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retrospect1003 · 2 months

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Calling All Skeletons

The beginnings of my tbb x oc fanfiction! This is mainly a slow burn romance between Wrecker and oc, Doc. This takes place during season 1 episode 5 and will follow the show's story. I'm new to this writing fanfiction thing, so bare with me! I hope you all enjoy!

Word count: ~2.4k

Banner by: @blackseafoam

Chapter 1: Crash Landing

As the Havoc Marauder glides over Ord Mantell, a seemingly recent crash site is noticed outside of the city. The smoke danced out of the dismembered ship as the batch of clones observed from the forward cabin.

“That does not bode well for us,” Tech stated as he maneuvered to the landing site.

Hunter kept his eyes on the crashed ship, “While I doubt anyone survived that crash, we’ll stay vigilant and avoid making too much noise.”

With that said, the Marauder hovers down the landing port and securely lands. The group rehashes rules with Omega and, with a placement of their helmets, they head into the city in search of Cid.

From inside the city, a poorly disguised imperial medic stumbles out of an alleyway. Blue and green paint drips from her arms and runs down the dents and wears in the armor. Her helmeted head tilted up to the sky, a familiar ship flying overhead.

“An omicron-class assault shuttle?” The medic questioned quietly to herself as she began to assess her situation.

With a heavy disgruntled sigh, she moved forward to another alleyway to investigate the ship further. Traversing through the unknown of the city, each step taken questioned if it was going in the right direction.

“Remember the rules?” Asked an unfamiliar voice down the way.

The voice brought the medic’s feet to a halt, her eyes moving to investigate. It took no time for her to duck down behind a crate, recognizing the distinctly armored clones and observing from her place. The realization pushed through the countless questions in her mind. These were the deserter clones and child from Kamino. Wanting to solidify her thoughts, her hands typed away on her data pad and found the reports. Tucking her data pad away into a bag on her belt, the medic begins her pursuit of the assault shuttle from earlier once again. Her senses have seemingly returned to her as she searches the city’s layout and successfully finds a path to the ship port.

With some trial and error, the painted medic was gazing at the omicron-class shuttle and taking in each of its features. It was like the aura of the ship was drawing her closer to it, much different than other shuttles she’d been around. Her hand hesitated before meeting the ship’s side instinctively, her lips curling up into a small smile as her shoulders relaxed.

“I hope I’m making the right choice,” the medic whispered to herself as her hands and eyes studied the shuttle.

“We’ll be in and out of there in no time!” Wrecker exclaims with a hearty laugh.

Tech is quick to reply to Wrecker, “While the job seems to be simple, we shouldn’t assume all will go well. When does it ever?”

Hunter examines the drive Cid handed off to them as the squad makes their way back to the ship. Saving a kid and maybe some others from slavers shouldn’t be too much of a challenge for them, right? Sounds like a breeze compared to escaping the Empire. He held the chip between two of his fingers and tilted his hand out, Tech taking it away and beginning to analyze.

The entrance to the port was approaching, a sight that should be reassuring yet Hunter stops in his tracks as he brings his fist up. He noticed some colored splotches along the way with some tracks, pointing them out to the others as he brought out his blaster. Starting to move in to watch from the entrance, there’s a single armored person who was… covered in paint?

“Who’s that?” Omega questioned.

“Not sure. Stay in the middle of us,” Hunter readied his aim on the unknown figure by the Marauder. Omega didn’t bother asking questions as she positioned herself between all her brothers with their guns ready at the aim.

Hunter moved out slowly with the batch so they all had good eyes on the target, “Drop any weapons on you.”

The medic’s body tensed at the demanding words said behind her back. Her hand found the blaster holstered on her hip and threw it to the ground before raising her hands above her head. Taking a heavy breath in and out, she turned her body slowly to the voice.

With a lighthearted sigh, the medic took a turn to speak, “I’ve been waiting to talk to you guys!”

Her hands move slowly and lift off her helmet. Her ashy brown hair is tied up in a bun, many stray hairs falling out of place messily. Her green eyes, accompanied by dark tired bags, crinkled as a smile curved her lips.

“They call me Doc,” she revealed as her gloved hand pushed back the hairs in her face, “Before you shoot me, I need some help. If you’ll hear me out.” Her brows furrowed with soft eyes.

The squad of defiant clones eyed Doc suspiciously as she moved and spoke. Doc kept her hands where they all could see them, even if her nerves were starting to tingle. Hunter eyes each of her features and gestures before lowering his weapon with a disgruntled sigh.

“You’ve got a minute to explain.”

Doc nodded as she began, “The Empire started recruiting soldiers from planetary defense forces, and I was part of the first Elite Squad as a medic. I thought the Empire was going to better the galaxy…” She struggled to find her words, “that was, until I was forced to follow unneeded violent orders. After we left Onderon and returned to Kamino, I stole a ship, I crashed it here, and I hope they think I’m dead.”

At the mention of Onderon, the brothers looked between each other. Her story seemed to make sense, and it also explained the crashed ship outside of the city. Doc shifted awkwardly where she stood, hands still raised in the air while watching them.

Omega spoke into her comm device in a whisper, “I think she’s like us.”

Wrecker was first to look at Omega and then back at the medic. From under his helmet, he was smiling eagerly. His head turned to Omega and gave her a small nod. There wasn’t much time to debate the medic’s situation as Hunter holstered his blaster, inviting the others to do the same.

“Just get on the ship. Don’t think you’re trusted yet,” Hunter glared at Doc as the hatch to the Marauder lowered.

Picking up and holstering her blaster, Doc gave Hunter an understanding nod and watched as the others loaded into the ship, “I get it. Thank you.” Doc followed behind, “Knowing some names would be pretty nice too,” she added with a cheeky smile.

Omega piped up first as she stood in front of Doc, “I’m Omega, and these are my brothers Hunter, Tech, Echo, and Wrecker,” pointing to each of her brothers.

“Brothers, you say?” Doc questioned lightly before shrugging it off, “Well, it’s nice to meet you and your brothers, Omega.”

With a nod, Omega walked off with Echo and to find her trooper toy. Doc on the other hand admired the interior of the ship as she made her way up to the front cabin. She couldn’t wrap her head around the fact a group of rogue clones managed to make a ship into a home.

“You mentioned the Empire recruiting soldiers including yourself. Was it just your squad or are there others?” Tech questioned Doc with a glance before returning back to his data pad.

Doc whipped her head around, snapping out of her thoughts of the Marauder, “Well, I don’t have an exact number.” She paused for a moment before continuing on, “I know there were many more offering their services or asked by the Empire to join the Galactic Army. I was one of the first and didn’t interact many with soldiers outside of my squad.”

Hunter thought through her words before adding to the conversation, “Why would the Empire be training people to be soldiers when they’re supplied with clones?”

“I have no clue. I thought the same thing you did when they offered to train me.” Doc leaned her back against the wall, “I understand why you all left.”

Wrecker was making an attempt to listen to the conversation, but the pang of pain in his head made it a weaker attempt. He groaned as he held his head, hunched over in his seat.

Hunter turns to his brother with a hint of concern, “You all right?”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s nothing,” Wrecker groaned as he stood and began to walk away.

Doc placed a hand on the large clone’s arm to stop him from leaving, “I can run a diagnostic and provide a remedy for the ache.” She offered to Wrecker, “I’m specifically trained in this. It wouldn’t hurt to let me give it a shot.”

Wrecker’s eyes found Doc and he once again tried to shrug it off, mostly to avoid having to sit and get stuck for a diagnostic, “No, really. I’m fine-”

“Please. It’s the least I can do,” Doc nearly pleaded to Wrecker, “We can skip the in depth diagnostic if that’ll convince you.”

There was a brief pause between the two before Wrecker let out a deep sigh, “Fine, but just this once.”

“Fine, just this once,” Doc assured with a grin as she moved her arm for Wrecker to walk to the back of the Marauder.

Slumping into one of the swivel chairs, Wrecker released a mild groan with a hand on his head. The sharp stabbing pain followed with throbs was too much to handle, even for a person of his strength and stature. Doc took her seat across from Wrecker, setting her data pad and backpack to the side. A few bacta patches were pulled out along with different bottled liquids and pastes before she stood up.

“I’m going to do a quick examination to try and determine what kind of headache you have,” Doc explained gently as she placed a hand over the one on his head, “Will you let me do that?”

Wrecker had his eyes closed tightly as she spoke, up until he felt her touch. His eyes slowly peaked open to look at Doc as he moved his hand from his head hesitantly. Doc shared a soft smile before looking for any bruising and coming up short.

“This might be silly to ask,” she started with a hum, “but have you hit your head at all recently? Multiple times?”

Wrecker let out a gruff chuckle, “I hit my head all the time! Nothin’ I can’t take!” He claimed with confidence, a grimace and groan following after his words.

Doc rolled her eyes at his words as she brought out her flashlight, “Ah, right. The big tough guys don’t get hurt,” she chuckled.

“Hey! I didn’t say I didn’t get hurt, I said I can take it!”

“Yeah, yeah. Now, tilt your head up,” the medic bantered as her hand slid down his head to his chin. Her fingers beckoned him to turn his face up towards her, Wrecker complying as his eyes met hers. The touch was demanding, yet felt soft and caring, even through a glove. A warmth ran through his body and appeared faintly on his cheeks. The stare they shared was short-lived as Doc turns on her flashlight and dims it, “I’m going to flash this light into your eyes. I’m testing for light sensitivity and to be sure your eyes…”

She paused as she looked back into his eyes, focusing specifically on the left one. This then led to Doc grabbing his chin and turning his face away to get a better look at his scar. Doc managed to successfully snap Wrecker from his thoughts as he raised an eyebrow, “Uh, what’re ya doin’?”

Tilting her wrist, she brings Wrecker’s face back towards her, “Can you see from your left eye at all?”

Wrecker closed his right eye, forming a wink, “Not much. Everything’s blurry and looks like shadows.”

“Noted,” She brought the flashlight up and beamed it into his left eye, noticing little to no dilation from his pupil, “Open the other eye.”

Following her instruction, Wrecker opened his eye to be met with a light, “Agh!” He was quick to shut his eye tight, batting away the hand holding the flashlight, “What was that for?!”

“I warned you!” Doc turned the flashlight off, turning to the items she set out. Examining a bottle, she grinned, “To make up for it, I have a drink for you that’ll ease your headache.”

“Like medicine?”

“No, like tea. This isn’t anything the Empire or the Republic would’ve given you.”

Doc unscrewed the lid of the bottle and offered it to Wrecker, “It works best if you drink it slowly over the next twenty or so minutes.” Wrecker eyed the bottle, not sure if he should accept, but his headache urged him differently. He takes the bottle, bringing it to his lips and tilting it back. A silky sweet flavor danced on his tongue before he swallowed, his eyes widening and lips parting to reveal a toothy grin.

“Where’d ya learn to make this? It’s great!” Wrecker complimented as he went for another sip.

The medic sat back in the seat across from Wrecker with a short laugh, “I’m self-taught. Used to play around with herbs and stuff. I’m glad you like it.”

“You need to make more of it!” Wrecker started to take longer drinks, her instructions and his headache leaving his mind.

Doc shook her head with a shy smile, “Maybe I will.”

The two shared identical looks with one another before feeling the ship turn to land. They both stood up to get ready to go, bumping into each other before trying to awkwardly move out of the way. Doc gave up and sat back down to gather her things, “My bad, you go ahead. I’ll catch up.”

Wrecker lifted his helmet, placing it on, “Nah, uh, don’t worry about it.” The words struggled in his mouth as he walked away to leave the ship. The medic muffled a chuckle before swinging her bag over her shoulders, following after Wrecker with her helmet.

Notes: Well, that's the first chapter! Kind of a rough start, but I'm hoping to improve as I go. Thanks for reading! (Also should I upload this to AO3?)

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tenderjock · 8 months

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“in the small cramped dark inside” (a coday ficlet)

tw canon-typical dehumanization, medical abuse and child abuse, violence and brainwashing, child death, death of a minor oc.

There’s a sharp, lancing pain in 2224’s right temple.

It’s been there for two sleep cycles, through training and meals and the mandatory medical examinations that follow reconditioning. 2224 knows that this pain is a sign that he is defective, suboptimal, but he cannot - he does not - doesn’t want to, again -

He does not tell the longneck scientist that examines him about the headache. For now, this physical imperfection remains undiscovered.

2224 does not know why the reconditioning was deemed necessary in the first place. He only knows that now, orders burn, anxiety welling up in his lungs and on the back of his palate until he completes the assignment he has been given.

He pushes it, sometimes. Tries to see how many seconds he can hold out before his hands are compelled to do the task. His record is six.

In the shiny white hallway outside the training salle, his batchmate 2222 shifts forward in the hard, plastoid chair next to 2224's hard, plastoid chair. They are the only remaining clones of their batch, the rest culled for imperfections.

Twosie's eyes dance with mischievous mirth. "You gonna bite 17 again?" he whispers.

2224 smiles uncertainly. He has no memory of biting 17, ever, in his life. He has very few memories of any time longer than two days ago.

Huffing, his batchmate sits back. 2222's eyes look dark, wounded, like - like something 2224 doesn't have words for in his vocabulary.

When they were barely more than tubies, the longnecks had given them thin blankets. Once the blankets had worn through and been outgrown, they were taken away, replaced with reusable poly-foil sheets. 2224 had curled up under the foil, unable to sleep for three nights, jerking awake every time it crumpled under his toes. The look in Twosie's eyes reminds 2224 of that feeling, only worse.

(He doesn't know why he remembers the blankets but not biting 17.)

Despite the headache, 2224 performs admirably during training, exceeding expectations and outpacing 2222 in strength and speed and agility. Things came easy to him, and the things that didn't come easy he applied himself to until the benchmarks were met. 2224 had always been the top-ranked one in his batch. He had tried to help his batchmates when they couldn't make target practice or fumbled in war strategy, but -

Finally they got to the fun part: 2224 and 2222 facing off across a boxing square, monitored by trainers on all sides. 17 is not among them, 2224 notes with some disappointment, but he doesn't have time to contemplate it because 2222 takes his distraction as an opportunity to strike.

2224 blocks the first punch, makes the second. It's over quick, just a handful of blows before 2224 has 2222 on his knees, head locked between his arms.

"Very good, 2224," the head trainer says. 2224 blinks, uncertain at the praise. 2222 redoubles his efforts to escape, but 2224 controls his batchmate easily.

Sweat drips into his eyes but he doesn't dare wipe it away, doesn't dare let his opponent go until he hears the order to release.

"Good," the head trainer says again. Then: "Terminate 2222."

There's a roaring building up in his ears. One. His lungs are filling with seawater, his head with thunder and static. Two. 2222's pulse is rabbit-fast under his palm. Three. The trainer is waiting, expectant. Four. That kriffing anxiety swells on the back of his palate, choking and he can't breathe he can't think -

Five.

Twosie claws desperately at the hands that are holding his head. Six. Like it's happening somewhere far away, 2224 clenches his fists, squeezes, twists.

Model CC-2224 has been reevaluated post-reconditioning (note: the reconditioning process has never before been successfully applied to a CC model) for behavior issues. It is functioning normally and shows much more compliancy at this time. Reconditioning has been marked as successful. This process is now cleared for CC model units.

#coday #cody day #cody day 2224 #commander cody #star wars #may the force be with you #myfic #darth pacix au #child abuse cw #child death cw #medical abuse cw #reposting because i didnt really like this last night. so i tweaked it a bit #belated coday present i guess #and when i say present i mean i'm sorry that cody is having such a bad time in this i really am bUT

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arcsimper5 · 6 months

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Hi there, may I please request a scenario where Cody gets extremely distracted by an attractive, curvy/thick woman with large breasts, dressed in a beautiful, yellow-gold dress with a DEEP plunging neckline and it's not just her body that's distracting him; it was everything from her lips, her smile, to her eyes, her skin and her hair. His Vods want just want to drink the night away, but he ditches them in favor of getting to know her. They end up chatting/flirting; his attraction for her only grows the more he makes her smile and flirt back. Up to you whether you wanna make it get steamy or not; thank you either way.🌼

Hello my lovely anon!

Thank you for the request, I thought this through quite a bit, and have decided this will be a two-parter :P

Please enjoy part one below. Part two will be coming soon, and there will be spice included ;)

Title: Knowing - Part 1 Pairing: Cody x F!OC (not named, AFAB, very vague description) Warnings: Language, people being a-holes to Clones, minor physical violence.

Cody wasn’t sure he had a type until that night.

Just another shore leave that had rolled around after what felt like an eternity. With Obi-Wan attending the Jedi Council and all the flimsiwork that had been thrown his way done, it was a truly rare occasion when he could meet up with his brothers, his batchmates and friends, and let loose. Just a little.

He was still a Marshall Commander after all, something that was abundantly clear as he entered 79’s still in his armour, sans helmet (though it remained clipped to his belt). The moment he was noticed, the noise dimmed somewhat, though only for a few minutes.

By the time he’d made it to the bar and ordered a drink, the frivolities were back in full swing, the energy surging through everyone, clones and natborns alike, setting the scene for a night of excess.

And Cody couldn’t deny, he could do with a chance to let loose.

The last few campaigns had been too close for comfort. Too many brothers lost to the fighting, too many odds stacked against them. Every time they went on deployment, it hit him harder; one day, he wasn’t going to return.

There would be no more 79’s, no more shore leave, no more taking risks and breaking rules for the chance of a sliver of happiness.

Mumbling his order to the service droid behind the bar, he was so lost in his maelstrom of thoughts when he finally received his drink that his senses failed him, awareness lost to the self imposed despair running rampant in his mind, and he completely failed to notice the civvy stood behind him until it was too late.

He turned sharply, colliding with the figure, who let out a surprised yelp, the shock sending him reeling backwards for a moment before he found his balance once more.

“I am so sorry,” he began, shaking his head to bring himself back into the moment. The crowd around him and his victim had parted, giggles and gasps barely audible over the music. Taking a deep breath, Cody looked up, meeting the eyes of the stranger he’d just bumped into, ready to apologise once more.

And then his brain stopped working.

Stood in front of him, the smooth, tanned skin of her chest dripping with the cheap beer he’d ordered, was the most beautiful woman Cody had ever laid eyes on.

She was tall, a few inches on him even, though he suspected the glittery heels she was sporting aided that, draped in a figure hugging gold and white dress that accentuated her curves, her body full and thick in a way that made his mouth water.

The dress was sleeveless, the neckline of the delicate material plunging sharply over her cleavage, exposing the swells of her breasts just enough so as not to allow for any accidental slips.

It was her chest that Cody found himself staring at suddenly, watching rivulets of the golden liquid he’d just picked up seeping downwards, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard.

“I…” he began, lifting his gaze up to meet a pair of intense, wide eyes, desperately trying to find the words to apologise to this beautiful creature. But any sentiment he might have expressed was cut off suddenly by a shove, the woman pushed to one side by another, shorter and thinner person, another human, though this one had a snarl on her face and narrowed eyes.

“Stupid kriffing clone,” she spat, glaring at Cody as he tried to gather himself. He stumbled a little, his back colliding with the bar, “why don’t you watch where you’re going, huh?”

“Sariah, it was an accident!”

The woman he’d spilt his drink on grabbed the other’s arm, attempting to pull her away. But this Sariah was having none of it.

“Probably did it on purpose,” she snarled, jabbing a finger against Cody’s chestpiece, “they’re all like that. Soak you, follow you to the bathroom and get you alone. Then…”

“Sariah!”

The woman seemed displeased with her friend’s behaviour, grabbing her harder and pulling her away from Cody, her own gaze narrowed.

“I told you this was a bad idea,” Sariah huffed, crossing her arms over her chest, “you can’t trust these meat droids. They only want one thing, other than killing, that is.”

“That’s enough!”

The woman’s shout echoed over the music, an authoritative tone to it that had Cody feeling very warm all of a sudden. The swell of noise in the club dipped once more, as it had done when he arrived, attention turning to the woman.

“I’ve just about had it with all the shit you come out with!” the woman growled at Sariah, who stared at her in disbelief, “I told you before we left, any of this crap from you and we were done. You don’t know what it’s like out there. This was supposed to change your views, to show you how amazing these guys are.”

“I’m not fucking a meat droid,” Sariah sneered, the expression completely wiped from her face as the woman raised one perfectly manicured hand and slapped her across the face, sending her stumbling backwards.

“Don’t fucking call them that!”

SIlence descended over the club as everyone waited for Sariah to react, her own hand coming up to clutch at her face where she’d been hit. She looked equal amounts furious and scared as the woman Cody had bumped into towered over her, her shoulders squared, making her look even bigger than she had before.

“You… Fuck you!” Sariah finally whimpered, tears gathering in her eyes, “Enjoy getting assaulted by these… things. And lose my comm. I don’t ever want to see you again.”

“The feeling’s mutual,” the woman spat, turning her back on Sariah as she moved easily through the crowd, clones and natborns alike parting to make a clear line to the door.

Another moment of silence followed, the doors to 79’s slamming shut seconds before the crowd turned back to the woman, watching and waiting.

Taking a deep breath, she forced a smile to her face, looking around awkwardly.

“Well?” she asked to no-one inparticular, her voice echoing around in the tense silence, “Is this a club or a morgue?”

A cacophony of cheers erupted, the music swinging back into life, bodies moving and bustling and gyrating again in moments. Breathing a sigh of relief, she finally turned back to Cody, meeting his gaze and giving him a weak smile.

“Uh, sorry…” “Sorry…”

They both spoke at the same time, eyes widening for a moment before they both let out a laugh, shaking their heads at each other.

“I’m Cody,” he offered softly, offering her a hand, “and I am sorry for spilling my drink on you.”

“No harm done,” the woman smiled warmly, “nothing that I can’t dry off.” She motioned to the droid behind the bar, a roll of disposable wipes presented to her within moments.

Diligently cleaning her chest, she quickly disposed of the roll and the soiled pieces on the bar, the droid removing them and bringing her a cocktail over, nodding when she murmured something else to it.

“I’m, uh, sorry about your friend, too,” he winced, noting how she didn’t even flinch, simply shrugging.

“Not a loss,” she admitted, “we only met a few weeks ago. She’s my friend’s sister, thought I’d show her around Coruscant, seeing as she’s new here. Couldn’t give a kriff about anyone with views like that.”

Cody’s face warmed as he recalled her anger at them being referred to as ‘meat-droids’. It wasn’t uncommon, but having someone, let alone a natborn defend them? That definitely was.

“I, uh, didn’t catch your name,” Cody smiled awkwardly as she turned back, her cocktail and another beer in hand. His eyes widened a little more as she pressed the beer into his hand, catching him off guard.

“I owed you one,” she winked, “and I didn’t give it.”

“Oh,” he murmured numbly, blinking a few times. Suddenly he didn’t feel like a Marshall Commander. He felt like a shiny, fresh and new, unsure how to navigate this situation, “I… uh…”

“Call me ‘My Lady’,” she purred, leaning forward to practically whisper in his ear, sending a shudder through him, “if you like. We’ll see if you get to earn my name, pretty boy.”

“P-Pretty… What?” he stammered, eliciting a giggle from her plump lips.

Maker, it had gotten hot all of a sudden, his armour feeling too tight all over, particularly underneath his codpiece.

“Want to grab a table?”

It was barely a suggestion as she looped her arm through his, guiding him towards one of the booths in the back. He offered no resistance, trying to get to grips with the situation.

‘Come on, Cody, you’re better than this! She’s gorgeous, she’s kriffing beautiful! Stop making a fool of yourself.’

“I… I’m a Marshall Commander,” he blurted out as they reached the booth, slipping inside the secluded area. It became all the more intimate as she pulled the curtain across, giving them more privacy from the surging movement of the dancefloor.

“That so?” she hummed in amusement, watching as Cody flushed bright red, oblivious to the way he cursed himself internally.

“Uh, yeah. 212th.”

“Oh, General Kenobi,” she nodded sagely, still grinning a little, “good man. Little uptight for my liking, but a fantastic strategist.”

“You… know him?” Cody asked a little too loudly, taken aback. The woman simply nodded, sipping at her cocktail before placing it back onto the table between them.

“I know all of the Jedi. Being a GAR liaison has its advantages.”

Oh kriff. Kriff, kriff, kriff.

A GAR liaison officer, one of the most senior natborn ranks there was. This woman, this stunning, beautiful woman, had to be a Commander at least, his equal, or maybe even higher ranking.

“I… uh…”

“Hey…”

Her voice softened as she leant over the table, reaching to take his hand in hers. He watched, dumbfounded as she stroked her delicate fingers over the back of his gloved hand, cursing the layers that separated him from feeling her skin on his.

“I know what you’re thinking. This isn’t a trick or a trap. Some people in the GAR might not see you as human, but I do. I know the fraternisation rules, and I don’t care. We all need to let loose sometimes.”

Cody, once again, felt far out of his depth, unsure what to say in response, simply staring at her hand as it drew lazy patterns into his glove, this throat bobbing as he swallowed hard again, processing her words.

“If you want me to leave you be, to disappear and forget this ever happened,” she offered slowly, “I can and will. I don’t want you to feel like you have to spend any time with me. But I have to say, Cody…” He shivered at the way she practically purred his name, “I’ve heard quite a bit about you, and would be interested in getting to know you… maybe seeing where it goes from there…”

Looking up at her in amazement, Cody could only nod, slowly turning his hand over and lacing his fingers with hers. He was still nervous, hells, his heart was practically beating out of his chest, but there was something in her gaze that kept him rooted to the spot, a softness to her gaze as she looked him over.

As her lips turned up into a brilliant smile, his heart fluttered.

This was bad… Or was it?

Please comment and reblog! It helps my writing no end and is very appreciated!

#star wars #the clone wars #tcw #star wars the clone wars #clone wars #tcw cody #Clone Commander Cody #Clone Commander Cody x F!OC #answered asks #requests #daniwrites #79s clone bar #commander cody

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toomanybandstocare · 2 years

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{Caring Hands}

Program: After months of heartbreak and worry, your roommate takes you out for a night to your old stomping grounds- 79s. A bar that used to hold such fond memories of spending blurry night with your friends of the 501st legion by the side of your riduur, Rex. tonight, it seems the magnetic pull between the two of you is determined to bring you together for one last chance.

Pairing: Ex! Rex x Ex, GN! Reader

Side Pairing: Fives x OC! Kiva

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Second Chances

Length: 3956w

Warnings: Pet names (Lover, Cya're, Cyar'ika, Riduur), Drinking to the point of being tipsy/drunk, Heartbreak, Swears, Barely edited

Captain's Notes: Hi guys!!!! It's been awhile. Life has been a force (hehe, no pun intended), but I've been really enjoying my rewatch of the Clones Wars series. And I am simply in love with so many of the clones/boys. They make my heart very happy and fuzzy. It's been nice to revisit one of my favorite shows from my childhood, and the fact that Rex is still my favorite character (other than Ahsoka) makes me feel happy and at home.

Camp Resolute's Masterlist

Camper Tags: @staygoldwriting

The soft green and muted yellow lighting envelop you in an intimate atmosphere of buzzing excitement. Music thrums through the air as the 79s’ clientele swirl around the dance floor or wrap themselves around this evening’s partners in booths. As the war invades every nook and corner of the galaxy, the GAR’s unofficial bar offers its services for wayward individuals who look for a semblance of normalcy. A chance to forget the lingering, stale breath of unknown destruction breathing down everyone’s necks. Time stands still at the mercy of drunk shouts of excitement.

“You know,” Kiva drawls as he drags his cocktail’s straw across his lower lip, “going out to bars and clubs is more interesting if you actually speak to people”. His deep, teasing chuckle shudders through you more than the deafening bass.

“You know,” you hum as the tingling sensation of your fifth drink courses through your veins, “going out to bars and clubs is more interesting when you aren’t surrounded by your ex's brothers. Who happen to share extremely similar physical features”. Your voice drips with whiskey and venom.

Leaning onto your white knuckled fist, you down the last few sips of your liquor unable to pull your eyes away from the booth in the alcove corner just past the bar. The unmistakable colors of the 501st and 212th battalions flash under the pulsing lights as troopers recline in the booth or lean over the seat backings to join in on the conversation. Your attention flitted between your roommate and the CO table when the two of you sat yourselves at the bar at the beginning of the night. When you caught sight of hidden smirk and mischievous glint in his amber eyes, you ordered the first round of shots. Your eyes stung from neon lights that lit up the bar area of the tenders to see their work and as you watched Rex pull the beautiful Twi’lek close to his side. His hands palmed her soft curves and pulled her as close as possible. Bile rose up and bit the back of your throat as you threw back another drink.

As alcoholic cloudiness eases into your system, a sigh pushes past your lips and you turn your gaze to Kiva. His dark eyes look past you as a small half smile grows on face. Blinking at him, you follow his gaze. Leaning against the section divider of the CO table, Fives animatedly speaks to a friend from a different battalion whose armor is decorated in a scratched gray paint.

“You know,” your voice light and airy with its teasing melody, “going out to bars is more interesting if you go speak to people”. You jab your elbow into his arm and signal to the bartender for another drink.

“I’m not going to leave you here, heartbroken and drunk,” his tentacle tresses bounce around as he shakes his head, “Especially, alone. It’s a remarkable phenomena that you’re still able to form a coherent thought at the rate you're consuming spotchka shots”. Taking a sip of his drink, Kiva eyes you, “Besides, I don’t even know him”.

A bubbling giddiness washes through you as you look from Kiva to Fives to your fresh drink in front of you. Tracing a slightly trembling finger around the glass, you take a deep breath. Just because your trooper romance didn’t end how you had hoped doesn’t mean the same will happen for Kiva. Especially if he’s interested in sweet Fives.

“His name is Fives- CT-27-5555, if you want to get technical. But, only his twin is allowed to call him that, so don’t even think about it until he says you can use it” your voice is warm and quiet. It drips with whiskey and sweetens the soft smile you share with Kiva. His shocked expression causes a flurry of giggles from your lips. “He’s an ARC Trooper in the 501st. Too charming for his own good, but he knows exactly what to say at any moment,” you share as you watch Kiva’s lovestruck expression fall back onto your former friend. Taking a slow sip of your drink, a wave of conflicting emotions tumble through you. If you stepped one foot too close to that booth, all eyes would be on you. As much as you wanted to help Kiva, you knew that the night would only end abruptly if you inserted yourself back into the group.

“Doesn’t mean he’s into guys though,” Kiva nervously deflects with a wave of his hand and the last sip of his cocktail.

“Every time I would run into him, he would find a way to ask about you. I don’t think we’ve had a conversation that didn’t somehow include your name since he met you at Hellkai’s birthday party,” you carefully use the leg closest to him to start pushing him off the barstool.

“Wha-what,” Kiva stammers as he slightly stumbles out of his seat.

Before he can protest, you throw both your feet on top of the stool and cross your legs. “I’ll be here when you’re ready to leave. Either with me, or with Fives. Just let me know, and I’ll crash a couch somewhere. Now go have an interesting night,” you exclaim and shove him in the direction of the clones.

With every step Kiva took, the fleeting feeling of happiness seeped out of you. Although you see the nerves bouncing in Kiva as he weaved his way through the mass of tipsy dancers, you know he’ll be in caring hands. When he clears past most of the crowd, you see Fives stand up a little straighter and beam past the other trooper’s shoulder. Like a missing piece of the picture, Kiva finds his place next to Fives. A twist in your stomach tingles as he rests a hand on the back of Fives’ neck. With ease, Fives rests his hand on the small of Kiva’s back, and the tingles flame inside you. When their gazes meet, the coil snaps in you and you tear your stinging eyes away from the touching scene. Good for them. They both deserve happiness.

“You alright there, mesh’la?” a gentle hand rests on your shoulder. With a jolt, you snap your head and are met with a concerned clone. Your breathing becomes heavy as you open your mouth to send him away, but the sight of scratched blue armor with a medic symbol on the shoulder causes your throat to constrict.

“Hey, hey,” Kix slides closer to you and rests his other hand on your cheek, “It’s okay. Just too much to drink tonight, huh? How about some water then? Wait, you- you look familiar.”

“I’m fine,” you croak out and swing your body away from his caring hands to face the bar. You keep your shaking hands around your whiskey glass and watch the iceball water down your only ally in the bar.

“Wait a minute,” his timber voice hummed closer as he slid into the now open stool, “It is you. What- what are you doing here?”

“Don’t worry, Kix. I’m not here to ruin anyone’s fun. Just trying to have my own,” you bitterly chuckle.

“That’s not what I meant,” Kix rests an arm on the bartop and shifts his body closer into your personal space. His usually soft eyes flood with concern as he takes in your appearance. “I- we haven’t seen you in months, mesh’la. Thought you moved planets- kriff, even to a different system. Rex wouldn’t let up any info, so we all thought it was an emergency”.

You’re barely able to keep the choked sob locked behind your grimace as your heart pounds in your throat. The truth trying to break past your loyal lips. Shrugging, you keep your eyes locked on the flowing lights that twinkle behind all the glass bottles. The cold synthetic material of your glass balances on your lip before you throw it back.

“Enough,” Kix hisses and grabs your wrist to pull the cup away. His look of disbelief causes a twinge of guilt to register in your haze.

“Come one, mesh’la. Let’s get you home,” Kix carefully wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you up.

Panic stabbing into your skin, you throw some credits onto the bar and try to drag your feet to stop him. “Kix, what are you doing?” you hiss.

“Making sure nothing bad happens to you. Why were you alone over there? You must have seen us in our usual spot,” Kix looks at you in confusion as the two of you work your way through the throng of dancing bar goers.

“Because,” you try to quickly clear the situation before you are recognized by any other clones, “there’s a reason that Rex didn’t want to talk about me”.

You try to wriggle out of Kix’s hold once you see Kiva and Fives wrapped in each other’s arms. “Seriously, Kix. Leave it alone. You’re doing more harm than good,” you practically beg.

“What are you talking about? Look, even if you and Rex are in a bit of a tricky spot, I can guarantee that you’re his endgame. The man won’t stop talking about you,” Kix sends a genuine smile your way and rubs his thumb in soothing circles on your side.

“Hey, I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” Fives calls both of you over. Kiva straightens up in Fives’ embrace as he watches the two of you walk towards the booth.

You frantically shake your head and try to think of a plausible excuse to get out of this. What was once your safe haven for nights out now spits you deep into enemy territory.

“I thought I said to keep it easy on the drinks,” Kiva chuckles uncomfortably and moves to your other side, “Time to go home, huh?” Slipping his arm around your waist above Kix’s own, Kiva turns to say something to Fives.

“Wait, no. Do you have to,” Fives castes the two of you a sad look. “I didn’t even know you were plantside, and now you try to scurry out in a rush? That’s just rude,” Fives jokes.

“Come join us, mesh’la,” Kix coaxes you, “All the guys have missed you and would be thrilled to catch up. We’ll just get some sodas for the rest of the night”.

“You’re joking. No way in haran that me and Jesse are letting you go home before we start the games,” Fives reaches for your hand as you shake your head so hard, it nearly causes you to tumble over.

“Fives, cya’re, it’s time we go home. This one can’t even stand on their feet,” Kiva tries again and successfully makes one step closer to the exit. Which is one step closer towards Fives and the entrance to the CO booth.

“Cyar’ika, let’s get them in a seat then,” Fives leans into Kiva’s chest to whisper something in his ear. You feel the excited tremble on Kiva's side and another wave of guilt washes over you.

“Guys, come one. I’m fine. Definitely not my worst night out, so I can get home with no issue. Kiva, why don’t you stay here,” you pull away from the group and notice the growing number of glances you’re all attracting.

“Why are you trying to run from us? I thought we were your friends,” Kix’s voice is dry with confusion and hurt.

“We can hang out another time. I promise. I’m just tired. You said it yourself, I’ve had enough for tonight,” you frantically try to deescalate the growing unease in the area as you sway and twist through the crowd.

Not even caring about bumping into other patrons, you focus your attention away from the twisted expression on Kix’s face and the shouts of recognition from the CO table.

You use your elbows to move others out of your way, but the dull, plastoid armor does nothing but bite back at you. Blaster boots and high heels trip you as you lose yourself in the crowd once more. Your heart jumps in time with the rhythm of the song blaring. Sweat sits heavy on your skin as you break free and try to find sight of the exit.

Hallow pants wrack your body from the close proximity of other patrons, but you find the neon blue exit sign for the door. Taking the first step, you continue your trek to fresh air as you narrowly push past another clone and jostle the drink in his hand.

“Watch it,” the gruff voice mumbles.

Two words in a bitter tone are all that cause your blazing body to turn ice cold. He’s supposed to be up in the booth.

“Sorry,” you breathe out.

With a weary look from the corner of his eye, the clone’s stoic expression is broken by shocked realization. “Cyar’ika,” Rex’s voice rumbles.

“I’m just on my way out, so don’t worry about holding back. Okay? It’s all good. Have fun tonight,” you mutter breathlessly and sway a step forward.

“Hey,” Rex gently demands your attention. He twists his body to face you completely and holds out his free arm to catch you from falling.

“Are you-,” Rex looks at you with tense, uncomfortable eyes, “Are you okay? You look-”.

“You don’t get to ask that anymore,” you growl behind gritted teeth. Pushing his arm out of your way, you continue your trek to the exit. You are so close. Just a few more bodies to get past.

“Wait a minute- kriff,” Rex exclaims and gently grasps your arm.

“Stop it,” you hiss, “You’re going to make a scene. Just let me go. Let me go, again.” The final word sits heavy in the air, and Rex’s grip tightens around you for a moment.

“Take this,” Rex mutters, “I’m walking this one home. Too much to drink”. Without a moment to register who he was speaking to, Rex pulls you along to the exit. Not even casting a glance to make sure you could keep up with his determined strides.

Stumbling behind Rex, you can’t find the strength to pull your arm out of his careful hold or tear your glossy eyes away from his figure. With each step closer to the entrance way, you choke back the dry sobs that well inside you. You had hoped that the last time you were with Rex in the 79s that it would be a happy memory. Instead, the galaxy decided to throw the two of you together for one last spat.

The cool night time air soothes your burning cheeks. Speeders and cruisers fly past the entry line of rowdy soldiers and excited patrons as they wait for entry. Coruscant’s cityscape lights up the starry night with synthetic warmth from billboard to skyscraper.

“Same place,” Rex asks softly.

Not answering his question, or allowing yourself to meet his pertinent gaze, you feebly pull your arm out of his comforting hand. “Please, stop,” your hollow voice responds.

“Cyar’ika,” Rex says in exasperation, “Come on, you shouldn’t be out like this. Let’s get you back-”.

“Stop,” your hoarse voice pleads as you begin walking back to your apartment. Memories of walking home with Rex after a night out with the 501st should bring you happiness. You didn’t want them to be tainted by the lingering heartbreak of tonight if you could help it.

The racing sounds of nightlife mutffle your hearing, so a stab of fear strikes you when you feel yourself being suddenly tugged into the side alley of 79s.

“Enough,” Rex growls into your ear. He leads both of you out of sight and behind some of the bar’s shipment crates. With careful hands, he lightly pushes you into the wall and stays pressed up in front of you. Just enough room for you to push him away if you really wanted to. Just enough room to intoxicate your senses with only his presence.

Running his hands over his cropped hair, Rex watches you with a glint of frustration in his eyes. “I tried to be nice,” he starts off in a low voice.

“I didn’t fucking ask. I told you I was leaving,” you bite back. Your finger nails dig into the palm of your hand.

“Will you let me speak,” he snaps. His chest plate rising and falling in heavy breaths. “You were the one kicking up a scene in there and out front. What are you doing here?”

“You don’t own this bar, Rex. Anyone can come and enjoy a night out,” you seethe.

“I may not own this bar in a legal sense, but this is the closest place us clones can call home. You know that. Why not some other bar? I told you- we’re done. We had a nice run. But we need split ways,” he rumbles. With each painful word, his face moves closer your own. Hard, amber eyes lock with yours as mixed emotions flash across the surface to show peeks of the soft look of adoration underneath. The musky scent of his cologne mixes with the whiskey on his breath to make you feel dizzy. “That includes where we spend our nights out. Now I’m going to have to bat off Kix and Fives for who knows how long”.

“That’s what you wanted. Not me,” you lash out. His eyes widen slightly at your volume, and you jab his chest plate with your finger before he can regain control of the conversation. “I didn’t want our relationship to end. I didn’t want you to let me go. I didn’t even get a say in the matter. And, I certainly didn’t ask you to be nice”. Your voice steadily grows in volume as your body trembles in anger. “You're a soldier. You made where your loyalty stands, so fucking clear. If this is your choice then you have to own up to the consequences of your actions. So dealing with your squad’s questions -- my fucking friends, who I haven’t see because I for some fucking reason respected your request for space -- about why I haven’t been around or why I was so desperate to leave tonight, is your own fucking fault. Kriff, for someone who is haran bent to follow orders and lead by a good example, you’re an awful person”.

Rex takes a step away from you. Hurt melts away his anger, and he looks down at his boots. Fists flexing by his sides.

“This isn’t you,” you quietly sob, “I know you. I know the real Rex. Your boys know you, and they see something’s wrong”. With shaking hands, you softly hold his armored hand in a careful clasp. “Why won’t you let me in? Let me help you. All I have wanted in our relationship is to be by your side and support you”. You take a daring step closer to him, and when he doesn’t pull away, you wrap him in a tight embrace.

The cool plastoid feels grimy to your skin. They couldn’t have been plantside for more than a few hours. Desperate to taste a sense of home and normalcy after the latest dire mission. Tentative hands drag across the fabric of your shirt and press you further into his chest plate.

Rex flexes his fingers to gently pull your body as close as he can with armor still sitting heavy on his shoulders. Pressing his face into the curve of your neck, he breathes you in to try to ground him. It’s always been you. Your face is the first image that would grace his vision when he closes his eyes each night. Memories of small acts of love keeps him grounded when news of a lost brother is announced. The echo of your laugh overpowers the crashing bomb shells on the battleground. No matter where in the galaxy he travels to, Rex can only think about you and how you have cared for him. He couldn’t risk that being taken away from him. He couldn’t risk anyone trying to use a GAR officer’s riduur as leverage.

“Enough,” Rex’s broken voice pleads into the crook of your neck. He closes his watery eyes and pulls you closer when you tenderly trail your finger across his back plate. Even with GAR issued armor and regulation protection, Rex knows your caring hands will be his downfall.

“Rex,” you gasp in his ear. Your voice light like the cool breeze that causes both of you to shiver. “Rex, I-”.

“Don’t,” he begs, “Don’t say it”. He drags his nose across the column of your neck, and both of you feel slight dampness where your bodies connect. Placing a gentle kiss in the dip of your neck, Rex shakes his head and pleads, “Cyar’ika, if you finish that sentence I will never be able to walk away from you. Not even when I’m called back to base for training or briefings. Especially, not when I know I face death like a familiar acquaintance everyday”.

“But, you didn’t face death today,” you hold him closer. The two of you are trying to mold into each other. Either to rekindle a lingering flame or to imprint a final memory of each other’s body to forever remember. “You face your lover today. Your lover who only asks one thing of you”.

Rex shudders a pained breath that sweeps across your skin. His lips trail everywhere as he can’t find the strength to pull himself away from your hold. “I can’t stay, cyar’ika. And, I can’t put you through the constant pain of not knowing if I’m alive,” his words break with a sob. “I’m trying to protect you. I don’t get to make many choices for myself or my life, but I have the choice to protect you. I will always choose you, your safety, and your happiness over my own. My runi is tied to yours, and I am bound to you for darasuum”. Overwhelmed by emotions, Rex moves his head to lean his forehead against yours. Tears freely stream down his face as he bares himself in front of you.

“You are my happiness, riduur,” your gentle affirmation is met by a pained whimper. “Without you, I am nothing but a body. My runi is tied to yours, and I am bound to you for darasuum. Come home, lover”.

“I don’t want to keep hurting you,” Rex whispers. His amber eyes glisten as he watches your own eyes trickle with tears.

“Then come home where you belong. By my side. I don’t ask you to give up your brothers or stay away from the battlefield. Let me know that when you come planetside on leave, that you’ll come home to me and let me care for you”.

Unable to tell where one body starts and the other meets, the two of you keep each other in a searing embrace. Tears stream together as you press closer to his face. Nose bumps cause choked chuckles to fall. Heavy breaths fan across chapped lips just millimeters away from meeting in the middle.

“Please,” your soft plea ghosts over his mouth. Your invitation tastes of home cooked meals and warm caf in the morning.

“Always, cyar’ika. I will do everything in my power to come home to you,” Rex promises and places a gentle kiss on your growing smile, “I’m so sorry I left you, riddur”.

One hand slips just underneath the hem of your shirt to feel the familiar planes of your body as Rex rests his other hand on the nape of your neck. Unable to fight against the force pulling the two of you together, Rex dips down and presses a chaste kiss to your beaming smile. Another falls soon after, slightly longer as he traces the curve of your bottom lip with his tongue. And another when you look at him in adoration that pulls a soft sigh. A new sound to allow himself to reimagine when he misses you. Ready to come home to caring hands.

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zeenmrala · 7 months

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Devotion: A Memoir by eloquentmoon Mimi Mirage ♡

Mimi Mirage: galactic pop princess, Coruscant's sweetheart and 'it girl' of the Clone Wars. The lesbian Twi'leki popstar sang, danced and partied her way through the Coruscant scene until she was featured on every holo across the Core Worlds. This posthumous memoir is a tell-all of her controversial life: the tragedy of her childhood on Alderaan, her teen years in various "correctional" boot camps across the stars, the details of all her bad girl romances, the trials and tribulations of being a pop-star during a galactic conflict (including all the details of THAT performance), as well as her time in hiding from the Empire, her capture and eventual rescue by the Rebellion. "A dramatic autobiography, dripping with gossip, romance and heartbreak. In her life, Mimi has been many things to many people. Finally, this is her story, in her own words..." New edition! Now featuring an exclusive foreword by Princess Leia Organa!

Click here to begin reading the hottest new celebrity biography, now on AO3!

Alternatively, to read on Tumblr please check below the cut for a list of chapters and more information ↓

Devotion: A Memoir by Mimi Mirage

Word count (so far): 4k Rating: Mature (18+ only) Relationships: OC / OC, OC / Asajj Ventress, OC / Fennec Shand Tags/TW: Individual tags listed for each chapter. Please note that this story contains major character death and descriptions of unwanted sexual advances/non-con. Foreword by Princess Leia Organa

Prologue - The End

Chapter one - My Folks

TBA

[mimi mirage masterlist] / [join my taglist]

taglist: @kimageddon @stardustbee @gggoldfinch @elledjarin @rogue-kenobi @dukeoftheblackstar @corona-one @frogunderarock @herbalinz-of-yesteryear @pumpkinmischief

header art of mimi is by the lovely @audpaints ♡

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moonstrider9904 · 9 months

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Lake Shores

Chapter Eight of Half-Moon Glow

Pairing: Crosshair x Female OC (Aurora Dawn)

{series masterlist} {previous chapter} {next chapter - soon!}

{taglist form} {Read on AO3}

Summary: Clone Force 99’s respite continues on a distant forest planet, which makes meaningful declarations arise between Aurora and Crosshair. In the midst of it all, a new and daunting mission assignment reaches the squadron.

Tags/warnings: Explicit (18+, minors begone). Making out, armor kink, brief mentions of injury, light angst, but also lots of fluff and soft!Crosshair. One (1) terrible pun.

A/N: here’s a small filler chapter with the best of both worlds. Good ol’ fluff and good ol’ Clone War angst. Just a lil something to move into the next arc of the story. Enjoy!

Word count: 4.3k

Aurora questioned whether she preferred the opulent, elegant Passacaille hotel on Coruscant over the chilly air, swaying leaves and cloudy skies of the forest she currently sat on.

She felt the dirt and dry leaves, cool against the soles of her bare feet. With her knees hugged close up to her chest, her gaze shifted between the green spruce trees and the bright clouds, never finding even a glimpse of blue in that misty sky. The singing of the birds in the background magically complemented the occasional drip and drop of the lake before her, its shore starting not five meters from her, all entwined in one beautiful melody of peace.

“You’ll get dirt stains on your uniform,” the voice of her beloved filled her ears from behind.

Not looking at him yet, Aurora smirked. “You can always pat me down to get it off.”

“Is it possible for you to already be such a tease this early in the morning?” Crosshair chuckled as he sat on the ground next to her. “What are you looking at?”

“Nothing and everything,” Aurora replied. “The absence of anything human made is kind of the appeal of this place.”

“Yeah,” Crosshair agreed as he too gazed at the vast nature before him. Being the sniper that he was, he was more used to seeing the broader landscapes a planet had to offer than the average soldier, usually from atop a cliff or a tree or a tower, always ready to look into his scope at the slightest of movements. Being there on the ground with Aurora made him reminisce of that, but it also could not have been more different.

“Where are the others?” Aurora whispered, almost as if she were afraid to break the silence.

“They went to set up the comms antennae,” Crosshair said through gritted teeth, having started to chew on a toothpick without Aurora noticing. “So much for having nothing human made in this place.”

“I’ll take it,” Aurora spoke in a normal voice. “Sending us here for that sole purpose while we waited for another mission was probably the best order we could have gotten.”

“Well, it’s an order we actually followed,” Crosshair smirked. “That ought to tell you.”

Aurora giggled and looked over at Crosshair while he kept examining the landscape, finding herself at a loss for how the sunlight filtered through clouds made him somehow seem warmer.

“I see you looking,” he muttered.

“Do you?”

Crosshair shrugged and leaned back, resting his weight on his forearms on the ground and crossing one leg over the other. “I know, I’m gorgeous. You can’t help it.”

Aurora laughed and extended her legs too, shifting her weight closer to him. “Well, that you are, even if you’re a proud—”

“Ouch,” Crosshair groaned in fake pain.

“-arrogant,” Aurora continued.

“What did I do to deserve that?”

“-insufferably cocky—”

“Last I checked, you didn’t have a problem with any of that, darlin’,” Crosshair purred, flicking the toothpick aside.

“Flattering yourself much?” She leaned in to kiss his snarky grin.

Crosshair gave a deep chuckle into the kiss as he felt Aurora’s hand brushing his chest over his armor, and to add more heat into the kiss, he sat up so that he no longer had to rely on his arms to hold his weight, allowing him to instead wrap them around her waist. It was one of the things he loved doing the most, to hold her soft curves in his hands where she would be close to him, where he could feel she was his.

“We’re all alone, you know,” Aurora whispered between pecks.

“What are you suggesting, doll?” Crosshair prompted. He went on to plant a series of butterfly kisses over Aurora’s cheeks and cheekbones, and he let one of his hands travel to the back of her head where he could entwine his fingers in her lavender locks.

“You know what,” she purred in return.

Crosshair chuckled again and he broke the kiss to firmly hold Aurora’s torso, lifting her and himself to standing. Briefly, his heart sank when—careful as he was—Aurora winced in pain and looked down at her thigh.

“Aurora—”

“No, don’t worry.” She squeezed Crosshair’s bicep with her hand. “Please.”

He sighed quietly, his brown eyes filled with worry.

“I shouldn’t have been on the ground in the first place,” Aurora reassured him. “The harder it is to get up from a position, the more risk there is of some discomfort. It wasn’t your fault.”

Crosshair took his hands from her waist to the top of her neck and brushed his thumbs gently on her cheeks. “You know how I feel about that blast wound.”

“If you weren’t the one pulling the trigger, then it isn’t your fault,” Aurora said. “A lot of feelings come up when I think back to Christophsis, but blame set on you isn’t one of them.”

Crosshair gave one more sigh.

“Please, trust me when I tell you I’m okay,” Aurora’s voice softened. “And that I do not hold you responsible for this wound, or for what happened back there.”

An unfamiliar emotion took over Crosshair as he felt himself compelled to press Aurora to his body. He embraced her fully, arms tightly securing her as if he were suddenly afraid someone, or something, would try to take her from him.

Maybe that was what he was so afraid of.

Maybe he would have that fear for as long as she was in the army.

“Hey,” Aurora whispered. “You okay?”

“Sure,” he answered dryly.

Aurora parted enough from the hug to look him in the eyes, raising a brow. “Bull.”

Crosshair sighed. “You… know I’m not much for conversation.”

“You have your moments,” Aurora smiled at the thought of their night out at Coruscant. “But you don’t have to say anything now. I just want you to stop blaming yourself for all of it.”

“It’s not just Christophsis.”

“Whatever happened between us during our messy start, we’re past that,” Aurora wrapped her arms around Crosshair’s upper back, stroking his nape gently. “Aren’t we?”

“Yes,” Crosshair answered without hesitating. “I just…”

What was happening with him? Why did he feel a knot in the middle of his core?

“Cross,” Aurora whispered.

His thoughts quieted and he set his brown eyes on her purple ones.

“I love you,” she said.

The softness in her voice was unfathomable to him, the beauty that her unique timbre gave to those three words took the air from him, sending him into a brief yet sweet vertigo. Crosshair removed immobile, but not unmoved, as the softening of his usually hard, precise gaze gave him away. For all he felt at that moment, her words gave him care, hope for redemption, but hardest of all was the helplessness at not saying it back when she finished uttering the phrase.

“Cross?” She asked him, her voice shaking with a hint of insecurity.

Crosshair tightened his grip ever so slightly in reassurance. “Aurora…”

“Do you feel it too?” She inquired softly.

His gaze relaxed and he looked straight into her eyes, able to stop the trembling in his body. “Yes.”

She smiled. “Then I can wait for you to say the words, however long it takes.”

With that, Crosshair crashed his lips down onto Aurora’s. One of his hands maintained its gentle hold on her jaw while the other one, with a hungrier touch, clenched the hair behind her head. Aurora shifted her weight onto her good leg and perked herself on the toes of that foot so that her torso could press up to his, and now there was no space left between them. Their kiss was luscious, and it held a hint of desperation, an incessant need of one for the other.

They paused their kiss and looked each other in the eyes, panting to catch their breath. Between them arose an unspoken agreement to take things to the inside of the ship—it’s not like anyone would see them. They were alone as it was, and it would be even better if they were secluded within the steel and glass of the Marauder.

Crosshair took Aurora’s hand and led her up the steps of the platform with care and pulled it up once they were both inside. The air was warm inside, cozy, even, and not a sound could be heard. Gone was the singing of the birds and the swaying of the spruce trees in the wind. It had been replaced by the couple’s breathing, which grew shorter and needier with every beat of their hearts.

Aurora stood there, her figure contrasting with the light that came in through the Marauder’s windshield. For all the blood and horrors and fears she had seen throughout the war, she seemed so soft and gentle, with her wide curious eyes and delicate curves, and the way her straight-wavy lavender hair fell down her shoulders. So worthy of protection.

At that moment, Crosshair felt as if war was no place for her.

His gaze softened at her and he walked up to her. Aurora was ready to kiss him again, but Crosshair went and wrapped an arm around her waist as he bent down to support her legs with the other. He sat down on the copilot’s seat with her in his arms, resting her legs over the armrest while he supported the rest of her weight.

“Does that hurt?” He asked her.

“No,” Aurora sighed, unable to contain the desire to kiss him any longer.

Hungry as it had been before they’d made it into the ship, the kiss grew in heat when Aurora pressed her body closer to his, positioning herself at a taller height. Her hair fell down the sides of her head, brushing against Crosshair’s cheekbones where he could pick up on her sweet scent—it tore him from reality. His mind raced as he felt her touch over his body. Aurora’s hands trailed up his arms and onto his shoulders, passing the edge of his armor where his skin began at the sides of his neck. When her hands went downwards over his chest, her fingertips caressing every texture on his armor, she let out a moan followed by a giggle.

“Have I ever told you how much I love your armor?” Aurora purred, biting her lower lip.

Crosshair chuckled. “Is that so?”

“You look incredibly handsome in it,” she said before nibbling on Crosshair’s lip, making him shudder with delight.

“How about without it?” Crosshair prompted.

“Mm,” Aurora straightened her back, pausing their kiss, only to look him in the eyes. “Would you believe me if I told you I’d rather you kept it on for the next part?”

“I can find my way around most of the things you like with it,” Crosshair smirked. “But there’s one large thing I wouldn’t be able to use.”

Aurora laughed. “Well, I suppose one of the pieces of your armor can go.”

“Atta girl,” he whispered, pulling her back down towards him.

She kissed him with more heat and ran her hands over his chest plate. The sensation of the plastoid against her palms contrasted with the warmth of Crosshair’s skin and the coarseness of the shadow of his beard beginning to come in. That was yet another detail that she loved about him, and it sent her mind reeling. Aurora’s lips trailed kisses on his jawline, switching between them and tender nibbles, enjoying the low-pitched hums escaping from Crosshair. The need of him took over her, and her hands grasped at the pieces of his armor, tugging on them, teasing him, as she made her way down just enough to begin tugging at his codpiece, the one piece she was intent on removing.

The Marauder’s platform hissed and it began to open and descend, announcing the arrival of company. Aurora and Crosshair squirmed out of the pilot’s seat as fast as they could—it could had been faster had it not been for the blast wound—and while they were both on their feet by the time the other three members of the squad climbed on the ship, Aurora’s messy hair and Crosshair’s crooked plastoid pieces told the tale.

“Hey,” Hunter cooed. “Are we interrupting?”

“Get out,” Crosshair replied.

“Your rooms are right there,” Tech’s hand movements appeared cross-wired as he attempted to choose between gesturing at the bunks and facepalming.

“Crosshair, get your fucking codpiece straightened—” Wrecker looked away. “My EYES.”

Crosshair rolled his eyes and readjusted his armor while Aurora blushed and looked away, softly trying to recomb her hair with her fingers.

“So…” she began. “How are the comms beacons?”

“Fully erect,” Hunter wiggled his eyebrows, only to earn himself a shove from Wrecker and a grimace from Crosshair.

“If you would behave like civilized, intelligent beings,” Tech rubbed his forehead. “We would be able to discuss the fact that the beacons are now fully operational. Now that they’re put in place, we just have to wait for confirmation from the other squadrons sent out on similar missions on different systems. If we all succeed—”

“The Republic will have a higher capacity for long distance comms,” Hunter said proudly.

“Which will prove advantageous,” Tech said. “Placing these on remote planets with little to no inhabitants, the Separatists would take too long to find and disrupt the source of these comms even if they caught on.”

“We did our job correctly, now we wait,” Wrecker pouted. “We don’t do waiting.”

“I’m waiting now,” Crosshair slurred through gritted teeth.

“It should not be long before our next assignment,” Tech tried to reassure them.

“He’s right,” Hunter said as he made his way over to the passenger seat on the opposite side of the cockpit. He sat down and took out his vibroblade to spin it between his fingers with enough expertise to not need to look at it. “Best enjoy ourselves. We won’t be here for longer than tomorrow.”

Silence fell inside the Marauder. Judging by how the previous few missions had gone, every one of the members of the squad felt dread over what was waiting for them next.

“Um…” Aurora broke the silence. “Has… anyone mentioned resuming the mission on Christophsis? Setting up the base?”

“Like hell I’m taking you back there,” Crosshair frowned.

“It is my understanding that the base on Christophsis has been postponed indefinitely,” Tech consulted the information on his datapad. “High command will most likely look for a different planet to continue the mission in. There is no telling how many hostile forces were actually on the planet, and it is highly unlikely that our encounter finished them all off. Besides, the Republic’s eyes are on another objective already that could potentially replace the effort for Christophsis, or similar.”

Hunter met eyes with Tech as he spoke those words, his gaze hardening. Aurora noticed and focused on Hunter’s movements—the way he stopped spinning his blade in his fingers, his grip tightening around the handle, the furrowing of his eyebrows that was so faint it was nearly invisible. Being the sergeant, he obviously knew what Tech was talking about, and he must have known what that “other objective” was.

But judging by Hunter’s demeanor, Aurora could only assume the mission wasn’t worthy of any optimism, and that was as alarming as going into a mission blind and unarmored.

“Wherever we’re sent,” Hunter sheathed his vibroblade within his armor, “I suggest we all get some more rest. Can’t get too much of it with our lifestyle. And eat up, too. We’ll get a fresh stash of rations before setting off anyway.”

“Sarge ordering us to eat and sleep,” Wrecker chuckled. “That’s an order I can follow.”

“Don’t finish all the food,” Hunter told Wrecker as he got up and made his way into his bunk.

“You had to ruin it, didn’t you?” Wrecker groaned and followed after him.

Tech shut off his holopad and looked at Crosshair and Aurora, his expression blank. “If you two insist on consummating, I must ask you not to do it in the ship’s cockpit.”

“Is your room available?” Crosshair grinned.

“Not there, either,” Tech answered, and he too made his way into his bunk.

The couple were left alone once more in the cockpit in a silence that was perhaps more dense than before. All the teasing seemed to escape from Crosshair and he walked over to Aurora, hands reaching out for hers. “What do you want to do?”

She smiled with drowsy eyes. “I kind of just want to lay on a bunk with you.”

Crosshair’s features softened. “Are you feeling okay?”

“I am,” she blinked. “It just suddenly sounds like a nice thing to do.”

Crosshair squeezed her hands in his and didn’t say another word. He led her to the back of the ship where the small rooms were, three of them with their doors closed already. They entered Crosshair’s room and he helped her onto the bunk, after which he went back out of the room. Aurora watched the empty space between the doorframe, puzzled, until Crosshair’s silhouette emerged once more as he held a fresh box of rations.

Aurora beamed at the sight of Crosshair closing the door behind him with the rations in hand, and when he caught onto the way she was looking at him, he laughed.

“What?” He asked. “I thought you liked lying in bed with snacks.”

“I really am a simple creature,” Aurora sat up on the mattress and held her hands out to grab the box. “Please tell me there’s cheese in this.”

Crosshair sat next to her, their backs resting against the wall behind them. Her body once again was pressed up to his, and he wrapped his right arm around her, pulling her even closer. Aurora opened the rations box, her eyes twinkling at the sight of multiple rolls of cheese with what appeared to be ham. She grabbed one and took a generous bite of it, holding it up close to Crosshair’s lips as she chewed.

Gently, Crosshair kissed the side of her head. “It’s yours.”

“I’m not offering again,” she teased. “I will finish these.”

With a deep chuckle, Crosshair accepted the bite she’d offered. He took what was left of the roll, holding it between his teeth with half of it still out, facing down at her. Aurora perked up and took the remaining half with her teeth, letting her lips brush against his before pulling back down with a giggle.

“If you tell anyone outside this room I did that, I’m going to deny it,” Crosshair said.

“I understand,” Aurora grinned with mischief. “It’s probably the cheesiest thing you’ve ever done.”

“Go to your room,” Crosshair said bluntly before matching her grin, earning musical laughter from her.

They finished what remained of the ration box without much conversation, and when all that was left were crumbs, Crosshair set the empty box aside. Aurora scurried on the mattress to fully lie down, with her head resting on Crosshair’s chest. Crosshair did the same, and with the ration box gone, he now had both of his arms available to hold Aurora close to him.

And they lay in silence. Through his armor, it was harder for Aurora to hear Crosshair’s heartbeat, but if she focused, she could feel it there. But stared up at the gray ceiling, and while Aurora’s mind quieted down, Crosshair’s mind was racing.

Why couldn’t that fear leave him alone? He was so afraid of Aurora’s wound so much as acting up with an ounce of pressure being placed over it. The knowledge of their next mission assignment not being even one full rotation away put a weight over his shoulders that he had to carry alone.

What was he supposed to do, tell Aurora to leave the army? Leave with her? They’d both be prosecuted for that, and neither would have any chance of winning.

Time moved forward imperceptibly for Crosshair, and though the clouds and the small size of the window between the wall and the ceiling of his room wouldn’t let him see the sun gliding across the sky, he could eventually tell when it was getting darker. Aurora’s breathing deepened and she seemed to become warmer, and in her deep slumber, her grip tightened around Crosshair. The only thing he could have possibly wanted at that moment was to remove his armor so that she would have a softer pillow to rest on, but he was certain any movement would wake her.

He didn’t have the heart to interrupt her dreaming. She deserved to rest.

In the silence and the darkening sky, Crosshair fell asleep too. He had no way of knowing how long it had been when his eyes opened again, only then there was no more gray daylight coming in through his window. Instead, a soft silver gleam crept in through the glass. In the hours that had passed, the dense clouds had cleared from the sky, and now the little piece of sky that he could see was laden with stars and decorated with a half-lit moon staring right back at him.

Crosshair lay in silence long enough to notice the occasional cloud drifting past the moon and the stars. Through the window, Crosshair watched the half-lit moon, its ethereal light hazy in the thin layer of clouds coming and going. It seemed to watch him back, at times brighter than others, even if it wasn't in full splendor due to being in its first quarter, or was it the last quarter? Crosshair couldn't tell on his own account.

Aurora was the one who'd know that detail, but he wouldn't wake her up to ask.

She rested so soundly in his arms. Her breath fell over his chest as she nuzzled his skin, breathing deeply in her slumber. Crosshair held her protectively, enveloping her body with his, keeping her warm and safe.

Suddenly, he wanted her to wake. He wanted to hear her voice, to look into her eyes, to kiss her. He wanted to speak the words boiling in his chest, the ones that had refused to leave him when she wanted to hear them. Crosshair wanted her to hear them now, and he only hoped she could. He didn't think it would be right to stall it further.

"I love you."

A whisper in the night, one heard only by the moon herself, and after the words were in the air, the light of the half moon vanished behind the clouds, as though in saying so, he could finally let her rest.

When morning came, Crosshair found that Aurora had woken up before him. When he moved his body, he found himself sore from sleeping with his armor on, but he hardly cared, not as long as Aurora wasn’t equally or more sore, anyway. He opened his bunk room’s door and was met with an empty hallway, but he was able to hear the faint chatter of two of his brothers coming from the cockpit. Eventually, the sound of Aurora’s voice could be heard as well—he relaxed, finally knowing where she was.

Before he could go to her, he felt a hand firmly clenching his left shoulder, making him turn around to face a stern-faced Hunter.

“We need to talk.”

Crosshair raised a brow, prompting his oldest brother to speak. Hunter crossed his arms and exhaled, his gaze falling to the floor briefly before he looked up at Crosshair again. “It’s as we feared.”

It didn’t take long for Crosshair to catch on. He’d heard the comm chatter and the rumors too. That other objective Tech had talked about the day before, the one that would blow off any of the GAR’s interests on Christophsis and any other planet for that matter. The one that was famed to be the toughest warzone the war had seen yet.

“Umbara.”

“This time, it’s General Skywalker who needs us,” Hunter nodded. “The only reason he does is because he won’t be with the 501st himself.”

“Hunter, I can’t take Aurora there,” Crosshair blurted.

Hunter looked up at Crosshair, not surprised that she was his first concern. “She’s still a part of this squad, and we need medics over there.”

“She can’t even walk properly,” Crosshair whispered, his gaze hardening. “And even if she could, have you heard who’s taking over for Skywalker?”

“Yes,” Hunter nearly growled. “Which is why we have to show up. No matter how much we may not want to.”

Hunter could see the worry culminating in Crosshair’s eyes, and with a sigh of resignation, the sergeant came up with a plan.

“I’ll let Cody know Aurora’s still in recovery,” Hunter said. “He won’t force us to take her there if she’s wounded.”

With a long exhale, Crosshair managed to release some of the tension, and he looked into Hunter’s eyes without any barriers, as honest as he ever could have been to his oldest brother.

“Thank you.”

Hunter nodded and gave Crosshair’s shoulder pad a brotherly tap. “Now we have to tell the others.”

Crosshair nodded at his brother while he walked by, and the two made their way into the cockpit. When they were there, Crosshair locked eyes with Aurora as Hunter broke the news of what their next mission would be, and as he spoke, Tech began plugging in coordinates back to Coruscant, though his usual resolve in doing so had faded. Wrecker made no jokes. Hunter, for a moment, couldn’t meet eyes with any of his brothers—he’d be leading them into what felt like a deathtrap.

And Crosshair locked his gaze on Aurora’s, giving a faint shake to his head. Though wordless, Aurora seemed to understand what he was trying to say, for in her eyes, the trepidation grew.

Crosshair knew she would want to go with them. But he also knew, better than he knew anything, that he’d do anything to protect the woman staring back at him.

Anything.

And that sometimes, a goodbye would serve a better purpose.

He just wished he’d come back in one piece.

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crosshairs-dumb-pimp-gf · 1 month

Text

Disgrace Chapter 2 : Crosshair x F!OC

Summary:

The transport to Ga'hah is boring, boring, boring, and though Tah'nyem makes to amuse herself with the bristly clone commander she may have bit off more than she can chew, not that she's one to admit it. She attempts to maintain focus and composure while waiting on progress into her own investigations which may reveal more than she's ready to learn. Every one seems to have let down their guard, but not everyone on the ship may be a friend.

Chapter Specific Warnings: Sexual Frustration, Mild Nudity, Explosions, (minor/ side) Death, Protective Crosshair (Professional), Touching, Angst, Defensive Crosshair.

Word Count: 6k+

Dynamic: Princess x Guard, Speed running Co-dependancy, A Mangy Cat and his Aggressive little Chihuahua.

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Music Inspo- The Big Empty - Stone Temple Pilots

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Chapter 2

The Big Empty

There was a joyful buzz to the jokes and idle chatter swirling through the galley. It was just after dinner on the fourth day of our journey and I think being past the halfway point had everyone in good spirits.

The air smelled of caf and I breathed deeply from my own cup nestled in my hands, warming them in the constant chill of the military ship.

We had dropped from hyperspace and just finished refueling at an Imperial space station. Now we proceed to the edge of the system where we’ll make the final jump to Ga’haiian space.

I took a sip, and winced. It was still awful, but after that first headache I was willing to get used to the burnt tasting swill provided to the troopers. The Lieutenant’s hospitality seemed to have dried up after that first night.

It had been an uneventful trip and the soldiers around me were restless and giddy at the thought of wrapping this up quickly.

“You know, the two of you are gonna have to Kriff or knock it off,”

Well… almost uneventful.

“I don’t know what you're talking about,”

I took another sip of my caf and continued making hard eye contact with the Commander across the room at his usual spot by the dispenser.

We had been like this for at least twenty minutes. The staring contest was a matter of pride at this point.

“C’mon, give him a break, Seriously, he's been hoggin’ the barrack fresher the past few nights,”

The clone beside me chuckled. The second day I was here he told me to call him “Halo” and refused to elaborate.

“He knows where to find me,”

I spoke clearly, pronouncing the words so there was no mistake in reading my lips.

Crosshair took a big swig from his cup but still didn't look away.

Your move.

“The Sociopaths deserve each other,”

I almost turned to spot whoever muttered but needn’t have bothered reacting.

A blaster went off, singeing the floor near the offender's boot and he jumped from his stool.

“KARKen!- You know, shyte like that doesn't help your case!”

Crosshair holstered the sidearm. He never looked away and I felt my thighs squeeze together in a sudden ache.

Okay. You win this round… again.

I had been losing ground over the past few days. Even with him managing to stay clear of me somehow on the small ship. When our paths crossed I was usually the one coming away breathless.

The frustration of losing control of the dynamic was fueling a perverse feeling of loathing that could only be cured by riding that smug face of his.

My mind drifted to yesterday and our little incident.

I had been sitting on my bunk, torso exposed as I prepared the ceremonial ink to reapply the lines that adorn my arms.

The ink was finished heating and I picked it up from the plate.

Carefully, I angled the ink stick to drip onto my shoulder, hissing at the familiar bite of the heat as it made contact.

The first bead carved a channel as I carefully guided it down the length of my arm to the tip of my middle finger where it dripped off onto the cloth I had laid out for the purpose.

More drops now and they followed the trail already blazed, thickening the line and hue into a deep black. The ink pooled under my fingernail, dying the tip. Perfect.

I repeated the process on my other arm and finished the adornment with the proper prayers.

“Ehv’net tohomne ku.”

…

“What does it mean?”

I nearly jumped from my skin, having been so engrossed I missed the tell tale clang of the door.

That door was supposed to be locked… especially since someone doesn't know how to knock.

I looked over my shoulder at the clone commander framed in the doorway.

“Let me think a moment…I suppose, indirectly, it would mean something like ‘Lines that feed the heart’,”

He stepped forward and lifted my arm to inspect the dark, even line and my breath caught in my throat.

I wonder if he missed something…

My chest was bare, the smallish curve of my breasts exposed. He hasn't seemed to notice, busy inspecting the line work.

I made no move to cover myself, but cleared my throat softly…

He turned at the apprehensive tone and froze, eyes making their way down my bare arm to the small, rosey peaks standing stiff in the cold room. His fingers tightened on my wrist.

“You threaten my handiwork…”

He released my arm and I expected him to run off again but I felt his cool, slender fingers go back to tracing the lines of ink starting from my elbow and up. He paused at the shoulder…

My voice came out husky, the trailing fingers leaving raised bumps along my skin.

"Lines that feed the heart?"

“Something like that…”

“I see… Your dinner is ready.”

He turned on a heel and left the room with a clang.

…

My eyes refocused and present Crosshair still had me in his sights.

The corner of his mouth twitched knowing my mind wasn't on our little staring match any more. A final swig of caf and he was gone. Off to do whatever it was he did around here.

I sat straight and hauty and mad as hell.

The jig was completely up and the soldiers around me chuckled at the heat blooming around my ears. I had lost whatever hold I might've had on them and I wasn't sure if it was my obvious drooling over their Commander or the fact that I got zapped trying to pry the caf machine apart.

Hard to hold an air of mystique while bawling your eyes out.

I swirled my caf miserably, still convinced it was engine byproduct.

Halo noticed my expression and patted my shoulder causing me to sit straighter as he accidentally sent a surge of tingles down my spine into my groin. I suppressed the gasp that wanted to leap from me.

I need to get out of here.

I smiled at the men gathered at the table and bowed an excuse darting into the hall amid a chorus of farewells.

Jogging a few paces as I left the galley, I put some distance between myself and the happy chatter. This brought me past the bridge and I glanced inside.

Lieutenant Hervos turned and glared at me so I stuck my tongue out at him and moved on. I had given him no reason to make good on his threats, mostly behaving around the crew.

Mostly…

The bug I planted will run out of memory and loop tonight. I need to get it before that happens, but I have time. I pulled the small data pad from my inner pocket and double checked the timer.

Plenty of time

Still, I'm glad I gave myself a six hour buffer.

With nothing to do I continued down the hall to where it looped back to the main room I had entered the ship through.

Other staff milled about, poking and prodding at lit panels around the room. They were actually busy, unlike the troopers, and I left them continuing through. A flat topped hat looked up and gave me a small wave. I returned the greeting, granting the woman a small smile.

“Kerna, in good spirits?”

“Sure Miss Ra! Almost back on solid ground again,”

The plump girl had expressed a displeasure of spacecraft during a jittery cup of caf that had apparently been her first. She also admitted that she was looking for an early out to her contract for more than a nervousness towards the vastness of space.

“I didn't sign up to be a conqueror…”

I hadn't asked what her last assignment was but it had apparently been rough. I was starting to see a pattern developing amongst the staff. That might be good for business…

“Sit with me during break again tomorrow, I’d love to chat again before we disembark,”

She nodded and I continued through. There was nowhere to go though, and nothing to do.

Besides the Commander everything else on the ship was a bit of a bore. So… official. As it was, it felt as if I was simply here and not the subject of the mission. I felt like I was circling a drain.

Though it could just be how small the damn thing is.

I had once again reached the door of my stateroom. There wasn't even a holodeck onboard.

Hesitating, I leaned against the wall and weighed my options.

By Be’llahl, I do NOT want to spend another evening stuck in my room with only my fingers for company.

Things weren't helped that I've made no progress on figuring out why I'm here to begin with. Besides the bug, there's been no other head way; as anyone who might be in the know developed lock jaw whenever I walked in.

Antsy from the lack of real purpose I shoved off and headed to the hall's access to the maintenance tunnel and slipped through the suspiciously unlocked door.

The low hum of the darker hallway closed around me like a comforting blanket. It's funny… how these kinds of places seem to be the same everywhere.

I smiled at that, thoughts on being a teen and hiding with my best friend to smoke Dahr Root in the crevice beneath the gala hall floor.

Young and unsupervised…

I looked around at the dark tunnel.

Story of my life.

With no real reason I started forward, planning on pacing around to just kill time before the bridge cleared out.

Not too far down I tripped over something on the floor and stumbled, catching myself on the wall and turning to look at the sudden obstacle.

It was a boot, attached to a leg as expected and finally my eyes flicked to Crosshair, who blinked, trying to hide that he had been asleep.

Ah hah…

I had looked for him in the tunnels before but I guess he had kept moving before now. I slid down the wall to sit across from him, our legs beside each other's crisscrossing across the passage.

“Didn't you just finish a caf?”

He gave up the charade and rubbed his face with a hand, scratching the stubble coming in on his jaw.

“It doesn't help.”

He said it simply, and leaned his head back, closing his eyes and sticking a new toothpick between his lips.

“Why don't you just go to your bunk? It's not like you guys are working right now.”

He briefly fixed me with a look of annoyance.

“I don't sleep around the Regs.”

His tone didn't invite further prying and I looked about the hall till the mood shifted back to something more neutral.

I once again felt that annoying pity for the man, observing the dark circles under his eyes. This would be such a good time to mess with him too…

…

Maybe a little…

I nudged his hip with the toe of my boot.

“You wanna massage?”

He raised an eyebrow at that.

“No.”

“Oh come now, nothing too intrusive.”

I slid to sit even with his knees and reached for his right hand.

“Your hands are important to your work...and this is part of my craft, let me help,”

He didn't resist but shot me an incredulous look as I turned his palm to myself and rubbed through its center with my thumbs,circling a few times before moving to the fingers. The somewhat intimate contact was coiling him a little tighter as he tried to keep his guard up.

“Relax, just let me work,”

“I wasn't aware a governor's daughter…”

He trailed off but I kept him fixed in my gaze, brow raised at the question he had bitten back.

“I know everything my workers know, it's respectful to know what you ask of someone,”

“So… are you… you do…?”

It was funny, watching him start and stop as he struggled with the messy topic. Poor thing. Though it was a job like any other I guess it was still awkward to ask someone if they were a whore.

“On the menu? No. Clientele wouldn't see me as an authority that way,”

Chiding as I stretched the digits, I took note of the calluses on his trigger finger and palm, thick enough to feel through the thin gloves. They belayed the countless hours he spent honing his skills. An intrusive thoughts to what they might feel like against more sensitive flesh sent a sudden shudder through me.

Searching his face to check if he noticed, I found his eyes sliding along the ink lines tracing the backs of my hands and then, flicking down to my chest, nearly invisible under the sweater.

I smiled softly at that, stopping my purposed stroking to bring his knuckles to my lips, catching his breath where it was.

Finally, a point for me,

…

“This can’t happen, princess,”

“So you keep saying, what is it? Because it's not that you don't find me captivating,”

He looked vaguely amused at the accusation, but closed his eyes and sighed deeply.

“It just doesn't happen. Your kind and mine.”

Now it was my turn to be amused, thinking back to some well known “secrets” in the underworld about certain senators. No… “fraternizing” with soldiers was all too common. It was kept rather hush-hush, everyone looking the other way. Perhaps he has a point.

I scooted back to slump against the wall next to him, defeated.

“Didn’t mark you as such a stickler for protocol.”

He was quiet for a moment.

“If it was just some time in the brig I would’ve had you that first night.”

The admission was barely a whisper, but it sent a warmth through me and I swam in the memory of him standing over me with threat and promise written into every muscle fiber.

What do they have over you…

He put a hand on the top of my head in a patronizing move that made me huff.

“I still have work to do, and that means not stepping on toes for a while,”

Revoke your clearance for duty maybe?

“You already had to take on your own squad, what more could they ask of a man…”

The words had been that of pity, but it hadn't occurred to me that I wasn't supposed to know such things. A pained look flickered across him.

“Who-?”

I had dug out of Halo that the Commander had once been in a crew with other enhanced clones. They apparently absconded when the new Empire was formed and no one really knew why. They're the ones that gave him the red, twisted scar that now spread over his right ear. He had apparently gotten the best of them in the end though.

“I’m sorry, the Lieutenant-”

I started but he cut me off, his words uncharacteristically rushed.

“To make things clear, My squad ar-were traitors…to the Empire…”

He trailed off, the weight of the burden suddenly more clear. No wonder he wasn't sleeping.

“Seems cruel to have had you done it… if you ask me,”

He was still, mouth parting occasionally as if to add something. Eventually he settled on:

“A good soldier follows orders,”

It was a weak response, sounding like he was trying to convince himself.

“... I was hoping they'd come back,”

“I'm sorry… really,”

…

“Forget it, Knowing too much can get you killed, princess…”

I let the subject fall. Obviously a heavy topic, and didn't have much to do with our present predicament.

We sat quietly a few beats and my mind wandered back to the bug in the bridge.

“Hey, What were your orders for this mission? … For me?”

I was hedging that he'd tell me anything, but while we're getting personal…

“Standard escort, Coruscant to Ga’hah,”

He leaned his head back again, closing his eyes. The tension had broken, and he allowed a smirk to shine through the gloom.

“And hands off,”

There was a playfulness to that last bit and I couldn't help but smirk myself.

“So that’s official orders then, not a general ‘don't Kriff the guests?’”

“Uh huh.”

I sighed, amused.

Guess Vah’hadarr warned them himself, Be’llahl save me.

“Though,”

He continued hesitantly,

“I thought we were taking all three of you, That bit changed as soon as we got to your dock, new orders straight from Hervos,”

Well, isn't that suspicious…

I glanced at my data pad. Almost an hour had passed and it was time to check the bridge again. The sooner I got my device back the better.

I tapped his shoulder affectionately and stood. Perhaps I should leave him be…

I could really get him in trouble I suppose.

It bothered me that I cared, but as I kept telling myself, this was different. He has no choice in being trapped here any more than I did, and it's no fun poking a caged animal.

I turned to leave and he looked up as if about to ask where I was off too, deciding against it, and settled back against the wall.

Sleep tight, tough guy.

I followed the path with the thicker tubing back to the end of the hall near my destination.

Good … they cleared out.

Slipping into the empty bridge, I walked quickly to the center console and ran my hand under the key bed.

There you are!

I hit the stop button and extracted the recording device slipping it into my pocket.

Mission complete, hours to spare! Now back to my room to-

The door slid open with a swish and I stiffened briefly before forcing a more relaxed pose.

I can be here if I want.

I stayed looking forward to the array of stars and distant planets setting my chin defiantly even though the intruder couldn't see my face… or managed to challenged me in any way yet.

Sighing instead, I tried to relax for real. I was just on edge and should probably just see who's here.

Before I could turn I felt the heat of them against my back and once again panic crept into my heart, causing me to hesitate before thrusting my elbow back against them.

My armature strike was easily caught.

“Princess…”

His voice was low and familiar, though tinged with a growl of real frustration.

“Comand-?”

It was sudden, but I was pinned to the console, his hips holding me against the buttoned counter tight and still. I felt his fingers slide over my waistband and into my pants pocket roughly caressing the line between my thigh and vulva as he slid against the inner fabric.

The unexpected contact elicited a shameful whimper from me as I pressed back against him desperate and involuntarily.

His fingers closed around the small metal square in my pocket, carefully withdrawing it and holding it up to the light.

“These are dangerous games you play,”

His words were dead serious, and I was trying to sober myself.

Shyte…

I struggled now, trying to turn around or push him off me.

“Wait! Give it back, you don't understand!”

He stepped away, holding the bit of metal aloft to glint in the starlight.

“You're arrogantly sticking your nose where it doesn't belong with no care for consequence, is there something else to… understand?”

I feel like that was the longest sentence I've heard from him. Too bad it was so… upset?

Turning my palms up I leaned back in a submissive gesture.

“Think about it, please?”

I bit my lip, trying to get the words right.

“It doesn't make sense, you must see that right?”

He didn't move but his stern expression lost some of its assured-ness so I plunged ahead.

“Why are you here? Elite Imperial Soldier, playing babysitter to the biggest brat on Coruscant, this can't have been the most convenient way to transfer troops and my Vah'hadarr isn't that high of a priority,”

“In case something goes wrong…”

“What could possibly go wrong?”

He looked askance at that and I corrected myself.

“No… why would something happen? I'm no one and yet I've been whisked off with out warning under heavy guard,”

I pointed up to the recording device.

“Let's go back to my quarters and listen, together… they've had to have let something slip,”

“Conversations like these get people killed, princess,”

It was the second time he felt the need to warn me. He lowered his hand to look at the little device, thoughts etched across his brow as he tried to make up his mind.

“Let's go to the dining area, It's probably clear by now,”

“Isn't that a little public?”

I was hesitant to go over the recordings somewhere so open.

“Once it's empty it’ll be empty all night, Less implications if someone does stumble upon us,”

So that's what that's about.

I wasn't comfortable with the idea but I didn't argue, following him out.

Getting caught recording the Lieutenant apparently wasn't as bad as getting caught alone in my room and I rolled my eyes.

I don't even have a body guard usually…

Such protective actions weren't the norm for my father, and an official hands off has never been explicitly issued; the illusion of availability is a part of the role I play after all… Besides being tied up sitting in on his meetings, my father didn't care much what I did as long as I showed up for the expected social events.

I played with the thought of inviting the troop of soldiers to the “Welcome Home” gala and grinned a little.

What talk that would be.

We wandered into the galley, which was indeed empty, and sat at one end of the long table.

I laid my data pad down and took out a jack, motioning for the device Crosshair still had on him.

He slid it over and I plugged it in, pulling up the audio waves on a projection and sliding the measure to the first peak signaling voices had been picked up. I double checked the volume and pressed play.

The cranky tone of the lieutenant was the first voice on the recording.

“Good morning everyone,”

His tone was bored and tired, followed by a chorus of monotone acknowledgements and usual reports. Nothing of note.

I fast forwarded. The waved dipped and rose again and I let it play.

Idle chit chat.

I was already growing impatient and started trying to figure out where and when in the time line would be best to prioritize. I didn't want to be stuck scouring every hour and conversation, and I dragged the measure to a pattern in the waves where even, lower peaks where periodically punctuated by spikes in volume.

I was right, the bridge was taking a transmission.

“I have to thank you Lieutenant, such a change in the escort can't have been easy to swing,”

It was my father's voice, and I adjusted the volume to listen.

“No need Governor, it's a shame the girl may have put herself in harm's way, but this should go… unnoticed,”

“Ah yes well, she's a spirited one, I'm trusting you to keep her in line while she's aboard, away from those… things,”

I raised my brow at what he could mean by that, never having heard such contempt in his voice.

“You have nothing to worry about, Nyem-tok, everyone here… knows their place,”

“I trust you made the extra arrangements we discussed,”

“Yes, extra precautions have been taken, but I assure you, we have everything under control here,”

“Yes well, I'll leave it to you, Lieutenant, Safe travels,”

I stopped the playback and thought for a moment.

“What could you have gotten yourself into?”

I jumped, having forgotten I wasn't alone.

I wracked my brain, going over the most recent meetings I had sat through. Nothing suspicious. Well, nothing that would concern anyone important.

I scanned the audio scape again, jumping ahead to the next section of peaks.

Standard operations.

The next.

Chatter.

I skipped through looking for any other patterns that might be significant.

Near the end I somewhat gave up on anything else emerging, letting a dumb conversation play about the efficiency of different engine cores and put my forehead on the table, sighing in disappointment.

The recording played the sound of the door swishing open and the voices halted for a moment. The swish of the door shutting again.

“I'll be happy to be free of the little whore,”

Chuckles and a return to the previous conversation, apparently that was me looking in earlier.

My face flushed in anger and I looked up, a little embarrassed Crosshair had heard that, and then another wave of irritation.

I don't get embarrassed.

My eyes met his over the projection of audio waves from my data pad. His brow was furrowed, mirroring my distemper and oddly enough it was comforting.

“Well then, might as well set things and get yourselves some dinner, We'll be on the last leg tomorrow, you're dismissed,”

Murmurs. Shuffling. Silence again.

I slid my finger to the next peak.

A burst of lewd moans and slapping erupted from the recording and I scrambled to end the playback, fumbling the small bit of metal in panic.

I forgot I picked it up after that!

I had also never wiped the original data which was…

The sounds cut off with a gasp and a protest.

“Give us the room,”

It was my father's voice again and I stopped my frantic attempts at turning it off, lifting my face to look at the clone sitting and listening with me.

He seemed unaffected by the unintentional porny outpouring, but was focused on the recording now with a dangerous looking intensity.

“Thank you for keeping this discreet, Nyem-tok, your cooperation is greatly appreciated, How are the preparations?”

The voice was vaguely familiar, then my father's voice again.

“We have the location refitted and secured with the requested alternative entrances and a new stock of male and female imports for his excellence to choose from,”

“Wonderful, your services have always been top notch, I would be correct in assuming they all fit his usual… proclivities?”

“It's been harder to find the sensitive ones since the end of the war, but I'm sure his excellence will be pleased with the variety,”

“Superb, We'll schedule arrangements to make the necessary selectio-,”

The jagged lines of audio died into a flat line and was done. I started breathing again, only now registering that I had stopped.

This conversation felt familiar, father talking to someone in hushed tones, abnormally taking a meeting at a room in The Crown.

“What does your father do, again?”

“He-... He controls most, if not all, the bordellos on Ga’hah, Coruscant now too…,”

He snatched the bug from the audio jack and tucked it into his belt.

“Hey!”

“Where did you get this?”

“At the club, in the office by the rest of the contraband,”

“Did anyone see you take it?”

“No… I don't think so? Why would it matter?”

They wouldn't have had too, I'm one of the only people with access.

“No one's ever blinked at someone using our services before! It's not exactly juicy black mail,”

We both sat silent a moment.

I could protest but couldn't deny the conspiratorial sound of the conversation we had just heard. As far as I knew, we weren't working on any current projects… officially at least. I would have had to file for the permits.

“His excellence,”

Vah’hadarr what have you agreed to?

I've gone over plans with him for new clubs but we've never passed the term “stock” around. We build or remodel, then hire from one of the agencies my father helped establish. The only stocking we did was the bars but that wasn't exactly back room talk and most liquors didn't have a sex.

My stomach was starting to sink as a fissure began to spread in my naive views of the world. I didn't like this.

Crosshair turned to leave and I stood.

“Wait, you can't take that!”

“It's too dangerous for you to have, Pretend you never even heard it,”

I reached for him hooking his belt and attempting to turn him back.

Without much warning he had me by the shoulders and pushed into the wall, mirroring our first night in the hallway.

“Forget. It. Now.”

His fingers were digging into me and funny enough, I already wasn't thinking about it anymore, completely focused on how close his face was, his hot breath caressing my cheek. I reached up to cup his jaw with my hands.

“Why don't you make me forget then?”

It slipped out, I had lost focus…

And just when I decided to knock it off with him.

His eyes searched my face for a moment, surprised at the real lust that glinted back at him.

…

“You're going to get me killed,”

His voice was strained, but he released me and escaped from the galley.

Guess I'll go to bed alone… again.

~~~

Clang

Half awake… hands on my skin, heavy breathing… no.

I'm alone.

There was a rustle behind me and I realized why I had woken from my heavy, muddled dreaming.

Not alone…

I forced my breathing to slow, maintaining the illusion that I was asleep and listened.

Rummaging. Something soft falling to the floor… my bag!

I flipped out of the bed and threw my shoulder in the direction I remembered leaving the practical travel pack on the floor.

Oof

I connected, and the figure fell to the side from where they were balanced over my possessions.

The voice sounded feminine and the slight figure was scrambling back to their feet faster than I was. I was stuck on my own nightgown, and struggled to unpin myself when a sudden blaze of pain snapped across my jaw as the intruder's boot connected with my face.

Kriffing… stars..

Sparkles bloomed in my eyes, filling the dark room and another clang rang out as they fled.

You better run.

I was trying to sooth the intense ache settling in my jaw as I threw the scattered articles back into my pack and slung it over my shoulder, following them out into the hall.

Shyte, where the Kark did the nerf go?

I ran left towards the crew cabins, hitting the panel buttons on the doors I passed searching for someone awake along the way.

“Lieutenant!”

I started beating on doors and picked up speed, the sleepy daze that clung to me with abnormal persistence finally leaving my brain completely, letting the severity of the situation sink in.

“Lieutenant Hervos!”

I was shouting now, desperate to wake the sleeping ship.

I thought about the navigation crew, there were a few smaller people on staff that might match the profile I saw in the dark but it was hard to imagine any of them looking through my negligee.

The other possibility, that an outsider managed to find us out here, sent a chill through me. We were still in the halfway system, yet to jump. Easy enough to board.

I had reached the barrack and started hammering on the door frame when a hand grabbed my wrist, spinning me around.

“What happened?”

It was Crosshair, his helmet tucked under his other arm and guns hooked over his back. He must've been awake and heard me coming.

“Someone was going through my things,”

I jostled the bag dangling from my shoulder to emphasize, but my voice was soft and breathy. The panic I hadn't acknowledged was finally settled in and was making me gasp for air.

The color draining from his face under the professional expression didn't help.

Good to know the implication isn't lost on you either.

He reached past me to the panel by the barrack door and quickly tapped out a code.

A siren started to sound, accompanied with an ominous red light, and the confused shuffling in the barracks that started from my clamoring became purposeful and urgent.

It wasn't long before Halo appeared at my elbow, tired but alert and looking for direction from his Commander.

“Intruder in our guest’s quarters. Organize your squad and search the ship. Move.”

Without even a pause, I was being steered away down the hall. We were now set upon by a harried looking Hervos quickly approaching us as we made our way back to the loading platform of the ship.

“Commander, explain yourself.”

“We've been compromised. I'm initiating nesting protocol,”

Nesting protocol?

“I don't think that's necess-”

Hervos was cut off by a loud bang and rumble from the port side of the ship.

I didn't see his reaction, having been swept up and carried swiftly past the few rushing, panicked people in the halls.

We turned into what looked like the Lieutenant's quarters, where I was set down among the personal artifacts. The room was nicer than mine.

“We're leaving.”

I didn't argue though a dozen questions flooded me. Mainly, how?

“Shouldn't we be at the shuttles then?”

He didn't answer, instead ripping open a panel near the cabins storage cabinets and tapping another hurried code that sank the whole section of wall into the floor, revealing a small pod.

It didn't look like it had any sort of navigation nor like it was meant for two people.

Crosshair was already in and pulling me to him, holding me tight as he hit another button, and we were off.

The whole thing had taken seconds and I still wasn't sure what was happening. The ship shuddered and rumbled again as the pod snapped shut and we were jettisoned from the ship.

As we left the shell of the transport the empty quiet of space enveloped the tiny shuttle leaving us in eerie silence punctuated by the beeps and clicks of mechanical systems working to keep us alive.

“Where is it taking us?”

I whispered, but it still sounded too loud. My heart beat was too loud. His breathing, too loud. Too close.

An internal shield had wrapped around us, crushing us together and away from the walls.

“It'll target the nearest body with a breathable atmosphere.”

The shields weren't enough to completely mask the inertia of hurtling through the void and I turned all my concentration to not focusing on the forces being exerted on my form.

Seconds. Minutes? And then the silence was broken by a dull roar.

We were starting to break atmosphere, who knows where. The ship was passing a cluster of moons on its way to the next jump point, it could be heading to any of them.

The dull roar became a full rush, broken by booms reverberating as the pod made shock waves on its descent.

A wave of blue began to pulsate through the systems surrounding us as layer and layer of shields began to wrap around the rapidly falling pod.

I felt sick from the turbulence as each shield slowed our descent, pushing back against gravity, bringing us down in nauseating bounces. There was a whoosh, sounding like something inflating around us.

In a final crash there was a loud ripping sound and our true speed made itself known, sliding for quite some time. The foreign landscape made a rough, grinding cacophony against the hull of our safety.

When the screeching, rolling chaos stopped I was laying disheveled on Crosshair's armored chest plate. The pod tinked and clicked as the metal cooled. He yanked a lever down, popping the door open and helping me out on shaking legs.

I turned to the sky and, in horror, took in the sight above me.

A radial burst of fiery explosion hung in the distance, no doubt our ship.

“Did they make it?”

The question was nonsense. He knew as much as I did.

“Probably not…”

There was no emotion in it.

I thought of Kerna, afraid of flying…and Halo, hope he wasn't living up to his namesake. I hadn't even learned the other’s… hadn't asked.

Guilt sunk in at that until I was snapped back to the present situation with a rough tug and a raspy,

“We need to move,”

But I was transfixed.

“How did this…”

I was picked up again, pulled away from the sky stained with fire.

“I warned you, princess…”

I could hear the remorse in it now…

“Conversations Kill.”

#the bad batch #tbb crosshair #Crosshair tbb #Crosshair x f!oc #sw oc #sw ocs #tbb fanfiction #tbb fanfic #oc sunday #imperial crosshair #sw oc: tah'nyem ra #star wars fanfiction #smut fics #Get adventure plotted idiot

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sleepingsun501 · 1 year

Text

Chapter 4: Two Truths and a Lie

Characters: Commander Fox, Commander Thorn, OC Keeda Ionza

Summary: Fox could not look away. She wore a perfect, congenial smile like a mask and carried herself with the grace of a queen, but her closed-off, stiff body language made Fox want to throw himself between her and the rest of the room—if only to shield her for a moment to let her breathe.

Rating: Chapter is rated G (Series is rated Explicit 18+)

Warnings: Language, political references, political negotiation

Word Count: 6.7k

Ao3 link

A/N: Welcome to Chapter 4!! It’s been a long time coming, but this is the last of the reworked chapters. It’s probably one of my favorite things I’ve ever written, and I hope you all enjoy it as much as I do.

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

Two Truths and a Lie

Fox sighed as the steaming water coursed down his body, ducking his head under the spray and scrubbing the last suds of shampoo out of his thick curls. The heat leeched the strain from his muscles, and a few of his joints released deep, satisfying pops. He wished he had a few extra minutes, feeling the heaviness of his perpetual exhaustion weighing him down again, but he knew he would never get out if he lingered. Reluctantly, he turned the water to cold and let it reinvigorate him.

Two of the very few benefits of being a marshal commander permanently stationed on Triple Zero were private quarters and hot showers. It hardly made up for the multitudes of other issues he dealt with daily, but it was far better than the communal sonic showers his millions of brothers were forced to use in the field and on starships.

Tucking his towel low around his hips, he wiped the steam from his mirror and pulled his razor out from his refresher cabinet. He wished he did not have to shave so soon, rather liking how his slightly greying stubble made him look more distinguished and always set him apart from his brothers, but he had no choice. He had to be as presentable as possible for the gala in a few hours, and he mentally cursed whichever senator had stolen Thire from his post.

Pushing his dripping curls away from his face, Fox slathered his cheeks and jaw in shaving cream and began methodically scraping away his stubble, careful not to nick himself. As he shaved, he mulled over his resentment toward the many senators who seemed to think the Corries were their personal bodyguards instead of elite shock troopers.

The clone troopers were constantly called upon, day and night, to escort senators and other public officials to wherever they wanted to go, regardless of the private security forces that many politicians were already provided with. Even their underpaid aides were not called upon as often as the Corries were for menial tasks—the moment a senator needed to travel off-world or needed a kriffing lightbulb changed, they rang a squad of guardsmen.

The dark circles under Fox’s eyes were partially a result of this constant mismanagement, but they were not as prominent now as he had finally managed to get a few hours of solid sleep after his workout. He had also taken Thorn’s advice about dabbing some dermabacta under his eyes, which seemed to help, too.

Not only was he glad for the dreamless sleep he had gotten, but grateful that he had woken up in his bunk at all. It had only happened a few times–even once being too many for his liking–where he had woken in a different part of the base or deep in the bowels of Coruscant only to realize that he had done something he could not remember doing.

He tried his best not to dwell on it as he rinsed his razor, focusing instead on how he somehow looked a bit younger as his skin became smooth. However, it was a sore reminder of how young he technically was. Physically, he was only about twenty-five, but he felt like he was nearly a hundred on most days because of the mental strain of the blackouts.

Each blackout required him to rewatch the footage from his helmet to see whom he had spoken with, where he had traveled, and what orders he had given, and they all secretly terrified him. He would take the knowledge of what he had done, and what he was capable of, to his grave.

Shaking himself from the dark thoughts, Fox eased a clean undershirt over his head, careful not to muss his freshly faded hair that he had slicked back into smooth waves. The ever-present greys in his once jet-black hair had ceased to bother him, especially because they seemed to be a date magnet on the incredibly rare occasions he took to venture out to 79’s. Absently, he wondered how Thorn’s night had gone with the Zeltron woman.

He smiled to himself as he pulled on his dress greys, fondly remembering a different night when Cody and Wolffe had dragged him to the bar with every intention of getting him laid. At the time, they had no idea their youngest batchmate had spent the past year carefully observing the very politicians he loathed, watching their formal, charming interactions, and quietly putting them into practice. Fox had a woman’s attention within twenty minutes that night, and Cody’s and Wolffe’s jaws had been on the deck.

Part of his charm, he had learned, came with his expression of intention. Fox had never once led anyone on, making sure an unattached night was all a lady was to expect from him. It was not that he wanted to sleep around or that he did not have feelings, but he knew he had no time for a committed relationship—even if it never stopped him from wondering how nice one would be.

He rolled his muscular shoulders in the stiff, heavy fabric of his dress uniform and checked his appearance over one last time, pulling his mind back to the present.

All right, time to focus. Just another big fancy dinner. he thought to himself, tucking his cover under his arm and echoing Thorn’s words from a few days prior.

“You’re fidgeting,” Sareel whispered concernedly as her daughter exited the speeder after her.

“Just nerves,” Keeda muttered in excuse, shivering slightly and smoothing out her flowing, dark green dress. She was glad she had chosen something with a loose skirt that she could both walk and breathe in, as the latter felt rather difficult.

“It’s nothing you haven’t done before. I have all faith in you.”

Despite her mother’s comforting words, Keeda gnawed at the inside of her cheek as she glanced around. The opulently dressed guests were arriving in droves, making introductions and greeting those they recognized with both genuine and faux smiles, la bise kisses, and graceful bows.

Maybe they’re secretly competing with each other to see who can be more generous tonight. she thought, mildly amused.

She detested the number of galas and other extravagant parties she had been forced to attend over the years. In her learned opinion, they were nothing more than expensive excuses to rub elbows with other influential and affluent people. Keeda much preferred to hold private meetings and dinners in order to discuss business or charitable donations, but she knew the one thing the exorbitantly wealthy loved to do more with their money than spend it was to show it off.

Although she herself had never required such grandiose persuasion to donate her own wealth or to work with other various charities, her mother’s tactic was flawless in that regard. Somehow, inviting celebrities and politicians to come for a night of food, drink, and dancing—and dressed in all their best finery—convinced them to loosen their purse strings for those less fortunate in a galaxy at war.

Silently, Keeda resigned herself to participating in high-class society, and she was sure the gooseflesh breaking out over her skin had nothing to do with the chill in the air.

As the daughter of the gala’s host, she started to feel the pressure as eyes were beginning to turn toward her and her mother. The sickening clench of her stomach was hard to ignore as she slapped a practiced smile on her face.

Beneath her long, stylishly curled and plaited hair, she felt Sareel’s silk-gloved hand subtly adjust one of the X-crossed straps on her backless gown before looping their arms.

“You are so much like your father. He hated this, too, but you’ve nothing to worry about tonight, dearest. Just try to relax and enjoy yourself,” she said soothingly, ushering Keeda inside and out of the chilly air.

As they made their way closer to the grand doors of the hall, Keeda spied a few clones in their distinct red and white armor cleverly stationed in the shadows, and her nerves calmed a bit.

Whereas many of Coruscant’s citizens had come to loathe the ever-present shock troopers, she found their presence to be a comfort, more so now than ever before. She wondered if the commander was among them, but before she could dwell on the thought, her mother was pulling her into the venue.

Sareel’s slender fingers patted her daughter’s bare forearm reassuringly as they made their way into the dazzling hall, and the sight stole Keeda’s breath away.

The hall was massive, and the cavernous, arching glass ceiling reflected thousands of fairy lights woven into the garlands and wreaths June had no doubt spent hours setting up. The air was fragrant from the candles on each dining table, and from the same little peace blossoms that were nestled in her fashionably twisted hair. The tiny, softly twinkling lights and candles created a tranquil ambiance that seemed to warm even the darkest corners of the hall, giving Keeda a much-needed sense of calm.

While she looked around, she noticed a familiar, friendly face illuminated by the glow.

“Oh, my dear, Keeda,” Henya greeted compassionately, coming around a large, ornately set dining table.

Keeda grinned happily for the first time that evening as the tall Twi’lek woman embraced her, and the soft fur of her shawl tickled her nose.

“Hello, Auntie,” she replied.

“You look positively divine tonight. That dress does wonders for your eyes,” Henya complimented, but her own striking yellow eyes held a trace of guilt as she pulled away. “May I steal her for a moment, Sareel?”

“Of course, of course. I will find you later, Keeda,” Sareel answered, giving her daughter a quick peck on the cheek and moving to graciously greet the other guests.

As Henya took Keeda’s hands in hers, she could practically feel the emotion rippling off her beloved aunt. Even her long violet lekku were twitching restlessly as she searched for her words.

“You don’t need to apologize for anything, Auntie,” Keeda said, already having some conjecture as to what her aunt was trying to say. “What happened the other night, that’s not your fault.”

Henya sighed heavily, “I am still terribly sorry, my dear. You shouldn’t have had to endure that.” She paused for a moment, looking around before her eyes settled on a rather severe-looking couple taking flutes of dark blue, bubbling wine from a passing server. “I’m even more sorry to say that Governor Gargeli would like to speak with you before the evening’s festivities begin.”

The pit in Keeda’s stomach immediately gave way to a dull numbness that flooded through her limbs. She would recognize Governor Baylo Gargeli anywhere, even without having gone on a horrific date with his son—whose name she irritatingly still could not recall.

Thankful that there seemed to be no sign of their son, she breathed deeply and unlocked her knees to help her head clear. Might as well get this unpleasantry out of the way.

Striding forward with purpose, her father’s voice whispered in the back of her mind. Opportunity lies in the most unlikely places.

When he had spoken those words to her so long ago, Keeda had not fully grasped their true meaning. But now, as Henya led her across the room, her sharp mind understood that the governor was about to ask something of her.

“Governor and Missus Gargeli, may I present Miss Keeda Ionza,” Henya said diplomatically.

While Gargeli might have looked unyielding on the outside, his blue eyes were benevolent. His son had inherited his looks from his father, but Keeda refused to let it unnerve her.

“Miss Ionza, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” he said authentically as he extended his hand.

“The pleasure is mine, Governor.” She shook his large hand firmly, conveying her directness.

“It is an esteemed honor to be invited this evening,” he remarked, releasing her to allow her to shake hands with his wife. “Although, I do wish the circumstances of our meeting would have been… less precarious,” Gargeli added softly and opened his arm. “May I?”

Keeda fought the urge to huff in frustration as she was passed to yet another arm. Did people think she was unable to walk on her own?

Despite being on his arm, she steered the governor to a quieter corner of the hall and waited until she was sure the sharp click of her heels on the tiles was no longer audible to the other guests. She paused beside one of the massive bouquets that matched her hair, releasing herself from the escorting grip and stepping in front of the much taller man.

The governor, for all his formal appearance, looked ashamed. “I can see we don’t have much time, so I won’t waste it. I want you to know that my wife and I do not condone our son’s actions,” Gargeli whispered gravely. “Pettri was brought up to be better than that, and I sincerely apologize for any harm that has befallen you.”

Keeda’s jaw tensed as she finally remembered. Pettri Gargeli. That was the fucker’s name, but how does the governor know what happened that night? she thought pensively. Surely Pettri would’ve lied?

The governor’s Coruscanti accent was much thicker than her own, and she had to strain a bit to hear him over the growing hum of the other guests and the gentle classical music that was beginning to play. But he had her full attention as he continued.

“I also wanted to inform you personally that Pettri is no longer living on Coruscant, and he will not be returning. I’ve consigned him to my family’s homeworld, where he will be chastened in a manner befitting his actions.”

Keeda hid the wave of her relief well, only shifting her weight from one hip to the other as she took in the revelation and continued her nonchalant surveying of the incoming guests. It would have been a lie if she had said that she was not secretly dreading seeing Pettri again, even in passing. But now, the weight of that fear dissipated from her shoulders.

“I am grateful for the measures you have taken in resolving the situation, Governor,” she replied with a slight nod of thanks, “but I sense you have more to say.”

Gargeli tapped a finger on his glass rather anxiously as he scanned the room blankly. “I’m afraid I do have another motive for speaking to you privately this evening, Miss Ionza,” he confessed. He swiftly acquired another flute of bubbling blue wine from a passing attendant and offered it to her as a gesture.

Here we go. Keeda thought. There’s always an ulterior motive.

She was far too accustomed to being sought out and patronized for her connections or funding, especially at large gatherings, and she already had an inkling of what the governor wanted. Nonetheless, she accepted the drink to let him know she was listening, bracing herself for his request.

“As you may know, the local elections in my district are not far off.” He paused to clear his throat to emphasize the point he was about to make. “If rumors were to spread, a scandal such as this involving a member of my immediate family would potentially—”

“—Potentially negatively impact your reelection,” Keeda interrupted gracefully, briefly meeting the governor’s eyes again.

Although the smile she wore was practiced and demure, Keeda’s green eyes shone with her perceptivity. The game of negotiation was set with their pieces on the board. All she had to do was make the first move.

He wanted a guarantee of her silence. It would mean Pettri would never be prosecuted, but she could still hope his familial punishment would be befitting of his crime. Keeda was willing to pay that price, but the question was, was the governor willing to pay his side of the cost?

“If I were to ensure no such rumors were circulated, perhaps our agreement could be mutually beneficial,” she suggested.

An intrigued look crossed Gargeli’s aristocratic face, his thick mustache twitching up in interest. “Name your terms, Miss Ionza.”

Taking a long sip from her glass, Keeda glanced back out across the room, trying to look as casual as possible. “The Terreg Ionza Medical Foundation could do more work in your district if you would consider opening more public spaces to our volunteer clinics and providing security,” she said in a low, firm tone—her throat tightening a fraction as her father’s name passed her carmine red lips. “In the past, our volunteers have encountered significant resistance in underprivileged areas, largely due to threats of local gang violence. Not only would it guarantee my silence, but it would also benefit your constituents.”

With her demands on the table, the governor nodded pensively. “I assure you, my campaign already supports the increased street surveillance in my district.”

A half-truth. Keeda noted. The wheels turned in her mind quickly. If he was going to view her as an asset, he was going to have to earn it. She could not recall Gargeli’s previous campaigns being largely focused on the medical welfare of his constituents, but he seemed to be conceding already. Perhaps a gradual sway of his opinions through the polls would get him to see just how powerful an ally she could be. In any case, she could hear the quiet desperation he held in wanting to appease her, so she decided to use it.

“I see the Coruscant Guard are here tonight,” Gargeli observed as he skimmed over the room, trying to find a convincing argument. “They have been immensely helpful in training new local security forces, so any volunteers and supplies would be well protected.”

Keeda hummed absently as she sipped her drink, allowing the governor one more unspoken chance to enhance his offer. He seemed to take the hint.

“Perhaps my wife and I will become more regular contributors to your charitable foundation as well, to ensure their success, of course,” he added, turning toward her fully.

A wave of triumph surged through Keeda’s heart as she met the governor’s eyes once more, signaling she was satisfied with his overture. Despite how much she hated playing politics, she was rather reluctantly good at it, and she raised her wine flute in a small toast.

“To mutually beneficial work.”

“Hear, hear,” Gargeli replied, a formal smile full of admiration and respect for the sharp young woman before him working its way onto his chiseled face.

With a clink of their glasses, the deal was sealed. Gargeli would open his district more fully to the charity’s work, thousands of citizens would benefit from increased medical aid, and the charity would receive yet another new source of funds–bought and paid for with Keeda’s silence.

“Please, Governor, enjoy the evening,” she said, sweeping her hand with an elegant motion and effectively excusing herself.

Gargeli gave her a refined bow before returning to his wife’s side. Even though Pettri had been a conceited, repugnant individual, Keeda was not going to blame the father for the son’s sins. The deal had been more than fair on her part, considering what she had endured, and she had a confident feeling that the governor would not go back on his word.

Now, she had another detestable task; mingling with the upper classes. She took another long sip from her drink, hoping it would help soothe the new set of nerves making their home in her stomach, and set off into the crowd.

Several people whom she had worked with in the past caught her attention or stopped to chat with her, each offering their views on the latest cooperations with the GAR. Some approved, some did not, and some expressed their admiration for Keeda’s willingness to volunteer, but each tedious conversation seemed to draw on her energy reserves.

Even after dinner had been served—Keeda was eternally grateful her mother had not chosen that awful seafood dish to be an option—and the dancing had begun, she was finding the evening rather repetitious. She did her best to conceal it; however, there was only so much she could take.

Over the unceasing sounds of clinking glasses and light laughter filling the air, blending with the lilting music now echoing across the hall, she huffed out a weary sigh. She wished she had someone other than politicians and socialites to converse with—just someone who did not want anything from her. From the moment she stepped out of the speeder, tonight had felt more like work than the enjoyable evening she had hoped for.

Fox’s heart stuttered against his ribs as his blood seemed to freeze in his veins.

He knew from the moment he saw her that it was her. Blinking away his sudden lightheadedness, his eyes followed her every move as she wove between people, conversing briefly before moving on. They all parted for her, as though she were a goddess among mortals—even more beautiful than he remembered.

“The hell are you looking at, Vod?” Thorn asked, noting Fox’s sudden change. His older brother’s heavy brows were nearly knit together, and his scarred lips were parted in an awestruck expression. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

With Thorn’s voice pulling him out of his stupor, Fox nodded in the young woman’s direction. “She’s here,” he whispered, almost disbelieving his own words.

Thorn studied the crowd from their secluded spot—a doorway to a large, covered veranda—trying to follow Fox’s eye line. “You’re gonna have to be more specific than that.”

“From th-the other night. She’s… uh… Long, dark hair, with little flowers. In the green dress. It’s her,” Fox stammered quietly as his golden-haired brother looked back out to the crowd a second time.

“Oh, wow,” Thorn breathed. He knew Fox had not lied about her appearance a few days prior, but seeing her for himself, he finally understood why Fox had been so taken with her.

He snickered to himself because the Marshal Commander of the Coruscant Guard was currently staring at a beautiful woman like a love-struck shiny after their first night at 79s. “You’re sure that’s her?”

“Positive.”

Fox could not look away. She wore a perfect, congenial smile like a mask and carried herself with the grace of a queen, but her closed-off, stiff body language made Fox want to throw himself between her and the rest of the room—if only to shield her for a moment to let her breathe.

“Well, go talk to her, di’kut!” Thorn laughed, nudging his ori’vod with a sharp elbow. “She looks like she could use better company than these stuffy nat-borns.” Fox opened his mouth to protest, but Thorn stopped him. “Go. You’d be shocked to know the boys and I can survive without your constant vigilance.”

Seeing her stealthily step out another door on the opposite side of the hall and onto the wrap-around veranda, Fox nearly sprinted out the door beside him—with no thanks to a playful swat on the ass from Thorn. It felt like his heart was about to jump through his nose as he quickly strode to where she had withdrawn.

Okay… okay… What am I gonna say to her? he rambled internally. Just ask her how she is, yeah? Ask her if she’s all right. No, why would she be all right? It’s only been a few days since… No, don’t bring that up unless she does. Just tell her… tell her she looks nice. She’d like to hear that. Right? Fuck. Fuck, I am an idiot. I did not think this through!

Nevertheless, his feet propelled him forward. He paused and pressed his back against the cool alabaster wall just before turning the final corner of the building. Fox had never had any issues talking to women before, so why was he so unexpectedly flustered now? Straightening his spotless uniform, he blew out a long sigh, puffing his cheeks and clenching his fists.

Pull yourself together, Fox. You’re a kriffing Marshal Commander. You can do this.

The muffled silence was a welcome relief as Keeda stepped out of the hall. Taking a heady gulp of the chilly night air, she did not mind the goosebumps that broke out over her exposed skin as she rested her hands against the sleek metal railing. It was too cold for anyone else to want to follow her, and she needed a moment to recollect herself.

The crowds had begun gathering around to watch those waltzing about on the dance floor, and stronger liquor had begun flowing as a medley of desserts was served, but Keeda had opted to let Coruscant’s skyline dazzle her for the thousandth time instead.

Letting her eyes drift shut, she tried to savor the quiet moment and soak up the soft warmth radiating from the outdoor heater beside her. She could still see the twinkling fairy lights all around her from behind her eyelids, and she watched as they played across her blinded vision. If she had a blanket, she would have been content to stay right there until the sun rose.

Tomorrow, there would be no skyline–only the swirling blue and silver streaks of hyperspace, whisking her off to a war-torn world to deliver medical relief supplies, and she was eager for it. Like she had told June, Coruscant would always be home, but she needed to get away for a while.

She mentally grumbled as her moment was interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps that ceased a few yards behind her. She half expected to find yet another aristocrat asking her to dance when she opened her eyes, but she was shocked to her very core when she looked over her shoulder.

Him. It was him. The clone commander that had come to her aid.

Keeda felt her eyes widen in surprise as he gazed at her. He was clean-shaven now, and his tussled, greying curls had been elegantly styled back, but his umber eyes still glimmered in the lights with the same care and warmth he had shown her just a few nights ago.

“You,” she breathed without thinking. Immediately, she cursed her impropriety and stumbled over her words. “I’m s-sorry. I-I meant—”

“It’s you,” he echoed softly, stepping closer. The commander cracked a roguish, bright smile—his mouth pulling a touch more to the right because of the scar on his bottom lip. “You look lovely tonight.”

“Thank you,” she replied, and she was powerless to stop the blush creeping up her cheeks. She could tell he was trying to put her at ease, and she could not help the little grin that broke over her painted lips.

“I never expected to see you here,” he chuckled. His voice was low and gravelly, and his eyes never left hers. “I’m glad to see you.”

“You’re too kind, Commander. If I’m being truthful, though, up till now, I’d have rather been elsewhere.”

“Really?” he asked curiously, crooking an eyebrow and tossing his gaze back into the hall for a moment. “Even with all these fine, upstanding, utterly boring people here?”

There was a hint of sarcasm in his voice, and Keeda instantly relaxed despite the draft blowing across the veranda. She surprised herself with the giggle that bubbled up in her chest at his comment, and she realized it was the first time she had genuinely laughed all evening.

“May I join you?” he asked, motioning to her opposite side. At Keeda’s permitting nod, he came to stand beside her, blocking the breeze and looking out over the ecumenopolis.

Even while leaning down on the railing and without his signature armor, he was still so very tall and broad. His hard muscles filled out his uniform, pulling at the fabric and defining his figure, and it made Keeda wonder just how strong he was.

“Are you cold?” he asked thoughtfully.

Keeda shook her head faintly as she pulled out of her thoughts. She felt wholly safe beside him, as though he were an immovable wall protecting her from the cold and from the prying eyes of anyone who dared to look at her the wrong way.

That inkling of guilt she had felt as she was whisked away in the extravagant transport suddenly came crawling back. The last time she had seen this man, he had protected her, but she had spoken so harshly to him. She had feared she would never get the chance to apologize, and she was not about to let that chance slip away.

“Commander, I… I never thanked you properly… for the other night,” she said rather sheepishly.

He gave her a slightly puzzled look and shook his head almost imperceptibly, his eyes immediately coming to rest on her face again. “There’s no need to thank me.”

“Yes, there is,” Keeda insisted, gripping the railing and fighting the urge to shudder as she recalled the past for the dozenth time. “You and your men helped me. Something much worse might’ve happened if you hadn’t been there, and I shouldn’t have been so coarse.”

The gentlest look crossed his handsome, rounded features–one of both complete understanding and consideration.

“You had every right to be,” he assured. “I have no doubt you could’ve taken care of yourself, but I’m glad I was there to help you.”

Keeda toyed nervously with a silver ring on her index finger as she carried on, “In any case, it’s no excuse for my behavior. I hope you’ll accept my apology, Commander.”

He turned to face her fully, leaning casually on one elbow and eyeing her charmingly. “I will, on one condition.”

How can he still look so powerful when he’s relaxed like that? Keeda asked herself, waiting for his request. He had somehow changed the very air around her so quickly that she found herself letting go of the ache in her chest.

“Will you tell me your name?”

Whatever he was doing to make her feel so calm was mesmerizing, but she could also detect a more playful tone in his question.

“The name of someone from a crowd so upstanding and boring?” she teased, and he chuckled so heartily that Keeda swore she could feel it in her chest, prompting another laugh of her own.

“You are anything but boring.”

She pursed her lips for a moment but gave him a cheeky grin. “Ah, but you don’t know that for sure, and I’d hate for you to think I am. So, I propose we play a little game to ensure I’m not. Have you ever played two truths and a lie?”

“Two truths and a lie?” he asked inquisitively.

Keeda nodded, fidgeting with her ring again. “I’ll tell you three things about myself. If you guess the lie, I have to tell you the truth about the lie. If you guess wrong, it’s your turn.”

The intrigued commander cocked a brow at her and smirked. “Very well, ladies first.”

She chewed her lip for a moment in thought, before settling on her lie. “My mother is the chairwoman of the foundation hosting this gala, I had a pet tooka when I was a child, and my name is Alana. Which is the lie?”

The weight of the commander’s gaze was encapsulating. As he analyzed her, she felt drawn into the depths of those dark, stunning eyes, where the twinkling lights shone off little flecks of gold.

“Your name isn’t Alana,” he said finally.

“You’re right,” she conceded with a giggle. “My name is Keeda.”

The commander did not say anything for a moment, but his expression noticeably softened. Keeda was not sure he was going to say anything until he muttered a single strange word, one she suspected was not Basic.

“Sorry?” she inquired.

“Mesh’la,” he repeated, a little louder the second time, as his cheeks darkened. “It’s Mando’a. It means ‘beautiful’.”

Keeda was certain her cheeks matched her lips with how hard she was blushing. His lips barely moved whenever he spoke, but his clear words had an impact on her so deep that she could practically feel the resonance of them in her bones, even despite how softly they were uttered.

Unlike so many others tonight that had tried to woo her attention with overly-enunciated accents and pretty words, the true sincerity in his tone rang clear. His voice was so rich, like a lovely bass note—deep, smooth, matching the dark brown of his irises, and she suddenly craved to hear it again.

“Y-your turn, Commander,” Keeda whispered, trying to feel for the floor beneath her feet.

He must have had his answers ready because he spoke without hesitation. “My favorite color is red, my name is Fox, and I’m a particularly good dancer.”

Keeda’s conscience came drifting back to reality as she mulled that over. Would he lie about his name, too? she wondered. It seemed logical, and she was normally very accurate when it came to noticing lies, but he could also have been trying to throw her off. He had never looked her in the eye at all, though, choosing to focus on the little flowers woven through her hair.

Sighing as she gave up trying to guess, Keeda settled on his name. “I… I don’t think your name is Fox.”

He flashed that white smile again. It contrasted so beautifully against his bronzed skin, and for the first time, she realized that she was more dazzled by the handsome man in front of her than the skyline she had come out to observe. His mere presence was brighter than any of the lights twinkling around them, and he exuded an affection that quieted any troubles in her mind.

“My name is Fox,” he said truthfully.

“Fox,” she repeated, bowing her head in mock defeat. “You’ve bested me. Where’d you learn to lie so well?”

“You pick up a thing or two when you’re around politicians all—”

As if on cue, he was interrupted as a group of guests came out onto the veranda, laughing boisterously and talking amongst themselves, trying to ward off the buzz they had going with the cool night air.

Keeda silently glared at them for having dared interrupt the peace, but they took no notice. They took their time wandering away, but the door they had opened let a new melody waft outside. It was a slower tune, but just as grand and orchestral as the others that had been playing all evening.

Distracted, Keeda swayed her weight from one foot to the other to the music, feeling the skirt of her dress fluttering around her legs. It had been so long since she danced, and her thoughts drifted back to the last time her father had taught her the steps of several common waltzes in the middle of their living room.

She heard Fox shift and clear his throat softly beside her to get her attention, and as she turned back, she found the commander smiling kindly and holding out his hand to her.

“Will you do me the honor?” he asked, tucking his gloves into his pocket.

“Another truth?” she asked, resting her hand in his palm. His hand was calloused and strong, but his fingers were long and warm as they closed around hers ever so tenderly, leading her to the middle of the veranda.

The crowd had thinned a bit for the evening, and Keeda suspected this would be one of the last dances of the night, but she was glad to share it with Fox. They had the whole space to themselves, and she was no longer aware of any other eyes on her apart from his.

Her breath caught in her throat when she felt his other hand settle around her bare lower back beneath her hair. His fingertips left trails of fire in their wake as they gently grazed her air-cooled skin, but she eased into his hold as he began guiding her down the length of the veranda. The steps he chose were uncomplicated, but she was impressed with the natural skill he seemed to possess as he swept her down the length of the open space.

“You were definitely telling the truth,” she laughed giddily, enjoying how easily they moved together.

He arched his left arm and twirled her out beneath it before stepping in and sweeping her back into his grasp. “Don’t tell anyone, but I have my brother to thank for that,” Fox admitted, slowing a fraction with the timing of the music.

“Don’t you have a million brothers?” Keeda asked lightheartedly.

The man she was dancing with now looked so different from the stoic commander she had first met. A single stray curl had fallen loose on his forehead as he spun her around himself, and he practically beamed at her.

“This one is special. He somehow inherited all the natural dancing talent, so we just copied him. He’s the commander of the 104th battalion.”

Keeda stumbled in surprise, gripping Fox’s burly shoulder for support, but he was quicker and gathered her into a graceful spin to let her recover, bringing her body flush to his as the music crescendoed.

A star could have exploded between them with the heat of their bodies pressed together, and Keeda would have happily melted into it. The unexpected rush of adrenaline clouded her peripheral vision as Fox effortlessly lifted her off her feet, but his arm secured around her waist kept her grounded.

After gently resting her back on her feet, Fox was the first to break the contact—although he seemed incredibly reluctant to do so–to continue leading her through the dance. He could feel the strength of her lean muscles beneath his touch, and he had no doubt of just how capable she was, but here she seemed so precious in his hold as if she were his to safeguard. Her smile, the blooming trust in her sparkling eyes, and the surety of her grasp on him made him feel lighter than he had in years.

“I’m assigned to the 104th as their official volunteer,” Keeda said quickly, remembering why she had misstepped in the first place.

Fox chuckled, remembering himself and spinning her out again just to show her off to anyone who might be watching. “You’ll like Wolffe. We grew up together as batchmates. He’s very stubborn and gruff, but he has a good heart.”

They stepped together again as the music ceased and the hall beside them burst into applause. The other dancers and guests began to say their goodbyes, but Fox and Keeda simply stood there under the twinkling lights, panting together from the exertion of the dance.

As Fox continued to hold her, Keeda drank in the woodsy, slightly spicy scent of him mixed with the fragrance of the flowers in her hair. She could not bring herself to put any more distance between herself and the commander, and she actively fought the urge to lean back into his embrace.

He gently brushed the back of her hand with his calloused thumb and would have been content to stay as long as she liked, but the commlink on his wrist beeped. Still holding her hand, Fox released her slender waist and turned his right wrist over to silence the beeping.

“Ah, forgive me. Duty calls.”

As his fingers brushed over the device, Keeda noticed the knuckles on his right hand were slightly blotched with fresh bruises.

“I… I hope I’ll see you again, Fox.”

He grinned down at her and gave her fingers a delicate squeeze. “Me too. Be safe, Keeda. I’d trust him with my life, so do whatever Wolffe tells you to do.”

She felt a pang of longing as his hand left hers, and he turned to join the other guardsmen waiting in the shadows at the other end of the veranda. How long have they been standing there? she wondered, the heat lighting up her cheeks.

It did not truly matter, though, because her heart stuttered as a deep ache crept into her chest with the blush, and she yearned to be near him just one more time.

“Fox, wait!” she called, and he was immediately before her again with a questioning look on his face. “Please, before you go… what’s your favorite color?”

Although he virtually towered over her, Fox took her hand again and bowed slightly, capturing her gaze once more. His lips were warm and delicate as he pressed an impossibly soft kiss against the smooth, thin skin of Keeda’s knuckles, and a mixture of shock and delight flooded through her body.

Smiling brilliantly at her, he replied, “Green.”

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the-bad-batch-baroness · 5 months

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Phoenix Squad Personality Quiz

I saw someone else make one of these, and I decided to make one too 🥰

Please reblog with your results!!!

Check out my OCs here

OC taglist below the cut:

@commander-sunshine @coraex @sunshinesdaydream @homemade-clones @523rdrebel @thestarwarslesbian @clonemedickix @moonwrecked @ladyzirkonia @cdblake1565 @ladytano420 @moonlightwarriorqueen @trixie2023 @ca77m3anna @reader6898 @kimiheartblade @dukeoftheblackstar @totally-not-your-babe @arc-trooper-8008 @msmeredithrose @grindeeloo @tesahuy1629 @gjrain20-starwars @nerd-ika @imabeautifulbutterfly @tallrock35 @asyas-daydreaming @t3mpest98 @twincesskorisoka @vodika-vibes

#tbbb speaks #oc: tungst #oc: brett #oc: drip #oc: gloss #oc: rift #oc: chance #phoenix squad #clone oc

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super-predictable98 · 6 months

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Smile, Simone (OC X Canon Kiss Week 2024)

Word count: 3,6k

Warning: manipulation, mention of death, Kilgrave being a creep

A/n: This is a collab with my partner in crime @jozstankovich for @theocxcanonweek day 5: Getting into trouble. The characters from this story are part of our little Timeline Anomaly Verse (more about them in here) and a crossover of Bad Samaritan and Jessica Jones. Hope you all enjoy it <3

[Masterlist]

Simone had a short walk from her university to the flat, only a few minutes, she stopped to buy herself a hot chocolate and a croissant for her father from his favorite bakery.

Little did she realize, across the street a tall, slender man in a chic purple suit watched her with interest, his dark eyes following her movements as a small grin played at his lips. As she stepped out of the bakery he approached.

“Hello there,” he drawled, tipping his head slightly in greeting. “I couldn’t help but notice how beautiful you are,” he murmured, taking her hand to place a kiss to the back of it.

"Um... thanks," Simone chuckled until she saw him. That face, she knew that face from her nightmares. A man with that face once tormented her father and she knew he died, but in that world full of clones and odd powers, she never knew who was what. "I- bye."

“Wait—“ the man exclaimed, a frown creasing the spot between his brows. “Don’t go,” he demanded, assured that she would obey.

She couldn't move, she tried to keep walking, but her feet wouldn't obey. "Let me go, please, I have a boyfriend."

The man chuckled. “Not anymore, you don’t,” he drawled, holding out his arm for her to take. “Let me take you out—?” he asked, waiting for her to supply her name.

"Simone, Simone Falco," she said before she could stop herself. His allure did something to her brain and suddenly she took his arm, certain that her boyfriend Dylan, wasn't in her life anymore.

“Mmm Simone,” he repeated, savouring the taste of her name on his tongue. “Your name is just as beautiful as you,” he purred, brushing his lips against her temple, inhaling her scent.

“You can call me Kilgrave,” he said, slipping an arm around the small of her back as he began to lead her away from her intended destination. “I think we need to get you some new clothes and then some lunch. I know a wonderful place. You’ll love it,” he said with certainty.

"Y-yeah, I just... need to let my father know I won't come home now, he's expecting me. Can I call him?" She asked quietly, following him to God knows where to do something she didn't even wanna think about.

Kilgrave frowned as he deliberated. “I suppose that’s alright, darling,” he finally answered, pulling her phone out of her pocket. “But you’ll only say what I tell you to say,” he instructed.

"Yes," she dialed, trusting that her dad would know something was wrong and check her location, which was always on. "What should I say?"

“Tell him, you’re staying with a friend for a few days, that you’ll be at a mind/body retreat and you won’t have access to your phone,” Kilgrave said, walking at a leisurely pace, leading her to his waiting town car.

Simone nodded and dialed her dad's number, but the person who picked up was her mother.

"Hey, Moony. Daddy's in the shower, do you need anything?" Blossom asked.

"Yes, can I talk to him please?" She kept her voice calm, or tried.

"Okay... Sean! Simone is on the phone, she sounds dead weird!"

Sean frowned, quickly twisting the water off and grabbing his towel, wrapping it around his waist and taking the phone, bringing it to his ear. “Moony, it’s me. You okay, darlin’?” He asked, his hair dripping down his shoulders.

"Yeah, Daddy, I'm okay. I just called to let you know I won't be home in time," she put on a smile, trying very hard not to cry. "I'll be with a friend in a spiritual retreat and I won't be able to use my phone there for a few days. Just didn't want you to worry."

“What d’yeh mean? What friend?” Sean demanded, his unease growing. “Why don’t you come home and we can talk about this, you can give us more details,” he pleaded, not liking the way her voice trembled. “Where are you?” He asked, his chest growing tight.

"My friend... Ellery," Simone said the name of her cousin, this way he could easily call her and disprove this story. "Sorry, Daddy, I'm late, I really have to get going. I'm on my way there."

"Wait--! Simone!" Sean cried, but she'd already hung up. "Blossom! Something's wrong!" he called, trying to call Ellery, though his hands were shaking too much for him to dial the number.

"Oh my God... what number are you trying to call? Ellery?" Blossom took the phone to dial for him. "What happened to Simone?"

"Yeah," Sean said, handing her the phone, running his hand through his wet curls. "You were right, she didn't sound right," he said. "She said she was going on a spiritual retreat with Ellery and wouldn't be able to answer her phone. She sounded scared. I think she was taken," he said, his voice shaking as much as his hands.

"This is bollocks, she can't spend a day without her phone," Blossom called her niece. "Ellery! Ellery, are you with Simone right now?"

"No," the girl answered, giving her twin brother a confused look. "Charlie and I are buying Valentine's presents."

"Did she ever mention a spiritual retreat to you? Somewhere she couldn't take her phone to?"

"No... is everything alright? Just stay there, we're on our way."

*****

"Good girl," Kilgrave said, stroking Simone's hair before taking her phone from her hand and dropping it to the ground in the middle of the street before pulling her into the car with him and shutting the door, telling the driver where to take them.

"I- That's my phone!" She cried, she hated to be that helpless and now nobody would be able to track her. "All my father's voice-mails are there, I need them!"

"You don't need them," Kilgrave said offhandedly, annoyed at her outburst. "I'll make sure you have everything you need, love," he assured her, pulling her to his side, his hand running up and down her arm.

"What are you gonna do to me? You say buying clothes and having lunch. What are you really planning?" Simone asked, surprised that the driver seemed hypnotized as well.

"Darling, you're with me now," he said, chuckling lightly. "I just want to lavish you, make you mine," he explained, taking her chin in his hand to turn her face toward his to kiss her.

Simone tried to pull away, but she didn't know where to run, she was stuck in the car. "Have you ever considered... I don't know, asking someone out without forcing them? You're not bad looking, I'm sure many women would be happy to go out with you."

Kilgrave clicked his tongue with a shake of his head, as if the girl had just said something foolish. “But I don’t want just any woman. I want you. Are you saying that you would’ve said yes, if I’d have simply asked you?” He asked.

"Maybe... well not really. I had a boyfriend, and you look like the man who tried to kill my dad. But I'm sure a much more beautiful girl would've said yes," she mumbled.

“What do you mean, a more beautiful girl?” He drawled, frowning at her comment. “You are beautiful, Simone. More gorgeous than you realize. I want you to tell me that you’re beautiful,” he purred.

"I am beautiful," she repeated, unable to resist his order. It wasn't hard to understand he had the power of persuasion.

"Good girl," Kilgrave murmured, stroking her cheek. "Ah, we're here," he said, as the car pulled up to the curb in front of Bloomingdale's.

*****

Sean hastily dried off, pulling his clothes on distractedly. "Should we call the police?" he asked, hating how helpless he felt.

"We need to know where she is first and sending cops might spook whoever has her and they might hurt her," Blossom started dialing to call her sister-in-law, Alisha. "We're a superpowered family, we've all killed to protect each other."

He nodded, feeling numb. He was the only one without a power, there wasn’t anything he could do at the moment except trust his wife. —

"Alisha, we need a little help, can you find Simone for us?" Blossom asked while she opened the door for her niece and nephew.

"I... she's in a car, there's a man with her. Purple suit, looks posh," Alisha said, using her clairvoyance to see through her niece's eyes. "I don't know exactly where they are though."

“Okay, keep checking in and let us know if you recognize anything,” Sean said, leaning in over his wife’s shoulder.

"Okay, I'll call you if I see anything," Alisha confirmed.

"We have all possible powers to save her," Ellery pulled her brother inside. "Where are we going?"

"We don't know where she is yet," Sean answered, fighting the urge to pace. "Alisha said she's in a car right now."

"In a car with a man she doesn't know," Blossom started crying just as her husband's phone started ringing. Sean pulled her into his arms, his jaw flexing as he fought not to break down as well, knowing he needed to be strong for her. "Does she know where Simone is?" he asked, his voice tense.

"Hi, Aunt Lisha, any news?" Ellery quickly grabbed her uncle's phone.

"They just stopped at Bloomingdale's, I don't know which one exactly, but it looks like 5th Avenue, it's right in front of the Bank of America."

"Bloomingdale's 5th Avenue, c'mon, let's go!" Charlie exclaimed, already heading for the door.

"We need a cab," Ellery stepped outside and rushed down the stairs. The rest of them followed and they all ran to the intersection with the 8th Avenue to hail a cab. The drive would be ten minutes if they were lucky to avoid traffic, which in New York was basically impossible.

“Hopefully they’ll still be there,” Charlie murmured, his leg bouncing anxiously.

*****

"Why do I need new clothes?" Simone asked calmly, almost in a docile way. "These are pretty expensive..."

"Why not?" Kilgrave said, waiting for the driver to open his door. "Come," he instructed, holding out his hand for her as he waited on the curb.

"Do I need an excuse to spoil my girl?" he chuckled. "You deserve only the best," he explained.

"T-thank you," Simone took his hand and locked arms with him as they entered the store. She wasn't dressed exactly nicely and felt really out of place. She wore leggings and one of her dad's shirts since, at uni, they were doing nature shots.

“Ah, what about this? This colour would look beautiful on you,” Kilgrave said, picking out a sleek purple dress. “Go on, try it on, and I’ll pick out some shoes for you,” he said, stroking her cheek fondly.

"Okay," she took it and went into one of the dressing rooms. She wanted to cry, but feared that it would upset her new captor and he might do something worse. She put on the dress and opened the door to show him how it looked.

"Ohh, don't you look like a vision!" Kilgrave exclaimed, moving closer to get a better look. "Here, try these on, you'll look perfect," he said, handing her some strappy heels.

Simone nodded and quickly put the shoes on, which made her stand as tall as him. "I don't usually wear heels," she admitted.

"You should, they make your legs look so graceful," he said, picking out a luxurious long fur coat and draping it over her shoulders. "There, all set," he decided, taking her hand and leading her back out of the store.

"Hey! You can't leave without paying for those!" One of the shopkeepers exclaimed, hurrying after them.

"You're going to give them to us, free of charge," Kilgrave snapped, waving the woman away, leaving her bewildered. "Are you hungry?" he asked Simone, turning his attention back to her as they stepped back out onto the crowded sidewalk, his car waiting for them.

I'm wearing the skin of a dead animal on my back and I technically just stole all of this... Simone thought, panicked.

"Yeah, I haven't eaten today," she said, despite how nauseous she was from the whole semi-kidnapping experience. She anxiously looked around to see if she could find any familiar faces, but the entire world felt like a strange place at that moment.

"There she is!" Sean cried, spotting his daughter's face amidst the sea of people. Jumping out of the cab before it came to a complete stop, he ran toward her, trying to push his way through the crowd. "Simone!" he exclaimed, trying to get her attention.

"Daddy?" She cried, the knot in her chest tightening when she saw how worried he seemed. She wanted to run into his arms and never let go.

"Simone! Come here! What are you wearing?" Blossom followed her husband out. "You! Let go of my daughter right now! Get away from her!"

“Ah, looks like that’s our cue to leave,” Kilgrave muttered, turning Simone’s face away from her parents and stealing a sloppy kiss before sweeping her back into the back of his sleek black car. “Driver, take us to Neary’s,” he instructed, slamming the door shut and wiggling his fingers in a little wave just as Sean and Blossom reached the car.

Simone fought the urge to cry again, her head hanging low. She was so close to being able to run away... she knew she wasn't the first girl to fall into Kilgrave's trap, she wondered where the others were. Were they stuck in a harem or even worse?

"Did you see him? Cale Erendreich doppelganger... he kissed her! She didn't pull away, she didn't fight it," Blossom panted, she was not as fast as she used to be when she was younger.

“There has to be an explanation,” Sean exclaimed, his chest hurting. He’d seen the fear on his daughter’s face as the car pulled away.

“Uncle Sean! We know where he’s going!” Charlie exclaimed, running to catch up. “Aunt Lisha called. She knows where he’s taking her!”

"They're going to Neary's, five minutes away," Ellery hailed another cab for them. If it was just her and her brother they could run, but their uncle was pushing 60.

"Let's go, let's go!" Blossom rushed into the car.

*****

“What’s the matter, dearest?” Kilgrave asked, tilting his head to peer at Simone’s face. “Don’t tell me you’re upset?”

"I just... got startled," she said shaking her head, she looked up at him and tried to smile.

He smiled back, giving her hand a squeeze before pressing a kiss to the back of it. The drive to the restaurant wasn't long and once they parked, Kilgrave helped Simone out, leading her into the building.

"Do you have a reservation?" The hostess asked, looking between the two of them.

"Yes, we're renting out the whole place. Tell everyone else to leave," Kilgrave commanded and the hostess nodded.

"You can all leave!" He exclaimed, raising his voice to infect the other diners and they all got up, leaving their food half touched as they left. "There, shall we?" he asked, leading Simone over to his usual corner booth.

She sat down and glanced at the menu, the food smelled and sounded delicious, but how could she eat in that situation? She could always... accept it, she'd live her life like this and maybe it wouldn't be so bad? It wasn't what she wanted, but if he treated her the way she had been so far... maybe he wouldn't kill her. Maybe she could visit her family and smile while saying everything was fine.

"Can I order what I want or will you order for me?" She asked, genuinely curious. "Cause if I can choose I'd like the broiled chicken with potatoes."

"Of course, you can have whatever you like," Kilgrave exclaimed, leaning back in the booth, his arm resting behind Simone's shoulders.

By the time Sean, Blossom, Ellery, and Charlie arrived at the restaurant, the other diners were all filing out.

"That's strange, where are they all going?" Charlie wondered.

"Doesn't seem like anything is wrong in there," Ellery looked inside and found her cousin sitting in a corner.

"Simone!" Blossom called. "Simone, please! If you actually want to be here, tell us!"

"I want to be here," she said after Kilgrave whispered the command in her ear.

“If you try to escape, you’ll jump off the Queensboro Bridge,” Kilgrave hissed in Simone’s ear, taking a bite of his steak, seemingly unbothered.

“Look, he just said something to her before she spoke,” Charlie whispered, noticing the way the man leaned in. “If he has the power of persuasion, then maybe I can use it against him,” he suggested.

"Good one, Charlie," Ellery nudged her brother's arm.

"Let my daughter go, right now! I'm not above killing you, you bastard!" Blossom charged into the restaurant. "She's old enough to be your daughter!"

Kilgrave spread his hands innocently. "I'm afraid you're mistaken, she told you already, she wants to be here."

"Then why does she look so terrified?" Sean exclaimed, hating the way his hands shook as he looked at the man who looked so much like the ghost from his past.

"I can't leave, Mum," Simone cried. "I just can't."

"You can do anything, you have a superpower. You're really gonna let some middle-aged man tell you what you can or can't do?" Ellery whispered to her. "No matter what happens, you're safe."

"Come on, let's call Dylan," Blossom took her daughter's hand, but once she got up, the girl ran away towards the bridge to fulfill Kilgrave's request.

“Simone?!” Sean exclaimed, his eyes widening in fear as she raced past him out the restaurant door. “SIMONE!” he called, taking off after her without another thought.

While his uncle ran after Simone, Charlie rounded on Kilgrave. “What did you make her do?” He demanded.

Kilgrave shrugged. “She was the one who chose to run. If she’d rather jump off the bridge than stay with me, that’s her prerogative, I suppose.” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his aquiline nose. “And here I thought we could be happy together.”

"You're sick!" Ellery screamed while Blossom ran out to follow her daughter as well. "Man, you're not ugly enough to be that desperate, find someone who can love you for real."

“Is that an offer?” Kilgrave asked, flashing Ellery a grin. "Seems beauty runs in the family..."

Before the man could control his twin, Charlie frowned, drawing on his own power. He could feel the vibration of Kilgrave’s power pulling at him and he reached out with his mind, borrowing his ability.

“Hey,” he said, drawing the man’s attention. “Forget all about us. Forget about your power. Don’t use it for bad,” he commanded.

"Let's get out of here," Ellery took her brother's arm. "Hope he learns his lesson. He definitely knows how to treat a lady, he just needs to find one that wants to be with him."

Charlie nodded, letting his sister pull him out of the restaurant and they ran to join their uncle and aunt.

*****

"Simone!" Blossom ran, catching up to them just as she climbed to jump. She looked back at her mum and dad and smiled, her cousin's words made her very confident.

“Moony, what’re you doing? Please come down!” Sean cried, his heart twisting in his chest as he held onto his wife. “We can fix this! Please don’t jump!”

"Sean... it's alright," Blossom understood her plan, she had done it before with the power she passed down to her daughter.

"See you in a second, don't worry about me," Simone waved and let go, falling as if she were diving into a pool.

To stop herself from hitting the water, she covered her own body in a force field and emerged back to the bridge covered in a thin blue-ish bubble.

As soon as Simone emerged, protected in her bubble, Sean let out a relieved gasp, his arms tightening around his wife. “Oh thank God she’s okay,” he cried, his eyes burning with unshed tears.

Simone ran into her parents' arms and sighed. She didn't even realize she was still wearing the outfit that was picked out for her.

"We should probably return these stuff to Bloomingdale's, right?" She asked.

"But the dress is cute..." Ellery joked. "He won't be bothering you again."

"Yeah, I made sure of that," Charlie assured her, joining the others in embracing her.

"Thank you, Cha-Charlie," Sean murmured, ruffling his nephew's curls. "I'm so fuckin' glad you all have those damn powers," he sighed, kissing the top of Simone's head.

"Thank you for coming for me," she looked lovingly at her cousins and her mother, then turned and placed a kiss on her father's cheek. "You're a hero too, Daddy."

Sean shook his head. "I was so helpless," he murmured, squeezing her tighter.

"Not all heroes have powers, some just are really amazing dads," she held his hand as they walked back to the store. "You weren't hopeless, you didn't give up. I called you because I knew you'd know something was wrong and come help, and you did."

"Of course, I'd never give up on you, darlin'," Sean breathed.

#kilgrave #kilgrave x canon #sean falco #jessica jones #bad samaritan #oc: Simone Falco #oc: Blossom Falco #oc: Charlie Young #oc: Ellery Young #fanfic #jessica jones fanfic #david tennant fanfic #oc x canon week #ocxcanonweek #fic collab #timeline anomaly verse

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jekyllnahyena · 2 years

Photo

Buir?

Yeah?

Will you stay? With us?

For as long as you want me to, Adi’ka.

[I.D. It’s two digital drawings of star wars oc. Jackal, a yellow skinned, nautolan-zabrak hybrid, clone commander Lockup and clone captain Kazoo. The first drawing is of Jackal lying on the ground as Lockup and Kazoo, who are sitting around them, are braiding their long, purple hair. Jackal looks very peaceful.

The second drawing if of them in the same position, but they have been shot at least four times. One in the head, two in the chest and one in their side. their braids are loosening as blood drips from their mouth. Their shadowed by Lockup, who’s bloody boot is the only thing visible as he walks off. End I.D.]

#jackal #captain kazoo #commander lockup #ajekyllsart #tw death #cw blood #cw injury #:)

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annwayne · 7 months

Text

Delayed Fate - A Story from The Red Logs

Chapter 1/3

Next Chapter ->

Fem!OC X Crosshair

Word Count: 2395

Fic Summary:

Written for the Love & Lust Flash Fic Contest in The Erotica Abyss (chapter 2)

After splitting up a fight between two clones in her bar, Anya finds herself in the company of the most interesting clone she's ever come across-and she's known a *lot* of clones. (And if you squint-plot)

How Anya and Crosshair's fates first intertwined.

AO3 Link

Warnings for whole fic:

Violence, Injury, Blood, At Home Medical Treatment, Biting, Praise, Gloves, Dom/Sub undertones, PinV sex, Oral Sex (F &M Receiving), Fingering

Authors Note:

A little Valentines gift. Three chapters in total, chapter one today, two tomorrow, and three... in a few days? I'm working on it lol.

The night started out like all other nights. Busy.

“Six beers to table three, send two Star Vines to table eight, and please no one serve anymore alcohol to the pair of clones by the door attempting to solicit anyone who comes within a ten foot radius.” I, as usual, was in the middle of it all. “They need to sober up if they’re going to find their way back to the barracks.” I sighed, glancing at the clones in question as Lynn and Jayas nodded in agreement. Another normal night taking orders, making drinks, and mingling with the main clientele of my bar-clones.

Everything considered, I couldn’t complain. Busy was paid bills and a focused mind. No more petty theft just to survive-though Jayas didn’t let that last for too long. No more time lost to memories I buried and locked away deep in my psyche. No, no more problems when I was busy. I was grateful for it, even at the cost of sleep and a sore body. Yes, everything was normal when I was busy.

That was, until a fight broke out by the darts.

The first signs were the unbroken string of swears that rivaled even Jayas’ stubbed toe speech. Then a crowd formed in that semicircle shape that either meant an arm wrestling contest…or a fight. I didn’t think to actually go check until I heard the dull thunk that only armor hitting armor could make.

“Hey!” I yelled as I stomped through the bar floor, weaving through groups of clones unaware of what was going on. By the time I reached the dance floor enough patrons had gathered around the fight that I had to shove my way through them. “Break it up!” I yelled again as I emerged from the line of white armor made purple by the lights above. Jeering mixed with the pounding music from speakers above, drowning all attempts to talk the clones down. So, without a second thought I jumped into the mess of black and white armor.

One was on the ground by that point, on his hands and knees with what I suspected was blood dripping from his mouth. I faced white armor first, thinking the fight over. Instead, I felt a long forgotten spark of force–warning. Electricity spiked through my limbs. It spun me on my toes just in time to see the clone in dark armor come up with his fist aimed to uppercut the other clone. Or would have, if I wasn’t in the way.

Seconds. Pupils shrunk in realization. Less than a second to stop. Anyone normal would lose a tooth or two. I wasn’t. But I was out of practice.

I dodged in time to keep all my teeth in, but not in time to save my shoulder from cracking.

The impact pushed me off stance and I stumbled back into the intended target. Both men dropped their fists, rage forgotten for a heartbeat.

Then the crowd jumped in.

“Get him!”

“Kick him out!”

“Get outta here!”

Clones yelled at the other in dark armor while I blinked back tears threatening from the pain. Now wasn’t the time. Jayas and Fathal had abandoned the bar and were running over to check on me. Lyn watched from across the bar, serving tray clutched against her chest as she gasped. A swarm of angry clones pushed the one in dark armor back till he was trapped against the dartboards, the fight in his eyes undeterred by the numbers growing against him. Blood trailed down his busted lip. Before the one v one could turn into a one v bar, I brought my fingers to my lips and whistled. All eyes landed on me.

“You.” I turned to the clone I had fallen into–he hadn’t moved. His face was pulled into confusion and worry. Though he had sobered up considerably compared to when I jumped into the fight, he was slow to turn his attention back on me. Then, I turned to the sea blocking my path to the other clone. It parted without any orders from me and revealed him. Our eyes met and, even in the dim light, I could see he wasn't like other clones. “You. With me.”

No one, clone, patron, or employee alike stood in my path as I escorted the pair behind me to one of the few private places in the bar–the office. A tiny room that fit two chairs and one square desk, tucked back into a nook made by all the filing cabinets and boxes lining the walls. Bright yellow light hurt my eyes as we stepped inside. Once the door closed behind us, I turned to face the clones. Now that I could properly see them, their injuries were on full display.

So were their differences.

“Take a seat.” I gestured towards the chairs in the tight room. One sat normally. The other spun the chair around and sat facing its back.

I found myself questioning if the man in black (and red) armor was even a clone. He was skinnier and, even though he was sitting, taller than the other clone. At first glance I thought his silver hair was dyed, but then I noticed peach fuzz growing along his jaw–also silver. And then his face–long and sharp thanks to the gaunt look his cheekbones gave him. No one would think this was a clone if they didn’t know better. But I’d seen hundreds of clones. He shared the same deep brown eyes that I’ve looked into hundreds of times before. Maybe there was no other clone like him, but he was a clone.

And a tough one too. My gaze flicked to the trail of dried blood that ran down a busted lip to his chin. I also noticed purple slowly crawling from his left cheek. He’d come back up swinging despite the hits that landed.

Then I turned to the other clone. His armor was decorated in red stripes, the sign of a clone assigned to the Coruscant Guard. Great. Another reason for Commander Fox to hate my establishment. Unlike the silver haired clone, he was much more typical. He had cropped dark hair, brown eyes, and a full face–albeit made swollen by what would be a black eye given time. Otherwise, the only unique feature to him was a large tattoo that snaked around his neck and climbed up his jawbone. I recognized him from a few other visits, all without incident before.

Pain spiked behind my thoughts. The only barrier keeping it from consuming me was the need to sort everything out before I could retreat upstairs to slap bacta onto my shoulder. Somehow. I’d figure out the logistics later. For now, my attention was on the troublemakers.

“What’s your name?” I asked the clone in red stripes.

His brows pulled together and his eyes darted around the small room. Panic ran through his face, though he still answered me. “CT-823-”

“No,” I cut him off. Trooper numbers were for reports and people who wanted to make clones feel lesser. I wasn’t the latter, and I hadn’t yet decided on the former. “Your name.” Between the effort of submitting an official report to the GAR, Commander Fox’s pre-established distaste for anywhere that let clones get a little too “loose,” and knowledge I needed to treat my shoulder, the chances I’d bother were low. The tipping vote depended on what all of this was about.

“Binder, ma’am.”

“Binder, what happened?”

He glanced up to me, then at the other clone.

To his credit, the other clone kept his mouth shut. Not that, I suspected, he needed to use his mouth to say much. His arms draped over the back of the chair and his legs spread out wide to support his posture–rather casual for someone who could get into trouble with his superiors. He kept a Sabacc face, betrayed only by the toothpick that wouldn’t keep still between his lips. (Where did he get a toothpick?)

“He was cheating at darts.” Binder muttered.

I got punched. Over a game of darts? “That’s it?”

Binder shot out of his seat, hearing the disapproval in my words. He pointed at the other clone. “He was! No one can beat my score!”

“I did.” The silver haired clone interjected.

Even his voice was different, more gravel and less pavement.

The taller clone straightened his back, looking up to meet Binder’s flushed face with a shit-eating grin he knowingly used as bait for another fight. Before Binder could take it, I stepped between the pair once again. After swearing under his breath, Binder returned to his seat. The other clone gave me a smirk. I didn’t reciprocate.

It was a clear holo of what led to the night’s events, in the flesh. “So you beat Binder at darts,” The clone kept his lazy grin. “Flaunted more than you ought to, and got punched for it?” His lips dropped, slightly less pleased with himself when I laid it out like that.

“More or less…”

Stars, his voice instantly captivated me. The universe was cruel to drop this man in my lap this way. What would that voice sound like in my ear while he had me pushed against the wall? Would he grunt? Moan? Growl? I took a deep breath.

“How many drinks tonight?” I asked Binder.

Begrudgingly, Binder answered. “Four.” Then he added, “Thermals.”

Four Thermal Detonators. No wonder his temper got the best of him. “Alright, here’s what I’ll do.” I turned around and rummaged through the cabinets with minor difficulty. “I’ll chalk tonight up to more beer than you can handle,” I glanced back at Binder long enough to ensure he knew I was talking about him. Then, I rooted through a collection of various computer parts and some wayward screws until I found what I was looking for. “And someone who doesn't know the rules of my bar.” With the prize in hand I turned back around and looked at the clone in question. Both men met me with confused expressions, one big and curious and the other tight and suspicious.

“Take this before you sleep tonight,” With my left hand, I threw a tiny vial at Binder. He caught it against his chest. “It’ll help you metabolize the alcohol.” A spike of pain in my right arm demanded attention, so I rushed to wrap up. “Hangover prevention, if you will.”

Binder studied the clear liquid within the vial carefully before glancing back up at me. “I’m not going to report either of you.” The clones didn’t move. “You’re free to go.” I gestured to the door with my left hand, acutely aware of the pain surrounding my right.

Binder left first, and it was then I realized I never asked the other clone his name. Pain was gnawing at my thoughts, but I had to ask. “Wait.” I rounded the doorframe in time to see the mystery clone walking down the long hall to the back exit. Binder was already gone. “What’s your name?”

He stopped. I watched as he pulled something out of his mouth–the toothpick–and held it between his fingers like a death stick. “You said so yourself. You aren’t reporting this. I don’t need to tell you my name.” Faux-death stick returned to his lips.

“No, but I’m still asking.”

We stood there. Strides apart. With me leaning against the doorframe of my office trying to ignore the heartbeat caught in my collarbone and him with slack shoulders and a downturned head. The longer the silence went on the harder it was to ignore the pain.

“Why?” He broke the spell and turned around, facing me with narrowed eyes.

A feeble smile spread across my lips. “I’d at least like to know the name of the man who broke my shoulder.”

His jaw clenched and I regretted my teasing. His eyes fell to my shoulder. “You think it’s broken?”

“I think you’ve got one hell of a punch.” My lips curved into a smirk. Pain burst like a hot flame all around my shoulder, up my neck, and down my arm, causing my expression to falter. I took a step off the wall, then two, then four. When I reached him his gaze dropped behind me.

“I wasn’t aiming at you.”

“Trust me, I know.” I looked up into his eyes and realized I’d missed something. Thin black lines made a reticle around his right eye. I had gotten so lost in his differences with other clones, I didn’t even see the difference he chose. Half of a laugh escaped my lips. “You’re lucky I’ve got quick reflexes, or I might need more than a little bacta to fix this up.” I dipped my head towards the door that led to the stairwell just behind him. He followed my gaze. “Which, if you don’t mind,” I moved past him towards the door. “I’ve put off long enough.”

With a hiss, the automatic door opened and I entered the stairwell. Metal echoed up the high ceiling as I climbed up the steps. It was quiet. So my thoughts were loud.

You felt the force again. I felt the force again. You are a Jedi and yet you hide your power and strength. I’m no Jedi, I’m not powerful, I have no strength. You let him go and now he’ll never come back. I’ll never know his name.

I gripped the railing, feeling a wave of nausea threaten in my throat. My breath turned rapid and the stairs before me started to shake. Just as I thought my grip would slip, I heard the doors open again. Quickly, I straightened up and turned to see Jayas. Except, that wasn’t Jayas.

Instead, there stood the clone with silver hair and a reticle tattoo.

“Hey.” He looked up to me. “You need any help?”

Every inch of my body felt like a live wire. Finding my voice took a moment. “Depends.” I managed. One silver brow raised in question at my answer. “You gonna tell me your name?”

A slight smirk pulled his lips up. He nodded his head once before climbing the stairs to reach my height. Once he was one step below me, he leaned in just enough to make my buzzing heart flutter. “Crosshair.”

I swallowed. “Nice to meet you, Crosshair. My name’s Anya.”

Dividers by Djarrex

#The Red Logs - Related Stories #Delayed Fate - A Story From The Red Logs #star wars fanfic #star wars the clone wars fanfic #sw tcw fanfic #star wars the prequels fanfic #sw prequels fanfic #the bad batch fanfic #star wars the bad batch fanfic #tbb fanfic #crosshair/oc (anya tougt)#crosshair/anya tougt #first meeting fic #first kiss fic #first time fic

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arcsimper5 · 10 months

Text

Actions and Consequences - Chapter 1 Resolute

Delta Squad are forced to seek help from within the fleet for their injured Jedi, Jerra. Mixing with the GAR general is... an issue.

Pairing: OC!Jedi Jerra x Delta Squad Warnings: Descriptions of injuries, some blood, language. Rating: M (Explicit content in later chapters, minors DNI)

Kix huffed as the hangar medical alert rang out into the med bay, the low buzz of it echoing through his skull.

It had been a long day already, the Resolute in orbit above Pravada 9, a large group assault on droid production bases having been ordered by the GAR while data was gathered by a specialist assault team.

Looking at the chrono, he frowned in confusion; the last of the teams from the 501st and 212th had returned hours ago, with no reports of lost ships or units. Everyone deployed from the ship had been accounted for.

So why, then, was the medical alert sounding if all troops had returned?

Grumbling in annoyance at the inevitable extension of his shift, he grabbed his medkit and made the short journey to the hangar, looking around for his new patients.

There were a few groups of troopers milling around, but none that seemed to need attention. One lot of four were playing sabacc on some nearby crates while another small gathering of softshells were working on a gunship which had taken quite a bit of damage in the incursion.

None of them seemed to need his attention, his annoyance growing further.

“Anyone call for a medic?” he asked loudly, several heads snapping in his direction.

A murmuring response of ‘no’ and ‘not me’ came from the troopers, Kix letting out a growl of annoyance.

“Then who the kark is wasting my time by calling me down here?” he snapped, some of the sabacc troopers exchanging concerned looks.

He was about to head back to medbay and file a false alarm report when a gravelly voice called across the hangar, a large, imposing clone in distinctive armour appearing from the end of a gunship, a large sniper rifle in his hands.

“I am,” the trooper called, the entire hangar silent now, watching the interaction.

Kix raised an eyebrow, looking the trooper up and down. He could tell by his bucket, which was still firmly in place, that he was a Commando. His bulk on its own was intimidating, but the paint job on his armour completed the picture, the white plastoid flashed with red on his legs, arms and midsection, what appeared to be a bloody handprint covering the area around his visor, giving the impression of it being fresh and dripping.

“You’re not 501st or 212nd,” Kix huffed, the sniper letting out an amused huff.

“What gave it away? You a medic or not?”

Kix stared at the Commando for a moment, caught between actions.

“You’re not on my treatment compliment,” he stated firmly, the sniper staring back. Even under his visor, Kix could practically feel the coldness of the look.

“But you are a medic,” he growled in return, “and we need you.”

“For what?” Kix questioned automatically, the larger clone almost certainly rolling his eyes.

“A fifth for sabacc. What do you think, di’kut?”

Kix was about to offer a sharp retort when another Commando appeared behind the sniper, his posture communicating his impatience.

“Sev! What the kriff is taking so long?”

It only took the other man a moment to register Kix’s presence, his size matching this so-called ‘Sev’, though his bucket was off, exposing a frustrated expression.

Even though he looked like a clone and his hair was slightly longer than regulation, the Commando armour he wore, mostly green with a white flashed chestpiece, he gave off the air of someone much more superior.

“You, medic! We’ve been waiting on you! Get your shebs back to the ship!”

Kix frowned, his frustration growing.

“I don’t know who you think you are,” he huffed, “but I’m assigned to the 501st. You can’t just turn up on a republic fleet ship, call a medic and demand medical attention without registering first.”

“Oh, look, the little shiny doctor doesn’t know who we are,” Sev chuckled lowly, the other Commando rolling his eyes and glaring at him.

“Can it, Sev. This is about Jerra, not you.”

“Look,” Kix sighed, shaking his head, “let me call the on-call medic. I’m sure they can…”

“No time!” the unidentified Commando cut him off, shaking his head, “Our Jedi is injured. Now are you gonna do your job or not?”

As Sev chuckled, Kix felt the urge to decline simply on principle, but hearing there was an injured Jedi piqued his interest, not to mention his innate need to help was kicking in. Whether it was in his genes or in his heart, he couldn’t fight it, relenting with a long suffering sigh as he trudged towards the commandos.

“Ugh, fine! Just… register after, okay? I need to record all treatment.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever,” the Commando nodded, waving behind him in a gesture for Kix to follow.

“What Battalion are you even from?” Kix asked as they weaved through the gunships, most in various states of battle damaged, towards the rear of the hangar.

“Battalion?” Sev rumbled, his tone amused, “That’s cute.”

“We’re Delta Squad,” the other clone responded tightly. “I’m Fixer, this is Sev. Boss and Scorch are still on the shuttle with Jerra, our Commander.”

“Delta Squad?”

Kix froze in place for a second, Sev almost walking into him, barely dodging his stock still form.

“The Delta Squad? The ones who ran the demo job on Geonosis during the first battle of the Clone Wars?”

“History lesson later,” Fixer urged him, reaching back and grabbing his arm, the medic stumbling a little as he was pulled along, “first, medic stuff.”

“But… You guys are… You’re a myth! You’re not… You’re not supposed to exist!”

“And yet, here we are,” Sev chuckled, a hiss sounding as he reached up with one hand, unclipping his bucket and pulling it off.

Kix took in his features, surprised. Again, although he looked the same as the rest of his brothers, Sev had a certain… severity to him, as obvious as it would seem.

Two large scars ran across his face, one down from the top of his hairline to just below his cheekbone over his right eye, the other across the same eye, from the bridge of his nose to the curve of his face. It looked oddly like a crosshair.

His hair was thick, tight curls cut short, shoots of grey showing through. Light amber eyes stared back at Kix, a wicked smirk tilting at chapped lips.

“Got an issue?” he grinned, Kix immediately shaking his head.

“N-No… Kriff… Rex is not gonna believe this…”

Turning to Sev, he hesitated for a moment. “Is it true the four of you took back an entire republic cruiser from trandoshan pirates on your own?”

Sev smirked, raising an eyebrow at the medic.

“Is that what they tell you?” he teased, the low tone of his voice sending an uncomfortable shiver down Kix's spine.

“Like I said,” the other commando huffed from in front of them, “history lesson later. And to be fair, it was mostly Boss.”

Within moments, they were free of the field of battleworn gunships, the path to a beat up looking attack shuttle appearing. Another Commando was waiting outside, this one with a white chest piece, grey and gold covering his arms and legs.

“Took ya long enough!” he yelled as they approached, his voice somehow softer than the average clone’s, “What were ya doing? Teaching him how to practice medicine?”

“Can it, Scorch,” Fixer snapped, releasing Kix’s arm as they approached the ramp, Scorch’s face scrunched in an unimpressed expression.

His hair was much longer than the others, thick curls pulled back into a loose braid at the back, a few ringlets falling around his face. He leant against the ship with his arms folded over his chest, eyes scanning Kix suspiciously.

“How’s she doing?” Sev quizzed Scorch, the expression on the slightly smaller clone’s face faltering a little.

“In pain,” he replied quickly, looking pointedly to Kix, “Boss is with her. He’s been pushing bacta, but you know how she is with supplies.”

“You,” Sev grunted at Kix before nodding to the door, sharp eyes locked on him, “inside.”

“Going, going!” Kix assured him, drawing in an attempt at a steadying breath as he pushed through the doorway of the ship, the insides dimly lit.

It was a modest set up in the shuttle, a bunk room off to one side, labelled as such on the door. A small refresher was marked at the back, top and rear gunner mount positions visible from the main gangway.

Looking down towards the rear, Kix soon found his target, watching curiously as he crept closer.

The Jedi, Jerra, was sat on one of the navigation seats, her left hand supporting a limp right arm, face twisted with pain as she let out a hiss.

She was human, at least she appeared to be, warm skin over tight features. Her eyes seemed to dance with a green light in the darkness, focused on the Commando in front of her, the clone kneeling as he looked over her knees, one of which was exposed and covered with a bacta patch.

Her long dark hair was pulled back into multiple braids that trailed down her back, pulled together with a gold band. The clone in front of her was helmetless, hair short and mussed, curls spilling onto his skin haphazardly as he rested on one knee, hands gentle as he rubbed bacta in a nasty looking cut on her leg.

Visibly, it seemed to be her only other urgent injury, save the small cuts that littered her face. They looked like shrapnel wounds, ones that Kix was, unfortunately, all too familiar with.

“Not long now, mesh’la,” he grumbled lowly, his accent thick and low, a warmth to it that made Kix raise an eyebrow, “we’ll get some meds into you.”

“I can wait,” Jerra replied with a forced smile, adoration clear on her face as she looked the commando over, letting out a huff of laughter, “you shouldn’t be wasting bacta on me, Boss, I told you…”

“Hush,” Boss ordered, his voice stern, though his smile betrayed his tone, “bacta can be replaced. You can’t.”

A moment stretched between them, intimate and deep, simply sharing a connection, and for a second, Kix felt like he was intruding on something private.

“Uh… Sorry to interrupt,” he managed, his voice cracking a little as Jerra’s intense gaze turned to meet him, Boss’s smile fading entirely as he stood back up to full height, “I’m Kix, the medic from the 501st.”

“About time you got here,” Boss grunted, stepping back to allow Kix access to Jerra, “does ‘rapid medical response’ mean something different in the fleet?”

“Boss,” Jerra chastised the Commando gently, Kix trying his best to keep his expression set as he approached, the large clone’s white and red armour adding to his intimidating presence, “leave him be. It’s not like we were announced.”

“Still,” Boss huffed, his eyes softening a little as Kix placed his back at Jerra’s feet, offering a weak smile.

“Sorry about them,” Jerra grinned softly, “they can be a little demanding. I hope they weren’t rude to you.”

“No more than any of my other vode,” Kix smiled back, earning a huff from Boss. “Now… the others mentioned you being in pain?”

His eyes travelled over her, noting the bacta patch on her leg and the way she still held her arm.

“Do you mind telling me what happened?”

“Big ass explosion!” a shout came from the doorway, Scorch leaning around it, watching intently, “Got caught in the shockwave. Uh… sorry, again, about that.”

“Out!” Boss yelled, stamping towards the ramp, his face set. Jerra simply rolled her eyes and let out a breath of laughter, focusing back on Kix.

“We were infiltrating one of the maintenance facilities while the battle distracted the main forces,” she explained as Kix reached up, flattening his palm for her to lower her arm onto it, “our objective was to take it out and get intel on the newer battle droids they’re pushing out. Things got a bit heated, more security than intel thought there’d be, and I got pushed off a walkway by one of the breach blasts. Boss caught me before I fell all the way down, but it jarred my arm some.”

Kix hummed as he listened, eyes now intently fixed on her arm as he rolled the fabric covering it up as gently as he could. Her robes were a dark brown, the tunic underneath faded greens and greys, all tattered and smelling distinctly of explosive residue.

“Lucky escape,” Kix smiled, Jerra wincing as he tried to straighten her arm, hissing in pain. In his peripheral, he saw Boss turn sharply at the noise, trying his best to focus.

The skin around the joint was purple and black, bruised badly. The swelling was quite severe, but there seemed to be no obvious deformation.

“I can’t tell from just looking, but there’s some bruising and irritation around the joint. Did you hear a pop or crack when you were caught?”

Jerra hesitated for a moment, looking towards Boss, her expression caught.

“I need you to be honest,” Kix explained softly, “or we might miss something that could cause complications in the future. We can heal whatever it is, I promise.”

With a long exhale, Jerra closed her eyes and nodded, something close to shame echoing across her features.

“It dislocated when Boss caught me,” she murmured, gaze averted to her feet, “and I popped it back in. Hurt like a jawa-kriffer, but it let me keep going.”

“Mesh’la…”

Boss’s call cut through the silence, the pain in his tone apparent.

“You should have told me… I’m…”

“Don’t,” Jerra frowned back at him, watching cautiously as he approached, “you did what you had to. I’m alive, we’re all here, that’s what matters. I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d worry.”

“Damn right I’d worry,” Boss glared back at her, “It’s my job to look out for you all!”

“And you did!”

“But you got hurt…”

“Instead of falling to my death!”

Boss considered her words for a moment, hovering over her as Kix looked between them, the tension growing.

“Well, uh, there might be some small fractures in the elbow joint,” he explained quickly, hoping to diffuse the situation, “but I’d need to do a scan to be sure. It might also be good to look at the rest of your joints too, mainly your shoulder. A force like that can dislodge things or pull other muscles. It’s nothing that a bacta wrap won’t fix overnight, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

“No,” Boss growled, Kix’s gaze darting to Jerra as she rolled her eyes, letting out a huff, “we have orders to be back en-route by oh-four-hundred. We’re only here for medical attention, resupply and refuel.”

“And you’re getting medical attention,” Kix replied sternly, releasing Jerra’s arm back to her as gently as he could, gathering his pack and standing, “and I’m telling you she needs more treatment.”

“We’re not leaving without her.”

“Then you’re not leaving at all,” Kix frowned, gesturing at Jerra. “If you want to deny her treatment and possibly aggravate what is currently a minor injury, be my guest. But if it is broken, bone fragments could shift and damage both muscle and tissue, not to mention the pain will only build. She needs rest and recuperation, and as a medic, I am able to pull individuals from active service for that.”

“Need a hand, Boss?”

Sev’s deep voice echoed through the ship, two other faces also peering in, their expressions stern.

It was clear that they were willing to step in if there was an argument, Jerra huffing in frustration as Kix stood his ground, shouldering his bag.

The Commando and the Medic stared each other down for a long moment, Boss’s eyes searching Kix’s face.

After what felt like an eternity, Boss let out a frustrated huff and stepped back, allowing Kix to pass.

“One rotation. No longer,” he growled, looking back to Jerra, “and one of us is always with her.”

“Boss,” she protested, quickly cutting off her own reply as he glared back at her.

“That’s an order.”

“I outrank you,” she shot back, hissing again as she stood up, following Kix as he made his way through the ship, though she made no further argument.

Boss looked her up and down, putting out a hand against the durasteel wall on the other side of the galley, blocking her path while the medic disembarked, his intense gaze finding hers once more.

“Boss,” she breathed again, swallowing hard when his free hand moved to her face, tracing his knuckles down the side of her face, “I’ll be fine.”

“You should have told me,” he grumbled after a moment, the guilt in his eyes making her chest constrict. “I hurt you.”

“You saved my life,” she reminded him, stepping into his space, tucking her head under his chin.

Taking another deep breath, he wrapped his arms around her, holding her tenderly, taking the upmost care not to put pressure on her arm. “Better broken than a pile of goop on the floor of a maintenance facility.”

Boss let out a soft chuckle, his expression softening once more. Pulling away slightly, he looked down at Jerra, a sigh escaping his lips.

“I’ll make it up to you, cabur,” he promised, voice little more than a whisper, “we all will.”

“I’m holding you to that,” she teased gently, shivering at the sensation of his breath ghosting over her cheeks, “it’s been too long, Boss.”

“I know, cyare,” he smiled, leaning down to brush his lips over hers, drawing a whimper from deep in her throat, “but what was it you taught us about patience?”

“Gar chayaikir,” she moaned softly, growling as he pulled away, “you’re going to pay for this.”

“Hey, riddurok’la, your medic is getting twitchy!” Scorch shouted from the doorway, leaning in with a sly grin on his face, looking over the scene with amusement. “Gar me'dinuir, vod?”

“Mir’sheb,” Boss growled in response, moving towards the door, Jerra following with a blush on her cheeks. “Come on then, my lady,” he teased bowing as he reached the door, “your medic awaits.”

*-*-* Translations: Di’kut - idiot Shebs - Ass/Butt Mesh’la - Beautiful Cabur - Protector/Guardian Cyare - Beloved/One who is beloved Gar chayaikir - You tease Gar me'dinuir, vod? - You share, brother? Riddurok’la - Married Couple (rough translation) Mir’sheb - Smartass

#star wars #the clone wars #clone medic kix #tcw kix #kix #delta squad #republic commando #repcomm #clone commando boss #Clone Commando Scorch #clone commando fixer #clone commando sev #jedi oc #star wars oc #star wars fan fiction #daniwrites #Actions and Consequences

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