from your lips instead.

Head tilting back, stars already cloud your vision. Your pussy clenches against him like a vice and he hisses before spanking your arse. “Fuck, I love that. I love it when your little cunt tightens around my dick.” He whines, his whole body quivering as he gets used to the sensation of fucking someone again.

“S-spank me again, please.” You find yourself begging, absolutely besotted with the stinging sensation that is left on your arse after his hand swipes you.

He laughs boyishly but shakes his head. “Earn it. Start grinding on me baby, please. Fuck, please move your hips. Then you can continue being the good little cockwarmer you are.” He grunts, and you do as you’re told.

Your hips slowly ground on him, your patience running out as you eagerly begin sliding back up his length before pushing yourself up and down. You’re impossibly tight but the stretch felt perfect, almost as if you were a virgin again as you sank onto his aching length. You pant and whine, uttering his name and leaning over him a little, with your hands securing a good grasp of his shoulders which gives you a nice rhythm going.

In that position, you had your nipples swinging in front of him, begging and enticing him to make a move and he did just that. Lips reaching the short distance, he begins to suck against your left nipple whilst the other landed a spank to your cheek. “That’s it, what a good girl you are.” He mutters, mouth full of breast.

“O-Oh, Commander!” You whimper in pleasure, bouncing up and down on his cock desperately, his veiny length sinking almost fully into you now and he wasn’t wrong, he was too big for you.

With your legs starting to ache, Mayday notices and in a second has you bent over instead like before, this time sinking into you from behind. “Fuck, yes! Kark, you’re taking my cock so beautifully. I’m going to fuck you so good you won’t be able to walk. That way,” he slowly sinks out of you, admiring his glistening cock that was soaked, before thrusting back in, “that way you can stay with me and I’ll take care of you all the time.”

“I’d love that, Commander! P-please fuck me harder.” You feel dizzy and lustful as his slow and gentle pumps turn more demanding and powerful. Your pussy aches but at the same time feels relaxed as it takes his thrusts, and you find your body being driven wild as the thrusting comes more quickly. You moan and groan slightly more now, letting out occasional gasps as Mayday leans over your back kissing and nipping at your neck in response to your heightened pleasure. He’s whining, completely pussy drunk and you let out a lazy-fucked laugh as he takes a fistful of your hair, holding your head back as your groan in ecstacy.

“Yeah, you like that baby? You like me pulling your hair? Maker, such a naughty girl. Taking my cock like no problem.” He whimpers, smashing into you so furiously that you hear the crates shift beneath you, your body slapping against it with each powerful thrust.

Sweat is dripping down your body, your pussy swollen with every move he makes. You hear nothing but collective moans, grunts, groans, and slapping noises as the Commander’s cock thrusts deeply and wetly into you with a rapid pace. You begin to pant with each penetration, feeling like a literal toy being pounded desperately and you fucking loved it. “C-Commnader, I’m going to cum.”

“You don’t cum until I say so,” he grunts, instantly pulling out of you and denying you of another climax. Spinning you to face him, he is kissing you desperately again, full of desire. You don’t know how but he’s managed to get you down to the floor, spreading your legs as he crawls over you and sheaths into you in a matter of seconds, eyes locked tight on you as his hips rock back and forth into your pussy.

“Speaking of cum,” he grunts, almost bottoming out the second your legs wrap around his waist, locking yourself in, “I’m going to paint my seed deep in you. You’re pussy is going to be fucking drenched with my cum, you understand baby? We’re basically strangers and you’re going to be full of my hot cum.” His gaze is so fucking intense you almost cum just by your words but you’re determined to hold out for him.

“Yes,” you nod quickly, biting your lower lip as you grind your hips up and against him with every rut he pushes into you, “I need your cum so, so badly Commander. Make me yours.”

You feel your eyes begin to close, obsessed with the sensation of his desperate cock pulsing in and out of you but he grabs your chin and demands you, “keep your eyes open. I want to see your eyes as you take my cock and cum.”

You whimper, the constant feeling of his cock protruding your pussy starting to ache with a pleasurable pain and Mayday noticed the scrunching of your features. “It’s okay baby, do you want me to slow down? Is my cock too much?”

“N-No! Please don’t slow down, I love the way you fuck me.” You whimper, leaning up and kissing his lips tenderly.

“Does it feel good like this?” He whispers against your lips, steadying himself with one hand holding your thigh and the other hand pressed firmly beside you on the ground. “Just focus on the sensation of my cock inside you as I fuck you, enjoy it.”

Your body swells with pleasure at not just his touch but his words alone. He places both legs over his shoulders now, his hips a little rigid at the new position but he soon finds his rhythm. “Does it feel good, being spread like this?” He questions you, then moving his hands over your arse and thighs, rubbing them while he chuckles down at you. “It certainly looks good.” He’s admiring every inch of your body, watching as your breasts move up and down as he pumps inside you. “That’s it sweetheart, deep breaths as I fuck you.”

“Feels, oh fuck, amazing.” Your back arches, making him hit that deep spot inside you. You groan wearily into the cold air but your bodies were ignited like a fire that kept you both heated.

Soon, you feel your body going numb as you take his cock, but you react strongly to his sex nonetheless. You’re driven wild by the coupling of his thrusts, his hand caressing your thigh, his dirty praises and his spare hand rubbing your clit in perfect circular motions. As he pumps more rapidly into you, you hear him give off a myriad of strong grunts, groans, and breathy pants, his body shaking with pleasure as he takes you. He’s close. And so were you.

“Commander-.”

“Call me Mayday, darling, just Mayday.” He pants, eyes filled with lust.

“Mayday, p-please let me cum I can’t take anymore.” You whine, that twisting sensation in the core of your stomach unbearable.

“Since you asked so nicely darling,” he lets your legs fall from off his shoulders, his body now pressing down against yours as he grinds his hips hard and rough into you, “and because I am going to cream this little pussy of yours now, anyway.”

The room echoes with nothing but moaning and wet slapping noises as he thrusts against your soaked pussy. His moans are wild and needy and he lets you know that you can let go, your legs spasming, your vision blurring as he allows you to release from your wanton climax.

In turn, Mayday’s grunts are loud enough to shake the room, certain to have woken his comrades. But you don’t care as he pumps into you slowly and deeply as he releases a forceful load of cum into your cunt. You can feel his release spurt deeply into you, releasing a warm sensation deeper into your body as the Commander pours his seed more and more into you. You almost wonder just how much he gave you because it went on for much longer than you expected. Not like you were in any position to complain, anyway.

You give a loud, breathy series of short gasps as you come down from your orgasm, and Mayday breathes heavily through his mouth while still hunched over you with his cock still inside you. The both of you are now dripping with sweat, the floor now soaked with both sweat and cum. You feel ready to pass out after being fucked so good from being pounded into so incredibly.

Mayday removes himself from inside of you, the feeling filthy but amazing. He stands and you don’t see where he moves, but are suddenly taken by surprise as he comes back quickly with towels, blankets and a fresh cup of water.

His voice softens, no longer demanding or dominant. He offers you a towel, gently apologising as you let out a small hiss due to your precious antics.

"Did I hurt you?" he asks, concern in his eyes.

"No," you shake your head and tenderly cup his cheek, your fingers tracing over his rough beard. "I've never experienced anything like that before," you admit with a soft laugh, feeling flustered by the sudden burst of pure lust between you.

The encounter feels different, like it was more than just a casual hookup. It felt like it had to happen, at least from your perspective.

He brings you your clothes, and once dressed, he gestures for you to sit back on a crate. He drapes a blanket around you, staying close. "Can I get you anything else, darling?"

You melt at his gentleness and the endearing names he calls you. "No, this is fine, thank you, Mayday," you smile up at him, surprised when he leans down and softly kisses your lips. It's a gentle and tender kiss, much different from the earlier intense ones. As you sink into the moment, matching his gentle rhythm, he relaxes too.

"I don't want you to go," he confesses, pulling away slightly to trail kisses along your skin. "I want you to stay."

You close your eyes, wishing you could stay, but the reality of your obligations calls you back. However, a hopeful idea emerges. "We'll think of something... Maybe when I return, I can convince my superiors to send more resources and I’ll come back," you suggest. "Do you really like me that much?"

He nods quickly. "I know it was sudden, and I acted on pure instinct and lust, but I do genuinely like you," he admits. "You're someone I could see myself getting to know a lot more." The vulnerability in his words touches your heart and the two of you stay up the rest of the night getting to know each other a lot more. Well, not as much as before.

You could only curse the Empire for not assigning you this mission sooner.

Masterlist

Tags and those who I think will appreciate a tag: @andyoufollowyourheart @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @captxin-rex @jesseeka @ashotofspotchka @oohyesplease @theroguesully @mustluvecho @ladykatakuri @jambolska-grozdova a @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @rain-on-kamino @either-madness-or-brilliance @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @chrissywakingup @kixs-husband @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @tinyreadersmur @seriowan @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @raevulsix @imalovernotahater @whore4rex @imperialclaw801 @temple-elder @mysticalgalaxysalad @photogirl894 @fantasyproductions @pandulce135 @miss-mouse99 @madameminor

[ani-and-the-corries-au]

There are some things that all troopers know Nat born's will never understand.

All the troopers grew up in a world where perfection was the standard and anything less resulted in death. Where individuality was a crime and being anything more than just another number was a danger, Where saying the wrong thing in front of the wrong person could get you killed.

All troopers know this, but post Kamino the Guards have had it drilled into them all over again. If they want to survive In the Senate they have to fall back on the lessons they learned on Kamino.

The Corries know that there are some things that nat born's will never understand. Things that Nat born's shouldn't understand.

So no one in the guard quite knows how to feel about the strange fallout of the Shiney squad's Jetti Cadets apparent discovery of the Guards position on Courcant.

It starts small, the guard notices that the boy stops being weird about the fact that most of the Corries don't use their names, when asked, the boys. "It's because I know that you have them now." raises more questions than answers, because apparently the boy just figured out that they used their designation numbers around the Senate because their names were a secret on his own. He also seemed to get an unreasonable amount of joy from the fact that all the clones chose their own names.

If it has stopped there then it probably wouldn't be so weird, but it didn't. From sneaking in extra medical supplies and food, (actual food, not just ration bars) when he discovered that 'depur' was cutting their budget for stuff that they needed to function, to the way he seemed to intrinsically understand their need for secrecy, and their reasoning for it. "secrets keep us safe." Without anyone seemingly telling him.

They all agreed that they weren't gonna ask about how the boy had managed to rangle several senators around to the truth of the situation and his point of view with only a few words to one of them. A point of view that not only had them working on trooper sentient rights bills, but also had them aiding in his more under the table helping.

At first it was weird and confusing, both because this kid was a nat born, and because how did a Jetti Cadet develop this kind of understanding, he was a child. It took them a while to connect the dots, Even as the boy started unconsciously dropping hints.

At first it was that weird little nickname he had for the Senate and Senators, in a language that even the most nerdy of Corries didn't seem to understand. They weren't sure what a Depur was, but apparently it applied to the Senate and was probably not a good thing.

The next clue was the stories, because as Anakin spent more time with the guard, becoming more of a Vod'ika than a Jetti Commander and subsequently beginning to learn more and more about the secrets that they kept from the rest of the Senate.

As the boy learnt about the lighter side of the inner workings of the guard, and how to speak the clones particular brand of Mando'a, the guards began to learn stories about Ekkreth, Leia and Ar Amu, stories about secret plots and tricking the The infamous Depur in ways that resulted in the freedom of those he enslaved.

About secret Languages, Tzai, Jappor snippets and secret rituals. About the ways one could steal back some control from the Masters in ways that they would never even notice. About things that the boy claimed that all Slaves should know, lessons that would help keep them safe from their Masters. A term that by now the guards suspended was not referring to the kind the Jedi had.

By the time the boy causally mentioned that he and his mother had been enslaved prior to him being taken to the temple, the Guards already had a pretty decent picture of the situation.

The fact that the boy had been adopting them into his own culture right under their noses had been vastly more surprising. He'd been a little awkward when he'd admitted it. Saying that he knew that they were sort of Mando'ade, but they could be Amavikka too if they wanted.

And sure, maybe it was a little dark that part of the reason the boy spent so much time in the barracks was because it felt familiar, but also this kid cared about every single one of them, to the point where he apparently sees them as family.

Well it really was no wonder that it was agreed that the entire guard would do just about anything for their Ad'ika. Including possibly stopping said Ad'ika from doing the same for them. (Bloody Skywalkers)

[captn-trex]

a tricky situation

Kix x F!Reader

word count: 2.8k

description: you're used to the antics of the 501st as a mechanic aboard the Resolute, but one clone takes it too far. when pulling one of his typical pranks on you, kix does something you never expected.

warnings: angst, swearing, miscommunication, kinda enemies to lovers I suppose, blood & injury but not in detail, not really proof-read

a/n: I maintain that Kix is a massive tease, but also a massive softie so... here's this. feel free to tell me my characterisation is wrong, I'll probably agree with you

You were grumbling to yourself once again.

It was something you found yourself doing too often, and you worried that soon enough your colleagues would stage an intervention and send you to get psychologically evaluated. You weren’t actually going crazy, but sometimes it felt like it.

Being a mechanic that worked aboard the Resolute, you frequently found yourself at the mercy of the clones of the 501st. Everyday, there was some new trick, some prank they were pulling. Today, it was the classic hiding your tools that they did at least twice a week, sometimes even twice a day. It was the first of the day, but it still had you ready to pull your hair out.

There was very few of them that actually let you get on with your job, and they were unquestionably your favourites. Though, that only amounted to being Captain Rex and Dogma. The rest, were positively menaces.

You had already searched through their barracks, unapologetically waking a few clones up, you had been to the engine room, the control centre, and through every side room you could possibly find, and you still hadn’t found them. You could use the ones belonging to the other mechanics, but it was late at night, and there wasn’t anyone else working. You stood in the middle of a corridor with your head in your hands.

Where haven’t I checked?

It then occurred to you who would’ve played this stupid prank on you, someone who would also be up this late at night, and you ground your jaw. Kix. You stalked off to the medbay, and if anyone had walked past you, they would have seen the steam coming out of your ears.

There was something particularly irritating about the clone medic, something you couldn’t put your finger on that made him be able to get under your skin like no other. He didn’t even try as hard as his brothers, but every single conversation with him felt like a game, an infuriating dance of taunting and tormenting. It didn’t help that you found him to be the most handsome among his brothers. Perhaps that was the reason you found him so annoying, but you weren’t going to analyse that right now.

You kicked the door to the medbay open with one swift motion and stormed inside, a surprised look on the face of the one you were after.

“Kix, so help me maker, I will shoot you if you don’t give me them back now” You growled at him, and he stood, setting down the datapad he held on one of the cots.

“My dear, I have no idea what you are on about” He said, a small taunting smile gracing his lips.

You clenched and flexed your hands at your sides, “Kix, this isn’t funny, I’m on a deadline with this one. Give them back”

The medic came to stand in front of you and placed his hands on your shoulders, running them down to your biceps. If it wasn’t him that had made you so angry, you may have even enjoyed it.

“Give what back?” He asked plainly, and you shook your head, your teeth grinding together so hard you were positive they would break. Kix could see the flame of anger in your eyes that he so loved. Winding you up was certainly his favourite pastime.

“You know what. I need my tools”

“Why would your tools be here?” He asked, cocking his head to the side, then came in closer, “You do know this is the medbay, right?”

You rolled your eyes so fast they could have rolled out of their very sockets. You ripped your arms from his grasp, and stormed around the room, turning over every single thing and huffing to yourself when you didn’t find anything. Kix watched you with utmost amusement. He would have to tidy up after you, but it was almost worth it to see you so worked up. Almost.

“Alright, alright. Relax. They’re in the closet” He called, and you rushed to the door that he was pointing at.

You switched on the light, which afforded little more visibility, but you saw your toolbox sat on the floor just by the door. You picked it up as you heard the door slide closed, and turned to see that Kix had closed you in with him.

“Get out of my way” You huffed, giving him your best withering look.

“What? No thank you?” He grinned. That damn beautiful smile of his.

“Thank you? You must be joking”

“I helped you find your tools, I think I deserve a little something” He reasoned, and you let out a disbelieving laugh.

“And what, pray tell, do you think you deserve?”

“I was thinking something along the lines of… a kiss?” He suggested.

All of your insides constricted as the word left his lips, and you were frozen on the spot.

“What?” You almost whispered out, eyes still burning with some form of rage.

Kix smirked, “You see, I know you think you’re pretty slick, but I see you looking at me when you think I’m not paying attention-”

“I do not!”

You do.

“- and I know the reason you pretend to hate me so much is because otherwise you’d just be falling at my feet-”

“I hate you so much because you do things like this!” You argued, holding up your recently stolen toolkit.

“Is that right?”

It was then that you realised that you were only a hairbreadth from his face, your nose almost touching his. You breathed heavily, not daring to utter even one word for fear of losing your composure in an entirely different way. Your eyes burned into his with an intensity that you couldn’t control, and his infuriating smirk only made it worse. After a moment, his mouth uncurled from the taunting expression, looking at you only with interest and nothing else.

Your eyes fell to his lips, and he leaned ever so slightly forwards, brushing his nose against yours gently. Your eyes fluttered shut on instinct, and you breathed out shakily. Your mind was screaming out and silent at the same time, it couldn’t make sense of what was happening, and your heart took precedent, giving into whatever it was.

Kix then brought his lips to your ear, brushing back a piece of hair behind it with his hand.

“Gotcha”

You were immediately snapped from your trance and recoiled, a look of absolute shock plastered across your features. Kix just watched you with his knowing smirk, and your anger flared once again, but this time, it was underpinned by an emotion he wouldn’t have expected. Hurt.

“You’re a cruel man Kix” You seethed out as you shoved him aside, opening the door and storming out of the medbay.

He watched you go, his insides twisting with guilt. He had only meant to tease you, but he had taken it too far, and now you were actually upset. You were usually too mad at him to ever let any other emotions slip through the cracks, but now he realised that maybe he had just never pushed you to a breaking point before. He was foolish to think that you didn’t have a limit.

You fought to keep tears from spilling from your eyes as you finished your work that evening. You were so frustrated with yourself for letting your guard slip, and even more for reacting this way to what was really a stupid prank, and nothing else. It hadn’t occurred to you before that your attraction to Kix was anything more than that, but now that he had truly embarrassed you, you realised it was more deep-set than that.

You actually liked him, he was right, and he used it just to trick you.

“Hey, I need to talk to you” You heard a voice, his voice, call out as you were slid under a gunship the next day, your arms elbow deep in wires and grease.

“I have no interest in talking to you” You stated plainly, all emotion stripped from your voice.

Kix’s heart clenched at the sound of it.

“Please” He said your name in such a pleading tone, “I need you to know I-”

“Just can it Kix, I don’t want to hear it” You slid from underneath the gunship and looked up at him sternly.

He didn’t intend for this at all. In truth, it was him that really wanted to kiss you. While it was true, he had caught you looking at him sometimes, he had no reason to believe that it was because you liked him, and he only really said it to hopefully push you to a confession. Every time he had wound you up, it was just an excuse to see you react to him, to grab your undivided attention. It was a cowardly approach, making you confess before he did, but now he may never even get the chance if you wouldn’t let him.

“You don’t understand, I-”

“I understand just fine, you used my feelings as fodder for another prank, how surprising” You rolled your eyes, “Leave me alone from now on, if it’s not too tempting to try and embarrass me again”

Kix was floundering for the right thing to say, “It wasn’t a pr-”

“Fuck off Kix, can you not hear me?” You almost shouted, gaining the attention of a few of the nearby clones.

His amber eyes burned into yours. You could see he was sorry, but you’d rather let him feel guilty for what he did than accept any apology he could offer. As you stared each other down with an intensity to rival the previous night, you could feel your emotions getting the better of you.

“Just go away” You said quietly, sliding back underneath the gunship without another word.

You could see Kix hesitate, but you watched him ultimately decide to leave you alone, and walk away. You sighed, feeling your eyes well up with frustration. You were embarrassed all over again.

It had been a week since what the other mechanics were just calling ‘the incident’. They had no idea why you had shouted at the clone, and you wouldn’t tell them, but that didn’t stop them teasing you about it. A silver lining about the whole ‘incident’ was that the clones had started leaving you alone, and your tools had not been stolen once. It was certainly peaceful, and you were reluctant to admit that life now felt boring, for fear that the clones would all suddenly come out of the woodworks with the worst prank of them all. Not that they could top the one already pulled by their medic.

You hadn’t even seen Kix since said ‘incident’, but your head was still maddeningly filled by him. The most maddening fact of all being that it wasn’t your argument that was stuck in your head, it was the way he looked at you as he pretended he was going to kiss you. It had felt so real, so sincere, and as it kept replaying in your head you found yourself wishing to go back in time and just kiss him.

But that would do no good, it was still a prank at the end of the day.

You were working under a ship, your hands buried in wires and a tool between your teeth. You heard someone call out for you and sat up, whacking your head on the underside of the ship in the process, the tool falling from your mouth as you shouted out in pain. You vaguely heard the person shout something along the lines of ‘nevermind, got it’ and cursed them for speaking in the first place. You brought your hand up to your head and felt small trickle of blood, or was it grease?

Then there you were, grumbling to yourself once again.

You stormed off to the medbay reluctantly, but this time you had no intention of speaking with Kix. You opened the door forcefully with your shoulder and made a beeline for the nearest cot, rifling through the draws next to it for a bandage or anything else.

“What are you-” Kix had watched you come in, and was utterly perplexed by your actions until he saw the mix of grease and blood trickling down your forehead. “What happened?” He asked, coming over to inspect the wound.

You just stayed silent.

He said your name gently, drawing your attention and you glanced at him briefly, “What does it look like? I hit my head” You said, finally finding a small bacta patch in the draw. You took it and peeled off the back, sitting down to apply it.

“Woah” Kix reached forwards and took your wrist before you could place it down, “Let me clean that for you first”

You grabbed your wrist back, “I don’t need any help”

“The grease will only infect the wound” He said, grabbing the patch from you, “Sit still”

You glared at him, “I don’t care, I’d rather let it get infected”

“Well it’s a good thing I care then isn’t it” He replied, pulling out an antiseptic wipe.

You sat in silence with what he’d just said. Is this part of his latest trick? Kix gently grabbed your chin, tilting your head to get a better look at the wound. He brought the wipe up to it, “This is going to sting a bit”

And it did.

You hissed as the wipe came into contact with your wound, moving away from the clone inflicting the pain, but he just kept going until there was no more grease or blood dripping out of it.

“Wait here. Please don’t leave”

You watched him suspiciously as he moved away to retrieve something. He was being uncharacteristically serious and kind for someone who loved to tease you. He returned a moment later with some bacta and a bandage, and applied it without another word.

“You know, if I didn't know better, I'd think you were avoiding me” He said, the corners of his lips turning up at the attempted joke.

“Well clearly you don’t know any better then” You rolled you eyes.

He spoke your name in a soft tone as he finished applying the bandage, “That hurts” He said in mock hurt, a hand resting on his heart.

“Good” You replied instantly, looking up to his eyes to find him now looking at you seriously. He just watched you for a moment, and your own scowl softened slightly without your permission.

“I’m sorry” He said softly.

You bit your lip a little, looking away, “I know you are”

He brought his hand back to your chin, forcing you to look at him as he spoke, “I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I-” He gulped, “I wanted to kiss you”

Your heart leapt to your throat and your eyebrows furrowed, and then scrunched up, going through a million emotions at once.

“Is this a joke?” You asked, your tone hesitant and unsure.

“No” He said firmly, stepping forwards and finding himself between your knees, “I’m sorry for… the way I went about it. I only wanted to tell you that…”

You looked up at him with widened eyes, hanging on every word.

“I wanted to tell you that I have… feelings for you, and it- well, it all backfired” He chuckled slightly, and you let your mouth form a small smile.

“And this is real? You actually like me?” You asked once more for conformation.

“It’s real. I like you, I really like you” He admitted, his hand moving from your chin to cup your jaw.

You leant into his touch a little, and his heart did a flip, “I… I like you too, but I think you already knew that” You grinned a little and his lips formed the smirk that you usually found so maddening.

“I might’ve had some idea” He spoke teasingly, then stroked your cheek with his thumb, “Care to try that kiss again?”

You didn’t reply, and instead pulled him down by his chest plate to meet his lips with yours. It was a slow and meaningful kiss, both you and Kix making no haste and just savouring the moment. You felt him hum contentedly against you, and you smiled into the kiss, breaking away to catch your breath a little. He placed his forehead on yours, but you pulled away quickly when your wound began screaming out against the action.

“Sorry” He chuckled then placed a light kiss on top of the bandaged area, “There, that’ll make it all better”

You smirked, “Is that a treatment you give all your patients?”

“No” He smiled, “Only my favourite one”

[catboydogma]

give the world away/wake up lonely

codywan week 2024 sol master list (solsterlist)

codywan week 2024 day 3 prompts, sol edition: soulmate au, after the war

notes: this is riffing off the quinlan/fox soulmates au i did a while back. if you haven't read that one, you don't have to; the gist of it is that soulmates can't lie to each other. for our resident guys who love lying above any other favored pastime or hobby, this presents a Number of Problems. canon timelines? there is no canon timeline here. tcw is my sandbox and baby i have started cultivating a bed of beautiful plants native to arid regions. title from crowd surf off a cliff by emily haines & the soft skeleton.

wc: 2,206

cross-posted to ao3

This was, admittedly, a somewhat inauspicious first meeting. Obi-Wan had been shipped back to Coruscant post-capture by Ventress for surgery and a recovery time that was cut much too short by politics, of all things. Entirely miffed by this shitshow, Obi-Wan had made his complaints clear to the Council. And Bail. And Padmé. And the beleaguered young Healer they’d had attending him. Yes, he might often leave medical before his sentence was up, but that was on his terms. To have his affairs arranged by some perfect stranger instead, in the name of the war effort? Oh, the utter fucking gall of these people.

Alpha-17 was recovering on Kamino, at least. Obi-Wan had gotten away light, relatively speaking. He’d said as much to Vokara Che, and she’d made the most fascinating expression at him.

In his absence, the 212th had been headed by some interim Admiral of the Navy and the new Commander. They were already engaged clear across the Rim, and so Obi-Wan was shipped back out in another transport with a contingent of transfers rotating out from the Coruscant Guard. By the time they dropped out of hyperspace at the back end of the venator, the battle was over and cleanup had commenced.

Obi-Wan was sore, he wanted a proper shower with the desperation of an alcoholic approaching the three-month mark, and to top it all off, his trick knee was acting up again from all the time spent sitting around in the transport. Obi-Wan was not the sort to take advantage of his position either as a High General or a Jedi Master, but really, couldn’t they have given him a transport bigger than a bloody Pathfinder?

Bag slung over one shoulder, Obi-Wan located his—allegedly temporary—cane and tried his best not to limp too visibly. The hangar of the venator was busy with white- and gold-painted troopers, only a few in dress greys cutting back and forth through the bustle. Whoever was running this operation, they were doing it well; even with the distraction Obi-Wan and his entourage presented, few troopers were distracted from their own tasks.

“At ease,” Obi-Wan said, after he’d saluted the squad of troopers waiting to greet him. The Command Corps, with only a handful of familiar signatures. The casualty rate directly after Obi-Wan and Alpha-17’s capture had… suffered. “I am Master Obi-Wan Kenobi. Commander Fox sends his regards.” He’d said something quite a bit more rude, but Obi-Wan wasn’t about to repeat that to a perfect stranger, brothers they may be.

“Clone Marshal Commander 2224,” his Commander replied. Alpha-17 referred to this one as Cody in their little catch-up holocall before Obi-Wan had been deployed again. He’d followed it up with “that little shit” and other things at once less complimentary and more affectionate. Obi-Wan, after taking a few days to parse through the backhanded compliments and veiled praise that Alpha-17 liked to communicate in, had taken this to mean that his new Commander was highly skilled, exceedingly competent, and smarter than all the Navy personnel aux staff. Combined. That, and he had a sense of humor imparted to him directly by Alpha-17.

“A pleasure to meet you,” Obi-Wan said, shaking the Commander’s hand in a firm grip. Professional. Brief. He opened his mouth again to say something about how he looked forward to working with the 212th and a great many more successful engagements, and the words stopped up his throat. Obi-Wan discreetly cleared his throat and—

“Oh, no,” Obi-Wan said instead, an entirely honest display of dismay breaking out. No, no, no, no, this could not be happening.

The Commander’s hand tightened on his. “Is there a problem, sir?”

“What’s your name, if I may, Commander?” Obi-Wan asked, belatedly releasing his hand.

A static fuzz split the air as the Commander stuttered on—something. His serial, Obi-Wan suspected. Which… would have been a lie, if the Commander did not truly consider his serial to be his name.

“Heck,” the Commander said. He pulled his helmet off and flipped it over to tuck under an arm in one smooth motion, mouth slightly agape as he stared at Obi-Wan.

He was a handsome man, his Commander. Very handsome. In the back of his head, Obi-Wan thought he might be hearing howling laughter that sounded a bit too much like Alpha-17.

“Quite,” Obi-Wan said. “Ah… I suppose we’re due for a walk-around. But, after, perhaps, if you might… show me to my quarters, and we can have a, ah… more informal debriefing?” Force, but he hadn’t stuttered like this since Qui-Gon had tried to guilt him into taking care of one of his notoriously finicky bonsais.

His Commander was silent for a moment. Testing the bounds of their new… constraints, Obi-Wan suspected. Finally, he said: “I’d like that.”

…two years later, after the war:

“That Sith is lucky he’s already dead,” Cody snarled up at the ceiling.

Obi-Wan patted Cody’s hand and tried to suppress the feeling that he was about to be an accessory to a hideously violent crime. “How’s your nausea, then? Manageable?”

Cody snarled something incoherent. Perhaps he’d tried for a “fine” or even a bold “utterly negligible.” Obi-Wan was not the most empathic Jedi, instead sitting—like many things in his life—at a comfortably average level of Force empathy. Yet even he could feel the waves of sick vertigo and queasiness washing over Cody every few minutes. After a moment of muttering and another moment of grimly, doggedly swallowing as another wave of nausea broke over him, Cody gave Obi-Wan a baleful, sweaty glare. “Stop asking me questions.”

“My brave Commander,” Obi-Wan said, digging his thumbs into the base of Cody’s thumb and the joint of his wrist.

The medics had concocted two different ways to disable the inhibitor chips that Lieutenant Fives had uncovered—surgery or injection. The series of vaccines was a clever combination of medical nanotechnology originally developed to fight against deep-rooted viral infections and a biotechnological approach to ensure that the body’s systems were able to quickly and safely break down the chip from the inside, piggybacking off local immune response.

Their results could not be denied. Both approaches were as safe as they could be, with an astonishingly low mortality or mishap rate. The immune response, however, was… somewhat vicious. Obi-Wan had been able to glean that Cody was getting off relatively light; he’d just the muscle aches and nausea, but no fever, and he had yet to actually vomit anything up. Whether that was due to his body having a good response, or Cody’s own iron self-discipline… well, who was really to say.

“Can’t imagine the company’s all that right now,” Cody muttered. His jaw worked furiously and he leaned his head back against the pillows of his medical cot.

Obi-Wan hummed and worked his way up Cody’s forearm, measuring his pulse with two fingers pressed into the soft inside of Cody’s elbow. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be, right now. Until you tell me to fuck off, I shall continue to remain right here.”

“Fuck—nhgghk—fuck… you,” Cody hissed.

Ah, Obi-Wan’s love was such a romantic. He only felt a little bad about trapping Cody in a proverbial corner, but if Cody truly wanted him to leave, then he could say so. Until then… well. It wasn’t like Cody could lie to him. Obi-Wan tried not to look quite so smug, but with Cody’s hand spasming on his arm like he was imagining strangling Obi-Wan, perhaps he wasn’t as successful as he’d thought.

“Only twelve more hours,” Obi-Wan said, soothing. He smoothed a hand up Cody’s bicep and started in on his shoulders, finding knots of tension and digging in deep to ease them out. With the persistent muscle aches, these knots would likely be back in a matter of hours, if that. But if Obi-Wan could do something to help Cody, as small as it could be, he was going to do it.

“You should go,” Cody rasped, eyes closed and brow furrowed. His shoulder spasmed under Obi-Wan’s hand, sweat-slick skin and hard muscle shifting painfully.

Hm. Well. That hadn’t been what Obi-Wan had planned. He pressed the back of his hand to Cody’s forehead. No fever; the sweats and shakes, a little warm from lying in bed, but nothing concerning. Fighting to keep his voice neutral, Obi-Wan asked, “And do you want me to go?”

Cody gritted his teeth, lips peeling back in a snarl. He started and stopped in the middle of half a dozen words. “It doesn’t matter what I want. You should leave.”

Obi-Wan’s heart seized in his chest, something toothier than grief coming to settle behind his breastbone. Sometimes the inability to lie to one’s soulmate was a blessing, if a complicated one. Sometimes… sometimes it meant that when Cody said such a thing, Obi-Wan knew to his bones that Cody truly believed it. “Yes, it matters very much what you want,” he said, fighting to keep his voice even but not gentle. Cody so hated to be “coddled,” in his words. Obi-Wan, who could tease out the truth, knew that Cody didn’t necessarily want to be treated gently or handled with care—he simply wanted to be treated like he was precious. Like he meant something to someone.

“And,” Obi-Wan continued, when it seemed like no more was forthcoming from Cody and he was no longer fighting to keep the wobble out of his own voice, “unless and until you say ‘Obi-Wan, my precious love, papple of my eye and light of my galaxy, I want you to leave me alone,’ I shall be remaining by your side.”

Cody’s face screwed up. It looked terrifyingly like he might cry. Obi-Wan wasn’t sure what he would do if Cody started crying, other than start sobbing alongside him.

“What if the chip activates?” Cody finally bit out, sounding like the words had been carved out of him. “I read the brief on Fray’s procedure. And Longshot’s. And—and I could. I might—you don’t—want to see me. Like this. I—” Cody heaved for breath, eyes gone glassy and the sinews of his throat standing in high relief with tension. “—I can’t. If something happens, I can’t. If the chip activates and I—lose myself—it’s.” Cody cursed, as vile as anything Obi-Wan had ever heard him use.

Obi-Wan firmly laced his fingers between Cody’s and checked his vambrace with his free hand. It must be terrifying to know that you might kill those you held most dear. But the chips didn’t activate with a specific order—Fray’s had activated on Order 37: mass arrest and execute the local civilian population to capture a wanted individual. The poor trooper had almost killed a pair of orderlies with his own bootlaces. Longshot’s had… well. They were yet lucky to still have the trooper with them, but he would have to be carefully monitored in the next few weeks to make sure he didn’t suffer clotting in the vessels of his neck or a stroke. But with a full one hundred and fifty orders, the chance that Cody’s would activate in the first place was slim, let alone land on the one that would have him trying to kill Obi-Wan.

And yet… this wasn’t a scenario where likelihoods and statistics would help. Obi-Wan squeezed Cody’s hand, then showed him the screen embedded into his vambrace. A med droid had sent him an update on the progress of Cody’s procedure, showing a near-incomprehensible feed of the nanites as they disabled what remained of Cody’s chip.

“You’re well past the threshold for the chip activating successfully,” Obi-Wan told him. “And I always want to see you, Cody. I especially want to be here while you’re fighting through this. You won’t lose yourself. You’re already past the worst of it. I know you can hang on for a little while longer, and there’s no part of you that I would turn away from.” He raised Cody’s hand to kiss the back of it, lips pressed carefully to Cody’s scarred and calloused knuckles. “There is no part of you that could make me turn away.” He would repeat it as many times as Cody would let him.

“I don’t want to wake up someone different,” Cody rasped. But he didn’t pull away from Obi-Wan, and he let Obi-Wan smooth a hand over his curls and press a kiss to the space between his brows.

“I’ll keep an eye on the chip,” Obi-Wan promised. With a rueful smile, chest still aching, he echoed Cody’s own oft-repeated line back at him: “When have I ever let you down?”

“Never,” Cody murmured, face tightening as one—or perhaps several—of his muscles spasmed and locked up. He looked exhausted, riding the line between unconsciousness and apprehension.

“Just so. You’ll be alright,” Obi-Wan promised. “And I’ll be here.”

With that, Cody finally let himself slip into sleep, mind partially quieting. The fear was still there, as well as a biting edge of self-recrimination and dread-heavy resignation. Obi-Wan kept a bit of his awareness on the chip through the Force, monitoring it carefully. They would get through this safe and whole, and Obi-Wan would not suffer any other option.

[awkward-tension-art]

Darkess on Umbara Chp.12 (Rex x Reader)

Chapter 11. Chapter 13.

Friendly-Fire

cw: Rex x Reader, Reader is a medic, incorrect military procedure, graphic descriptions of injuries, blood, swearing, death and battle, Canon character death, Spoilers for the Umbara Arc, Pong Krell is an asshole, reader insert, names of non-canon dead clones, Grief, Dissociation, SUICIDE, friendly-fire, POV of dissociation, reader is gender neutral, no use of (Y/N), if i miss a tag LMK

MINORS DNI

“Stay alert. The enemy has our weapons and our armor, they may try to trick us with an ambush.”

You kept your head up as Rex led the few squads through the dark umbaran forest. He was at the front, pistols ready. 

Your location was near the back, keeping close to Tup and Dogma. You’ve learned the two were from the same batch, and it made you wonder.

How could Tup be so…sweet and polite while Dogma was so vindictive and tense?

“Watch out, Dogma!” Case in point, the trooper with a painted tear stopped his friend from stepping on a vine, “I saw that thing attack Hardcase. It'll chew you up and spit you out.” He warned, picking up a fist-sized rock, “Here, watch.” The soldier threw the stone, hitting a dark mound hidden in the ash-colored dirt. As soon as it hit the camouflage beast, the creature growled before waving its tendrils and opening its fanged mouth.

Dogma jumped back, “Ew!”

“Try not to get eaten by them,” You deadpanned, “I won’t be trying to rescue you if you do end up in its mouth.”

He was about to respond before being cut off by a barrage of blue blaster bolts. 

Blue? So Krell was right. The Umbarans stole clone weaponry.

“We're under attack!” 

The squads began to step backwards, getting behind cover. Two soldiers went down and you rushed past Tup and Dogma to their side. Your training kicked in as you assessed. The closest one to you had a smoking bolt right through his helmet.

Fatal shot. Instant death. His name was Uno. 

The other soldier twitched and you grabbed his arm before dragging him behind one of the dark-wooded trees. Two other troopers were behind the cover firing in the direction of the shots.

“I got you,” You spoke to him, taking off his helmet. 

No head injuries. Burn on his side. Most likely a graze. His name is Ryder.

An explosion, most likely a grenade, hit the ground a few feet from you. Despite that, you remained calm, “Stay awake, I’m going to fix you right up,” In one swift movement you had a patch out of one of your packs and placed over the blaster burn. You worked quickly, getting him stabilized.

Ryder flinched and groaned, but nodded, “Thanks Doc.”

“Where’s the enemy!?” One of the troopers next to you shouted, clearly unsure where to shoot.

The one kneeling beside him answered, “I don't know! I can't see anything!”

The trooper who asked the question flew back, hitting the ground. His chest had two smoldering holes through it. The plastoid melted and burned, his skin turning to embers from the heat.

Blaster bolts through the heart. Fatal. His name. What was his name? Barr. His name was Barr.

You looked up, spotting Kix tending to a writhing trooper. Another missile hit the tree above him, raining glowing red branches and burning ash down on them. 

A blue shot nicked your cover, barely missing your head and you ducked. 

“Get those mortars up here!” You heard Rex command. He was somewhere behind cover in front of you.

Good. Stay safe, cyare. You prayed silently to yourself. 

Tup and Dogma ran forward, heavy weapons ready. They were followed by a group of about six other men, also armed with mortars. They knelt, keeping low to the ground. They fired, and the sky rang out with a familiar whistle of falling explosives. 

The ground trembled with the power from such shots, and smoke began to billow from the woods in front of the 501st squads. You peaked, taking the brief moment to dash to Kix’s side and aid him with the wounded. 

Just as you got safely behind cover, blaster bolts fired again from the enemies side. 

“Anyone have a visual?” The clone captain asked, keeping behind the massive, black trunk of an umbaran tree. Several shots scraped the wood narrowly missing Rex, but he didn’t even flinch.

Kix stood, leaning out from behind his own cover, he steadied his scope, “Negative. It's too dark.” He dove back, barely dodging a shot directly to the head. After a moment, he peaked again, “Wait! I see them! They're disguised as clones, all right.”

The squads surged forward, charging the moment they had a visual. 

Chaos reigned as blasters and grenades littered the air and ground. You kept back and out of sight, grabbing any wounded and getting them behind cover. You could manage with the supplies you had, even if the Umbarans seemed more skilled than usual. 

One of the troopers, Filter, beside you cried out and stumbled back. He knelt down, gripping his smoking upper arm. 

“Don’t move.” You got to his side and began to tend to his wound.

Direct hit. Bone visible. Muscles burnt. This was similar to the injury you sustained before taking the airbase. You knew exactly what to do.

As you treated him, you looked up, taking in the battlefield. Dead and injured littered the dark ground. Troopers were firing. The very earth shook with each explosion that went off. With dread, you realized you couldn’t see Rex.

You commed him, immediately, “Captain, where are you?” Your heart raced when you didn’t get an answer. You searched the battlefield again. 

Your eyes landed on a dead Umbaran wearing clone armor. A puddle of crimson blood was growing larger around the body. You recognized the gold of the 212th. 

So that's the supplies that were stolen. Weapons and armor of the 212th…

Your thoughts halted. Do Umbarans bleed red? 

“Captain!” Tup’s voice came through the comm, “We're sustaining heavy casualties!”

You were frozen, eyes searching the field, “Rex!?” In your desperation, you commed him again.

He answered, sprinting past you, waving his arms, “Everyone stop firing!” He cried out, clearly panicked and distressed.

Rex? What was going on-?!

“We’re shooting at our own men!” The 501st captain shouted, running straight into the line of fire. He threw off his helmet as he continued to clamor, “They're not Umbarans! They're clones!”

Abandoning safety, you stood, getting out from your cover, eyes wide. 

Clones!?

Rex continued forward, commanding his men in a desperate attempt to end the battle, “Take off your helmets! Show them you're not the enemy!”

As he ran through the field, the shots began to wean, but the fight wasn’t entirely over, “Cease fire! They're not Umbarans. They're clones!” Your despairing lover tackled the 212th trooper in front of him and ripped off the trooper's helmet before standing, “Look! We're clones! We're all clones!”

The battle halted in shock and anguish. 

The soldiers around you took off their helmets, some dropping them on the ash colored dirt. The 501st began to step out behind cover, coming face to face with the 212th. 

Their own brothers. 

There was the sound of a blaster loading next to you. Filter had the barrel of his rifle settled under his chin.

“No!” You reached out, only to be too late.

He pulled the trigger. 

Your stare was on his unmoving body, eyes wide and arm stretched out.

Fyre. Vim. Oz. Ringo. North. Gabe. Tro. Tess. Zeb. Sante. Reign. Pheon. Dawn. Nim. Jamie. Hek. Recon. Mav. Zeo. Fisher. Hinge. Trident. Iron. Mesh. Steele. Bruno. Zeke. Jumper. Aura. Dia. Silk. Forty. Thrall. Hardcase. Uno. Barr. Filter.

You looked up, eyes spotting Rex across the field. He looked devastated. His knees were on the ground and his head was in his hands. 

Be strong. For him.

“Kix, give me your supplies!” You barked, shutting down your emotions. Coldness filled your body and blood. Your focus became sharp. The only sound your ears registered was a high pitched ringing. You no longer felt like yourself. 

Save as many of them as you can. Now!

You got to action, searching the dead and triaging the wounded. The world was gone. All that mattered was saving the troopers.

You lost time. At some point, you realized that whenever you blinked, your hands were on a different soldier. The wounds didn’t matter. The blood didn't matter. 

You were going to save them. 

Someone else joined you in your mission to aid the wounded. Kix, you think. He gathered himself together enough to help.

Save them.

Then, you realized the medic of the 212th was beside you, helping stop the bleeding of a 501st soldier. 

Save them.

You blinked again, more time had passed, and you were straddling a 212th soldier. He writhed under you from the pain of you breaking his ribs to perform CPR. Hurt but alive.

Save them. Save them. Save them!

You moved on to another soldier. You held his hand as he died, surrounded by others of both the 212th and the 501st. He had a painted twi’lek girl on his helmet. Once you stood, someone grabbed you. 

Hardcase? No. he was gone. 

Silk? No. you had gotten him killed earlier.

Your name was called, not your title. Not your rank. Your name. They were trying to claw you back into the present. Your mind refused, you moved on to another trooper. Tending to his wounds before someone else grabbed your wrist, halting you.

Who were you staring at? You knew you recognized them…but you had forgotten names.

Tup? Was Tup alive?

You grabbed the wrist of someone else approaching to your left. In their hand were sedatives, you recognized. The needle was aimed for you. 

No. You had work to do. You had to save as many of them as possible.

They dropped the injection, and you stepped away, only to be tackled. The hard earth slammed your mind back into focus.

“You did it! There's no more injured!” Rex was on top of you, keeping you pinned. His brown eyes were wide and full of fear, “You can stop now, Mesh’la.” His breathing was shaky. His cheeks were marked with tears, “You don't need to save anyone else.”

It felt like you woke up. The world around you snapped into place. The ground beneath you was solid. The air in your lungs was crisp, and tasted of smoke and iron. The ringing in your ears disappeared. 

With shaky hands, you held your lover's face. He was alive. He was here. So were you. The both of you were here, in the present.

 “Are you hurt?” You whispered. Sighing in relief when he shook his head, “What happened, Rex?” 

“Krell,” He answered, helping you to your feet, “Krell sent them to these coordinates to stop the enemy. He told the 212th that Umbarans were wearing clone armor.”

He fucking tricked everyone!

Your eyes roamed the former battlefield. The survivors had managed to collect the fallen, and lay their bodies down. You noticed that Kix and the 212th medic were getting names and CT numbers, all to add to the list of casualties. Too many good clones were still, waiting to be marked as dead. 

Krell killed them all.

The five stages of grief ran through your body. They hit you in waves, but you remained standing, surveying the world around you.

Denial.

Anger.

Bargaining.

Depression.

And acceptance. 

But right now. All you felt was one thing, creating a sixth stage of grief.

Vengeance.

“Something has to be done.” You looked to the captain. The coldness had left your body the moment Rex tackled you. Instead, every cell in your body burned with the heat of rage. 

“We all know who's responsible for what happened here,” Like you, your lover held the same wrath. His beautiful eyes were a storm of righteous fury, “I’m getting a squad together. Krell will face justice.” 

You wanted in.

[miss-musings]

The Bad Batch Post-"Plan 99" Fanfic

Summary: Takes place between the events of 2.16 "Plan 99" and 3.01 "Confined." Crosshair finds out Omega has been captured and hears about Tech's death. He struggles with the news and his new routine as a prospective CX operative. Later, Omega makes her first visit to his cell. ~15 minute read

WARNING: Lots of sad, angsty thoughts about Tech's death. Don't read if you aren't comfortable with ~50% of it being Crosshair ruminating about Tech's death and his own guilt.

Crosshair’s neck was stiff from pain. He was lying on his back, and could feel the restraints holding him to the medical table. He heard voices around him, but he didn’t dare open his eyes. He hoped they’d still think he was asleep and leave him be.

“He’s waking up,” an unfamiliar female voice said. “Inform the doctor.”

A heavy pair of footsteps stomped away from the area, but he could still feel eyes on him. He heard the hum of equipment and the clinking of metal objects nearby.

“You may release him from the table,” the voice said again.

Someone jostled his wrists, slapping binders on them, while someone else loosened and then took off the restraints on his forehead, chest and ankles.

“You should sit up now,” the voice said to him this time. “The doctor will be here shortly.”

There was no hiding, then.

Crosshair opened his eyes and sat up. A female doctor with thick goggles and even thicker brown hair looked at him. Troopers and a commando were nearby, their guns pointed at him.

Crosshair was in a large room with other clone prisoners lying unconscious on other medical tables in the center of the room, and there were tanks along the walls with eerie-looking bodies inside.

He wondered what new torture Hemlock had in mind for him when the doctor walked into the room, escorted by a commando. His black hair was slicked back, and he was holding his gloved left hand in his right.

He approached Crosshair and said in his chilling whisper-like voice:

“As impressive as your dedication to your former squad is, I’m afraid it has all been in vain.”

Crosshair stiffened.

“Omega is now in my custody.”

No. It couldn’t be. This was some kind of trick. He’d told them to hide.

It was hard to read Hemlock’s face, but in Crosshair’s few interactions with him, he’d been unusually straightforward. Cruel, yes, but straightforward.

But, Crosshair couldn’t bring himself to believe it.

“You’re lying,” he said with a scowl.

Hemlock practically smiled as he gestured toward the door, and said, “I’ll show you.”

Crosshair got off the table and, escorted closely by the troopers and commandos, followed Hemlock out of the room and through the corridors.

They went to a part of the facility Crosshair had never seen before. Some kind of medical wing.

Hemlock stopped in front of a large window. Crosshair stopped and looked in too. He saw a large room full of medical beds, equipment and personnel. Clone prisoners were on the beds, getting blood samples taken.

But Crosshair’s eyes first fell on the shortest person in the room and he felt his heart plummet inside his chest.

Omega.

He hadn’t seen her since the day his squad had left him on that Kaminoan platform, but it was undoubtedly her.

Her light-blond hair was longer. She looked taller too, as she walked around in the light-gray uniform of Tantiss’ medical personnel. She seemed to be shadowing the female clone Crosshair had encountered when he first arrived on Tantiss.

She looked anxious, but didn’t appear to be hurt at least.

Crosshair glanced at Hemlock, who was looking over at him with a sinister gleam in his eye.

“I found Clone Force 99 with the help of one of their own associates,” Hemlock said. “They made an ill-advised attempt to infiltrate Governor Tarkin’s fortress on Eriadu, and lost one of their own in the process.”

Crosshair’s eyes went wide with fear.

“Oh yes,” Hemlock said. “You would’ve known him as Tech.”

No.

Tech? It couldn’t be.

His face went blank as Hemlock continued:

“The others managed to escape custody, but no matter. I have what I need now.”

Even with a million thoughts spinning in his head, Crosshair instinctively looked back through the window at Omega.

She was still following the female clone, who was giving her some kind of instructions. She seemed unaware they were watching her. It must be two-way glass.

He was about to take a step toward it – to warn her, alert her, anything – when the troopers grabbed him and held him in place.

“You needn’t worry,” Hemlock said. “Omega will be safe here, for now. I only need her to ensure my work for the Empire may proceed as planned.”

Nala Se. That had to be it.

Admiral Rampart had sent the Kaminoans’ chief scientist to Tantiss when they decommissioned Tipoca City. And Omega had been Nala Se’s medical assistant. Perhaps they were closer than Crosshair had realized, and Hemlock was now using Omega to force Nala Se to cooperate.

If that was the case, he realized, then she would be safe.

They’d need her alive to ensure Nala Se did whatever work the Empire – or rather, Hemlock – had in mind.

And, going by the pleased look on the doctor’s face, she was.

Hemlock stepped toward Crosshair, putting his hands behind his back.

“And if your former squad ever comes looking for Omega – as I suspect they will – I have plans for them,” he said. “As I do for you.”

Crosshair blinked.

“What plans?”

Hemlock smiled, and said, “You’ll see.”

He then turned to one of the commandos.

“Put him in the detention block,” Hemlock said. “Have him brought to the training room at 0800 with the other candidates.”

The commando nodded and looked to the troopers on either side of Crosshair. They grabbed him by his arms and shoulders, and were preparing to lead him away, when Hemlock held up a hand and stepped toward Crosshair again.

“If you had accepted my offer, you would be free now,” Hemlock said. “But, since you refused, you will continue to serve the Empire. In fact, your true service is only just beginning.”

He looked Crosshair up and down, and took a very calculated breath before adding:

“I look forward to seeing what you will become, CT-9904.”

A chill ran down Crosshair’s spine. Somehow, he could feel exactly what Hemlock’s true intentions were.

The doctor nodded, and the troopers led him away. Crosshair tried to look back at the window for one last glimpse of Omega, but it was too late.

Everything was gone.

*****

All the hours and rotations after that exchange were a hellish blur.

Crosshair and a few other clones were subjected to brutal training and torture – or “re-education,” as Hemlock called it. His plan was to turn them into specialized operatives who were completely loyal to the Empire – to him.

Their conditioning lasted for hours on end every day.

But the nights were worse.

Crosshair was left alone with nothing but his thoughts for hours and hours. Physically hurt and mentally exhausted, he hardly slept each night before the hell of the next day began again.

He kept thinking about Tech. He kept seeing flashes of days, missions, memories together. Sometimes they were cadets, learning how to fight and shoot. Sometimes they were soldiers, running headfirst onto a new battlefield.

He kept hearing Tech’s voice in his head.

“Understanding you does not mean that I agree with you.”

Was that the last thing his brother had ever said to him?

He wanted to believe Hemlock had lied, that Tech was still alive, that his old squad was safe and alive somewhere.

But, he’d been telling the truth about Omega. Why fabricate some long-winded story on top of it?

What the kriff had they been doing on Eriadu? Surely, they couldn’t have been infiltrating Tarkin’s base to try to find him?

He had to know. The uncertainty, the questions were killing him.

But, there was only one person who could possibly tell him; and as much as he wanted to know, he hated the thought of facing her again.

It was all his fault.

He knew it in whatever remained of his heart.

Tech was dead because of him.

Omega was Hemlock’s prisoner because of him.

Hunter, Wrecker and even Echo could be dead, captured or tearing themselves apart with grief, all because of him.

If he’d just gone with them that day on Kamino – he thought to himself every day, every hour – none of this would’ve happened.

Tech would be alive.

They would all be safe.

Maybe they could’ve even been happy.

Crosshair had always despised that his former squad was living job-to-job as mercenaries in the Outer Rim. But, compared to this, it would have been a paradise.

More than once he finally drifted off to sleep with tears in his eyes, only to dream of Tech. Sometimes he died in a firefight. Sometimes he died in a fall. Once he died trying to fly The Marauder away from Tarkin’s mountainside fortress.

Crosshair was almost relieved when the troopers woke him to start the hellish cycle all over again.

There was no chance of rescue. Hemlock would kill or capture Hunter and the others if they somehow found Tantiss.

There was no hope of escape. Even if he managed to elude or defeat his guards again, Crosshair didn’t even know how big the base was, or how to get outside or to a shuttle bay.

So, he didn’t bother counting the rotations. There was no point.

He almost hoped someone would kill him during their operative training. Or he would somehow die during Hemlock’s conditioning.

But, no, he thought. He deserved it.

He deserved all of it.

*****

Not that Crosshair was counting, but it took Omega five rotations to track down his cell.

He was lying on his bed, trying not to think about Tech again, when a familiar fwing hit his skull.

Someone was watching him.

Before Tantiss, he would’ve bolted upright, blaster ready. But now he didn’t bother. They were always watching him.

He felt the eyes drawing nearer and nearer, and that striking sensation against his head became harder and harder to ignore. He could tell something was different. This wasn’t any of his usual inspectors.

There was only one person it could be.

His heart sank when he heard that soft, eager voice whisper to him through the cell door:

“Crosshair?”

He opened his eyes and looked over to see Omega kneeling outside his cell. Her brown eyes, so full of care and concern, stared back at him.

“What—what are you doing here?” he asked as he quickly sat up. “You need to leave, before they catch you.”

Hemlock was smart. He was already using Omega as leverage over Nala Se. Who’s to say he wouldn’t use Omega as leverage over him too, if he felt like it?

“It’s fine,” Omega told him. “The guards are on shift break.”

He rolled his eyes and gave a small sigh.

“And I needed to check on you,” she continued. “You were still unconscious when I first got here. I tried to wake you, but Emerie said you didn’t cooperate with the doctor.”

So, Omega had found him, tried to talk to him even. It must’ve been sometime before Hemlock had gloated about capturing her.

“Crosshair, what did they do to you?”

He shook his head and replied, “It doesn’t matter now.”

He looked past her, and scanned the seemingly empty corridor beyond. He didn’t see or sense anyone else watching.

Finally, he was face-to-face with the moment, the person he’d dreaded meeting.

“What happened?” he asked, taking the plunge. “How are you here? Did they not get my message?”

Omega looked down.

“We did,” she said. “We were trying to rescue you and all the other clones trapped here. We infiltrated an Imperial summit on Eriadu so we could track Hemlock’s ship. But, everything went wrong as we were trying to escape.

“And Tech,” she said, as her voice cracked and her eyes welled up. “… He—he sacrificed himself so we could get away.”

So, it was true.

Tech’s kind face and goggle-covered brown eyes appeared in Crosshair’s mind. His voice echoed in his ears: “Understanding you does not mean I agree with you.”

His brother really was gone. Dead.

Crosshair’s expression went hollow. He felt like a barrage of blaster bolts to the chest would’ve been less painful.

Omega continued her story, but Crosshair barely registered it.

“The next thing I remember, we were back on Ord Mantell and the Empire was there. They took Hunter and Wrecker away, and I tried to free them but Hemlock caught me and brought me here.

“I’ve been asking Emerie and looking everywhere, but I haven’t been able to find out what happened to them,” she said, her eyes wide with desperation and sorrow.

Somehow hearing Hunter and Wrecker’s names snapped Crosshair back into full consciousness.

“They’re not here,” he said. “They escaped. Hemlock told me so himself.”

Hope briefly shone in Omega’s eyes.

“We can’t trust him,” she said. “What if he’s lying?”

“Hemlock is a bastard, but I don’t know why he would lie about that,” Crosshair said. “Besides, if they were here, I would’ve seen them by now.”

“What do you mean?”

Crosshair looked down and didn’t answer her.

He had long realized what Hemlock had meant when he said he had plans for Clone Force 99 if they ever made it to Tantiss. The doctor wanted his own squad of elite clones to carry out his every bidding, and he was especially excited at the prospect of “re-educating” Hunter and Wrecker with their enhanced abilities.

Thank whatever Force might exist in the galaxy that Tech had been spared that fate.

Crosshair looked back at Omega, who was still waiting for his answer.

“You need to go,” he said. “Before anyone finds you here.”

“Alright,” she said in a determined voice. “But I’ll come back the next chance I can.”

“No. Don’t come back here at all. If they catch you…”

“I’ll be careful.”

Crosshair gave a high-sigh, half-scoff. She was just as stubborn and willful as she’d been on Kamino. How had Hunter and the others put up with her for so long?

She made a move as though she was about to leave, but then bent back down and looked at him again through the criss-crossing bars of his cell door.

“Don’t worry, Crosshair. We’re together now. They can’t stop us both.”

Crosshair exhaled and threw her a look that spelled out their exact situation. No hope, only despair. No relief, only defeat.

But, unsurprisingly, she didn’t get the message.

She simply looked back at him with such care, such hope, such… love.

“I knew you would come around,” she said. “Tech did too.”

Crosshair’s eyes went wide. It felt as though the blood in his body had stopped circulating.

“He said you were still his brother, and he wasn’t going to leave you behind. … And neither will I.”

She stood up and silently walked away, as Crosshair’s mind raced with a million new thoughts alongside the same old ones.

He felt his right hand tremoring. He couldn't stop it.

Tech had died trying to save him. Tech had died believing in him. Tech had died still caring about him.

With every thought, every realization, Crosshair felt the same truth beating inside his head like a drum.

Everything.

Everything.

Everything was all his fault.

COPYRIGHT 2024.

Story is subject to minor edits/tweaks as necessary.

[the-bi-space-ace]

Some Trick thoughts for you because I have him on the brain and I love my beautiful clone oc more than anything

Trick loves to hand out sweets but he is particular about the ones he eats. Likes a good sour gummy candy but could take or leave lollipops (even though he gives those out most often)

Trick learned early on that being a medic was the best option for him. He'd rather be saving lives, taking care of other clones, comforting people in pain. He has a heart too big for his own good sometimes. It's hard for him to let go.

He's hard on the people he loves because he expects a lot from them. He wants them to improve, to learn to be better, to not keep suffering or hurting others because of their issues.

Is not a good dancer but he's gonna tear up the dance floor if someone pulls him onto it.

Fruity little drinks are the only type of alcoholic beverage he's gonna drink (gets fliiiiiirty when he's drunk goodness)

This man is bisexual because I make the rules

Fighty when he needs to be and is incredibly intense when he believes in something. He's not afraid to back talk, not afraid to call out bullshit, and will verbally destroy someone if he needs to.

Gets away with a ton bc he's an endearing little shit

That cheerful, calm, collected front he puts up turns into a bit of a mask at times. He's certainly easygoing and most of it is him but he uses it to cover up his more negative feelings sometimes. He'll let his negative emotions show with the right person but he's learned to put up some walls to protect himself.

He gets attached so quick. His protective instinct is off the charts and once it activates for someone it's over. He'll do anything for them.

Cat person.

Keeps a journal. He likes to have hobbies he keeps to himself and one of those is writing things down. His feelings, random sentences that come to his head, little stories, a conversation he wants to remember, memories. Whenever he's in the field he tucks it somewhere in his armor or his pack. He'd rather carry it with him just in case something happens to him.

Speaking of being in the field: he's terrifying. Everyone who has worked closely with him has described this absolutely horrifying moment when he's had enough, when the bloodshed is too overwhelming, and Trick goes somewhere else and The Medic comes out. He's barking orders, carrying men on his back, and kicking the heads off of droids. He needs some time before he can crawl himself back out of that headspace.

He sings when he's in a lab or medbay alone. He'll also sing quietly when he's helping patients. It helps calm people's nerves.

Gives such good hugs. Excellent hugs. Won't let go until the other person does.

[dystopicjumpsuit]

Martyrs and Kings - Chapter 9

Only Ghosts

Rating: Mature/18+/Minors DNI

Pairing: Kix x archivist/historian OFC

Wordcount: 4.2k

Warnings: angst; iconoclasm; the inevitability of time; boundary testing; SMUT; semi-public sex; accidental voyeurism; hair-pulling; biting; sex under the influence of alcohol

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The galaxy had changed a lot in the last half century, but Coruscant still smelled the same. The stench hit Kix like a punch in the face when the shuttle doors opened. It wasn’t so bad on the upper levels, but it got noticeably worse as he descended. Captain Ithano had sent him a list of supplies to requisition when Kix notified the Meson Martinet that he was headed to the old capital, and most of them were only available from some of the shadier establishments in the Coruscant underworld. More than one of the items were a complete mystery to Kix, and he didn’t bother to ask exactly what it was that he was picking up for his totally legitimate, not-at-all-disreputable employer.

Republics and empires could rise and fall and rise again, but some things never changed, and black market dealers seemed to be a universal constant. Kix kept his head down and his blaster close. He wore his armor, craving both protection and anonymity. This deep in the city, it was always dark, and anyone who let down their guard was likely to get robbed or worse. He kept a watchful eye on the shadows, ignoring the fetid puddles and skittering vermin on the walkway. Ithano’s errands kept him busy most of the day, and his life was only threatened twice, which was a marked improvement over the last time he’d gone to level 1313. His last stop brought him near a familiar neighborhood, and as he headed back topside, Kix made an impulsive detour. 

The building still stood, of course. 79’s had been located in one of Coruscant’s massive skyscrapers, so it was no surprise that the platform and facade were still intact. But the bar itself had obviously gone out of business years or even decades earlier, and nothing had moved in to replace it. Even the iconic neon sign was still installed over the doors, though it was not illuminated any more, and he could see that the transparisteel was broken in several places. The doors were boarded up, but it was easy enough to work a few free so he could squeeze through the gap. He switched on his helmet light and looked around, wary of finding something—or someone—living in the derelict club. It looked like nobody had been inside since it closed.

The floor was littered with assorted detritus: broken glass, cocktail napkins, faded drink menus. A few crumbling pro-clone propaganda posters still hung on the walls: actual posters made of paper, not holosigns. He could see bits of graffiti scratched into some of the tables, and he laughed quietly as he remembered the night he had scrawled “Fives’s sister” next to a sketch of a wampa in the refresher.

Kark, he had so many memories of this place. He remembered his first trip to Coruscant as a wide-eyed shiny, dragged to the bar by his new brothers in the 501st, terrified the entire time that he was going to be reconditioned for breaking the regs. He’d overheard a cute civilian sigh, “Captain Keeli. The prettiest clone in the GAR.”  

Kix had spotted the legendary clone captain right away, sharing a drink with his Nikto Jedi General Di. That night, Kix went back to the barracks and drunkenly shaved his head in imitation of the older clone. Jesse had teased him relentlessly, telling him he’d gotten the pattern wrong. 

“I didn’t get it wrong,” Kix had retorted. “I made it my own.”

When the news came back that Captain Keeli, General Di, and their entire company of clone troopers had sacrificed themselves to protect the Twi’leks of Ryloth, Kix had kept the hairstyle to honor their memory and added a tattoo that read, A good droid is a dead one . 

He’d lost count of the nights he’d spent here, celebrating victories, mourning fallen brothers, searching for something more than the life of a man bred exclusively for war. Nights spent dancing and drinking with Jesse, Fives, Cerra, and Tup; nights spent seeking out nameless hookups with beings who only saw him as a piece of meat; nights spent brawling just to feel something, even if it hurt. Anything to drown out the screams of the brothers he couldn’t save, to drive away the memory of blood on his hands.

The last time he’d been here, he’d come with Jesse to celebrate his brother’s successful completion of ARC trooper training. It was his first time visiting the bar since the fateful night Fives had cornered him in the filthy bathroom, ranting about inhibitor chips and conspiracies and corruption at the highest levels of government. Kix had avoided the place after that, but Jesse had been so proud of his promotion, and he’d wanted to show off his new armor, and Kix had never been able to say no to Jesse. They’d started the night with tihaar shots, and then somebody had passed around tablets of sansanna spice. Kix had a vivid memory of a stunning Zeltron woman trailing her hand suggestively over Jesse's pauldrons.

“I like your armor," she'd said. "It’s so thoughtful of the Republic to provide leg rests.”

The night had degenerated into a wild blur of spice, booze, and anonymous sex after that. Jesse had loved every second of it. Kix, on the other hand, had been in full self-destruction mode after losing Fives and Tup, and that particular outing was when he hit the bottom. The next morning, bandaging his knuckles after a fight he didn’t remember, reeling from a nuclear hangover and a deep feeling of self-loathing, he’d commed Cerra and asked her to help him follow Fives’s investigation. He started by removing his inhibitor chip, growing his hair to cover the scar. It had been strange to let go of something that had been a part of his identity for so long. 

Without direct access to the Kaminoan data, it had taken months to uncover the full potential of the chips, and he’d been assigned to the mission on Skako Minor before he’d completed his investigation. Finding Echo alive had renewed Kix’s determination to save more of his brothers, and he’d redoubled his efforts. Within weeks, he found what he was looking for, and then the Separatists found him. 

He couldn’t save any of his brothers after all.

Kix took a long, last look around. The galaxy had moved on from the Clone Wars, and 79’s had failed to adapt and survive. All that remained of the clone bar was an empty shell, and only ghosts within.

It was late when Maree arrived on Coruscant. Teejay had booked a driver to pick her up from the spaceport and take her directly to her hotel at the top of one of the city’s gleaming towers. It had been a long day, and she desperately wanted to take a shower and go to bed. She stared at the garish holosigns that flashed by the speeder, replying mechanically to her driver’s inconsequential chatter.

It had taken longer than anticipated to receive approval for Kix to enter the Imperial Military Records Archive, and thus several days had passed since they had spent the night together. He hadn’t contacted her except to acknowledge that he’d received her message explaining the delay. The approval had arrived in the late afternoon, and Maree had Teejay book transport to Coruscant that night. As soon as she boarded the shuttle, she sent Kix a message with instructions to meet her at the archive the next morning.

Maree avoided Coruscant whenever she could. Something about the planet gave her the shudders. It was strange; she loved Hosnian Prime even though it was also an ecumenopolis. She had attended university on Coruscant and left the planet at the first opportunity. Accustomed as she was to the endless expanses on the planets of the Outer Rim territories, she felt claustrophobic and panicky among the towering spires and plastcrete canyons of Coruscant. At least on Hosnian Prime she could see the planet’s actual surface. The only way she could do that on Coruscant was to visit the peak of Mt. Umate in Monument Plaza, as if it were a curiosity or a tourist destination, and not the very foundation on which the ancient city was built.

But beyond all of that, Coruscant had always seemed to Maree to have an air of desperation. Strip away the glittering facade of the upper levels, and underneath one would find only pain and misery and exploitation. She was too young to remember Coruscant under Imperial rule, but she couldn’t imagine that much had changed with the formation of the New Republic. The corruption here was too systemic, too entrenched, to be undone with a mere regime change, no matter how determined or well-intentioned the government might be. It had been this way under the Old Republic; it had continued under the Empire; and there was no sign that anything had improved under the New Republic.

The soft chirp of her commlink startled Maree out of her pessimistic ruminations. It was a message from Kix.

Are you on 000?

She typed out a quick reply. Yes. Heading to my hotel now.

Have you eaten? He responded immediately.

Not yet, Maree typed. I was planning on getting room service.

Want some company? He replied.

Maree was a little surprised at the offer. She’d thought that his lack of communication had signaled that he wasn’t interested in continuing what they’d started his last night on Hosnian Prime. She’d told herself it was for the best, even if it stung a bit. She didn’t do long term, as Valsi had pointed out. The rational part of Maree’s brain said she could hardly fault Kix for sharing her attitude. But there had been something different about her time with Kix—something she could almost have believed was special, if not for the haunted look in his eyes as he’d left her flat.

Still, it couldn’t have been such a terrible night for him if he was interested in a repeat. The cynical voice in her head told her it was just more convenient for him to booty call her than to go to the effort of picking up another bedmate. Maree took a moment to consider. Kix had been good in bed—fantastic, actually. She definitely wouldn’t mind going another round or three with him. She was fully capable of keeping her feelings under control—it was her specialty, after all. And if she felt a twinge of disappointment that he only saw her as a warm body, it would fade.

Sure, she replied. Meet up at the hotel bar in an hour?

She sent him the name of her hotel, and he replied with a thumbs-up. She sighed a little, thinking wistfully that she’d have to settle for a sonic shower. She could see the hotel from the speeder now, and by the time she checked in, she had just enough time to unpack her bags and touch up her makeup after getting cleaned up.

Kix was already at the hotel bar when she arrived. She spotted him immediately, leaning against the bar, looking impossibly handsome and absolutely radiating unfriendliness. Something in his posture made him look dangerous in a way she hadn’t noticed during their earlier encounters. The other bar patrons gave him a wide berth. He stared down into his glass and didn’t notice her until she slipped into the space next to him. He looked up, and his stormy expression cleared at once.

“Hey, stranger,” she said, stretching up to kiss his cheek. “Am I late?”

He shook his head. “Got here early. Nothing better to do.”

Maree raised her eyebrows. He wasn’t slurring, but his breath smelled like whiskey, and she wondered how many he’d had. She signaled the bartender and ordered a cocktail, while Kix ordered another whiskey. The bartender shot her a meaningful look.

“Let’s get a table,” Maree said. “I’m starving.”

“Can I get anything started for you?” the bartender asked.

Maree glanced at the menu and ordered an assortment of appetizers, then led Kix to a cozy little booth in the back corner of the bar. Remembering his dislike of having his back to a door, she scooted into the side with the best view of the room, then patted the seat next to her. He dropped into the booth and immediately slid his hand high up her thigh.

Damn, he’s not wasting any time, she thought.

“How’ve you been?” she asked, hoping to pump the brakes a bit.

He shrugged. “Didn’t come here for small talk.”

He leaned in to kiss her, and she pulled back automatically.

“Agreed, I came here for dinner,” she said pointedly. “When’s the last time you ate?”

“Don’t remember,” he said. “Not hungry. At least not for food.”

He pushed his hand higher up her leg and cupped her sex through her gown. She suppressed a twinge of irritation and—to her horror—arousal.

“Well, I am,” Maree said, firmly pushing his hand back down her leg to rest safely on her knee. “I guess you’ll just have to wait.”

The bartender approached with their drink order as well as two glasses and a large pitcher of water, then beat a hasty retreat as Kix glared at him. Kix reached for his whiskey, but Maree picked it up and moved it to her side of the table.

“Water first,” she said.

He glowered at her, but she didn’t back down, meeting his eyes squarely with an expression she normally reserved for arguments with NRGL administrators. He grumbled a protest but drained one of the water glasses, and Maree refilled it before she gave him back his whiskey and sipped her own cocktail.

“Bossy,” he muttered.

“Yep,” she said agreeably. “If you’re a good boy and do what you’re told, maybe I’ll let you have dessert later.”

His eyes darkened. Maree hadn’t missed the way he responded when she’d called him a good boy in the bedroom, and she was not above exploiting that tidbit of knowledge to get him to make at least slightly healthier choices.

“Why wait?” he rumbled.

“Because the food is here,” Maree said, stifling a relieved sigh. 

A service droid rolled up and deposited a tray of food at their booth. Maree picked up a bite and offered it to Kix. He ate it directly from her hand, his warm lips brushing against her hand. 

“I know what you’re doing,” he said.

“I should hope so,” Maree replied, handing him another bite. 

“Do you know how much whiskey it would take to get me drunk?” he asked. 

“I don’t know. How much have you had?” she asked.

“Not enough,” he replied. “I don’t need to sober up.”

“What do you need?” she asked.

“Something stronger than whiskey.”

“What happened, Kix?” she asked. “Why are you doing this?”

He sighed, looking away from her. His eyes focused somewhere in the middle distance on something only he could see.

“It’s this kriffing planet,” he said at last. “Too many memories.”

“I didn’t realize you’d spent much time here,” she said.

He laughed humorlessly. “I used to live here. It’s been a long time.”

“I take it that things didn’t end well?” she asked, feeding him another bite, and then scooting his water glass closer. 

“You could say that,” he said. His glance flicked between her face and the water glass, and his lips nearly twitched into a smile, but he obediently took another drink of water.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked.

“Not particularly.”

Stars, the man held onto his secrets like they were made of solid beskar. It didn’t bother her, exactly. After all, he was technically just her client, and spending a night together had not changed that, nor had she expected it to. She shrugged and began to eat her own food.

“Well, with any luck, it won’t take long to find what we need in the Archive, and you can get back to your life and leave this place far behind,” she said.

Kix made an odd expression, but he didn’t reply. Once she’d gotten him to eat those first few bites, he seemed to realize that he was ravenous, because he polished off the three plates she’d set in front of him and then began to steal bites off of her plate, too. He drained a second glass of water as well, so she didn’t object when he finished his whiskey. Throughout the meal, he’d kept his hand firmly on her leg, though he didn’t attempt any further explorations after she shut him down. Instead, he contented himself with drawing lazy circles on her thigh with his thumb. 

They ate in silence, and Maree couldn’t help contrasting it with their banter at the hanging garden. Just when she had thought she was getting to know Kix, he reminded her that she really had no idea who he was. 

He flagged down the server droid and ordered it to bring the bottle of whiskey. Maree sighed but didn’t intervene. She wasn’t his mother, and if Kix was determined to get plastered, that was his call to make. Still, she had no interest in watching him make a public spectacle.

“We’ll take it to go,” she said. “Charge everything to my room.”

To his credit, Kix didn’t stumble or weave on the walk to the lifts. In fact, he didn’t show any visible signs of intoxication at all. He was a perfect gentleman until they entered the empty lift and the doors closed behind them. And then he pounced. His mouth crashed into hers as he pinned her against the wall. All the air rushed out of her lungs, and she nearly dropped the bottle of whiskey. His hands roamed over her body, squeezing, stroking. His kiss was rough and hard, and Maree let out a strangled moan as he used his tongue and teeth. He kissed and licked and sucked his way down her neck and chest, pulling her neckline down to give him access to her shoulder. He bit her hard enough to leave a mark, and she flinched. He pressed his lips soothingly to the mark, and then returned to her mouth, consuming her with a kiss that danced along the edge of pleasure and pain. She didn’t even realize he’d rucked up her dress until she felt his rough fingertips slip into her underwear. She broke the kiss with a gasp.

“Kix, w—wait,” she panted.

He froze.

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” he asked raggedly. “Isn’t this why you told me to meet you here?”

“Yes, but you’ve been drinking, and—”

“Do I look drunk to you?” he demanded. “I know what I am doing. If you don’t want this, tell me now, and I’ll leave.”

“No, I—I want this,” she said, and he lunged back into action, kissing her until she was breathless. He yanked the fabric of her panties to the side and stroked his fingers over her pussy, hissing when he felt the wetness there.

“Not so calm as you pretended, are you, dirty girl?” he asked. “Is this all for me?”

“Yes, damn you,” she cursed as he slipped one of his fingers inside. Her body convulsed around him. “F—f—fuck!”

He thrust into her over and over, stretching her out until he could fit a second finger inside, dragging his thumb over her clit. She arched into the sensation. Her legs quivered and gave out, but Kix was there to catch her, wrapping his arm around her waist as she clung to his shoulders. There was no trace of the gentle man who’d touched her so reverently the last time they were together. This time, Kix was dominant, almost aggressive, handling her with a sublime roughness that had her trembling on the edge of an orgasm within seconds.

The lift slowed and emitted a soft chime. 

“It’s not our floor,” Maree gasped.

Kix moved to shield her with his body just in time for the doors to slide open. He snarled at the hapless intruder, an Ishi Tib who stumbled back with wide eyes as he took in the scene before him.

“Sorry!” he squawked. “I’ll take the next one!”

The doors slid closed. Maree’s cheeks burned with humiliation, and she hid her face against Kix’s shoulder.

“Look at me,” he commanded. “I want to see your face when you come all over my hand.”

His filthy words, the deft movements of his fingers, and the adrenaline rush of getting caught were too much. He wrenched her pleasure forcibly from her. She whimpered in surprise as her body clenched around him, her orgasm bursting through her.

“That’s it,” he growled. “That’s my beautiful woman. Kriff, you look so gorgeous like this, coming apart around my fingers. I could watch you for hours.”

He didn’t slow his movements until she stopped twitching and slumped against him with a breathy moan. Still supporting her with his arm around her waist, he gently withdrew his fingers from her. He stroked his thumb across her clit in one last, soft caress, and then he allowed her skirt to fall back into place, smoothing the wrinkles. She leaned against his chest, gasping for air. He wrapped both arms around her and held her close, whispering into her hair, telling her how well she’d done, and how sexy she was, and how he was going to take such good care of her. 

“I can’t wait to get you back to your  room,” he murmured. “I’m going to fuck that pussy until you scream my name. Everyone in this karking hotel is going to know who is getting you off.”

Her knees buckled. He caught her with a dark laugh, taking the whiskey bottle from her loosened grasp. 

“Not much longer, love,” he said. “Just a few more floors. Can you hold it together for me?”

She nodded, dazed. She was already wildly turned on again by the way he mixed praise with the dirtiest of promises. The lift slowed and the door chimed.

“This is us,” she said, her voice sounding embarrassingly unsteady.

She led him down the hall and fumbled as she keyed in her door code with shaking hands. He followed closely, dropping the whiskey on the console table and crowding close to her, his hands roaming greedily over her body. Her skin felt like it was on fire wherever he touched her. He tugged her dress off over her head in a single fluid motion as he backed her up against the bed. She tumbled onto the mattress, and he stood back, eyeing her with a hungry look.

“Stars, look at you,” he breathed. “Prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“You are overdressed,” she observed. 

He began to strip off his clothes as Maree propped herself up on her elbows to watch. He unbuttoned his shirt to reveal broad shoulders, muscular arms, and a thick chest that tapered down to a lean waist. His smooth, golden brown skin was criss crossed here and there by scars, and he had a smattering of dark hair. She had seen him naked before, but she hadn’t had time to admire him at her leisure. He was glorious.

As he lowered his trousers, she could see that he was fully erect, and a bead of precum had dampened his underwear. She sat up to reach for him, teasing his cock through the fabric before easing the garment down over his narrow hips. She made a happy little noise and leaned forward to swirl her tongue around his shaft. He tangled his hands in her hair with a curse. She loved the gentle tugging on her scalp and hummed with pleasure at the taste of him. His hips bucked forward at the sensation. Before she could proceed, though, he used her hair to pull her head away from him, then pressed her down onto the mattress, climbing on top to straddle her hips.

She could feel the weight of his erection resting on her belly. She traced her hands up his thighs, but he stopped her before she reached his cock. Gripping her wrists, he pinned her hands to the bed. He leaned down and began to explore her body with his mouth. Rubbing his cock against her torso, he kissed and licked down her chest, and then he drew one breast to his mouth and bit down, hard, as he sucked on her. She let out a ragged, broken sound.

“You’re going to remember me,” he growled as marks bloomed across her skin. “Don’t ever forget me.”

“Never,” she whispered as he sucked bruises onto her breasts again and again. 

“That’s fucking right,” he said, and he plunged into her in a single, hard thrust, sheathing himself fully in her slick heat.

She cried out his name as he drove himself into her again and again. She could feel her body pulling taut around him, drawn like a bow, all her sensation pulling itself into the base of her spine, building in intensity until all at once, it was too much. The bowstring snapped, and she shot into ecstasy. Kix ground out a curse as he buried himself deep inside her and spilled into her heat. His arms gave out, and he collapsed onto her chest, breathless and utterly spent.

---

I humbly apologize to the 79's girlies (gn). If you'd like to read about the club in happier times and tag along with Kix and his friends on a night out, please allow me to recommend my fic "Do It Again," which shares continuity with this story.

Chapter 10

Tagging: @blueink-bluesoul @secondaryrealm @spicy-clones @wings-and-beskar @523rdrebel @goblininawig @merkitty49 @anxiouspineapple99 @sinfulsalutations @arcsimper5

[ghostofskywalker]

Can I request a tech x gn reader where the reader gets injured upon landing instead of him?

warnings: spoilers for tbb episodes 1 and 2!!

hello! here it is, i hope you enjoy!! side note, i was researching what a broken femur felt like (i've never broken a bone so i have no clue) and from what i can tell, the pain is literally unbearable, so either tech is a hell of a lot stronger than people give him credit for, or they totally downplayed how painful this injury is!

words: 2,033

summary: after you get injured in the cargo container, it's clear that tech is worried about you, and you can't help but wonder how your injury will change the team's dynamic.

clone troopers masterlist

Why Serenno Isn't Exactly The Best Place For a Vacation

The crate came flying at you too quickly to move out of the way in time, and the crushing pressure you felt when it landed on your legs made the hope of escaping unscathed completely out of question. You barely registered the shouts of your name from the other members of the team, and even when they removed the offending object from your legs there was no break in the pain.

Constant and unfathomably sharp, the feeling of absolute agony took over to the point where you were blinking tears out of your eyes and trying desperately to think about anything but the ever-growing feeling of horrifying torment. “Are you okay?” you heard Omega ask, and you knew she only meant well, but you were in no shape to answer.

“I believe that you have broken your femur,” Tech said after he took out a scanner from his belt and ran it over your leg. “This is a very serious issue, and we will need medical attention as soon as possible.”

“Let’s hope we can get out of here soon then,” Echo responded, and you couldn’t help but agree with him.

There was no hiding the pain now, and you just let the tears flow freely instead of trying to downplay the cocktail of horrors you were currently experiencing. Echo and Tech climbed up the side of the cargo container to hopefully be able to see where it had landed, and Omega stayed by your side, her little hand finding its way into your larger one. You knew that she was worried about you, and you tried your best to offer a smile of reassurance, but you were sure that it probably didn’t seem that convincing. After being pulled up by a wire and eventually landing on the clifftop, you laid on the ground and stared up at the sky, desperately hoping that everything would all be over soon.

There was still so much at play and so much danger all around you, but it was going to be hard to focus on anything but the terrible pain in your legs at this moment. You closed your eyes in hopes that you might be able to trick your brain into believing that you were anywhere but here right now, and you heard snippets of conversation between Echo, Tech, and Omega.

“Can’t move well, if at all…”

“It’s dangerous to be so open and exposed…”

“Nothing we can do if…”

You floated in and out of consciousness the entire time, still trying desperately to cling onto happy memories of the past even though it has proven so far to be ineffective against this particular torment. You thought you heard Echo say something about checking out the area and searching for cover, but the next thing you truly registered was the sight of Tech leaning over you, a worried expression on his helmet-less face.

“What’s happening?” you managed to slur out, the pain starting to affect your speech.

“Echo and Omega are going to search for a suitable shelter while we wait for Hunter and Wrecker to return with the Marauder,” he said. “But unfortunately there is not much I can do to help you at this moment. The fracture that you sustained inside the cargo container will require more medical attention and skill than either Echo or I have to give.”

You nodded in understanding as Tech took your hand and gently pulled it up to place a soft kiss to your palm. The gesture did calm and ground you, even if just for a fleeting moment, and you were thankful that he stayed behind with you instead of Echo or Omega.

While you couldn’t ever put an exact label on the relationship you had with the Bad Batch’s resident genius, it was certainly more intimate than the one you had with the other members of the squad. But due to your own worry and the fact that neither you nor Tech were really great at expressing your feelings, the few kisses you had shared and obvious affection you felt for one another never received a specific designation, instead remaining as open and nebulous as the galaxy itself. But you did know one thing, and that was the fact that even though the pain in your leg had yet to subside even for a single moment, you couldn’t help the way you wanted to pull yourself off the ground and place soft kisses all over Tech’s worried face.

But clearly you couldn’t, so you had to be okay with simply holding his hand until Echo and Omega returned with an elderly gentleman in tow. It seemed that neither of them noticed the way your hand pulled away from Tech’s or the way he stood up quickly as they approached, and soon you were being gently pulled up and supported as you began the short (and immensely painful) trek to Romar’s dwelling.

The only thing that provided a little bit of hope once you reached shelter was the single painkiller capsule Tech found in his kit. It didn’t kick in right away, but by the time things got serious, the feeling of intense agony had started to fade, even if it only left you with a feeling of less intense agony.

When Omega disappeared, you kicked yourself for not noticing quicker. Tech and Echo had immediately ran out to check the war chest, sure that was where she had gone off to, and you sat there, wondering what you should do. It felt wrong to just stay here and do nothing while your teammates were out and likely experiencing immense danger, but the pain in your leg had simply not subsided, and you had a feeling that you would be stuck with this feeling for the considerable future, even if you were able to find some form of treatment for your leg.

But when neither Tech nor Echo returned to Romar’s home for a while, your mind took a turn for the worst. Pulling yourself up to a standing position, you hobbled to the door. “You won’t get very far in your condition,” Romar said gently.

You knew that it would probably be better if you stayed, but you just couldn’t stomach the idea of letting your team down. Being a member of this squad meant more to you than you could ever put into words, and you refused to sit by and stay out of the inevitable fight that was coming. “I’ll manage,” you responded to the old man, trying to hide the pain you were still feeling from your expression.

“Your friends seemed to foresee this happening,” he responded, and you turned around to see Romar holding a blaster out to you. You took it, overcome with an emotion you didn’t quite know how to explain, and after you thanked the man for all his help, you were stepping out into the night air and doing your best to ignore the horrible sensations you felt in your injured leg.

By the time you reached close to where you thought the cliff was, the pain in your leg had grown to nearly be unbearable, but you couldn’t focus on that now, because there were two troopers up ahead, their Imperial armor devoid of all the color and other things that made the Batch’s armor unique.

Stunning one of them was easy because they didn’t know you were there, but once your position was given away it got a little more difficult. Blaster fire scattered all around as you to took cover behind a tree, and you thanked the Maker that it only took one or two more shots to stun the other trooper. However, you weren’t out of the woods just yet (both literally and figuratively), because you had no idea whether or not more reinforcements were on the way, and you hadn’t yet seen Tech, Echo, or Omega.

As you took a tentative step forward, the uneven ground beneath your foot made you stumble, and the pain in your leg sent you careening forward. You threw your arms out as to not let your face hit the ground, but you were now completely stuck as you laid there, not enough strength left in your body to pull yourself back up.

The pain capsule from before was starting to wear off as the adrenaline from the fight also started to diminish, and you could barely register the sound of others approaching you, but you couldn't really recognize their voices. Hoping it was Tech, Echo, and Omega, you allowed your eyes to close, the inky blackness enveloping your mind and body like a warm hug.

***

The sound of steady beeping is what brought you back to the land of the living, and you were immediately startled by the brightness of this new location. The feeling of stabbing pain in your thigh had become a dull ache at this point, still intense enough to pull your concentration from anything else but significantly less powerful than it had previously felt. You shifted slightly in the cot you were laying on, and suddenly a hand appeared in your vision, gently landing on your shoulder to keep you from sitting up. “Calm down, you’re going to be okay.”

“I-”

“You shouldn’t move too much, it will disrupt your bandages.”

You knew that voice, and that familiarity is what got you to pause. Looking up, you got a better image of where you were. It was clearly some kind of medical facility, from the look of the beds and machines all around you, and you were laying on a cot. It was Tech that had stopped you from moving before, and he had a worried expression on his face. “Where am I?” you asked.

“Medical facility, courtesy of Rex’s information,” he responded. “They set and put a cast on your leg, but you will still need time to heal. Wrecker and Omega are currently picking out a cane to aid you when your leg has recovered enough to walk, apparently there were many options and they wanted to make sure you had the best one.”

You smiled slightly and nodded. The fact that your injuries had been treated explained the significant difference in pain level, but you knew this injury was not something that was just going to disappear. “When are you all going to leave?”

“Leave?” Tech’s eyebrows furrowed as he took in your question. “What do you mean?”

“I highly doubt I’ll be able to go on missions with you guys, and I wouldn’t want my injury to slow you down,” you said plainly. “I didn’t think you were going to wait for me.”

There was a moment of silence before Tech answered your question, and he reached down to gently take your hand in his. “There is not a single member of this team that thinks that we would leave you behind,” he said, his usual matter-of-fact tone having taken on a slightly softer edge. “And there is plenty that you can help us with even if you cannot be in the center of the action.”

“Really?”

Tech nodded. “Truly. I could not live with myself if we left you behind, just seeing you injured has been painful enough.”

At his words, you scooted over in your bed and tapped the spot next to you. “Come cuddle with me,” you said, hoping your silly request would be accepted and he wouldn’t find it odd or strange.

“But what about if the others see?” Tech’s eyes were wide behind his goggles, and if you were completely healed, you would have moved up to place a kiss on his cheek or nose.

“I don’t care if they do,” you responded. “I just want to cuddle with you.”

It took a moment, but Tech eventually obliged, gently slipping into bed next to you. When he placed his arm around you and felt you nuzzle gently into him, he immediately decided that he didn’t care what his brothers thought either. And besides, if the way Echo had looked at him when they were watching over your unconscious form on the ship was any indication, they probably already knew something was happening.

- the end -

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[phoenixyfriend]

Do you want another Jangosoka concept?

Concept is that Boba finds a… something on Tatooine that looks like Weird Force Shit. He does not know any Jedi or Sith, personally, but he knows three people who do have connections to Jedi:

Han Solo, whom he has on speed dial despite hating each other, and losing most of his contacts with his comm when the Sarlacc ate him

Din Djarin, whose kid goes to school Somewhere With Jedi? Maybe? he's not entirely clear on how much contact Djarin has with Skywalker these days

Bo-Katan Kryze, who has Ahsoka Tano on speed dial

Obviously, he goes through Bo-Katan first, because Ahsoka Tano knows more about general Force things than the latest Skywalker, and has less of a Direct Grudge against Boba himself.

So he makes a call and tries to ignore the Weird Force Thing that he just poked. He waits a few days.

Ahsoka shows up. She holds the thing. It is confusing.

They have a stupid argument built on Uncomfortable History at some point, and Boba being a grump, and he snatches it from her, managing to slice his finger on one of the edges.

A few drops of blood get on the weird force thing, and there is a flash of light, and suddenly there's a half-dead Jango Fett in the room.

Like "He has visible burns on his neck from Mace's lightsaber, but still has his head, as if he was pulled through time from the very moment before of his death."

Which Big Oops

Boba is panicking. Ahsoka is trying not to admit she's freaked out. Jango is. clawing as his throat dude stop that.

Ahsoka's the one that had enough brains to call for a medic and keeps sitting at his side to keep a Very Judgemental Eye on him, but she's. You know. Jedi. So Jango is constantly suspicious of her.

(He thinks Boba is a faulty fast-aging clone, like 99, because that's the only thing that makes sense.) (Also he doesn't acknowledge Ahsoka's "I'm not a Jedi" thing.)

Ahsoka's had thirty years to come to terms with the death of her people but she's also, for obvious reasons, still judgmental as fuck and has a lot of questions.

But also this was necromancy, which is Sith Or Nightsister Bullshit, and she needs to make sure he's not about to get possessed and go hunting for Force Sensitive babies or something insane like that.

(The reason the object drew Jango is because of the totally coincidental identical DNA. Turns out the object is intended to bring back the dead using a body sample of the corpse, but identical blood will do if there's a dead person with the same.)

IDK where exactly it goes from here but it's 44yo Jango, 45yo Boba, and 49 Ahsoka Plus Fennec, who's just hanging around

They need to bring around someone Jango actually knows and will trust, because obviously Boba is a fake and Ahsoka's a liar and this is all some weird Jedi trick.

Options are Maz Kanata (who's definitely old enough to remember him), or Bo-Katan herself, except they try Bo since she's closer and it turns out she was still a toddler when Jango went missing so that's not going to help at all.

Mij or one of the other Cuy'val Dar could theoretically still be alive, and Sabine has parents that might have known him before they joined up with Pre.

Fennec knowing him would be a BIT too easy.

I'm imagining that the call goes as Boba explaining that, well, there's this one guy that he knows, that his dad was close with, but the Sarlacc kind of ate his comm unit and he hasn't had the time or resources to hunt down all his contact numbers and whatnot yet, so he's not sure how to go about actually calling the guy, and so they have to politely ask Bo-Katan if she, as Mand'alor, can find the contact information for one Mij Gilamar. Boba's pretty sure he's still running a clinic on Insert Planet Here, so it shouldn't be too hard to get, it's just kind of impossible from Tatooine.

[fakegingerrights]

Shades of Blue

[Rex x Fem!Medic!reader. Soulmate AU, multiple kinds but Rex's happens to be colorblindness until your soulmate touches you. Warnings: Violence, Injury and Gore, Nonsexual Partial nudity, Angst. Inspired by @mandos-mind-trick series.]

Soulmates weren't rare by any means. In fact, Rex would even go as far as to say that it was more rare not to have a soulmate than to have one.

The numbers were a little different when it came to clones. Many didn't live long enough to meet a member of another species, let alone form a relationship with them.

Rex wasn't so lucky.

He had adapted well to his colorblindness, his batchmates covered for him until he learned to tell the subtle differences between shades of grey. He learned that the red wires in a droid popper were always the thicker wires, he learned that the stun power packs and the regular power packs for the training blasters were different weights.

After Kamino, he learned even more. Blue paint smelled slightly different than red. Poisonous plants usually had some sort of easily recognizable pattern, but always be careful with what you touch.

Joining the 501st was a bit of a culture shock. General Skywalker took a liking to him immediately and decided he didn't want another clone to be in charge, promoting him to Captain. Kamino had forbade he become a commander, despite the command training. The blond hair and the fact that he had a soulmate kept him from advancing, he would have stayed a trooper if it weren't for Skywalker.

He was sure he'd die a newly promoted captain when Skywalker found out about his soulmate. Skywalker just grinned.

"I remember waiting for my own colors, not that there was much to see on Tatooine." Was all he said, patting Rex on the shoulder and walking away, leaving Rex dumbfounded in his wake.

"Sir?" His voice was slightly more strangled than he would have liked, calling after Skywalker. Skywalker laughed, but disappeared around a corner.

Rex waited in fear for the demotion, the notice he was sent back to Kamino, anything to do with his defect. Instead, he found battle maps more clearly labeled, he found medical supplies color coded yes but with shapes to go with the colors now. Rex found the paint cans labeled with careful Aurabesh, in Skywalker's messy handwriting, each individual color and what they were used for. The reds and golds for the jedi starfighters. The blues of the battalion.

That was how Rex learned his armor was blue. He asked Skywalker about it, in the long missions in orbit or the days spent in hyperspace.

"What's Blue, general?" He asked, looking at the newly done Jaig eyes on his helmet. "That's our armor, right? Blue accents?"

"Yep." Skywalker was currently elbow deep in his starfighter, something he insisted was 'relaxing' but had Rex on standby in case he got stuck or something. "Blue, huh? Blue is... Blue is Family." Skywalker settled on eventually. "That's the color of Mine and Obi-Wan's lightsabers, and all of your brothers have blue armor, and you were trained by Alpha 17, who had blue armor too." The jedi grunted as he untangled a ball of wire from the engine.

"Family? I thought Red was what people used for family..." He traced the fresh cut talleys into the paint on his vambrace. One for every tactical droid they took out planetside.

"Red? Eh, I guess you could... Red is blood. Adrenaline. Fire is red. Passion. Dooku and the other sith have Red sabers. You're mandalorian, right? Or... kinda, Half mando?" Skywalker yanked a piece of frayed wire out of the messy ball.

"I... I speak the language, and know the culture intimately, but I have no clan to call my own." Rex supplied. "Red, on armor at least, is for honoring a parent or a family member."

"Yeah, I can see that... But blue is more alive than red. I don't know how to explain it. It's the color of most unpolluted skies. It's the color of water, and that's a rarity for so many people. Kamino is mostly blues and greys and blacks. On Tatooine, we fought for the color blue. Water was so precious in the desert. When I met my soulmate, she was wearing blue." Skywalker gets a goofy grin on his face.

"You kept your soulmate bond, sir?" Rex asked. Skywalker sat up out of the belly of the fighter.

"I did. We agreed it would be more beneficial to both parties to keep it. Pass me that wrench, would you?"

And that was the end of that conversation.

The next time Rex thought about his soulmate, he was meeting the natborn medic assigned to Torrent company to help take the load off of Kix and Coric so they could 'spend more time actually doing their job of fighting rather than running around trying to keep everyone else alive.'

Rex really disliked natborns sometimes. He was fully prepared to dislike you too. That is, until he actually met you.

"Captain Rex, right?" You asked, holding out a gloved hand to shake his as he gave you a once over, appreciating the light armor you were wearing and the utility belt full of equipment. Rex smiled as you gave your name.

"Glad to have you, Doc. You've already met Coric and his junior officer Kix?" Rex asked. You nodded.

"I'm all settled in and ready to go too, wherever you need me, Sir." You saluted sharply at him. "I'm really impressed with the organization levels here. Everything is labeled so neatly I forget I can't see the colors yet." Kix coughed awkwardly as he interjected himself into the conversation.

"As hard as Kaminoans tried, they couldn't find a way to remove soul-bonds from us clones. Not all of us have one, and like anyone else we have different ones, but a few of us are color-bound to our mate. Coric is one of them, and he doesn't let it slow him down at all. Neither does the captain here." Kix clarifies. Rex gave him a look. "What? She's not gonna tell anyone. Right?"

You paled, waving your hands for emphasis. "No! I would never want to get anyone in trouble. If... what's the word you use for us? If natborn officers can have them you should too. My lips are sealed, promise." You met each of their eyes and they both relaxed an almost imperceptible amount.

Rex gave you a slight smile. "Let's get you acquainted with the other men, shall we? You're assigned to my company and trust me, you're gonna have a heck of a time getting us in to the medbay."

You gave him a cheshire grin. "Is that a challenge, Captain?"

~~~

You got to work quickly, as the men prepped and drilled for planetside deployment to Christophsis, you were right there, training your body to hold more supplies, to get to wounded faster. Every extra second shaved off your mile run was a life saved, you told yourself. Every time you got out of a sim to see a faster time, you smiled.

Even Kix was impressed.

"You're working yourself to the bone, Doc. You're already here, what are you trying to prove?" He asks, handing you a water bottle as you finish a set in the weight room.

"Prove? I'm working side by side with genetic perfection. And somebody's gotta make sure y'all don't go and get yourself killed." You took the bottle and sipped at it slowly, sitting up. Kix just shrugged and continued to spot you while you worked.

After Christophsis, and later Teth, he said nothing more about it. His cheerful, joking manner was replaced by quiet competency and a determination to see as many brothers as he could to the end of the war.

You sat with him when Coric caught a blaster bolt in the neck, and there was nothing either of you could do. With a choking softness in his voice, he looked at you.

"How? How is he dead?" The words brought a fresh wave of pain.

"Internal decapitation. The bolt went right through his spinal column. He was dead before he hit the ground." You intoned into the heavy silence. Kix shook his head and sat back from where the two of you had been sitting side by side on the empty surgery table, already scrubbed of blood from the day's activities and ready to be packed up when Torrent was dispatched back to the Resolute tomorrow morning.

You frowned, confused, as Kix stripped off the upper part of his blacks and turned so you could see his back. You had seen him shirtless before, in passing glances. You knew about the soulmark scrawled between his shoulderblades, the words in beautiful cursive and splashed with several different hues from what you could tell. You had never bothered to look at the words, but you did now.

Kix, as in Coric's little brother Kix?

Your heart broke a little. "Kix... Kix look at me." You reached up and pressed a hand to either side of his face. Misty eyes, tired and lost and so utterly broken, stared up at you. "We have soulmate bonds for a reason, ok? You can't break the bond until you've met the person." You pulled him into a hug, letting him hide his face in your neck as he struggled to come to terms with his grief of losing a brother. "You'll meet them one day, Kix. I know it. It'll be alright. Coric met his soulmate a few months ago, do we have anything to give to her?"

Kix let himself have a few more moments of just being in the presence of another person who cared. Who understood.

"He had a necklace she had given him... and his gauntlets. I have both. Do you want to come with Rex and I when we give them to her?" Kix asked softly. You nodded, a pit forming in your stomach at the idea of the next shore leave. You and Coric were close, and had met his soulmate a handful of times last time you were on Coruscant.

"Yeah. Let me go grab some stuff, ok? Then we need to head to bed." You got up to leave the room right as a knock sounded on the door.

"Doc, Kix, you in there?" Rex's voice came from the hall as Kix hurriedly tugged on his shirt again.

"Yeah, we're here." You called as he stepped in.

"I'm sorry to interrupt I need casualty counts from the wounded after battle." The captain rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

"Oh. I have those." Kix left the room in a hurry, and as you caught a glimpse of his back, adorned with the republic symbol and making it very obvious the top of his blacks were on backwards. Rex may have been colorblind but he was stupid observant when he needed to be.

He often needed to be in a warzone.

"Doc." Rex nodded at you in greeting after Kix had left.

"Captain. Been a helluva day, hasn't it." You sit down again on the floor, leaning your head against the wall behind you. "We lost Coric. He met his soulmate not to long ago. We're looking for his personal stuff to give back to her."

Rex sighed softly. A ache all of them felt for their brother's soulmate but few brothers lived long enough to know first hand.

"What about you and Kix?" Rex asked, taking a seat next to you. His plastoid plates click as he settles himself on the ground. "Has your world-" He made a gesture to his eyes with his hands. You laughed bitterly.

"Me and Kix? That would make things a lot simpler wouldn't it. No. I... It's his story to share. His soulmate apparently knew Coric by name." Rex took a deep breath.

"Yeah, yeah that would make sense. I'm sorry I assumed." He shrugged a little in his armor.

You sighed. "You?" You asked, looking at him. Rex ran a gloved hand over his pale hair.

"No. I... No. It's not I go around grabbing people anyways." He laughed humorlessly.

"Maybe we'll get lucky one day, you and I." You said softly. "Find our person. The Maker... Force... Universe, whatever, wouldn't give us another half unless we'd meet them." You looked at him, tracing the monotone contours of his armor.

"Yeah? What if we end up like poor Coric?" Rex sighed. "You... you get it. Even for a natborn, you eat with us, sleep with us, you know us. We're... not made for long term use. I don't want to leave anyone behind."

You hummed, not really saying anything. The two of you sat in silence for a long moment before Rex hauled himself to his feet, offering you a hand. You clasped his hand, latex glove on the blacks that covered his palm.

"We're gonna need rest for tomorrow. It'll be an exhausting day."

You couldn't agree more.

~~~

You cradled Coric's helmet as Rex knocked on the door of Coric's girlfriend's door. You recognized her instantly when she opened it, a dark skinned twi'lek with pale tattoos.

"Uh.. Good evening, Sirs?" She asked, a tremble in her voice. You took your cue to step forward, presenting Coric's helmet.

"I'm so sorry, Ma'am. There was nothing we could do."

Her face crumpled as she took the helmet. "I... I know. I felt it." She whispered, a tear slipping down her cheek. Kix stepped forward too, placing a hand on her shoulder. She leaned into his touch.

"I'm so sorry Ma'am, I have his necklace and vambraces here for you too." Her head whipped up to look at Kix, tearstained and wide eyed. Rex nudged him.

"Kix..."

The Twi'lek shook her head, dropping Coric's helmet with a clatter. "Kix... as in Coric's little brother Kix?" She asked, barely waiting for Kix's stunned nod before she pulled him into a hug.

"I'm sorry about your brother." She whispered, and Kix just shook his head, a bitter laugh bubbling out of his throat.

"I'm sorry about your soulmate."

You put a hand on Rex's shoulder opposite of his pauldron. "C'mon, Captain, let me buy you a drink while they adjust to each other's presence." You murmured low enough for him to hear. Rex glanced back at the two, Kix now also in tears and not letting go of the poor girl, who was sobbing into his chestplate.

The two of you walked in thick silence, the 79's a few blocks down from Kix's soulmate's apartment. Rex stopped short at the entrance of the bar.

"I... I'm usually not one for clubbing. Too many people." He hedged. You gave him a reassuring smile.

"We'll just grab a seat in the back then?" You propose. Rex still looked hesitant, but nodded after a moment. You insisted on buying drinks since Rex hated spending his small stipend on something like alcohol. As you two waited, him watching the crowd and you sneaking glances at him.

He was beautiful, in the black and white shades that made up your reality. All the clones were, but he stood out to you. You flushed slightly as he caught you staring.

"What? Do I have something on my face?" He asked. You laughed and shook your head.

"I... you're gonna laugh." You said, looking at the table and tracing the grain with a finger tip.

"Did I do something stupid?" Rex asked, giving you a wry look. You snorted.

"No, no you haven't. You not the kind to make stupidity a habit. I was wondering what color your hair was." You blurted out. Rex groaned and rolled his eyes.

"Hey, I'm still the same stock as Fives, gotta make sure he's not rubbing off." He took a sip of his spotchka, mouth twisting slightly until the tang settled into a pleasant burn in his throat. "My hair is blond, according to Skywalker. A yellowish color. Everyone else's' is black or dark brown."

You took a drink yourself, coughing at the taste. "Ok, that is awful." Rex snorted.

"That's the point. Don't worry, I'll getcha back to the barracks." He promised, a fond smile flitting across his face.

"Going soft on me, Captain?" You asked.

"For you? The entire GAR is soft. You could probably get Fox to take a nap by batting your eyes." Rex chuckled. You swatted at his arm, hand bouncing off his armor.

"Hush. If rumors about you are true I'll be hauling you to the barracks rather than the other way around, lightweight."

Rex just took another drink to spite you.

~~~

The last place for healing that you would expect to take place is on the Battlefield, but here you are ducking and covering between the rounds of rocket mortars.

Explosions shook the ground, and everything hazed out around the edges as you in grey smoke and black soot. Dark blood stained your body and none of it was yours. You heard the shout Kix gave when it happened, but he was too busy to react.

"The Captain's down!" The roar went up among the men and you weren't one to hesitate, springing into action to cross the four hundred meters between you and the Captain. Rex was holding his side and gasping, frighteningly still. Blood, dark and thick as oil spilled from the gash on the left side of his chest in spurts.

You instantly were yelling orders, trying to get a perimeter set up around the two of you as you pried the captain's helmet off so he wasn't gasping through his respirator.

His breathing was ragged, his lips chapped and cracked, eyes hazy as your gloved hand brushed dust off his face.

"Stay with me, Rex. You're not allowed to die on me yet." You yelled above the din so he could hear. He gave you the barest hint of a nod, if not the the intensity in his eyes you would have thought it a spasm.

You pried his chestplate off, plackart coming with it as you inspected the damage. You couldn't tell if the piece of debris that had done this had punctured more than a lung, you felt up under his jaw for a pulse but there wasn't one you could surely feel with your gloves.

You yanked one off with your teeth, jamming it under his chin as you tried to get a read of what was going on with his heart.

Rex gasped under you, eyes going out of focus as you gritted your teeth and counted the beats to make sure he wasn't in danger of a puncture in his heart.

You kept pressure on the wound, wincing as his broken ribs creaked under your hands, red seeping out-

Oh.

Oh Kriff.

You laughed slightly hysterically as you gave him a stim to help with the bleeding and pain, spraying bacta over the wound. "You seeing this, Captain?" You asked. Rex's blood was vibrant across your hands, sending a painful twist through your stomach. The stripes, the blue stripes, in his armor was almost completely covered by golden-brown dirt and red blood and black soot. Even the greys and blacks looked more life-like, vibrant and real.

Rex's eyes held a dreamlike haze to them as an explosion, brilliant gold, flashed over head. He was drifting slightly in and out of consciousness as you worked, eyes wandering in silent wonder at this new reality. Red blood. Dusty armor. Gold fire. And high high above this messy battle was blue sky.

Blue.

It was the color of your armor, strong steady hands bandaging the wound and keeping pressure.

It was the color of his own shattered plating.

It was the color of the sky. Freedom

Rex could see now why Skywalker called blue Family. The two felt remarkably similar.

"ey-.... Hey!" You patted his cheek until his eyes fluttered open and tried to focus on you. He didn't remember closing them. "Hang on, Rex. Medevac is coming, we're getting you out of here and pulling a tactical retreat." You yelled, brushing some dust off his face. His eyes followed your blurry form, suddenly snapping into focus. You gave him a lopsided smile.

"There you are. Hang on, Cyare." The clone word of endearment fell from your lips so naturally. "You aren't leaving anybody behind yet." Rex tried to talk, his breath coming out in a raspy gasp. You shook your head. "Save your breath. Ok."

Rex managed a nod, fumbling with his right hand to grasp your arm, squeezing twice. You nod.

"I'll be there when you wake up, Captain. Promise." There was a roar above your heads and a LAAT/i dropped down right in front of you two, and you lunged to get a gurney prepped as blasterfire splashed around you. A clone Rex didn't recognize lifted him, careful not to disturb the bactapatching on his side.

He listened with half a mind to your chattering as your bare hand brushed his head, fingers playing over his gold, you told him, hair. Rex fought to keep his eyes open, trying to obey and stay awake until he felt the shift in his stomach that meant artificial gravity had kicked in and they were on the Resolute once more.

"Ok, Rex. You can sleep now. You're in the clear now." Your soft voice finally said, and he went out like a candle in the wind.

~~~

You paced the medbay, forcing yourself not to spend too much time gawking at the vibrancy of everything. You could do that properly when Rex was awake. Currently, Kix was taking him out of a bacta tank and he was set to wake up in a few minutes but those few minutes felt like hours.

Your head snapped around as Kix stepped out, fond exasperation written across his face.

“He’s been asking for you since I took the tube out of his throat.” Kix stepped aside and let you into the small room, then shut the door to give you some privacy.

Rex was watching the heart monitor in it’s different colors with rapt fascination until you made your presence known, leaning against the rails of his gurney.

“Hey.” You murmured, looking him over and deciding he looked much better when he wasn’t covered in blood and dirt. Deep bronze skin, amber-gold eyes and white-gold hair made for a stunning figure. “We… certainly danced around this for a while.”

He laughed, a hoarse, grating sound that still made you smile. His left hand fumbled a bit until you slipped yours in it. His thumb slipped back and forth across your knuckles.

“I had hoped.” Rex whispered. “Stupid armor.”

You laughed, swatting at his shoulder gently. “Your armor keeps you alive. So what if it caused a little delay. We’re together now.” You said the last phrase with some trepidation. Rex nodded instantly.

“We weren’t made to be apart, Mesh’la.” You squeezed his hand tightly at his words.

“Rex? I’m scared.” You whispered. Rex struggled to push himself up into a more proper sitting position, recently severed and healed muscles protesting. He waved away your concern and lowered the rail on the bed.

“Me too. I don’t want to give this up though.” He murmured. "How are we going to do this?" Rex looked at you and for a second you were lost in his eyes, admiring every little fractal of color.

"Like anything with uncertain terrain, one day at a time, Captain." You murmured.

"Rex." He corrected you. "Call me Rex. I want to be more than just a title to you."

You lifted your clasped hands and pressed a kiss to the back of his knuckles. "You've always been more than that." Rex looked at you like you had hung the hyperspace lanes just for him. "Rex, you're my other half. We'll be fine together."

"Promise?" He whispered, seeming to tire and letting himself slide against the pillows. You squeezed his hand tight.

"I promise. Go to sleep, Rex." You stood up, to leave him in peace but he caught your hand.

"Stay, Mesh'la." And you couldn't say no. You let go of his hand and had him scoot over, making sure you stayed on his uninjured side as you curled up next to him on the bunk, resting your head on his chest and listening to his slow, steady heartbeat. A heart that you had fought to keep beating. The medical bunks weren't made for two but you two made it work, slotting together like pieces of a puzzle.

Rex bent his head, and a feather light kiss brushed the top of yours. You didn't respond, but didn't pull away either. His exhausted body quickly succumbed to sleep. You weren't far behind. Two halves of a whole.

[plague-of-insomnia]

Ch 205: That Butler, Panic

The chapter is short (only 13 pages plus the cover, with a two page spread toward the end), but full of drama. The shit finally hits the fan and Snake learns what really happened to the circus troupe and what Doll really is.

My summary translation follows. Please be respectful of the work and money I put into these by not reposting without credit.

The chapter begins where the last left off, with the orphans, Finny, and Snake finding Doll being given a transfusion of Canopus blood by two of the human workers.

Snake asks why Doll looks in this condition, and the workers try to explain it away by saying Doll is getting a medical procedure for an illness.

But Theo calls them on their bullshit, saying they’re lying, recognizing the label that says Canopus on the blood Doll was getting.

He accuses Doll of being a star lord.

One of the workers basically challenges Theo back, asking what their intentions are and that they’d better think carefully before responding, while pulling a gun on them.

She fires, and Finny springs into action, protecting the orphan clones and getting hit in the shoulder in the process.

He yells at them to run, and they do, but Doll picks up a shard of glass and does a Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon leap and springs over them, cutting off their escape.

Doll says now that they know everything, they won’t let them pass.

Snake is so shocked he speaks as himself, asking, begging for Doll to tell him that it isn’t true, that they aren’t a star lord.

Doll apologizes to him for lying, and says of all people, they didn’t want Snake to know the truth about them.

“I’m a monster,” Doll explains. “That night at father’s, I died. No… I was murdered. By Ciel Phantomhive.”

Doll explains how father (Baron Kelvin), Joker, and their entire family were killed like insects, and then recounts in graphic, sardonic detail how everyone died:

Wendy and Peter were hunted down and shot like prey by the maid;

Beast (and Dagger) were dredged in flour and deep fried alive;

And Jumbo was even worse— his guts and head were pulverized by the gardener.

On the final page, Doll tells Snake he’s been tricked into working for their enemy, and urges him, as family, to join them in getting revenge against the Phantomhives.

The chapter ends there, so we’ll need to wait for next month to see how Snake responds…! This also means that Undertaker must have seen what happened that night, and either told Doll or inserted it into their records….