#clone trooper stutter

[ct-7707-stutter]

CT-7707 stands beside Hera, scratching at his arm with a shaking hand. “Th-They won’t like me. They’re rulebreakers, I’m not.”

“Sweety, they’re your family.” Hera sighs. “They’ll be shocked to see you… but a good shocked. It’ll be okay.”

“I st-still don’t… remember much.” CT-7707 mumbles. “Wh-What if they’re m-mad I don’t remember?”

“They won’t be.” Hera watches the ship land. “I explained that you don’t remember.”

@toebeansandotherbaes

[cc-tens]

Me and my best friends, Holler :)

(click for better quality)

After like a whole yr, I finally made character sheets for my main OCs. 👉👈 Debating whether I want to make my Corrie OCs next or if I wanna make my Jedi Knight and his Pro Wrestler clone pals

[momojedi]

Just .. deadpanned omega for a second there.

That’s how you know he’s accepted her as his sibling

“Who?”

[areyoufuckingcrazy]

Hi! I was wondering if you could do a TBB x Fem!Reader +any other clones of your choice, where they keep using pet names in mandoa like cyar'ika, mesh'la, and maybe even riduur?(because they might’ve gotten accidentally married? Love those tropes)

but the reader has no idea what they mean and that they’re pet names or that the batch likes her. Eventually she finds out of course and a bunch of stuttering cute confessions?

Your writing is so amazing and i literally can’t get enough of it! Xx

“Say It Again?”

TBB x Fem!Reader

You had gotten used to the way clones talked — the gruffness, the slang, the camaraderie. But ever since you’d been working more closely with Clone Force 99, you’d noticed something… different.

They used weird words around you. Words you didn’t hear other troopers saying.

Hunter always greeted you with a gentle “Cyar’ika,” accompanied by that intense little half-smile of his.

Wrecker would beam and shout, “Mesh’la! You came!” every time you entered a room — like you were some goddess descending from the stars.

Crosshair, as always, was smug and cool, throwing in a soft “Riduur…” under his breath when he thought you weren’t listening, though you never figured out what it meant. He often smirked when you looked confused, and somehow that made it worse.

Even Tech, who rarely used nicknames at all, had let slip a casual “You’re quite remarkable, mesh’la,” when you helped him debug his datapad. He didn’t look up, but you felt the heat in his voice.

And Echo? Sweet, dependable Echo — he was the least subtle of them all.

“You alright, cyar’ika?”

“You look tired, cyar’ika.”

“Get some rest, cyar’ika.”

You were starting to think “Cyar’ika” meant your actual name.

But something was off. The others never used those words with each other. Only with you.

So, naturally, you asked Rex.

And Rex choked on his caf.

“You—what did Crosshair call you?” he coughed, wiping his chin.

You repeated it: “Rid…uur? I think? I dunno. He said it real low.”

Rex gave you the slowest blink you’d ever seen and then rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“Riduur means… spouse. As in… wife. It’s what you call your partner.”

You froze. “What?!”

“And cyar’ika?” he continued, amused. “Sweetheart. Mesh’la is ‘beautiful.’ They’re… Mando’a pet names. Very affectionate.”

The blushing.

The flashbacks.

All those words… those looks… Tech calling you remarkable like it was a scientific fact, Crosshair smirking like he had secrets, Echo’s voice dropping a full octave every time he said cyar’ika…

You marched straight into the Havoc Marauder like a woman on a mission — and promptly forgot how to speak when all five of them looked up at you.

“…You okay, mesh’la?” Hunter asked gently.

You blinked. Your voice cracked. “…You’ve been calling me sweetheart?”

The room went dead silent.

Echo dropped his ration bar.

Wrecker panicked. “Wait—you didn’t know?”

Crosshair chuckled and leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “Told you she didn’t know.”

Tech frowned at him. “Statistically, the odds of her knowing were—”

“You called me your wife,” you said, pointing at Crosshair like he’d committed a war crime.

He shrugged. “Didn’t hear you complain.”

You stammered something completely unintelligible, covering your face with both hands, and Wrecker let out the loudest, happiest laugh you’d ever heard. “So… does that mean you like us back?”

You peeked through your fingers. “…Us?”

Hunter stepped forward slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. “We all… kinda do. Like you. A lot.”

You were red. Like, fruit-on-Ryloth red. “You’re telling me five elite clones have been flirting with me in another language this whole time?!”

“…Yes,” they all mumbled at once.

Crosshair grinned like he’d won a bet. “So… Riduur?”

“Riduur?” Crosshair repeated, lifting a brow like it was nothing. Like he hadn’t just dropped a romantic thermal detonator right in front of everyone.

You stared at him. At all of them.

Hunter’s quiet guilt. Echo’s embarrassed fidgeting. Wrecker’s hopeful puppy-dog smile. Tech’s analytical interest. And Crosshair’s smug little smirk that you really wanted to slap off his face… or maybe kiss.

You swallowed. “I—I need a second.”

And then promptly turned on your heel and walked right back out of the Marauder.

⸻

You spent the rest of the day spiraling.

Sweetheart. Beautiful. Wife.

They’d been calling you those for weeks. Months, maybe. You were out here thinking it was some fun cultural expression or inside joke you weren’t in on—and it turns out you were the joke. The target. Of five clone commandos’… affection?

It didn’t feel like a joke, though. It felt sincere. Soft. Safe.

And scary.

Because you liked them. All of them. Differently, but genuinely. The thought of them caring about you—of whispering pet names they grew up hearing in the most intimate, personal ways—made your chest ache in a way you didn’t know how to handle.

⸻

The next day, you avoided them.

The next day, they let you.

The third day, Hunter found you in the mess hall, sat beside you without a word, and handed you a steaming mug of caf.

You looked at him.

He didn’t speak right away. Then: “We’re sorry. If we made you uncomfortable.”

“I’m not uncomfortable,” you blurted out. “I just… didn’t know how to react. I’m still trying to figure it out.”

Hunter nodded, eyes kind. “We can stop. The nicknames, I mean.”

You hesitated. “No. I don’t want you to stop.”

He smiled, just a little. “You sure?”

You nodded. “I think I like them. I just… I want to know what they mean now.”

⸻

So, one by one, the boys showed you.

Wrecker said “mesh’la” every time you helped him carry heavy crates, with a goofy grin that made your stomach flip.

Echo said “cyar’ika” after every quiet conversation, letting the word linger like a promise he wasn’t ready to say aloud yet.

Tech, precise as always, began to offer direct translations.

“You look stunning today, mesh’la—objectively, of course.”

Crosshair didn’t stop with “riduur.” He started calling you “cyar’ika” too—softly, in rare unguarded moments—and he never looked away when he said it. Like he meant it. Like he knew what it was doing to you.

And Hunter? Hunter started saying “ner cyar’ika.” My sweetheart.

⸻

It wasn’t instant.

But slowly, their voices stopped making you flustered—and started making you feel home.

You started saying their names softer. Started touching their arms when you passed. Started blushing less… and smiling more.

And one day, while standing beside Wrecker during maintenance, you reached up on your toes, kissed his cheek, and whispered, “Thanks, cyare.”

He blinked. His whole face lit up like a nova. “You said it back!”

Later, you caught Echo outside the ship. Nervous, swaying slightly on his heels. You pressed your hand into his and whispered, “You can keep calling me cyar’ika, you know.”

He looked down at you with wide eyes. “You really don’t mind?”

You shook your head. “I like it.”

And Tech, when you repeated “mesh’la” with a teasing little lilt, glanced at you and—just this once—forgot what he was doing.

Even Crosshair dropped his toothpick when you looked him dead in the eye and whispered: “You keep calling me your riduur. What does that make you, then?”

He blinked. Once. Then smiled. Really smiled. “Yours.”

⸻

By the time you curled up beside Hunter one quiet night, your head on his shoulder and his hand tracing slow circles on your back, he murmured “ner cyar’ika” and you didn’t freeze or stammer.

You just smiled.

Because now you knew.

And you finally, finally understood that you’d never been the joke.

You’d always been the reason they smiled.

[cc1010fox]

Trooper: I caught this clone wandering around so drunk that he couldn't remember his own designation, so I'm putting him in the drunk tank for the night. Stone: Fo--? Fox, after making a 'Sh!' expression: Sorry, Commander... Stone: Uh...It's...ok? I'll take him from here, trooper. Trooper: Yes, sir. I'll write up the report, sir. Stone, once they're at the cell: What are you doing? He can't arrest you! Why didn't you tell him who you were? Fox: He was so nervous, I couldn't interrupt him! You know how discouraged our vod'ike can get. He was trying his best. He's doing such a good job, Stone. Don't tell him... Stone: The arrest was good? Fox: Perfect. He just stuttered over a word or two, but who doesn't the first few days of their job? Stone: Since it was a good arrest--Fine. I'll come back in a few to let you out. I'll just tell him that your commander called for you. Fox: Great! Tell him he did a good job too. Stone: Of course.

[padawan-snack-packer]

Hi!! Could you please write a Reader/Captain Rex fic where Reader has a nightmare and Rex find them panicking and then he calms them down? shipping if possible?

Thank you sm and no worries if you don't want to write it!!!<3

"Stay with Me", a Reader/Captain Rex ficlet

Hi Anon!!!

Of course I could write this — thank you so much for trusting me with such a soft and emotional idea!!!💙 I had way too many feelings about it (Rex my beloved) and I hope you enjoy this little piece of comfort!!!

Sending you the biggest hugs and a very small, very loyal squad of clone troopers to protect your dreams 😌✨

Title: "Stay With Me" Pairing: Captain Rex/Reader Prompt/Tags: Nightmare / Panic Attack, Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Soft Fluff)

The first thing you register is the cold.

It sinks into your bones, wraps around your lungs like wire, makes it impossible to draw a full breath. Cold sweat clings to your skin, your shirt sticking uncomfortably to your back. Cold air burns every shaky gasp you drag into your chest. Your hands won’t stop trembling, fingers clawing uselessly at the tabletop you’d slumped over hours ago.

The world around you is all wrong — too loud, too sharp, tilting dangerously like a ship about to capsize.

And it hits you all at once.

The terror.

The blind, clawing panic tearing its way up your throat, hollowing you out from the inside. Your heart hammers against your ribs, too fast, too hard, and you can’t catch up. You can't slow it down. You can’t—

You don’t even realize you’re gasping, half-choking on thin air, until someone says your name.

It cuts through the rising storm in your head — distant, urgent — but the words don’t make sense at first. Everything’s muffled, underwater.

Then again, sharper this time. Closer.

“—’ey, cyare. Hey. Look at me.”

Fingers — warm, steady — wrap around your wrist. Not yanking. Not hurting. Just anchoring. Holding.

You flinch, a strangled sound scraping from your throat.

“Hey, hey, easy,” the voice says, low and steady, trying to meet you wherever you’ve fallen. “You’re alright. You’re safe. I got you.”

You blink, or maybe you don’t — your vision swims either way — and suddenly there’s a face in front of you, close enough that you can see the way the worry creases the corners of his mouth.

It’s Rex.

Of course it’s Rex.

You’re not sure when you started needing him this badly. Maybe it was the late nights in the barracks, the way he always found you when the walls felt like they were closing in. Maybe it was the soft way he said your name when you forgot how to breathe.

You squeeze your eyes shut, pressing the heels of your palms into them until you see stars. You're still half in the nightmare — trapped in the awful dark — the mission gone wrong, the blasterfire too loud, blood pooling too fast for your hands to stop it—

Something shatters inside your chest, a tidal wave of relief and shame and helplessness crashing down all at once.

“I— I can’t—” you choke out, words broken and useless. Your whole body is shaking like a speeder at top speed about to fall apart.

Rex moves instantly, pushing your scattered datapads and notes aside with a sweep of his hand. He crouches in front of you, putting himself right in your line of sight, like he’s trying to block out the rest of the spinning, punishing world.

“Focus on me, cyare,” he says, voice firm but so gentle it hurts. “Just me.”

You blink again, and this time a tear slips loose, sliding hot and miserable down your cheek.

You hate this. You hate being weak.

But Rex just shifts closer, so close you could fall right into him, and taps his forehead against yours.

“You’re alright,” he murmurs, one hand coming up to cradle the back of your neck, thumb stroking slow, steady circles against your skin. “You’re not alone. I’ve got you.”

His voice is low and rough, still wrecked from sleep. “You're safe. You’re right here with me.”

Your breath stutters again, shallow and panicked.

The table you'd been working at is littered with datapads, half-finished reports, the cold dregs of a cup of caf. You must have dozed off right there — nodded off without meaning to, without Rex around to nudge you to bed — and the nightmares had grabbed you in their claws the second your guard was down.

“Can you give me your hand?” he asks, soft but firm.

You shake your head, squeezing your fists tighter into your eyes. It's too much. You're trembling too hard. He can't want to touch you, not like this.

But Rex just hums low in his chest — a patient sound — and waits.

After a moment, you peel one hand away from your face, shaking like a leaf.

Rex catches it in his gloved one, warm and sure.

He presses your palm flat against the rough plates of his chest armor.

“Feel that?” he murmurs. “That’s real. I'm here. You're not alone.”

Your fingers flex helplessly against him. His heartbeat thuds steady beneath your hand — solid, grounding.

You cling to it like a lifeline.

“Deep breath, cyare,” he says, so gently it wrecks you. “With me. In… and out.”

You try. You fail. You try again.

Rex doesn’t let go.

He keeps murmuring encouragements, rocking on the balls of his feet like he’s settling a scared tooka kit.

When you finally, finally drag in a breath that doesn't feel like broken glass, you sag forward, boneless and exhausted.

Without hesitating, Rex catches you.

He tugs you down into his lap, wrapping you up in his arms like it's the most natural thing in the galaxy. His armor digs into your skin in places, but you don't care. You're too busy anchoring yourself to the steady rise and fall of his chest.

“Got you,” he says, rumbling low against your hair. “Not goin’ anywhere.”

You whimper, tiny and wrecked, and Rex just holds you tighter.

The room hums around you — the faint buzz of the lights, the distant roar of Coruscant traffic. You bury your face against the crook of his neck, breathing in the warm, familiar smell of him: leather, metal polish, soap.

Safe. Alive. Here.

After a while, your shudders slow. Your fists unclench. Your heartbeat, once frantic, starts to sync with his.

“You didn't have to—” you start, voice cracking apart on the first word.

“Shh,” Rex says, thumbing gently along the back of your neck. “None of that.”

You let yourself fall silent, too wrung-out to argue.

For a long time, the two of you just stay like that, tangled up together in the half-dark. Then Rex tilts his head, brushing his nose lightly against your temple.

“You scare me when you don’t come to bed,” he murmurs, a confession barely louder than a breath. “Don’t like waking up without you.”

You blink blearily against him.

“…Didn't mean to,” you rasp.

“I know.” His hand finds yours again, threading your fingers together. His thumb rubs slow, soothing circles into your knuckles. “You’re allowed to need help, cyare.”

You press your forehead against the cool curve of his armor.

“I don’t wanna be a burden,” you whisper.

“You’re not,” he says fiercely. “Never.”

You close your eyes, feeling the world finally, finally start to settle around you.

Rex shifts a little, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of your head.

“You’re stuck with me, mesh’la,” he says, voice rough and fond. “Nightmares and all.”

You manage a tiny, broken laugh against his throat.

“Good,” you whisper. “You’re stuck with me too.”

“Wouldn't have it any other way.”

When your breathing finally evens out against his throat, Rex lets himself relax a little.

Only a little.

You're curled into him like you were made to fit there, but the stiff chair and the cluttered table, the cold armor plates pressed awkwardly against you — it’s no good. Not for someone who deserves to sleep soft and safe.

He huffs a breath into your hair, half a laugh, half a sigh.

“You stubborn thing,” he murmurs, low and fond. “Tryin’ to pass out on a damn workbench.”

You make a tiny noise — half a sigh, half a whimper — but you don’t wake fully.

Rex shifts carefully, keeping one hand steady behind your shoulders, the other braced under your knees. In one smooth, practiced motion, he scoops you up against his chest like you weigh nothing at all.

You let out a soft, breathy whine at the movement but nuzzle closer without waking, instinctively seeking out his warmth.

Rex’s heart damn near stops.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve got you,” he says under his breath, a helpless smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Can’t leave you to drool all over the paperwork, now, can I?”

He makes his way toward the bunks, his boots thudding quietly against the floor.

It’s slow going — not because you’re heavy, never that — but because he can’t bring himself to jostle you too much. You deserve better than being startled awake after a night like this.

The door to your shared quarters hisses open.

Rex nudges it shut behind him with his foot and crosses the room in a few strides.

He’s careful lowering you onto the bed — slow, steady — peeling your arms from around his neck like untangling vines.

You mumble something incoherent, fingers clenching weakly in his sleeve.

Rex leans in close, letting his forehead brush against yours.

“Still here, cyare,” he whispers. “Not goin’ anywhere.”

You settle again with a soft, shuddery sigh.

But when Rex moves to back away, your hand finds his gauntlet, tugging weakly.

He glances down at his armor, grimacing.

“Not sleepin’ in full kit, mesh’la,” he says, teasing low, as he starts peeling off the chestplate. “Might be part durasteel, but you’re not. You deserve better than cuddlin' cold plastoid.”

Bit by bit, he sheds the armor, setting each piece aside with quiet, careful movements.

When he’s finally down to the blacks, he slides into bed beside you, gathering you close again.

This time, when you curl against him, it's all warm fabric and steady heartbeat and the sure, safe weight of his arms around you.

Rex presses a kiss to the crown of your head — featherlight.

“You’re safe,” he breathes against your hair.

You don’t answer — not out loud. But your hand fists weakly in the front of his blacks, anchoring yourself there, and that's answer enough.

He stays awake a little longer, listening to the soft hitch of your breaths smoothing out into real sleep.

Only when he’s sure you’re deep under — nightmare-free, finally at peace — does Rex let his eyes drift closed too, his hand never once letting go of yours.

And if he wakes up sore and cramped because he refused to shift and risk waking you?

Well. He figures that’s a small price to pay for keeping you safe through the night.

[mandos-mind-trick]

Dream of You

Summary: You know things. Things you shouldn’t. You knew about the clones, about the Republic’s army long before the war started. You knew about their training, you knew about attacks and battles even before they happened, long before the rest of the galaxy knew about them. Your only regret is not saying something sooner. 

Pairing: Echo x reader Soulmate AU

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, unprotected sex, slight aftercare, angst, war, Echo's "death", slight description of medical stuff, paranoia, depression, very brief implied mention of suicidal thoughts, fluffy, happy ending, Soulmate AU

A/N: Did I intend the last two soulmate fics to have similar links...not really. It just happened this way. Also, this is the NSFW Echo soulmate fic, the one with ace!reader is coming shortly. I'll be making a post when I'm close to finishing that one. I really struggled with this so sorry if it's garbage. Echo was not musing for me this time around.

MASTERLIST

Blaster fire. 

It’s all around you, though that was fairly common for your dreams. You’re not sure where you are. You can’t see anything defining, nothing that would point out where you are or what you’re doing. 

“This is our only chance. We’ve got to stop him.” The voice echoes in your head. It’s coming from you. It’s your voice. 

You rush forward, grabbing a shield from the ground despite the bolts being fired at you. You rush towards the shuttle, firing at the droids in an attempt to secure it. 

“Echo look out!” 

Before the words register in your mind, before you can react you’re flying, being thrown forward by a wave of heat and energy. 

An explosion. 

The sound registers in your ears as you hit the ground. It’s dark, wherever you’ve landed. The pain begins to register as the shock wears off. Your whole body feels as if it's on fire. You can feel your pulse in your legs and arms, blood on your tongue. You can’t move. Even if you wanted to, even if you tried to call out, you can’t. 

You’re dying. 

****

You wake with a scream. Tears are gliding down your cheeks, and have been judging on the dampness of your face. You’re shaking uncontrollably, breaths coming in hyperventilating gasps. 

Your soulmate’s going to die. 

A hand lands on your shoulder, shaking you gently. “You alright?” 

You’re still hyperventilating, your brain refusing to respond. You’re soulmate’s going to die. Your soulmate’s going to die. It’s the only thing you can think of. 

“Look at me.” One of your fellow medics, Zena, kneels down on the other side of you. You like Zena. You’d consider her a friend. “I need you to breathe, otherwise you’re going to pass out.” 

She’s right. You can feel the tingling in your hands and feet and face as the carbon dioxide in your blood rapidly decreases. Zena takes a deep breath, holding it before letting it out. You try to mimic her, slowing your hyperventilating until your breathing is semi-even, broken only by the occasional sobs as you continue to cry. 

“What is it?” Zena asks, sitting on the edge of your bunk. “What’s going on?” 

“E-Echo.” You stutter out. “He’s...he’s go-gonna die!” 

A sympathetic look crosses her face. She’s one of the few that know about your soulmate, an ARC Trooper stationed with the 501st named Echo. You’ve never met, at least in person. You share a unique connection with him. Every time you sleep, you dream of what your soulmate will experience the next day. It started about eight years ago. You knew things about the GAR, about the war, long before it started. You’ve dreamed of battles that have happened since, things you shouldn’t know. Things that would get you arrested and sent to interrogation. 

It was what led you to sign up to be a medic, the hope that you might by chance run into your soulmate. Of course, you hadn’t known back then about the rules, the Kaminoans and the GAR forbidding the clones from forming links with their soulmates. The more you learned about the clones, the more angry it made you at the GAR. 

Zena squeezes your arm. “Maybe...maybe Commander Bly could help. He could alert the 501st command or something.” 

You scrub a hand over your face, smearing tears all over your skin. She’s right. Maybe...maybe things aren’t hopeless. You’re risking a lot. You’ll have to reveal your connection to Echo. If anyone finds out, he’ll be forced to reject you. By saving him, you might force yourselves apart for good. 

It would be better than losing him permanently. 

You throw the covers back, sliding your feet into your boots. “I need to find the Commander.” 

You’ve only spoken to Commander Bly once, while you patched his wound after a battle. You didn’t interact with command much outside the med bay. You were so far below their ranks. Your job was to patch wounds and keep injured troopers alive long enough to receive care. You were about to step so far out of your zone, but if it might save your soulmate’s life, then it will be worth it. 

You’re out the door of the bunks in a flash, before anyone can bring into question your course of action, before you can really question your decision. You head to the bridge, the first place you can think of as to where Commander Bly might be. 

You’re stopped at the doors before you can even get inside. “Authorized personnel only.” The trooper says. 

“I need to see Commander Bly.” You say, putting as much authority in your voice as you can. 

“He’s busy.” The trooper says. 

“It’s an emergency.” You say. “Lives are at stake.” 

The troopers at the door share a glance before one steps inside. You only get a quick glance through the doors before they’re closing again. You stand there and wait for what feels like too long, before the doors open, the trooper returning with Commander Bly in tow. 

He seems far more imposing now than he had when you’d patched his wound. You had been running high on adrenaline, patching trooper after trooper for hours after the battle ended. The adrenaline made you more brave. You could use some of that now. Right now all you have is desperation. 

Commander Bly leads you to a private room, your heart pounding in your chest. How were you going to tell him? How were you going to make him believe you? You’d have to spill, you’d have to tell him the truth and hope he believed the same as the other clones about soulmates. You’re risking so much, but if it saves even one life, perhaps it will be worth it. 

“You think someone’s in trouble?” He asks, crossing his arms over his chest. 

You nod, taking a deep breath. Your hands are still shaking, still rattled by your dream. “It’s the 501st, sir.” You push the tears away, not wanting to cry in front of your Commander. “Something’s wrong, something’s going to happen.” 

“And how do you know this?” He asks skeptically, raising an eyebrow at you. 

“My...my soulmate is with the 501st.” You say. “We share a dream connection. I-I had a dream last night. He’s going to die.” 

Commander Bly stares at you for a moment before he sighs, his shoulders drooping. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know what you want me to do.” 

“Warn them. Contact them. Something!” You say, raising your voice a bit. “There has to be something that can be done.” 

He shakes his head. “The 501st is on a campaign right now. No warning I could send is going to change what happens. We have to do our duty first.” 

Tears blur your eyes at his words. Of course it was foolish to think you could stop one clone from dying. You shouldn’t have bothered. Now you could be reported to GAR officials. 

“I’m sorry.” The Commander at least has the decency to sound sympathetic. He puts a hand on your shoulder, squeezing gently. “There’s a shuttle leaving for Coruscant in less than an hour. I’ll put in the leave request paperwork.” 

You feel defeated. That’s it, then. There’s no swooping in and saving him, no way of preventing his death. Maybe this was the way it was always supposed to be. Fate wouldn’t give you a soulmate you weren’t going to meet. 

So what does that say about you? 

You drag your feet back to the barracks, packing your things silently as the tears slide down your cheeks. You feel numb, like your body is already preparing for the inevitable pain. It was going to happen today. You don’t know exactly when. It’s almost worse. 

You find the shuttle, boarding it without a word. You squish yourself in between two crates, pulling your knees to your chest as you wait for the soul-crushing pain of your soulmate’s death to hit you. 

***

You’ve been on Coruscant for two days. You’ve fluttered in and out of sleep, tears, and a deep numbness that prevented you from doing much else besides sitting and staring out the window of your hotel. You haven’t dreamed once in the many hours you’ve spent asleep. It’s all been dark, black, a void of nothingness. 

Was this what it felt like losing a soulmate? 

No one could ever fully describe it. They said it was horribly painful, like a piece of them was dying and decaying and it left a gaping hole in its place that never fully healed. 

You certainly feel like one big gaping hole. 

There’s been no pain, no soul-shredding feeling. Just numbness and emptiness. Perhaps it’s different for everyone. Perhaps your brain had blocked it out to save you from the pain of having to feel part of your soul dying. 

On the third day they arrive. 

You had managed to drag yourself into the shower, and you answer the door with dripping hair. Two members of the Coruscant Guard stand at your door. They ask your name and you confirm it. You’ve been summoned to the GAR headquarters. 

You already know what this is about. 

They let you at least make yourself decent and put shoes on before they escort you to the speeder. You’re not under arrest, which is a good sign, but you can imagine you’re headed into an interrogation. Someone had spilled on your link, on your knowledge of things you shouldn’t have known. Was it Commander Bly? One of your fellow civilians? 

You’re not mad. 

You’re far too numb to feel anything that strong. 

You’re escorted into the building and led through the labyrinth of lifts and halls. You’re left in a room with hardly more than a table and chairs and an overhead light. You lower yourself into one of the chairs, trying to prepare yourself for your impending interrogation. You can only imagine the things you’re going to get asked about. 

You’re not sure how long you wait there in the plain, windowless room. It feels like an external representation of how you feel inside. You can’t even bring yourself to feel nervous when an Admiral joins you in the room. 

He asks your name and your station, questions you can easily answer. You know you can’t lie. Getting caught in a lie isn’t going to help you any, and besides, why would you lie now? Your soulmate’s dead. They can’t do anything about it. 

“Having highly confidential information about the GAR and its battles puts you in a precarious situation.” The Admiral says. 

“Well, you won’t have to worry about that anymore.” You say. “After all, my soulmate is dead.” 

“Yes, what a pity. The loss of clones is an unfortunate aspect of the war that the Republic has no choice but to accept.” The Admiral says, no sympathy in his tone whatsoever. “You could have been a useful asset. Perhaps if we had known, things could have gone differently.” 

Your hands ball into fists, sudden rage boiling under the surface. It’s the first thing you’ve felt in days. You know it’s not true. They wouldn’t have risked anything to save Echo. He’s just another clone to them. Another faceless body to throw in front of a blaster. 

You’re shuttled back to your hotel and left at the door like nothing had happened. You’re still burning with rage, your body clinging to the first emotion it’s been able to conjure in days. You want to flip the table in your room, destroy the bed, break a window, something. You don’t have that kind of money, though, to pay for those damages. Nor do you want to put some poor housekeeper through that. 

Instead you drop on the bed and let out a scream into the pillow. The rage begins to boil down to tears, your sobs muffled by the dampening pillow. You cry yourself to sleep, drifting back into a state of numbness. 

***

It’s cold. You can’t see anything, you can’t hear anything. All around you is cold and dark. You can’t move, you can’t feel. You’re numb. The pain is gone, replaced by nothing. Nothing but numbing blackness in the cold around you. 

No, wait. You can hear something. Something off in the distance. It’s getting louder, echoing in your mind. 

CT-1409. 

CT-1409.

***

You can still hear it when you wake. 

CT-1409. 

You blink the tears from your lashes, sitting up on the bed. It’s night, the city illuminated outside the window. You haven’t been asleep long. You’d been in the GAR headquarters longer than you thought. 

CT-1409. 

You rise from the bed, moving towards the window, looking down at the city as far as you can, until it disappears into the cloud of haze that separates the upper and lower levels. You suddenly back away from the window, all but punching the button to close the shutters. It cuts off the only light, bathing the room in complete darkness. For half a moment you expect the cold to come seeping back in. 

CT-1409. 

You need to get off Coruscant. You need to get out from under the eyes of the Republic. You need to hide. You need to disappear before they make you.  

CT-1409. 

You use your savings to purchase a ship. It’s a piece of junk, but it has hyperspace capabilities. That’s all you need. You need to find somewhere remote. After that, you’ll figure it out from there. You have little money left, but being a medic means you’ll be able to find jobs easily. You can work anywhere. Someone’s always looking to hire medics. 

You just need to disappear from the Republic. 

*** 2 Years Later ***

You’re still dreaming. 

You had dreamed of the frozen darkness most out of everything. Occasionally you’d get more. Strange noises, things spoken in a language you couldn’t understand. Occasionally you’ll see flashes, images. You can never quite make them out. 

You think it might be your brain trying to get used to dreaming its own dreams again. Or perhaps it's your brain's way of trying to make up for the loss of your soulmate. The numbness has slowly faded into the background, though it hasn’t really left. You found a remote planet to live on, one far from war. You got a job at the medical center in a small town, the job almost boring compared to the heart racing adrenaline inducing insanity of the war. 

You don’t mind. It keeps you off the radar. 

You’ve built a decent life here in two years. As decent a life as you could, at least. You still feel empty and lonely. That longing feeling for your other half hasn’t left. The fact you know you’ll never get to have him only makes it worse. 

You cry more than you’d like to admit. You understand now why people don’t last long when their soulmate dies. You’d hardly call this living. More just simply existing. 

You have considered it. You can never quite bring yourself to. There’s always something in the back of your mind holding you back. Sometimes you wish you were brave enough. 

It’s one of those nights when it happens. 

***

It’s dark and cold again. It feels different this time. Something’s happening, but you’re confused. 

Suddenly the darkness is gone, and you’re staring at what seems to be a control room. 

“We-We have to get to the shuttle to escape the Citadel.” The voice echoes in your head. “No! I’ll go first!” 

“Echo.” Another voice says. “Echo, it’s Rex. I’m here.” 

A face enters your vision. You know that face. You’ve seen it many times. “Rex? You, you came back for me?” 

“Yes.” He looks guilty. “Yes I did.” 

“What, what happened? Where am I?” Your gaze swings to look around the room.

“It’s okay, Echo.” Your gaze is drawn back to Rex. “You’re safe now. Just sit tight trooper. You’re going home.” 

***

You startle awake, tears sliding down your cheeks. You stare at the wall across from your bed in disbelief. It can’t be...but it had felt like the other dreams. 

Has he been alive this whole time? 

Had he somehow survived the explosion? It would explain the other dreams, the lack of pain at his passing. Had your suffering been simply your own creation because you thought he was dead? 

Has he been alive this whole time? 

Your dream means he’ll be getting rescued today. Hope blooms inside you that it is true, that it is really a dream of what’s going to happen. Many feelings flood you for the first time in a long time. The numbness is pushed away as emotions bubble within you. You don’t know whether to be happy or worried or sad or relieved. All you can do is cry. Again. 

Of course, you’ll have no way of knowing if it really does come true. You have no connections in the GAR anymore, and you can’t risk them finding you. You did sort of desert the army and break your contract. You know a prison cell is waiting for you if you go back. 

Fate won’t give you a soulmate you’ll never meet. 

You’re not entirely sure you trust fate. It’s put you through the wringer, but with this new development, that could change. Maybe you will find your way together after all. 

You call out of work, knowing you won’t be able to focus. You hardly leave your bed, thinking over the dream, over the fact your soulmate is alive. The longer you lay there, the faster the regrets start seeping in. What if you hadn’t left the Republic? You could have found a way to finally get to him, to finally meet him for the first time. 

There was no guarantee. 

Fate won’t give you a soulmate you’ll never meet. Perhaps it was always meant to happen this way. Perhaps it was better if it happened this way. 

***

Your dreams return to normal as the months pass. Dreams of battles continue to be the most common. You see new faces now, faces you don’t recognize in your dreams through Echo’s eyes. Things have changed for him too. 

You’ve always wondered what he saw in his dreams. Battles too, you imagined, though different ones than the ones he partook in. You wonder if he ever saw the clones you couldn’t save, his brothers suffering, you attempting to save their lives. 

Your dreams must seem very boring now. 

You wonder if he had still dreamed of you during the period of...whatever had happened to him. You wonder if he feels relief seeing how different your life is now. You wonder what he thinks of you. 

You wonder if he even wants to meet you. 

You shake those thoughts away, burying yourself in your work at the medical center. You don’t want to think about it. Rejection was still a strong possibility. Between the war and the GAR and the fact that not everyone wanted a soulmate, he could still reject you. 

You force the thoughts away, focusing on your dreams instead. Watching what he’s doing, making sure he’s not going to die again. 

Then the war ends. 

Despite the war being over, chaos still ensues in the galaxy. You don’t trust the Empire, and that distrust only continues as your dreams continue. You watch the things that happen to Echo, and his eventual desertion. You’re helpless to do much but watch the events that transpire. 

You wait patiently, biding your time as Echo and his squad try to find their place in the galaxy. It feels almost wrong to have such a front row seat to the goings on in his life despite never having met him in person before. Then again, he has a front row seat to your life as well, though your life is much more boring than his, even now. 

As the weeks pass and the disruption continues in the galaxy, your new home planet remains entirely untouched. There wasn't much special about it. No major exports, no convenient hyperspace lanes nearby, no major cities. It's a perfect place to hide. 

Echo has also found a place to hide. You begin to see a place popping up in your dreams regularly. An idea begins to form in your head as you learn about the place in your dreams. 

Ord Mantell. 

Cid's Parlor. 

You could easily find that place. Ord Mantell's not far from your current home. You could reach it in a matter of hours. All you have to do is take time off work and jump in your scrap pile of a ship. 

The idea makes you nervous. What if he doesn't want to meet you? What if he rejects you? Years. Years you've been waiting for this. You spent years thinking he was dead. Now he's within reach and...you're scared. 

You dream of yourself that night. 

You've already made up your mind, or fate has made it for you. 

You're halfway to Ord Mantell before the sun rises on your home planet. 

***

Cid's Parlor is a rather seedy place. You've been in worse, but you suppose for a front it's perfect. You take the stairs slowly, trying to remember to breathe. This is the moment. Two years ago you would have been running in and throwing your arms around him. 

It's been a long two years. 

You enter the bar, the inside not any better than the outside. There's a weequay and an ithorian at a dejarik table, and then the five at the bar. You recognize them from your dreams. Well, you recognize four of them. 

You've never actually seen Echo. You were always seeing from his perspective. You always assumed he'd look like the other clones, but then you'd seen the new group he was with and realized maybe they don't all look alike. 

You can pick him out in the group by process of elimination. You recognize the other three, having seen them at various points, and then of course there's the girl. You take a long look at Echo, tears gathering in your eyes. 

You're so close. So close. 

"Echo?" You ask, the bar seeming to go quiet as soon as you say it. 

Everyone turns to look at you, brows furrowed in confusion. Echo steps back from the bar, staring at you. He's paler than the others, his face sunken and gaunt. There's a headset wrapped around his head, and you notice the cybernetic right arm. 

The furrow of his brows lift into shock, his eyes widening as he stares at you. He whispers your name, almost too quiet for you to hear. 

You're moving before you realize it, your arms wrapping around him. He's solid and warm and his plastoid chest plate digs into your skin, but you don't care. He's real. 

His arms wrap around your shoulders, holding you against him. 

"I-I didn't think..." You sniffle, a tear sliding down your cheek. "Two years! I thought you were dead."

He lets out a chuckle, his hand sliding down your back. "Yeah. Everyone thought I was." 

You pull away as a throat clears beside you. Your cheeks warm a bit. You'd completely forgotten the others. 

"Echo...care to explain?" The one with the bandana, Hunter you think, asks. 

Echo slips his arm back around you, holding you against his side. "Everyone, I'd like you to meet my soulmate."

The guarded look on Hunter's face lessens just a bit. You hadn't expected to be welcomed with open arms and trusted immediately. Not after the things you've seen. 

You get introduced to everyone, and you find yourself sitting at the bar, telling Echo all about yourself. Where you came from, how you joined the GAR, why you left, where you wound up. He knew a lot already. He'd dreamed of you occasionally during the two years you'd thought he was dead. He hadn't really understood what was happening during that time though. To be fair, you hadn't either. 

You talk a bit about them, filling in some gaps in your understanding of what was happening to them. 

"We need somewhere to lay low for a while." Hunter says. 

"Well, I just happen to know the perfect place." You say. "It kept me hidden from the Republic and there hasn't been even a glance from the Empire so far."

"It's out of the way of most hyperspace lanes." Tech says, typing away at his datapad. "No major cities or ports. Mostly self-sufficient. Nothing anyone would be interested in." 

You shrug. "It's not much, but it is safe." 

***

"We're going in that?" Echo asks as you stand next to your ship docked at the port. 

"Hey, don't hate on Bertha." You pat the side of the ship, something clanging inside. "She helped me escape the Republic."

You lower the ramp, having to fiddle with it as it sticks for a moment. Echo gives you an incredulous look but you wave him in. She may be a bit temperamental, but your ship has a special place in your heart. 

"Tech will have a heyday with this one if you let him get his hands on it." Echo says, taking the copilot's seat. 

"Well, he's more than welcome if he gets bored." You say, firing up the engine. "Can't make her any worse." You grin at him, giving the control panel a solid smack to stop it from rattling. 

Echo doesn't relax until you're in hyperspace. You don't take it personally. You had been a little nervous flying the first time but though she was prone to rattling, Bertha flew perfectly fine. 

You turn to look at Echo as the blue of hyperspace surrounds you. You reach out, pressing your hand to his cheek. His skin isn't as warm as you'd expect, your brow furrowing a little. 

His hand lifts, resting against yours. Your thumb strokes his cheek, reminding yourself that he's real. He's right here with you finally. 

"Echo...what happened to you?" You ask. 

And he tells you. You spend the entire trip listening to his story. He starts at the beginning, explaining things you knew and many you didn't. You listen to it all. The good, the bad, the heartbreaking. 

You cry for him a few times. Cry for the pain and the misery and the torture he's faced. He wipes your tears, dampening his glove but he doesn't seem to care. 

You talk almost the entire flight, catching up on years of missed time. Echo only slightly clings to the seat as Bertha drops from hyperspace and you begin the hour flight to your home planet. It's slow going, Bertha not exactly made for speed. 

The others are already there when you land, by no surprise. Though your home was small, you could offer them a roof over their head until they found something more permanent. 

If they decided to stay here. 

You try not to think about that too much. 

"Glad you made it." Hunter says, eyeing Bertha as you and Echo step off the ramp. 

"Not you too." You make a face. "She flies just fine, she's just got creaky joints."

You can already see the wheels turning in Tech's head as he eyes Bertha. You lead them inside, showing them your small house. You only have one spare room and a couch but they assure you they can just sleep on the ship. You feel bad, but then again you hadn't really been expecting this when you ran from the Republic. 

You hadn't expected a lot to happen. 

You make dinner, probably the first home cooked meal they've had in a long time, or possibly ever. Echo hovers in the kitchen but you don't mind. You like having him close after all this time. You're still a little afraid you'll turn around and find he's gone. Like he's been a figment of your imagination this whole time. 

They leave you and Echo the house for the night, and you can tell by the look on Hunter's face it's deliberate. You hadn't really considered that but you knew anything could happen after you meet your soulmate.

You find Echo in your room after you finish cleaning up. He's standing next to the bed, tracing the carving on the wall. 

CT-1409 

You'd carved it after hearing it again in your dream. You'd been half dazed, repeating the number over and over in your head. 

He turns to look at you, fingers resting in the center of the 9. Your cheeks warm a bit, not having thought about that. You just have his designation number carved in your wall. You might as well have his name there. 

"I did that after I heard it in a dream." You say, approaching the bed. "I couldn't get it out of my head." You crawl onto the bed, kneeling next to him. "I put it there because it felt like in a way you were still with me, though I know now you never left." 

He drops his hand, turning to face you. He looks a little guilty. "I'm sorry for putting you through that."

"Don't apologize for something you couldn't control." You say, putting your hand on his scomp arm. "You're here now. That's what matters." 

He glances down at your hand before looking back up at your face, those big brown eyes shining in the orange light of sunset shining in through your window. 

"I made a promise once." He says, staring at you. "To someone very close to me. We promised each other that after the war ended, we'd find our soulmates and settle down somewhere. Get married and have families. Grow old together far away from everything else."

You smile softly at him, gently guiding him to sit on your bed with you. "Well, I'd be more than happy to help you keep your part of the promise."

You sit with him, talking late into the night. There's no rush now. You have all the time in the world. 

***1 Year Later***

"Just a pinch of this." You say, blindly holding out the jar of spice. 

It's taken from your hand and set on the counter, your ears picking up the small clink of metal on tile. Hands grip your waist from behind as you stand on your toes to reach the second shelf of the cupboard. 

"You know I can reach those easily." Echo murmurs in your ear. 

You grin at him over your shoulder. "I know. I also know you love looking at my ass."

He practically purrs, hands sliding lower. "I do love your ass."

You press back into his hands, one flesh, the other cybernetic. He'd ditched the scomp a few months ago now that he's retired to a boring civilian life. 

"We don't have a lot of time before they get here." You say, straightening up to try and slip out from where he has you pinned to the counter.

He presses against you harder, hands moving to trap you between him and the counter. "They can wait for dinner." He breathes into your ear, pressing his half-hard cock against your ass. "I want dessert first."

You bite your lip, letting out a strangled moan as he grinds against you. "At least turn the burner off." You breathe. 

Echo presses a kiss to your neck before he pulls away, reaching back to shut off the stove. You turn in his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck as he turns back to you. 

He pins you against the counter once more, molding his lips against yours as his hands trail back down your sides. You deepen the kiss, pulling him even closer. You can feel him, fully hard against your stomach now. 

His hands grip your waist, easily lifting you onto the counter. One of your hands slides up to tangle in the curls that have regrown over the last few months. He groans quietly against your lips, hands parting your thighs for him. 

He steps between your legs, your skirt riding up around your waist, revealing your panties underneath. His fingers rub the damp fabric, teasing you before he tugs them aside, meeting your flesh. 

You moan into his mouth, pressing your hips into his hand as he circles your clit. You're already worked up just from kissing him, the familiar heat igniting under your skin from his touch. 

"Kriff." You breathe against his lips, grinding against his hand. "Make me feel so good."

He hums contently against your lips. "Good. You deserve to feel good." 

You slip a hand down his front, palming him through his pants. "I'd feel better with you inside me, though.".

He grins, pressing one more steamy kiss against your lips. "Yes, ma'am."

You shriek as he tugs you right to the edge of the counter, holding you steady with one hand while the other pulls his cock from his pants. 

You wrap your arms back around his neck as he presses close between your legs, teasing your slit with the head of his cock. You moan quietly, playing with the ends of his hair as he slowly presses into you. 

He groans, pressing his face into your neck as he slides into your warm passage, your body wet and ready for him. 

It never gets old, the feeling being so connected to him invokes. Your very soul seems to hum with pleasure from being so close, so connected. You wrap your legs around him, holding him as close as you can as he settles inside you. 

He presses a soft kiss to your lips as you sit in the moment for just a second, savoring the feeling before he begins moving. His thrusts are slow yet deliberate. They reach deep into you, the tip of his cock brushing that spot inside you over and over. 

You won't last long, you know it as your legs begin to tremble around him. You moan against his lips, hands fisting his shirt as he picks up the pace just a little. 

You whine as you cum around him, milking his own orgasm from his body. He moans into your neck, holding you tightly as he spills into you. 

You stay still, just breathing and feeling each other for a few moments. Your hands gently massage his neck and his shoulders, easing the ache you know he feels from his cybernetics sometimes. 

He presses gentle kisses to your neck, not enough to leave marks but still enough to pull quiet sounds from your lips.  

He kisses a trail up your jaw to your lips, both of you pausing at the knock on the door. 

"Hunter's gonna know." You murmur against his lips. 

"He probably already does." Echo says, kissing you once more. "Probably heard us halfway down the street."

Your cheeks warm as he pulls away from you, fixing his clothes before helping you look presentable as well. You turn on the stove once more before pulling out the disinfectant spray. 

Taglist:

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[thatonefanficwriternooneknows]

FoxQuin Week Day 5: Fox Kills the Chancellor

Good Afternoon/Morning/Evening/Night!

This is probably my favorite right behind day 6! I had a good time writing a little glance into an AU :D

I've gone ahead and queued up days 6 and 7 on Tumblr, the ao3 version will be out on Monday along with the official update for TOUCHED <3

Day 5: Fox kills the Chancellor/"The Guard doesn't have a Jedi" @foxquinweek

Enjoy :D

--

“How is this supposed to work, exactly? No one ever set up any rules about how the clones would be tried in a court of law.” Plo Koon questioned with a heavy sigh, his Commander placing a soothing hand on his shoulder, glaring at the small holo of a vod in a cell.

“That would be because clones aren’t people, General. We get decommissioned, not tried.” Commander Thorn of the Coruscant Guard stated blandly enough that every councilor in the room jerked with shock.

“The Jedi Council put a stop to decommissioning, Commander.” Obi-wan spoke carefully, watching the three remaining Commanders of the Coruscant Guard, each standing perfectly straight in parade rest, helmets facing forward. They didn’t even move when someone addressed them.

“Sure, for the GAR.” Commander Thire added.

The Councilors shared uneasy looks.

“No…for all troopers, Thire.” Mace Windu’s Commander spoke even slower, enunciating his words very carefully.

“Maybe you should check that again, Commander. The Guard and the GAR are two separate organizations.” The final commander, Commander Stone, added, speaking just as slowly as Ponds had.

Silence echoed in the chamber while Depa Billaba was frantically scrolling on a datapad.

“While Depa looks for the order. In military tribunals the trooper’s Jedi normally speaks for them.” Mace Windu groaned, messaging his temples with both hands.

“The Guard doesn’t have a Jedi.” The three Guard commanders spoke in unison, the room freezing once more and devolving into silence.

“The Guard doesn’t have a Jedi…what?” Adi Gallia stuttered.

If the Guard Commanders weren’t wearing helmets then their raised brows would have been seen, as it was, every councilmember felt it.

“We had to have assigned a Jedi to the Coruscant Guard, how else were you getting supplies?” Even Piell grumbled.

“You’d have to ask Commander Fox that, sir. He was the one in charge of the Guard.” Thorn responded, all three of them moving their heads to stare at the holo of said vod in a small jail cell.

There was no movement from the holo, considering it was muted, but there were some mumbles and murmurs.

A gasp from Depa Billaba cut them all off.

“What is it, Depa?” Mace spat out, his eyes clenched shut and managing deep heaving breaths between words. Several councilors looked at him in concern, before turning to give Depa their attention as she cleared her throat.

“In the original mandate for the Galactic Army of the Republic it does state that the Coruscant Guard will here on to be considered a separate entity run by the choice of the Chancellor…and no Jedi is listed as being in charge of them…”

“Easy way to answer our questions, there is. Commander Fox, we must ask.” Yoda smacked his gimmer stick on the floor and gestured to Stass Allie to change the holo of said commander to allow for communication.

Yoda cleared his throat and it was picked up by the unmuted mic because Commander Fox’s head snapped to the holorecorder with impressive accuracy.

Obi-wan made a noise of approval and all three Guard Commanders seemed to vibrate out of their skins.

“Greetings, Commander. Under better circumstances, I wish this was.”

Fox cocked his head to the side before spreading his lips to bare his teeth in the barest facsimile of a grin, highlighting a particularly gruesome scar that cut through his face, from top of the forehead through the right eye, over the cheek bone, and into the tight blacks.

There were some minor shuffles of discomfort from the council, but the sight seemed to make the Guard Commanders vibrate even more, somehow.

“What better circumstances could there be, High General Yoda?” His voice was a rasp and with every movement a flash of silver was seen between his lips.

“Assassinating the Chancellor, accused, you are.” Yoda quirked his own brow and frowned when Fox’s vicious grin only widened.

“Accused? Oh that’s not right at all, General. I am not a sentient being, I cannot be accused of anything. In fact, you could argue I could no more break the law than a particularly nice chair.”

Obi-wan choked on air while a few councilors shifted to hide their signs of distress.

“Commander, this is serious. You are accused of assassinating the Chancellor of the Republic, and with no Jedi to represent you in front of a tribunal, you are unlikely to get a fair hearing.” Mace spoke very clearly, despite the furrow of his brow and the sweat beading along it.

Commander Fox snorted.

“A few things I should mention, High General Windu. First, assassination would imply that it was premeditated or planed, this was nothing more than a killing of opportunity. Second, I am a clone, I do not have rights, I am not considered sentient, I was never going to get a fair hearing. And lastly…” the holo shook violently and an ear splitting screech emanated from the projector.  

The councilors flinched at the sound, but the three Guard Commanders started bouncing on the tips of their toes, looking for all intents and purposes like they were going to take off running at any moment.

Slowly the sound died down, the councilors all looking at the holo with wide eyes, as the shaking subsided to show a second being in the frame.

Tall, dark locs flowing down their back, Jedi-like robes frayed at the ends, lit lightsaber in one hand and the other outstretched to the still sitting Commander (smiling more softly at the new being with a light in their eye that suddenly made sense).

Fox took the hand gently, the Jedi(?) pulling him into their side with a smooth motion and kissing him soundly on the lips.

Obi-wan let out a strangled gurgle of noise, several GAR Commanders tensing as the being pulled away with a soft lick to Fox’s top lip before grinning up at the holorecorder.

“Quinlan Vos what have you done?” Plo Koon muttered under his breath, softly enough that the microphone couldn’t pick it up.

“I don’t plan to go in front of a tribunal at all.” Fox closed his eyes and sighed as Jedi Master Quinlan Vos bowed to the holorecorder before slicing through it with his lightsaber, flashing his warm brown eyes to the assembled Jedi with purpose.

Before the councilors could consider anything, the three Guard Commanders all took off at the same time, toggling the door open and closed behind them without time for anyone to relax.

“What the absolute kriff?” Commander Wolffe questioned, loudly, at the same time that every Commanders’ comms pinged with a system wide alert.

Commander Cody opened his to display to the entirety of the council.

It was holorecording of Commander Fox, his fellow Guard Commanders and several members of the Coruscant Guard standing behind him. At his side was Quinlan Vos.

“This is a notice to the GAR as well as to any holonews that might pick up the signal.” Fox paused, Quinlan wrapping an arm tightly around his waist and squeezing. Fox took a deep breath and continued. “As of now the Coruscant Guard is making the unanimous decision to leave the Republic.”

Several choked words echoed behind the announcement, with a loud groan coming from Mace as he slid from his chair and buried his face into Ponds’ shoulder when the Commander crashed to the floor to catch him.

“The Senate is corrupt, the Chancellor is corrupt, this whole damn system of government is corrupt, and we’ll no longer have anything to do with it.” Another deep breath. “You may see in the news that I assassinated the Chancellor as we are leaving. It’s not untrue, if it happens, but you may want to read through the data packet I released with this vid before condemning me to villainhood.”

Quinlan growled over the speakers and Commander Fox nudged him slightly with his shoulder before speaking again.

“When you read the data packet, you will know exactly why we did what we did. After this vid releases, you will never be able to find us, so don’t even try. We removed our slave chips and we’re going out into the galaxy to live our lives the way they were meant to be. I hope the citizens don’t suffer too much while the powerful use this opportunity to become more powerful.”

The entire Guard took a collective breath, Quinlan just as in sync as every vod on the holo.

“May fortune favor you.” They intoned before the holo blacked out.

The council room was silent for several beats before it was broken by Commander Bacara (of all clones).

“What did he mean by slave chips?”

[awkward-tension-art]

Darkness on Umbara Chp.10 (Rex x Reader)

Chapter 9. Chapter 11.

Mayhem and Chaos

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

Minors DNI

As predicted, Fives and Hardcase were causing trouble. Were you going to stop it? No. Would you get involved? No. 

Would you standby and watch? Absolutely. 

At some point Kix had also joined in, aiding the troopers in their toying with the starships. 

You sat back, hoping you didn’t have to use life saving measures on any of these lovable idiots. 

“All right…” Fives typed away at a console next to the ship Hardcase had chosen. After some tinkering, the ARC trooper looked back up, “Okay, there. Should be a little easier.”

Hardcase rolled his wrists, adjusting to the controls. After a few moments to prepare, the Umbaran fighter lifted into the air, hovering unsteadily.  You weren’t entirely sure what they had changed from the first time, but you really really hoped nothing was going to explode.

After a couple of moments however, the ship jerked forward and the trooper inside overcorrected backward. One of the wings slammed into a stack of crates, sending them flying into the far side wall. Fives ducked, narrowly avoiding getting struck by the ship as well.

“Hardcase! What are you doing!?” He shouted up. 

“If I knew I wouldn’t be doing it!” Hardcase snapped back, clipping another umbaran fighter and dislodging from its holdings. 

You grabbed Kix and dove out of the way, barely dodging the thing as it hit the ground and knocked over shelves of metal boxes. The ship was out of control, spinning in the air and nearly hitting two other troopers. 

“Look out!”

“Move!”

Fives gripped the console and shook his head, “Great. This can't get much worse!”

As if on command, an intercom from a different dashboard buzzed before Krells voice boomed out, “Trooper, what's going on down there?”

The ARC trooper shoved the soldier out of the way, “Er... Yes, sir. Everything's fine in the hangar, sir.” He answered sounding as unconvincing as possible, 

Hardcase slammed into two other starships, sending them to the ground with loud clangs. You flinched, knowing this was going to be hard to explain.

“Then why have the alarms been triggered?!” The Jedi snapped over the console.

Fives stuttered before barely coming up with a response, “It's just a drill, a safety drill, sir!”

You and Kix managed to get behind a knocked down pile of crates. Both of you watched helplessly as Hardcase spun out of control, ramming into the wall and bouncing off of it. 

“Safety check occurs at 0600. Who authorized this drill?!”

The ARC trooper choked on his words before coming up with another excuse, “Uh...We are decrypting the alien hardware, sir. Standard operating procedure!” He finally found an answer to tell the General. 

Clones can not lie for shit! You threw a dumbfounded look at Kix before running to another spot for safety. 

Hardcase hit an already downed ship, sending it bouncing in one direction before screeching to a halt. Apparently things could get worse because the damn starship began to rapidly fire green bolts everywhere. 

“Shit!” You ducked down behind an open metal crate, next to Jesse “Hardcase, can you land the fucking thing!?”

“Let me try!” He called down to you. After a twist of his wrist, one of the large cannons attached jerked slightly and charged up a bright bolt, “No, no, no, no, no!” Hardcase desperately tried to undo…whatever he triggered, but was too late. 

The bolt launched, hitting directly into the hangar doors, causing a burst of light and the metal to melt into ash. 

“They’re dead. Krell is going to kill them.” Kix mumbled, sitting next to you, and Jesse, who was laughing too hard to speak. 

You had your face in your hands when Hardcase managed to land the Umbaran fighter, “Got it. I got it. It's easy. Just level your hands.” He had a proud smirk when the ship was fully on the ground and the cockpit opened. 

Five dashed forward, exasperated at what happened, “What, are you crazy? You could've gotten us killed! Not to mention ruining our hopes of flying this mission!” 

“It's a malfunction, no harm done.” The other trooper tried to calm his friend. Before he could say anything else, another voice cut through the air. 

“Explain this,” Krell demanded as he stomped towards the clones, “Now.” He was followed by captain Rex who looked more concerned and confused than mad.

Fuck! Clones really can’t lie for shit! You shot up, instantly speaking, “It was a trap, sir!” You could hear Jesse repress his snickering as you continued, turning the Jedi’s ire to you, “They were decrypting the enemy craft when what appears to be some sort of preventative failsafe went off.”

Rex’s eyes widened at you, but he remained silent, praying the Jedi wouldn’t see right through you.

“A trap!?” The General leaned forward at you, glaring. 

“Yes sir,” Hardcase spoke up, covering for your lie, “The fighter went haywire and had I not been able to get control of it, and aim the missile at the doors, something worse might've happened.” He was standing at attention as the besalisk stared him down. 

You kicked Jesse who hadn’t managed to stop his laughing. Rex, on the other hand, looked damn near stupefied. Kix had his face in his hands and you swear you could hear him praying.

Krell put his arms behind his back, a critical gaze on the troopers in front of him, “Is this true?” His question was directed at Fives who flinched at the sudden attention. 

After a second to stutter he nodded, “Yes, sir. That is what happened, no doubt.” 

The jedi General huffed, “Well, Captain Rex, looks like I was correct. The Umbaran fighters are dangerous and not fit for flight,” He turned and began to walk out of the half-destroyed hangar, “Lock down these fighters. I don’t want anything else exploding.” 

Rex shook his head and cast a look at Fives and Hardcase before turning to follow the general. 

You sank to the floor, putting your face in your hands. Jesse managed to calm down enough to get up and give a friendly clap to the two soldiers, “I thought the plan was to destroy the enemy ship with the fighters, not blow up our own hangar.” He had a grin as he put a hand on his hip. 

You were about to say something when your comm beeped, “Doctor, you're needed in the medical bay. A patrol’s been injured.” Without waiting another beat, you dashed out of the hangar, Kix close behind you.

The two of you had arrived to a broken patrol of 5 men. 

The most healthy was Cloud, holding a broken arm. But he was standing, and not your concern at the moment. 

Blue had a hand over his charred shoulder. His helmet was off and he was breathing, awake and aware of his surroundings, However, next to him was a trooper laying on the floor. You could see the blood seep from under the helmet and pool onto the sterile white tiles. 

Forty. His name is Forty. You remembered, spotting the ‘40’ he had written on his helmet. 

Bind was on the floor, normally white plastiod stained a deep red. His helmet was off, jaw barely hanging on to his skull by shredded muscle and ripped tendons. It looked like he took a blaster bolt directly through the mouth, melting his tanned skin. 

In his shaky arms was Thrall, heavy amounts of blood streaming from his stomach and chest. It looked like he had been ripped open by a beast and then thrown around. He was unmoving, and you weren’t even sure if he was even breathing.

“Kix, take Forty!” You commanded, immediately leaping into your training. Within minutes you had Thrall on one of the medical beds and hooked up to life support machinery.

Visually, you assessed the damage. To be safe, you used your new umbaran scanner to confirm. 

Broken ribs. Ruptured diaphragm. Collapsed right lung.

Your medical mind put the pieces together. You prioritized. 

Stabilize the lung, restore oxygen. Then, control the bleeding. Repair the diaphragm. Stabilize ribs. 

So you got to work. Your hands were fast and efficient, setting the chest tube correctly to inflate the lung. From there, you focused on the sources of bleeding. However, your repairs weren’t quick enough. 

Thrall’s heart rate took a nosedive. You fought against his death as long as you could, using a cardiac massage and other life restoring methods to keep him alive. As hard as you struggled and tried to save him, his body gave out. 

Thrall succumbed to his wounds, and the list of the dead forced its way into your head. 

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

“I’m sorry, He’s gone.” You informed the others before getting to Bind’s side. Kix was still working on Forty, and you couldn’t see exactly what the medic was dealing with.

Bind was breathing heavily, clearly in agony over the damage that was done to him. He was trembling, terrified and now grief stricken from losing Thrall.

“Bind, don’t worry, I got you.” Your voice took a soft tone as you injected him with the strongest painkiller available to you, “What happened to you five?” 

“Krell sent us to a backroad West of here,” Blue responded shakily, “Said it could be used as a supply route, but…”

“He didn’t tell us traps were set over there.” Cloud finished his comrades sentence, “When we commed him for a scanner to sweep the area he said there wasn’t time. We needed to secure the road.” 

“Krell…” You growled.

Bind flinched, jumping slightly when your finger brushed over an exposed nerve. 

Immediately you felt sympathy. As someone who, just a rotation ago, had your own nerves exposed to open air, you knew his pain, “I’m sorry Bind.” you murmured softly, “I know it hurts…”

He stared at you, brown eyes filled with unshed tears. 

Soldier bravado…of course…

“Blue,” you called to the trooper, “Come here, and let him squeeze your hand. He’s in a lot of pain.” You hid the true intentions of your request. 

Hold his hand so he doesn’t feel alone. 

Blue did as asked, clasping his trembling brother's hand. 

Kix slammed his hands down on the surgical table. He swore, sweeping the medical supplies onto the tile floor where they clattered, “He’s gone.” His voice was trembling from emotion. 

Forty.

Cloud slid onto the floor and ripped off his helmet before throwing it. It bounced a couple of times on the ground, “I fucking hate Krell!” He snapped. You didn’t comment when you saw the tears on his cheeks, “He’s purposely trying to get all of us killed!” 

Kix sat down next to you, aiding in Bind’s jaw. This time, Blue spoke up, “How many men have we lost?”

“Too many.” Your answer didn’t seem to make him happy, so with a sigh you told the truth, “Assuming any MIA are casualties…almost a third.” You’ve seen the numbers. You’ve seen the names. The list you replayed in your head were only those who died under your hands that you blamed on Krell. There were many more. Those you couldn’t get to. Those who perished in the field that would remain as they decomposed. Those Kix lost. 

There were too many that have died on Umbaran soil.

With Anakin and Ahoska, these numbers would never get so high. When they would lead, Kix and you were enough to handle the 501st with the Venator on standby to take the more seriously injured off the field. 

But with Krell? It was clear that two medics wasn’t nearly enough. 

If you had known this was going to happen, you would have contacted those you knew in other legions for support. You were sure General Plo would have gladly given his medics in the 104th to support the 501st. 

Fuck, if General Plo was leading the 501st, you were sure Kix and you wouldn’t even have injured to help.

“One third.” Cloud whispered, “one third of our brothers…”

You stabilized Bind’s jaw and let Kix finish up. Wordlessly you went to the emotional trooper's side to begin to help his broken arm. Before you did so, you reached up and wiped his tears from his cheeks, “I’m sorry,” you whispered, “When we get out of this, and we will get out of this, I’m going to reach out to some contacts to punish Krell for all of this.”

“Will that even work?” Blue asked from where he was, now being tended to by the clone medic. 

With a sigh you gave an honest answer, “I’m not sure,” you admitted, “But I know some senators. Even helped a few, so I’m sure they’d be willing to at least listen to me.”

“Just give up, Doc.” Cloud sniffled, looking away from you, “No one cares about us. We’re clones. We’re meant to be thrown onto the battlefield and then thrown away like trash.” 

“Not if I can help it.” You responded, “I’ll become a senator just to stop that from happening if I have to.”

Blue snorted, “I’m gonna tell you, Doc. it's talk like this that has Captain Rex in love with you.”

Oh, shit did they know? Play dumb. Kix glanced up at you before looking back down at Blue’s shoulder. 

Your words were steady and calm as you spoke, “He’s not in love with me, we’re just good friends.”

“You might see that,” Blue continued before wincing at something Kix had done, “But every time you turn your back, the Captain gets this lovestruck look in his eyes. He looks like a puppy, I swear to the Maker.”

Bind nodded in confirmation.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly. Oh if only they knew the truth.

Then an idea came into your head.

“What else does he do?” You asked playfully, taking full advantage of this. 

“Well, that last planet, on Sataran.” the trooper continued, “there were three women and two men that tried to get with him. And not only did he turn them all down, he was looking for you directly afterward.”

You remembered that. Poor Rex had been so flustered to have been flirted with so aggressively. 

“He’s in love with you, doctor.” Cloud chimed in quietly, “You make him happy.” 

These guys needed a distraction from their grief. That much was clear. It's why Blue was so quick to start gossiping about their captain. All you could do was smile softly.

“All set,” you stood once Cloud’s arm was stable, “Bind, I want you to stay here, take the bed on the far left. Blue, Cloud, you two can go to the barracks to rest.” They all gave you a salute before following your command. 

Once Bind was under the effects of painkillers and sedatives, you took a deep breath, “How long was that?”

“Couple hours at least,” Kix murmured, sitting down on a stool next to one of the medical consoles, after a few moments he sighed, “So one third of the 501st is dead?”

You confirmed with a nod.

“Maker, we suck at our jobs.” He mumbled, rubbing his face in his hands. 

With a bitter snort, you began to evaluate the other soldiers. You use the scanner you cracked earlier. Their wounds differed of course. Severe burns, broken bones, head injuries, but the anomaly in their brains was consistent. 

Perhaps it’s just a clone thing…

As you were working, the doors opened again. Dogma and Tup walked into the med bay. The longer haired trooper looked tired, as if he had been woken up against his will and dragged here by the former. 

“Are you two alright?” You spoke first, thinking perhaps they needed something for their sleep. It wasn't unheard of for troopers to need medicine in order to get a proper amount of rest. 

“Well, doctor,” Tup cleared his throat, “We-”

“Where did Hardcase, Jesse, and Fives go?” Dogma demanded. 

Oh boy…

“If you two are just here to waste our fucking time, you may as well leave.” Kix snapped, standing to face them. 

Dogma, however, didn't seem entirely phased by the medic, “If you know where they are, you need to tell the General. Otherwise it's insubordination.”

Poor Tup looked like he didn’t want to be here. You noticed the trooper looked extremely uncomfortable and unsure. 

Your anger spiked, “Fine,” You approached the demanding trooper and grabbed his wrist, “Let me show you what we’ve been doing.” Your steps lead you to the surgical table that Thrall was laying on under a sheet. Still holding his wrist, you threw back the white cover, revealing the dead trooper. 

“That!” You snapped, glaring at Dogma as he yanked his wrist back, eyes wide. “We don't know where those three are because we have been trying to fix that!”

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

Your emotions surged. Your vision blurred with tears. 

Fuck. Calm down. Keep yourself together!

“Your ass kissing of an incompetent General hasn’t done anything to help us.” you seethed, “So get the fuck out of my sight and don’t bother me unless your fucking dying!” 

He scrambled out of the medical bay, most likely to find Rex. Tup stopped in front of the door before looking back, “I think you're doing the best you guys can.” He sounded genuinely sorry for the situation, “Thank you for working so hard, and…I’m sorry.” He left quickly after Dogma, maybe hoping to talk him down. 

Kix sighed and shook his head, “You ok?” He asked quietly. 

No. I’m not. You thought before lying to your medic friend.

“Yea, just…yea. I’m fine.”

[cyarikasmoon]

Good Girl

Commander Cody x Reader

Summary: When out for drinks with Commander Cody, things take an interesting turn…

Pairing: Commander Cody x f!reader

Word Count: 2,620

Warnings: smut, fingering, vaginal fingering, public sex, semi-public sex, accidental voyeurism , finger sucking, drinking, praise

Divider by: @freesia-writes & @lornaka

A/N: Request for my lovely friend @mrs2224 ! Hope they enjoy! X

You break your gaze from across the room to look at the person standing in front of you. A clone stands there, armour white and fresh and new. A shiny. Complete with the standard regulation haircut and the arrogance of a clone fresh out of the tube and having just landed on Coruscant.

“I have one, thanks though.” You raise the thin glass holding your cocktail as you lean against the bar.

“Looking pretty empty though. Let me order you another.”

You press your lips into a fine line and you try not to roll your eyes as the Shiny rests his elbow on the bar, smirking down at you. You turn away to face the bartender and hold up two fingers. The droid nods and moves away to prepare making the order. You had only planned on waiting for one more drink but this annoying encounter was proving you were going to need a few drinks in your system tonight.

“I am capable of doing that myself.” You state simply, downing the remaining dregs of your cocktail and putting the glass down.

Once the glass hits the counter, the Shiny takes your hand, thumb rubbing the top of it as he holds it in his grasp and you bristle. You glance up at him, irritation obvious with how you grimace.

“C’mon, there’s no need to be like that. Haven’t you ever wanted to be with one of the troopers that are protecting the Republic?” He drawled out, fully laying it on thick and you can only glare at him, patient now having worn thin.

“You’ve barely just left Kamino, tubie.” You sigh and rip your hand away when his grip loosens, his eyebrows scrunched up in confusion with how you know that terminology.

“How do you-?” He begins to ask and your drinks arrive and are placed on the counter.

One is a repeat of the cocktail you had just finished and the other was a short glass of Corellian whiskey served neat. The Shiny’s face crumples up more in confusion at the different drink orders and you roll your eyes then.

“Look over there.” You nod your head into the direction you had been originally staring at.

The Shiny turns to look at a booth in the corner of the bar, in the low lighting but you watch as his eyes widen slightly. His face pales as he takes in the armour the colour of a sun, his bucket resting on the table so you can see the dark eyes staring at you and the Shiny; brows furrowed, long scar on his temple creasing slightly with his dark but still composed expression. He drums his fingers on the table as he watches. You smile at him before turning back to the Shiny, face full of annoyance yet again.

“Even though my boyfriend is the Marshal Commander of the 212th and I know you’re terrified of what he’s going to do.” You start off with, paying the droid and picking up the drinks. “But do know that I am quite easily capable of taking care of myself. He’s made sure I know how to do that.”

The Shiny stutters, trying to find his words to try and explain himself, apologise to you, apologise to the Commander focusing in on this interaction, to the droid behind the bar. You smile sweetly at him, forcing the expression.

“But remember this, if someone says no, respect it.”

You state simply before turning and walking away from the bar and back to the booth, the music drowning out the stuttering Shiny’s words. Commander Cody’s eyes follow you the whole way and as you get closer you notice the dark look in them, the brewing storm that's there even though he keeps his expression neutral. But you know he wasn't impressed with that Shiny’s brazen manner as his fingers continue to drum against the table in a slow methodical fashion.

You slide into the booth and his arm immediately comes around your waist, pulling you close to him. You let out a low startled squeak at how you're pulled around the curved leather of the booth so you're snug against his side.

“You took longer than I thought to get those drinks.” His voice is low as he murmurs into your ear.

You sigh, a smile playing on your lips and you cuddle closer into his side.

“Sorry, there was a poor little Shiny that seemed to have lost his way.” Your murmur, crossing your leg over the other as you get comfy in the booth with him. Your dress rides up your thighs slightly.

He hums softly at that answer, turning forward again and picking up his glass of Corellian whiskey with his left hand and his right moves to rest on your thigh.

“That’s a pity. Did my girl help him?” He muses softly, sipping his whiskey, this thumb rubbing slow and soft against your exposed flesh.

“I told him to get lost pretty much.” You smile to yourself, thighs clenching slightly with how he grips you. “And to learn some manners.”

He chuckles softly. “That’s my girl.”

Your face flushes red at the praise but then your blush blooms as he moves his hand in between your thighs, forcing them to uncross.

“He was terrified when he spotted you.” You whisper to him, voice low and breathy. “The great Commander Cody.”

His grip on your thigh tightens as you watch him smirk, raising an eyebrow. You feel a rush of heat flow through your abdomen.

“He had every right to be scared.” He moves his hand to force your thighs to spread now and your breath falters. “I’ll look for his CT number and Commanding Officer tomorrow.”

“Why not tonight?” You ask but you already know the answer.

You saw the answer in his eyes as you were walking over. You saw the answer with how his fingers move between your thighs and now brush against your panties. Your breath hitches, trying to act normal but you can already feel yourself starting to get wet down there. There would be no time for paperwork and searching through security footage tonight.

“Take these off for me?” He asks so politely, voice so calm and collected as the pads of his fingers brush against the lacy material. “These are your nice new ones, no sense in ruining them tonight is there?”

“No.” You breathe out and the sudden pressure has a whimper escaping your lips. “No, Sir.”

“Good girl.” Oh, thank the stars you were already sitting down. This was the Cody you were entertaining tonight it seems.

You’re nodding, wriggling in your seat as he moves his hand away. You move a hand under your dress to grab the waistband of the black lacy panties and slide them down your smooth bare legs and hook them off over your heels. Cody takes the small piece of fabric and immediately pockets them into a small compartment on his plastoid armour. You shoot him an incredulous look and he simply shrugs.

“For safekeeping.” He replies as if it was the most obvious answer in the world.

You go to reply but quickly silence yourself to prevent noise from leaving you as you feel a finger trace between your folds.

“Wet already, hm?” He chuckles low and all you can do is sit there still as he runs his fingers over your wet cunt. “Did you miss me that much?”

“Always.” You whisper, trying to control your heavy breathing at this moment.

Stars, he was doing this right in the middle of the bar. But it wasn’t... Not really. No one would know what was happening unless they focused in on the booth you were both in. The lighting was low and the patrons were either too busy drinking or dancing.

“Don’t want that little Shiny to help you?” He coos, breath hitting your ear and you can't help but let out a tiny whine.

“No! Don’t want him.” You turn to look at him, he’s so close your noses are almost touching. “Want you, Sir.”

His eyes glance down to your lips for a split second before he’s kissing you. His presence is strong and powerful and he kisses you long and sweet and you melt into his embrace. As you lower your guard at this moment, is when his fingers press against your clit, rubbing it slowly.

You gasp out a moan, he silences it as kisses deep, his tongue swiping against yours.

“Now, now.” He kisses the corner of your mouth, moving to your jaw. “Can’t have you making those pretty sounds for everyone to hear.”

He kisses along your jaw and you breath heavily as you try to stay quiet. “We can't have everyone know how desperate you are for me.”

He gathers the wetness from between your folds and drags it up to your clit, his fingers rubbing in slow agonising circles. You can’t help but whine quietly, squirming from where you sit in the leather booth. Your eyes dart around the bar, on edge that you’re being watched. No one pays attention but it’s then you see the Shiny from earlier walking past and he casts a glance over, still looking embarrassed.

As he glances over at you, a finger sinks inside of your wet heat and you gasp, a moan escaping you. Cody continues to kiss along your jaw but you’re aware of how he tilts his head, he’s looking at the Shiny as well. The flustered clone’s eyes widen and he watches for one second, two, and then he's quickly turning and moving through the crowd in a clumsy manner to escape this encounter.

You feel Cody chuckle and you let out a shy giggle. That poor Shiny… Commander Cody wasn’t one to share or take lightly to someone trying to go after his girl. You bite your lip, eyes rolling back and closing as he sinks another finger into your wet cunt. You're becoming even more aware of the slick noises coming from under the table as two of his thick fingers pump in and out of you.

While you’re clenching around his fingers as he pushes them in and out, he sits back and picks up his glass of whiskey, sipping it with a hum of satisfaction. Your face is flushed as you glance at him with wide eyes, hips rocking to meet with his thrusts.

“You look so gorgeous like this, you know?” He comments easily, his eyes glancing back over to you and taking in your desperate movements, your flushed face and with how your dress has ridden up he can just see how his fingers disappear inside you. “My good girl…”

“Yes Sir.” You respond instantly, head feeling hazy and in that moment you don't care where you are, you just need him. You need Cody. You need- “I’m close.. ‘m so close…”

As you breathe these words out, a shudder leaves you as he curls his fingers just right, and oh, it feels so right. A glint in his eyes and an amused smile and you know you’re done for.

“Please… Please, let me cum.” You whisper, your hand now clinging onto his forearm covered in plastoid armour still.

He doesn’t say anything but he sips his whiskey and simply speeds up his movements. He sits there effortlessly, looking as if he is relaxing and enjoying his drink. No one else aware of how he is making you fall apart into a drenched mess as he fucks you deep with his fingers under the table.

You’re quietly gasping, trying to stay quiet, trying to stay good, not wanting to bring attention to your booth. Everything was too much, you thought as you felt your stomach tighten, the knot there too much. You were hot and dizzy and coiled up and everything felt too much, too tight as you clamp around his fingers.

You open your mouth to beg again when he shoves his fingers in deep for a final time, curling his digits in you just how you like and, stars above, his thumb pushes on your clit. Everything snaps and the whimper that leaves your parted lips is louder than you would've liked but he caught you off guard in that moment and he knew it.

He watches you, eyes dark and pupils blown wide as you fall apart and soak his fingers. You clench around them as your body ripples with the orgasm that is pulled from you suddenly. Your eyes close and you slump back against the booth as he gently rocks his fingers, helping you work through it. You feel his fingers leave your sex and you open your eyes to find them in front of your lips and you shyly take two of his fingers into your mouth, licking your juices off and cleaning him up.

“My good girl.” He murmurs, voice hoarse. “My good fucking girl…”

You let go of his fingers and your chest still moves heavy as you try and regain some composure, aware of the wet mess between your thighs. He downs the rest of his drink and cups your cheek and pulls you close to kiss you deeply.

You can taste the spicy, warm whiskey on his tongue. The slight tang of your cum. You taste him. You lose yourself in him at that moment.

“Cody…” You whisper softly, opening your eyes gently and see him.

“You did so good for me.” He presses another kiss to your lips and looks over you. “Are you doing okay? How are you feeling?”

You smile up at him, feeling loose and happy and gooey as you lean into his hand that still rests on your cheek. His thumb slowly strokes your cheekbone and you nod slowly before you can find your words.

“Good… That was so good. Didn’t expect it but it was so good.” You grin up at him, cheeks heating up slightly again as his lips quirk up.

“Yeah? Well…” His hand moves slightly down your cheek and his thumb drags across your bottom lip. “Does my good girl want more?”

You nod embarrassingly fast. You had already cum hard in this booth once but stars was he addictive. You couldn't get enough of him. There were so many out there with his likeness, like that Shiny from before but there was no one who brought you to life like he did. Your Cody.

He smiles at your adorable reactions and he lets go of your face to your dismay. He picks up the thin glass with your cocktail, still sitting untouched and he passes it to you.

“Now, you’re going to take a moment. You’re going to drink this cocktail and once you’re done…” He nods his head towards the fresher in the corner of the bar. “Come find me.”

“Yes Sir.” You can’t help but grin up at him as he rises out of his seat.

“That’s my girl.”

He flashes you a smile one final time before leaving his bucket on the table for you to bring with you before walking through the patrons at the bar. Most move instinctively out of the way for the Marshal Commander. The man adorned in the colour of the sun and carrying so much grace and power on his shoulders.

All you can do is stare at his departing figure before you remember the drink in your hand and you quickly take long sips. The certain cocktail you had was one that was meant to be savoured and ingested slowly. The speed at which you drank it was not preferred but…

Your Commander was waiting.

[ct-7707-stutter]

Stutter aims and takes out the droids beside his dad, Crosshair. The droids are coming in raves but of course they can take them, they always do.

He watches as the Jedi and her Padawan watch them fight, and he hopes that they think they’re doing okay. He knows he’s a weak link but… he loves helping his family.

@cc-cobalt-1043

[euphoriacafe]

Happy Easter everyone! I hope everyone has a good day!

Reblogging, Liking, commenting, and follow is welcomed but never a necessity. 🫶🏻

Captain Rex x F!Reader

Short but in the feels - bitter sweet - Fluffy Angst.

inspired song: Atlantis - Seafret

~~~

The war was over…you should be happy—no more of your landing getting destroyed— but you weren’t happy…not when he was still out there and you haven’t heard anything. The Jedi have fallen and there was talks about the rebels trying to restore the peace.

What if his luck actually ran of out time and it finally happened.

No…

No.

Maybe it was just your mind playing tricks on you.

You tried to convince yourself that it wasn’t true until saw it for yourself that the galaxy itself was on fire running like headless chicken.

It’s been almost two years now that the Empire continued to get worse…it felt as if everyone was under slavery. You were spending months crying…filled with emptiness from being away and believing that maybe…just maybe Rex was dead.

You joined the Rebels to join the fight… you were doing it for Rex and almost prayed each time that the fight would take you out.

Dark thoughts clouded your mind.

Yet, here you were on the ship in charge of a few rebels who were helping escort a few civilians and picking up same spice. You waited with the ship since you had to make some repairs anyways.

You sat in the cockpit of the ship waiting for your crew to return back and so far it was an easy mission but you were left to your own thoughts.

After what seemed like hours, you looked out the window of the ship and saw your crew returning back. You opened the ramp on the side of the ship and walked out of the cockpit to the ramp.

“Took you long enough.” You called out looking down at your holopad to check off a list- you avoided eye contact.

“Well it would’ve took even longer if we weren’t saved by this rouge clones.” One of the rebels spoke up causing you to pause for a second looking up to see four black clone looking armor bd a small kid.

“Do I even bother asking…” you said as you rested a hand on your hip looking at them.

“It’s a long story but they stuck their necks out for us and Cid trusts them so.” Another rebel said as they landed the items onto the ship. You looked at the clones and felt your heart ache once more.

“What’s your names?” You called out from the ramp looking at them in the eyes.

“My name is Hunter- this is Tech, Wrecker, Omega, and Echo.” Hunter spoke pointing at each person as he introduced them and himself.

“Well thank you for saving my crew… troopers.” You spoke softly as you looked down and felt as if time was becoming slower and the atmosphere was tense.

As you turned around to walk away suddenly a familiar voice called out your name.

You paused.

Was it?

Could it be?

You heard the person call your name once more causing you to turn around…your mind was playing tricks? Right?

“Mesh’la…” he spoke.

It was him… it was Rex.

You felt as if your knees would buckle if you moved so you stayed frozen in place. Rex removed his hood and called out your name once again as he walked closer— his pace getting quicker.

He rushed through the bad batch causing you to finally move from your spot to run into his arms.

“It’s really you!” You shouted letting your voice break into a call as you wrapped your arms around his neck and him wrapping his arms around your waist.

“You’re still alive - you made it- I- oh my- Rex!” You stuttered happily as you felt your heart beat against your chest and your skin becoming hot by his touch.

Rex smiled and held you tighter.

“Mesh’la. I’m so happy to see you.” Rex let a few tears escape his eyes as he held you tightly.

[lightwise]

Hunter’s Lies and Leadership in Aftermath

(Plus some misc thoughts)

Decided to do a quick little rewatch of Aftermath yesterday morning, and noticed something I haven’t paid attention to before.

(First, I have to say that one of my favorite moments out of the entire series is the first exchange between Hunter and Crosshair when Cross is still in his right mind—“Crosshair, let’s get these tanks moving!” “Sir, yes sir.” Just brings a smile to my face at their lighthearted snarkiness every time. These are their real, unburdened personalities. Ones we haven’t gotten to see since.)

As for what I noticed, I realized how much Hunter lies throughout the episode, and easily. His wartime leadership skills are at their strongest here, the easy, confident, calling-the-shots tone that designates his position as squad leader. He knows his men, he knows what they’re capable of, and he knows what needs to be done in order to accomplish a goal. He’s tactical, perceptive, quick thinking and responsive to what is happening around him even as he is also internally processing things that don’t make sense to him. (This is in stark contrast to his reserve and indecisiveness in season 2, which I’ll save for another post).

However, as close knit as the group is, and as honest as we know the Batch is and that Hunter is not intentionally manipulative, he immediately, easily, and without hesitation lies multiple times. The first time is to protect Caleb as he leaps over the waterfall and Crosshair then comes up asking where he went.

“Where’s the Jedi?”

“I stunned him when he jumped. He didn’t make it.”

Hunter knows something is up with Crosshair, though he doesn’t know what. And he wants Caleb to be safe. But his instant response is a straight up lie and he doesn’t even waver in delivering it. He furthers the lie on their return home when Crosshair questions him about it. He knows Crosshair doesn’t believe him but he’s not ready to open that can of worms mid flight.

He lies again when they land back on Kamino and a shock trooper asks him if they have a problem with what’s going on. This time though he stutters and is much less convincing in his delivery, I think both because he’s becoming more and more confused at what is going on, and also because he’s now lying to authority and could actually face consequences if he doesn’t give the “right” answer. Regardless, it’s interesting that his nerves shine through here but not when he’s talking to his squad, who would know much more quickly his tells and attitudes than a random trooper would.

His next lie is to Tech during the briefing by Palpatine to all of the clone troopers. This is the first time for this show that we see how Tech pays attention to Hunter’s reactions, and when Hunter sees Omega for the first time, Tech asks him what he sees, and Hunter says “nothing” when he realizes that Omega has disappeared.

He also sort of half lies to Omega when they leave for Onderon, telling her that a mission is a mission and that it’s nothing to worry about. He’s churning inside though. He knows none of this make sense. But of course he’s not going to tell a kid that, he wants to comfort her and make her feel at ease.

All of this makes me wonder—is this something Hunter was used to doing? Is he so used to being the leader who holds everyone together, with no one for him to really turn to, that he’ll do whatever needs to be done to keep the peace or complete their mission objective, even if it means lying to his brothers in the moment? Or is this newer for him and he’s using it as a way to cope with the sudden shift in the situations they are dealing with?

And then Saw Gerrera says something interesting when they’re trying to apprehend him on Onderon. He says to Hunter as the leader of the group specifically:

“Take a look at the group of insurgents you were sent to destroy. Makes you wonder what else they’re lying about.”

Now, I’m not saying that Hunter took this to mean “oh man I gotta stop lying to my crew because that’s what the empire is doing to us and that’s no way to lead.” But, he doesn’t lie anymore through the rest of this episode, nor in the next one. I’d have to watch through the series again to remember if there are any other occasions of him directly lying to the Batch (vs to a stranger to keep them safe). There does seem to be a shift in his demeanor after this though. And Saw’s words seem to help him coalesce his thoughts because he quickly comes to the decision that they are going to get Omega and then desert, and he doesn’t hide this from any of the Batch members, not even Crosshair.

Side note 1: This episode also has some really beautiful indications of how much Hunter cares too: him saying “nice work” to Crosshair after their training session, him yelling “no!” when Caleb and Crosshair are fighting because he’s worried about either of them harming the other, and him telling Omega to stay away from them because their squad is nothing but trouble.

Side note 2: Omega tells Crosshair that she knows what he’s going to do before he’s taken away. Then when they are all gearing up in the hanger and about to go look for Crosshair, she hears footsteps coming and tells them they won’t have to look far. She knows that not only are they about to be found by troopers in general, but that Crosshair specifically will be with them. I wonder if as Nala Se’s assistant she knew what the procedure would be to try and enhance Crosshair’s chip and turn him against them.

[sterlingnaberrie]

𝒟𝒾𝓇𝓉𝓎 𝐵𝑒𝑒𝓇

SUMMARY: Wolffe’s raging possessiveness over you finally comes to fruition after months of pining

(Wolffe xFemReader)

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

Working at 79s was a blessing and a curse. There had been many times where you’d had to call the police droids to break up bar fights, dragging out drunk shinies who got off their face after one drink and the occasional Weequay creep who wouldn’t know how to take no as an answer.

Tonight though, tonight was quiet, well as quiet as 79s could get. the bass boosted music still rumms your ear drums, the pining migraine forming at the back of your head still present as ever, but the clones tonight were tame. Grateful is an understatement. The abrupt slam of the door opening rips you from your thoughts, looking up from the bar counter you see a cluster of what looked to be a bunch of shinies, smug looks painted across their faces and by that look, this was their first time visiting the famous bar. Before you divert your attention back to the task at hand, something catches your way…well someone. His grey armor standing out against the plastoid white, strategic patterns painted across his shoulder pauldrons along with his grey kama hanging off his body. Wolffe. Stolen glances and touches becoming a secret language to you both. The Commander of the 104th had a hold over you and little did you know the feeling went both ways.

Heat rises to your cheeks as you frantically try to act unbothered by his presence, your shaky hands making that difficult as you pour the rank beer into the tall glass.

“first day on the job?”

As your head snaps up your eyes are met with a clone, not one that you’ve seen before either, a shinie. Your thoughts catch up to you as you plast a fake smile across your lips. “no fondly enough” you say through a breathless chuckle. You finish pouring off the glass and slide it across the bar in his direction but before you could pull your hand back, his clasps over yours, preventing you from drawing away. “y’know…you would think that being in a club full of men like me would have you nervous, cyare” oh great. You huff out a chuckle, deciding whether or not to play into his ego, the migraine in the back of your skull having you decide to take the latter. You try to pull your hand back but his clasp only grows stronger. “what? Are you proving me right, beautiful?” he smirks, his hand slowly tracing up the back of your hand to your arm. Heart racing and breath hitching your words start to fail you, his touch making your skin crawl.

And Wolffe saw it all, he saw through your polite but fake mannerisms, he could read you like a book. But through all that, he saw how that rookie was touching you, how his hands wormed up your arm, tainting your skin, infecting your space. He hated it. He bit the inside of his cheek as his heart pumped through his chest, jealousy making his blood hot. Before he knew it, his legs had carried him over to the barstool where the shinie was sitting, back facing him.

“trooper” the shinie whips around, pulling his hand off yours, body stiffening as he looks up at the Commander towering over him, his cybernetic eye pairing the same scowl as his pierce hazel one. “C-Commander” the shinie stuttered, his confident facade now failing him and being replaced with one of fear.

“don’t you have somewhere to be… rookie” The Commander implied, his tone laced with bitterness. The cluster of rouge shinies grouped around a booth near the back of the bar erupts in a loud roar as one seemingly chugs a beer as the others cheered him on. The shinie gulps nervously as he stands to his feet “Sorry Commander, didn’t realise the miss was yours” he stumbles “head out shinie” the Commander spits. The trooper scrambles his way off the barstool, tripping over his feet in the process. Once he’s out of ear shot the Commander turns his attention back to you. Your gaze drifts from the wandering shinie back to Wolffe, his gaze unwavering. Inhaling sharply you try to mask your nervousness, hide the fact that your heart practically goes into overdrive whenever he’s near you let alone looking at you. “thanks” you manage to breathe out, those being the only words that seem to escape your mouth.

“don’t mention it” he grazed, taking the now empty seat, leaning his forearms against the bar. Your gaze stills for a moment too long before reaching to grab the glass you offered the shinie moments before.Not until Wolffe reaches for it at the same time causing your hands to overlap and touch, a spike of adrenaline stuns your spine and squeezes your lungs. Eyes meeting and bodies stiffening, his gaze is once again unwavering. Attempting to at least still the tension you pull your hand back while nervously stuttering “oh you can have it- i mean i can make you something better but if you prefer that then that’s fi-” but before you can finish his hand pulls yours back towards him, rubbing his thumb along your skin. Looking down at his hand clasping yours back up to him you see an unfamiliar expression plastered across his face. “are you okay?” Words clog your dry throat as your heart threatens to burst out of your chest. Any coherent thought or sentence seems to vanish, hell your brain itself has short circuited leaving you speechless. you swallow nervously trying to soothe your dry throat before you stutter out “i- uh…it’s fine- i’m fine, happens all the time” you shrug off, your hand still clasped under his. Your words didn’t seem to soothe his mind though, his eyes practically searing scorch marks on ur skin.

He grunts in response, his hold on your hand tightening slightly before letting go reluctantly, your skin starting to crave his absent touch. “and what makes you think i’m fine with it” he retorts. Your breathing becomes shallow as your heart pumps faster and faster, your mouth agape as you try to form a coherent sentence. “c’mere” Wolffe says as he stands up from the barstool, flicking his hand initiating for you to come with him, you place the dirty rag on the edge of the sink that you’ve been mindlessly fidgeting with “Wolffe i can’t, i’ve still got to finish my shift” Now fully stood across the bar counter his gaze once again scorches your skin “i don’t care” his voice stern and fixed.

You take a breath as you match his fixed stare before walking to the edge of the bar, Wolffe following you until you reach the double swinging doors “seriously Wolffe, this better be quick i can’t-” but he grabs your forearm interrupting you, leading you to the back of the bar near the kitchen.

He turns around and grabs you by the shoulders pulling you aside into the back corner, his frame towering over you. “Wolffe?” you breathe out, his chest practically pressed against yours as you look up at him. “Do you know how much I hate seeing those shinies crawling all over you” he breathes out, his face finally sharing a glimpse of genuine emotion, something that isn’t masked, something raw “they practically praise the ground you walk on cyar’ika” the unfamiliar name rolling off his tongue effortlessly, practically turning your knees to jelly “I don't like people touching what is so obviously mine” he growls, the butterflies in your stomach virtually going haywire. “cyare…” he pauses as he leans in, his gaze drifting to your lips before wandering back up to your eyes. “i hate it”

and amongst the jealousy and raging possessiveness, a glimpse of hurt flashes across his face. He reaches his hand up to graze the end of your jaw with his thumb, his touch setting your spine alight. It was the way his voice graveled, how his hand was slowly moving from your jaw to the nape of your neck while his other hand snaked along your waist, subtly pulling the hem of your shirt upwards to trace his fingers along your skin but most of all it was how he was looking at you. His gaze constantly shifting between your eyes and your lips, his expression a mix of raw vulnerability and pure jealousy, his face slowly inching closer to yours. “I practically put myself through hell when i come here, seeing how those rookies look at you…they fucking undress you with their eyes” his voice laced with vexation but not towards you, it was towards those ammature shinies that think they could practically coy with you, and that made him mad.

He takes a moment, his gaze piercing yours like a knife as your noses became centimetres away from touching, the tension between you was palpable as every single unspoken word that had been unsaid between the both of you over the past several months had fallen into place with his gaze as it lowered to your neck, a flash of hesitation crossing his face. His eyes locking with yours once more, he tried to find any sense that you didn’t want this, that you were uncomfortable, but all he was met with was a small nod of your head, and before you knew it, the doubt left his face as his lips pressed up against your skin, leaving a trail of feather light kisses along the nape your neck.

Your breath hitching as you suddenly feel his teeth lightly grazing your skin before slowly continuing to move up towards the nape of your jaw. You rest your hands on his chest as he continues “fuck cyare” he murmurs in between kisses, both of his hands now gripping your waist, his thumbs caressing your abdomen harshly. “You have no idea” he says before marking your skin again, lazily trailing your jaw “what you do to me” he murmurs near your ear before pulling back, his voice low and vexing. All words and thoughts have seemingly vanished, your brain a pile of mush as you gaze at the man towering over you. Your faces inches apart, the feeling of his breath hitting your skin only provokes how hot your muscles feel, like feeding oxygen to fire. Wolffe’s lips curl into a soft smirk as he sees how much of an effect he has over you, which unsurprisingly spurs him on even further. His gaze shifts between your lips and back up to your eyes. You wanted him to kiss you, needed him to, your body writhing under his hands, your lungs desperately trying to catch a full breath. Wolffe’s hand reaches up to cup your jaw, his thumb caressing your under eye “let me?” he asks, his brows upturned in need, eyes saying everything that his mouth can’t seem too, want, longing. Rotations of built up pining and craving over you plastered across his face, it infected the blood that ran through his veins and controlled his limbs. Everything he did, everything he said was because of his need for you.

You gaze up at him as you swallow nervously “please” you plead breathlessly, that being all the confirmation he needed as his lips caught yours.

You felt everything and nothing all at once, you felt how his gloved hand held your jaw tilting your head to meet his, how his other hand gripped tightly at the flesh of your hip, how his chapped lips molded against yours. But against all that, your brain buzzed and your body relaxed into his, you felt like you were on cloud 9. The kiss was how you would expect a kiss from Wolffe to be, harsh, chapped, filled with hunger and need but somehow gentle too. He was taking full control just like you imagined the gruff Commander would.

Wolffe too had never felt his mind be so quiet yet loud, no war zone could ever make his body be this full of pure adrenaline, his spine burning with need. Pulling back reluctantly to catch his breath he gazed down at you, your kiss swollen lips and glazed eyes making you that much more beautiful to him.

“You have no idea how long I've needed that” he says breathlessly, his chest heaving as he rests his forehead against yours. Your lips curl into a coy smile before you move the palms of your hands up from his armored chest to the back of his neck, your fingers running through the nape of his hairline “i think i can take a guess” you retort with a brazen smile “oh yeah?” he smirks, his face softly admiring every feature that paints your face. “mmhmm” you hum in response “a long time”. Wolffe chuckles in amusement at the obvious statement “yeah you could say that” he says as he tucks a stray hair behind your ear. You gaze up at him for a moment before tracing your left hand to his jaw, gently rubbing at the scar that paints his under eyes, a reminder that this might not last forever, but knowing Wolffe, not even the darkest sith lord could keep him away from you “don’t die on me anytime soon” your tone laced with sarcasm, but underlying it all you both know that’s a possibility, something neither of you want to admit. He hums in response before saying “even if i were dead cyare i wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off you”

[inkformyblood]

i lose all but not him #4 (Codywan)

Written with CWW Prompt "This isn't what I signed up for" Ao3 link

Nowhere is ever truly quiet on a ship.

Cody waits for the medbay door to hiss closed behind him, the tang of bacta heavy on his tongue, before he turns away from the route to his quarters, heading for the training rooms. His thoughts crackle and pace, pressing against the steel walls of his mind and he can’t tell if they’re his own or emanating from the hollow that isn’t him but sits and watches regardless. His dreams have been heavier, forgotten the instant he wakes but something from them clings to him regardless, the claws burning pinpricks into his shoulders. 

Back on Kamino, there had been a small crowd on one of the lower bays, hidden enough from the watchful cameras that different command groups could mix. Cody remembers a hand in his, Fox’s maybe or it could have been Rex, except the hair had been dark like his own, close-cropped and matching in every way. They’d been important to him, somehow, but the reason slips away from him, pulled away by a cloaked hand.

Answer: they’re not important. Focus on the mission.

The mission. What is his mission? On Kamino, Cody remembers stepping closer, saltwater clinging to his boots, wind cutting through his blacks, and there had been a body. His memory is fluid, stuttering and scrambling like he’s trying to tune a holovid to the correct frequency, the limbs changing from scales to skin, pale and dotted with freckles, fins fluttering to soaked red hair and back again. Cody blinks, breathes, and tugs on the threads of thoughts that aren’t his, reaching out and leaning against a support that he knows is rotting beneath his grasp but he can’t not. He’s no different to the fish that lies in front of him in his memory, choking down the hook that would eventually kill him. 

There had been a parasite on the fish’s tongue. 

No. It had been the fish’s tongue.

Legs had prised the mouth open from the inside, a head extending out, jaws clicking together and Cody had let go, reaching for his blaster instead because— because—

Answer: The mission. Focus Commander. You’re a good solider. 

He is. He was. He will be. 

CC-2224 straightens, his spine locking into place, and he reaches for his blaster.

Cody steps forward, catching himself on the exposed hollow of a pipe before he pitches forward. He swallows, teeth clenched and jaw locked, swallows again and again because they don’t have the rations spare for him to throw up resources, he’s a solider, he’s made for this. The moment passes with a shudder, nails raking down his spine and counting every divot, searching for the imperfection that would break him and coming up empty. For now. 

Where had he been going? His memory is… not blank. Blank implies there had been something there that had been removed, a space where something had been that he could worry at until the scar bled and he knew the rough shape of it beneath his fingers. His memory of the last few moments never existed, a vidfeed set to not record, and it isn’t right.

Answer: you were going to the training room.

Cody starts walking to the training room. He had always been heading there, had stepped straight out of the medbay and turned down the corridor and hadn’t paused, hadn’t faltered. He passes by a huddled group of troopers, tucked into the carved out patch in the corridor. One of the troopers is stripped to his waist, his armour clutched in the arms of his brothers and one of them holds his helmet balanced on his hip, the visor focused out along the corridor in an ineffectual sentry. Cody doesn’t pause, keeps his gaze focused on his destination because if he doesn’t see it, then it isn’t his problem or his issue to write up in a report. He catches the network of scars over the other clone’s belly, the flat surface as pitted and ragged as the battlefield they had just emerged from. Contrasted against his skin, however, is a splash of colourful ink, the shape too abstract for Cody to make out out of the corner of his eye but it is bright and vibrant and everything they hadn’t been allowed to have and now grabbed on with both hands. 

It’s such a shame it would be changing soon. Black is traditional, after all. 

Wait. What?

 It doesn’t matter. It matters so much because that wasn’t his thought, isn’t him and there’s something just beneath the surface, something rotting in his mind and he has never been more scared about anything because death is just him, this is so much more and— it doesn’t matter. It. Doesn’t. Matter. 

It doesn’t matter.

The training room is expansive, carved deep into the belly of the ship when it had become clear that the war would be a slow and lumbering thing, not the flashfire that some of the politicians had hoped for in their cozy plush offices with their unconcerned drinks hovering next to their elbows. Fox hadn’t admitted to spitting in some of them, there were too many official channels between Cody and him now to whisper together while they waited in line, both alone and gravitating towards each other like two shattered planets in a decaying orbit, but he knows Fox. He knows what the slight pause between his sentences mean, the silence louder than anything he might have said openly. It isn’t the same as his communication with Rex, that is louder, brighter somehow. If Rex is a note folded into a palm and flicked over the length of a table then Fox is a drop-spot in a park that is unceremoniously blown up a few hours after use.

There is always a few troopers in attendance, somedays it felt like Cody would open a drawer and a trooper would tumble out of it following a handful of brother’s tendencies to sleep inside storage crates even back on Kamino, but Obi-Wan is a rarer sight to see. Cody doesn’t pause in the doorway, reassessing, recaluculating, adapting to the situation before his foot makes contact with the floor.

The Kaminoans likely never expected that their calculated perfect solider’s abilities would ever be used like this. 

Obi-Wan stands in the middle of the room, orbited by a small detachment of troopers. The troopers are standard-build, one a few inches taller thanks to the crest of his hair and two have dyed their hair, one with patches of pink and the other with a dark regrowth at his roots to compliment the brass of the rest of his curls. Cody doesn’t immediately recognise them, a sensation which is quickly growing more familiar, pushed aside in the same instance. It had bothered him the first time he encountered a number he didn’t recognise listed next to a name he also didn’t recognise in a casualty report. What had it been? He can’t remember it, even now.

Turning his attention back to Obi-Wan, Cody breathes through the flutter in his chest, knowing that this would be enough, he could live like this. The Jedi stands, graceful even while stationary, his hands clasped behind his back. His tunic is fresh from the laundry, a faint scent of industrial strength cleaning solution permeating the usual tang of sweat and exertion that subsits throughout any training room if it’s designated as such for long enough. It doesn’t fit him like it once would, gaping slightly at the colour to reveal the jut of his collarbone, sinched in at the waist another notch than he had been using at the beginning of the war, any excess weight folded into muscle or it has been discarded.  It is more noticeable on the Jedi than it ever would be on the clones, they had never been allowed to gain any softness to them while on Kamino and the war didn’t lend itself to any gentle touches. 

Cody continues walking, raising his hand in greeting to Obi-Wan as the other man looks over. The grin he receives is achingly familiar, the same one that Cody will delude himself is just for him, and Cody returns it before he can think of stopping himself. He doesn’t join in the training session as the troopers step out once more, moving instead to the ladder to the observation room and beginning to climb.  (They’re approaching it wrong regardless, needing to be further apart to exploit the Jedi’s blindspots and take advantage of the gaps in his guard. Soresu may be defensive but it isn’t perfect, especially when the attackers are men that Obi-Wan will care for. He would need to make them bleed and he would pause. They all would.) 

“You’ve all done marvellously well,” Obi-Wan says. His voice doesn’t waver, that isn’t what catches Cody’s attention and makes him peer over his shoulder, tipping his chin to avoid the curve of his pauldron. There’s an odd note to Obi-Wan’s voice, something huge passing beneath the surface so all that is distinguishable is the swell it leaves in it’s wake, and Cody catches his tongue between his teeth before he continues to climb. The rungs leave a dull sensation on his hands, his gloves tucked into his belt and he forgets how cold things can be. 

He forgets what the universe is like without the shell of his armour and the cover of his gloves and the span of his calluses. 

But he knows Obi-Wan. 

Something is wrong. 

Up in the observation deck, Cody swipes his hand over the console and brings up the schedule for the room. Obi-Wan’s training is the only one booked, his time beginning from almost the moment they had returned to the ship and it lasts until the next day. The troopers, by all counts, shouldn’t be here. Looking down, the trooper with the pink patches in his hair lands on the ground in an uncoordinated sprawl. He makes to stand, rolling onto one side and drawing his legs close to his body but it doesn’t stop the another trooper from stumbling over him, effectively putting them both out of the fight. (Shoot him from the ground. He won’t notice if he thinks you’re out of the fight. Angle higher to account for the difference in elevation.)

“You’re all improving so much in such a short time,” Obi-Wan tells them, returning to his starting position. From this angle, Cody can see his hands clench and twist where they are clasped behind his back, a tremor rattling through his fingers like a speeder engine pushed to the brink and beginning to tear itself apart. 

“Thank you, sir. Would we—”

“Clear out now, troopers.” Cody can’t remember thumbing the intercom button but he is, leaning forward to brace one hand on the console so the troopers can see him. One of them jumps, his head turning to the speaker system before he looks up at Cody, and he seems so young from up here. He’s unmodified, his armour unpainted and his hair has only just begun to curl over his ears where it has grown from the standard short cut on Kamino, and Cody can’t remember ever being that young, that soft. He’d been moulded into his armour since he had been pulled from the tube, had to be strong, had to be capable because if he wasn’t, if he faltered, then someone would die. It is a simple equation. 

The troopers don’t argue, their salutes not as sharp as they could be, and Cody returns the gesture without pause. His shoulder aches, the muscle folding into an unconstrained shape from what he had been trained to hold, but it is only for a moment, and they leave. Cody drops his hand and taps the intercom once more when the door had closed behind them. “Would you like me to leave as well, sir?”

Obi-Wan shakes his head before Cody had finished speaking. “No, Cody. I’d like you to stay, if you can?”

It’s a question, a choice, and Cody knows that he could say no and there would be no repercussions, no punishment. Just an easy yes or no and it is Cody’s decision to make. 

There’s a click somewhere in the back of his mind and Cody feels hands on his shoulders, long-fingered and cold, far colder than any human touch he had experienced before, and he cannot think of anything but the oceans on Kamino and of drowning. There’s foam in his lungs and he cannot breathe as he tastes salt on his lips, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes from the effort of trying to answer. 

It would be easier to die.

It would hurt less to die.

He tries to speak and he can’t. Seawater pools in his mouth and something crawls over the blunt edges of his teeth, brushing against the inside of his cheek. He’s hollowed-out, long since decayed inside the shell of his armour that’s continued to move without him, march and follow orders (and love Obi-Wan), and he will continue to walk until the plastoid is torn away by something bigger, taller, hungrier trying to scrape any meat it can from him. 

Query: what is happening to me?

Answer: nothing you weren’t made for. 

That isn’t a comfort.

(Let him be alone, let him sink in the endless pools of his grief and his misery and let him Fall.)

No. That isn’t what Cody wants to do. He wants to stay, to make that choice for himself.

He’s made to be a good soldier. Jango signed them over to the Kaminoans for the payment of a single unaltered clone he could raise as his own and he did train them. He gave them the building blocks of what they could learn in the quiet shadows beneath the cameras where they passed tips on how to pass the regimented tests, the way of scuffing up their curls so one brother could stand in the place of another, the exact angle a sparking wire needed to be applied to the identification code in their arms so they could swap amongst the sims. They may have been made from the same genetics, but variations are as inevitable as a sunrise. Cody had toed the line for so long and he is tired of it. He’s made his own choices, he has chosen to love Obi-Wan, and he won’t give it up without a fight. 

(Very well then. Some adjustment will be necessary for you, Commander.)

“I’d like to stay,” Cody says and something clicks, no, snaps in his head, a breaking of a chain link in a tether stretched long and taut and fraying. He forgets in the same moment, unimportant, unnecessary, because Obi-Wan is smiling at up him and everything else can wait. 

Then Obi-Wan sags, his shoulders rolling forwards and his head dropping, chin to his chest, exhaustion clear in every line of his form, still delicate and graceful but closer to cracked glass now, a porthole threatening to buckle but still holding firm. Cody uncurls his fist and tips his palm to inspect the fresh indentations on his palm, perfectly evenly spaced, no flaws, no defects. How long could they both keep going like this, the clones and the Jedi facing a universe that feels too big for them to hold together? Cody would die on his feet, he knows this, but he hopes Obi-Wan has a softer death (a knife between his ribs perhaps, a poison consumed by two, too many variables, you know this too, Commander). He blinks away the sudden burst of pain, swallowing against the taste of salt and reaches for the comm again. “Shall I come down, sir, or–”

“No, no.” Obi-Wan pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingers, breathing out slowly. His hair is cut short, the edges valiantly trying to curl and at any other time it would make Obi-Wan look like the cover of a cheap holo, especially now, as bare as he is, but with exhaustion staining beneath his eyes and the slight tremor in his limbs, he looks abandoned, uncared for. 

It only lasts a moment before Obi-Wan straightens, squaring his shoulders as he pulls on the mantle of Jedi General once more, an armour that doesn’t give him the same protection as Cody’s does but removes him from the world all the same. If Cody touches him like he has before, a brush of the fingers, nothing more than that, would his skin feel cool like plastoid, a hard ridge over the sides of his palms where a seam should lie? Cody swallows against a burst of bile, presses his tongue between his teeth and bites until his jaw aches and the humming pain washes everything else away.

“May I come up, Cody?” 

A question and one Cody can answer. “Yes, sir, Obi-Wan.”

A name for a name, a line drawn in chalk and scavenged paint that can be wiped away but it exists for the here and now, and Obi-Wan grins up at him once more, relief clear in his face. “Thank you, Cody.”

Cody steps away from the system, the light from the screen dimming with the movement, and Obi-Wan disappears from view. He turns his attention to the network that runs along the length of the door, terminating in a heavyset console that sits offset from the casing surrounding it. Makeshift and makedo. Ducking down, he runs his fingers over the seam, searching for the serial number and then, just below it. The paint is rough beneath his fingers and it would be roughly the same shade as the casing to better disguise it, but it’s still there. That brother would be remembered, not in any holo broadcast or news report, but in the deliberate sanctity of paint and metal. He had been here. He had done this.

Cody stands straighter as if that simple action of realignment, the remembered feeling of a hand pressed against the crown of his head that didn’t flinch from the sensation of his freshly cropped curls and another planted into the space between his shoulder blades, moulding him like he’s still soft and pliable from the tube. He remembers the touch, the rough cadence of the words as he tried not to squirm away, a penance to be bourne and accepted because if it wasn’t him then it would be another brother and CC-2224 wouldn’t be able to save them. He would be nothing, nobody, a number in a system, a piece in a machine. 

He’s a Commander. He was made for this, for them, for him.

Cody keys a few commands into the door controls, locking the system down from the outside. It wouldn’t hold against an emergency override or Obi-Wan’s code but it would dissuade any other shinies from sneaking inside to bask in Obi-Wan’s presence. The hatch groans as it lifts as Cody turns to it, kneeling to draw the cover back. The handle strains beneath his grip, a screw beginning to work free and it is yet another thing that would need to be fixed after this war has drawn on for longer than anyone had predicted. This repair, as the handle is still attached and it is only just beginning to give way, falls somewhere below the strange noise that the engines keep making that coincide with a sudden jerk to the left that they’ve all grown accustomed to bracing for and above the cracked floor beneath one of the bunks that, until it starts growing mould or gets any bigger, will remain additional storage for the brother assigned to that bunk to barter. 

Obi-Wan scrambles through with a grunt of effort, his hand warm in Cody’s, and the cover drops closed behind him. Cody hadn’t realised, hadn’t fully appreciated the size of the control room before now. The consoles on the wall press into the already limited floorspace and overhead, pipes interlock and disappear into the walls drawing them even closer. There’s enough room for them both to stand, and Obi-Wan draws Cody to his feet before he lets him go, taking the single step allotted to him to sink back against the disengaged console, his shoulders curling forwards. 

“The younger troopers have a lot of energy,” Obi-Wan says, as if that is the sole reason for the dark stain beneath his eyes and the pale cast to his skin.

“They do.” Cody can remember being that young, the rotation of batches to groups to squads, emerging from one training simulation that had felt like he was drowning, saltwater in his lungs and he could still taste it despite it not being real, only to be thrown into another where the sun would burn lines into his skin that would only last until the power was turned off. He couldn’t ever remember being like them, however. He couldn’t remember turning to a batchmate and laughing with no care for the cameras or the line of command. 

He thinks about Fox. The closest thing that he has to a batchmate anymore after the Kaminoans had reviewed the results and deemed only Cody as satisfactory. His memories are plastoid, stocky and built to last, but blunted. There’s a scar that runs along the edge of Fox’s hairline, bisecting his dark curls into a demarcation line of greys, and Cody can’t remember what it feels like beneath his fingers. He remembers the cause: a poorly maintained practice weapon, the padding coming away all at once as Cody had swung for a final hit, only just managing to turn the weapon in time. He’d gotten a commendation for it, a note added to his file as he had stood next to the limp body of his brother, his hands bloody for the first time in his life. He thought he’d killed him, that his first death wore his face.

He can’t remember touching Fox after that. 

He can’t remember touching anyone.

Until Obi-Wan.

Rex had come close. The other battalion had only just departed the ship, and everything still felt too empty without the ringing chorus of voices in every available space and someone perched on every available space. It had been nice, similar to Kamino after the newest shinies were unbatched and their numbers swelled, and Cody had someone of a similar rank he could bunk with. What did they speak about? Cody tries to think back, draws the plans to his room in his mind from the cramped squeeze of his bunk and the single desk that is losing the war against the pile of flimsiwork and datapads on top of it. Rex had slept in the bunk, Cody folded along side him and wrapped in his own blankets to combat the busted heating system. They must have spoken but he can’t remember what about. 

(It doesn’t matter. None of it matters. You’re a good solider, focus on your mission.)

His mission. He has a mission?

There has been no briefing, no parameters laid out around a wireframe map of a battlefield or documented in triplicate for future referral when Cody stands in front of a High General to inform them that Skywaker’s plan that involved almost entirely demolitions was discussed beforehand. Something is wrong. 

“I will confess, Cody,” Obi-Wan says and Cody’s attention snaps to him completely. “I wanted to stay here under some guise of usefulness.” He swings one of his legs out and stops the motion at the peak, rotating his leg to point his foot. It’s graceful, his leggings flush to his skin so the hitch of his knee as his leg locks into place, every motion deliberate. The bottom section of his leggings, mostly tucked beneath the worn-soft leather of his boots, is charred, the edge jagged and fraying in a rough dust of ash. He swings his leg back down and curls forward, addressing his clasped hands. “This is by no means my first conflict, or even my first war, but I feel a unique sense of helplessness with it. It may just be that I’m older now, or I’m in a position where I can influence matters in a way I couldn’t before, but—” 

He breaks off, squeezing his eyes shut as if the dim light pains him. Cody steps forward, his leg bumping against Obi-Wan’s, feeling helpless himself, an itch beneath the solid welding of his knuckles and reaches out without a thought to how the action would end. He halts before he touches Obi-Wan’s arm, his fingers close enough to brush against the roughspun fabric and feel the latent heat of Obi-Wan’s skin. Choices piled upon choices and Cody knows he can retreat, he can retract his hand and nothing would be made of it. It would just be what it is. 

Cody places his hand on Obi-Wan’s forearm, squeezing in what he hopes is comfort. 

“I can’t help but think that I didn’t sign up for this, Cody. And if I didn’t sign up for this, then what does that mean for you and your brothers. You should have had a choice.” 

(Pull away, step away, leave him. Let him Fall. This would be just a taster of the betrayal that he will face.)

Obi-Wan flinches, his arm twitching beneath Cody’s touch. Similar to applying a bacta patch, Cody thinks behind the rush of an ocean and the whispers of a part of himself that wants the world to burn because it has hurt him, hurt them, the initial shock of the application, the innate worry of further pain. Blinking, Obi-Wan raises his head, close, so close, like they had been at that first meeting when Obi-Wan had been dark and cool with rain but undeniably beautiful and Cody had chosen to love him, the first choice he had made entirely for himself and one he would continue to make again and again and again. 

“Cody, what—”

“Obi-Wan.” Cody speaks past the intrusion of his heart lodged in his throat, the world growing ever more unstable beneath his feet because he’s going to die when he finishes speaking if he’s not already dead and this is some pretty scenario cooked up by a final few flashes of electricity in his mind. There’d been nothing in the simulations to cover what dying felt like, only pain so they would know better, do better the next time. This feels entirely different. 

“We might not have had a choice then, any more of a choice than you did in any of this, but we do now. We make our own choices everyday and I will continue to choose to stay by your side, to stay in this war because I am needed here, and I will have choices after the war as well.”

Something snaps in the back of his mind, cold iron laid against the crown of his head, and Cody braces himself for pain. Nothing like Kamino had happened since they had left but waiting for the other boot to drop, the invisible blade hanging somewhere suspended above him is exhausting, so if he finds out now, here, then he will know. He still hopes that he’s wrong. 

Obi-Wan’s face is pale, drawn tight by exhaustion and every burden he insists on carrying throughout the war, but his grin is still the same one that Cody knows, warm despite everything. “What would you do after the war, Cody?”

It feels wrong to admit that he’d been thinking about after the war. Cody is a solider, and he’s a good solider (the thought echoes, knocking against some obstacle that Cody has already forgotten). Obi-Wan is a General, his General. There should be no ‘after the war’ for either of them and yet, and yet…

Cody glances down and Obi-Wan is still wearing the socks that Cody had made him, the orange faded with time and dirt and there is a neatly darned hole in one of the mismatched cuffs in a brighter shade of gold. He had gotten a little better since then, the socks could generously be referred to as a pair now, but the second one still sits on the needles in his quarters, untouched for the past handful of weeks given the battle they’ve just emerged from. 

It had given Cody time to think.

“I’d look after my brothers first.” It must be written somewhere in his file, listed beneath his measurements which are as average as they could be and his test scores, which had been carefully above but not too high to draw attention. He’s practical down to his bones and the sequence of his DNA, his brothers would come first. 

Obi-Wan’s face softens. “Of course. I would expect you to do nothing less. But after them, what would you hope for?”

He could stop, back away from this edge at any time. Cody’s still holding Obi-Wan’s arm, the muscles clearly defined beneath the thin cover of fabric, and he feels the distant reverberation of Obi-Wan’s thumb working into the lines of his palm. “I’d like a home, something small that’s just mine. Somewhere I can have visitors.”

He can’t look at Obi-Wan as he speaks, addressing his words to the curve of Obi-Wan’s collarbone, the slouch of his tunic exposing a scattershot constellation of freckles. 

“I’d imagine you wouldn’t be short of admirers to entertain.” 

“There’d only be a few people that I’d want to see and only one person who’s admiration I’d care for.” Cody glances up despite himself, his stomach twisting just as it had when he had stepped onto the landing bay railing, slick with rain beneath his feet, and held his hand out into the unknown. Obi-Wan’s eyes are dark, fond with something lurking just beneath the undercurrent, a behemoth that Cody could only guess at the shape of with his limited hope. 

Obi-Wan is close, closer still before he pauses, the slight inhalation as his mouth parts impossibly loud. “Cody, I—”

The room floods with a deep red light as the warning klaxon begins to sound and Obi-Wan jerks away with a curse. In the shifting light, his cheeks are dark but the colour only lasts for a moment before General Kenobi squares his shoulders with a sigh. “For the Force’s mercy. Cody, shall we? We will pick this up later.” Obi-Wan pauses, biting the inside of his cheek. Something in Cody’s chest catches, a thumb hovering over a trigger and he doesn’t know if the blaster is armed or not, a dull whine echoing in the spaces between the alarm. 

“Please?”

A question. Needing an answer.

Cody nods. “Yes, Obi-Wan.” 

He steps away from Obi-Wan, letting his hand drop, and they are resigned to their roles once more, the hissing possibility of what could have been coiling around them both. 

[kaminokatie]

Order 66 || Captain Rex

Synopsis - Order 66 is declared and Rex is on the hunt for you. When he finally finds you accessing Fives files, he stuns you and takes you to the holding cell where he has his way with you.

Warnings - NSFW. TW; dub-con, non-con.

Word Count - 1.6k

[Caffeinate Me]

“Execute Order 66.”

“Yes, Lord Sidious.”

Rex had turned on his heels, blasters pointing at you and Ahsoka. Everything moved so fast, you almost didn’t have time to process what was happening: the clones, including Rex, had turned on you… They had turned on the Jedi. You and Ahsoka barely escaped the encounter and were now on the run from all the clones on the Jedi Cruiser. 

You reached the doors when Ahsoka turned to you, determination in her eyes. “I’ll get Maul,” she said, opening the doors. 

“What for?” You hissed. 

“Diversion,” she replied quickly as the door opened. “You find out everything you can about arc trooper Fives. There’s got to be something there that can help us explain what the hell is going on here!” 

You nodded and turned to face the other way, muttering a “good luck,” under your breath before running in the opposite direction. You had no idea where you were going, where your feet were taking you, but you knew you had to find out some information on Fives. Yours and Ahsoka’s lives depended on it. You reached a few droids and quickly turned them on, hushing them as they sprung to life. “Shh, guys, shh. I need your help,” you whispered softly to the droids. They bumbled in response. “I need you to find out anything you can on arc trooper Fives. Please, it’s an emergency. The clones have turned against the Jedi and we don’t know why!” 

The droids bumbled again and quickly got to work, pulling up a report filed by Rex himself. In the report, you had learned that Fives was convinced of a conspiracy against the Jedi: an inhibitor chip placed in all the clones to make them do whatever they wanted, including executing the Jedi. Your eyes widened in shock as you listened to Rex’s report. That was it, an inhibitor chip. You turned around and sighed, a heavy weight on your shoulders. It was then that the doors behind you slid open, revealing Rex. His hand went straight to his blasters when he saw you, and yours straight for your lightsaber in an attempt to protect yourself: but you were too late. Everything went black.

When you woke up, you were in a holding cell with your hands tied uncomfortably behind your back. Your eyes immediately shot up when you heard a chuckle come from inside the room with you. It was Rex. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you sweetheart,” he said, his voice low under his helmet. 

“Rex,” you whispered, breathing heavily as you struggled against your restraints. 

“Stop that. You can’t escape from me,” Rex growled. “I should execute you right here and now, traitor.” 

“Rex, this isn’t you,” you said as tears formed in your eyes. “You’re being controlled. Fives was right!” 

“Shut up,” he snapped as he took off his helmet. He pulled his blaster out of his holsters and pressed it against your temple, his finger stuttering on the trigger. “I’ve always wanted to see you on your knees for me, Jedi.” 

“Rex-”

“I said shut up!” he barked at you. Rex slowly removed his cod-piece and your eyes widened as he took his cock out of his blacks, pumping it slowly. His golden eyes looked down on you. Your heart was beating in your chest as he grabbed your hair with his free hand and forced you to look up at him, cock dangerously close to your face. “Suck it,” he demanded, the blaster still pressed firmly against your temple. “Suck it or I’ll shoot you right here.” You looked up at him through your lashes as tears gathered in your lower lash line. You slowly took his cock into your mouth and he immediately let out a groan. You hollowed your cheeks as you began to suck slowly, eyes never leaving his. Rex’s face contorted into one of pure pleasure as you swirled your tongue around his tip, lapping him up as if your life depended on it, mainly because it did. “You look so good with your mouth full of my cock,” Rex growled, his hips thrusting slightly into your face. You mumbled something around his length forcing him to press the blaster closer to your temple, knocking your head slightly sideways, but never once did you stop sucking. You stayed like that for a few minutes, a dull ache appearing in your jaw as Rex continued to fuck your face. His pace was slow, as if he was savouring the moment and suddenly he pulled you off of his cock with a slight pop. “Stand up,” he commanded. You did as you were told when suddenly he barked another order at you. “Face the wall.” You complied, facing the wall with a shudder. Rex dropped his blaster to his side for a moment as he yanked down your pants and underwear, leaving your bottom half completely bare to him. He pried open your legs with his foot and kissed up your neck. “Wanted to do this for so long,” he admitted breathily against your soft flesh. For a second, you swore you caught a glimpse of the ‘old’ Rex, a man no longer controlled by an inhibitor chip. But that Rex disappeared when he pressed the blaster back to your temple. 

“Rex,” you whimpered, feeling his cock slip against your folds. You shouldn’t be getting turned on by this, yet here you were, cunt clenching around nothing as Rex continued to stroke himself against your entrance. “This isn’t you.” Rex stopped his movements for a second as he processed your words, but then without warning, plunged his cock straight into your core. A loud moan escaped your lips as Rex immediately began to thrust his hips against yours roughly, not giving you a moment to adjust to his length. “Rex,” you whined. 

“I thought I told you to shut up,” he grumbled as his free hand grasped your hips tightly, angling you in a way that had him hitting that spot deep inside of you already. 

“Feels so good Rex, kriff, don’t stop!” You cried out as obscene squelching sounds filled the room. Rex happily obliged, never faltering his movements as his blaster pressed further into your temple, his finger resting on the trigger. One wrong move and you were dead, you knew that, but the pleasure was too good for you to even think about it. “Rex - ah - my clit, please. I need to cum!” 

Rex didn’t say a word, just grunted into your neck as his spare hand dropped from your hip and circled around your waist, fingers resting on your swollen nub. His fingers started moving expertly on your clit, dancing delicious little circles around it. Electricity shot up your body and soon you were twitching and clenching around him, cumming over his cock without warning. Rex let out a loud moan as your walls fluttered around him and his movements sped up, the primal need to fill you up completely taking control of him. He dropped his blaster onto the floor and grasped your hips desperately with both hands, pounding into you as hard and as fast as he could. “Fuck, I’m gonna fill your pretty fucking cunt right here, right now,” he growled into your ear, his movements never stopping. His hips began to stutter as thick ropes of cum spit out of his tip, filling you completely to the brim. Rex halted his movements and pulled out of you, admiring the way his cum dribbled down your thigh as you shivered uncomfortably. Rex pulled up your underwear and pants, and was about to open his mouth to speak when suddenly the doors opened, causing him to spin around on his heels to be met with a blaster shot set to stun. It was Ahsoka. 

“Y/N!” She yelled, running to your side. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you whispered quietly, looking at Rex lying on the floor unconscious. “I don’t think I would have been if you hadn't shown up though.” 

“Let’s not think about that,” she said with a smile, unclasping the restraints that held your hands behind your back. “Did you find out anything about Fives?” 

You nodded. “There’s a chip inside the clones making them do this. It’s not their fault Ahsoka, they can’t help it. We need to get Rex to the medical bay, maybe we can help him!” 

Ahsoka nodded and helped you carry Rex discreetly to the medical facility. The procedure didn’t take long and after a matter of minutes, Rex was awake. He sat up off the table grasping the side of his head as he groaned. Ahsoka was the first to sit up and greet him cautiously. “Rex… Are you okay?”

“Yeah… Yeah kid, I’m okay,” he whispered. He was about to apologise for trying to kill her, but then you stepped into view with tears in your eyes. You wrapped your arms around Rex protectively and pressed a kiss to his cheek softly. 

“Rex, I’m so glad you’re back,” you cried, arms tightening around him. 

“Y/N,” he whispered softly, tears filling his own eyes as his mind thought back to what he did. “I’m so sorry. I couldn’t stop it, I tried, I really did.” 

“It’s okay Rex,” you whispered back. “I know you couldn’t stop it. But, if all clones have been ordered to execute the Jedi… Why didn’t you execute me?” 

Rex thought for a moment. He knew why, he was in love with you. Maybe that played a big part as to why he didn’t execute you, but he couldn’t be certain. “I… I don’t know.” 

“It doesn’t matter about that right now. We have to get out of here,” Ahsoka sighed as she looked around the medical room. You pulled away from the hug with Rex and nodded as you looked into his eyes. There were no words there, but you understood. When this was all over, when you got out of here, you were both going to confess your feelings for each other and smash your lips together. You swore you would.