#rare clone fic exchange

[rare-clone-fic-exchange]

Blindsided (Hound x reader)

Summary: When you're tackled by a massiff on your morning commute, you never could have predicted it would end in a date.

Pairing: Sgt. Hound x reader

Rating: M but minors DNI

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: Grizzer being the bestest girl; reader nearly gets stood up but it works out in the end; Hound being somehow suave and put together and also a mess; suggestive/fade-to-black; first kisses

A/N: This one is for @idoubleswearimawriter ! Hope you enjoy, babes. This was super fun and I know am an Official™ Hound simp. I hope I did him justice!! 

“Grizzer! Ke’mot!” 

The harsh command shouted across the busy Coruscant square makes heads turn, yours included. Just in time, too—there’s a flash of muted browns and a streak of pink before you’re tackled to the ground. Your belongings scatter, and you just manage to avoid cracking your head on the steel walkway. Dull pain blooms everywhere else, though. For a moment, anger flares inside you. Who let their pet off its leash? 

Then, a warm, sandpapery tongue licks the side of your face. Giggling, you hold your hands up to ward off the obviously dangerous attack, anger fizzling into delight. You push yourself into a sitting position to find yourself face-to-face with a very wiggly massiff who, upon realizing you’re not hurt, turns her entire body to thump her rear against you. The look she gives you over her shoulder seems to be pleading: C’mon, give me scritches! And who are you to deny such a request?

Glancing around, you discover with belated embarrassment that you’re the center of attention. At least bystanders are beginning to lose interest and drift away, resuming their commutes. A single person being knocked prone by a K-9 massiff is barely enough to result in petty gossip on Coruscant. 

Hang on, K-9? You do a double take—sure enough, on the massiff’s harness are the two letters emblazoned in bold white font. 

“Am I in trouble, huh, girl?” you ask the massiff.

“Grizzer!”

Snapping your head up, you locate the source of the gruff voice. Cutting through the crowd like a vibroknife is one of the Coruscant Guard; helmeted, but the design is unlike any of the other troopers you’ve observed from afar. The side plates extend down, painted in the visage of a snarling massiff; a red stripe runs down the center of his visor. He halts a few feet away, fists planted on his hips. 

You clack your jaw shut, realizing you’re staring. “This your dog?”

The massiff, Grizzer you assume, whines quietly. She takes her weight off of you but remains close as she snuffles at your pockets.

“Grizzer,” the trooper repeats, his voice cold and unforgiving through the vocabulator, “gev.”

Reluctantly, Grizzer trots to her handler, her head hanging low, tongue lolling between her teeth. She settles at his feet, her eyes trained on his helmeted face. 

The trooper raises his head so his visor fixes you with a blank, impersonal stare. “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” you say. A groan slips from your throat as you stand, pain flaring in your tailbone, but you wave away the concerned way the trooper takes a step forward. “I’m fine, just took me by surprise.”

“She’s normally well-behaved,” he says. “I don’t know what got into her.”

Chuckling as you rub your sore coccyx, you shrug. “Whatever it is, I promise I’m not carrying anything illegal.”

“I should hope not,” he says, “otherwise I’d have to arrest you.”

Your laugh turns awkward. “It might just be the massiff treats in my pocket.”

“The—what? Why do you have that?” The tone of his voice is incredulous and suspicious, like he’s never met someone else who carries the specially formulated treats.

“I work at an animal rescue,” you explain.

“Right,” he says. “Understood.”

Silence slithers between the two of you for a long, uncomfortable moment. Your skin prickles where you imagine the trooper’s gaze to be trailing over you. 

You clear your throat. “Right. Yes. Well, I should—”

“Of course. I’m sorry—”

“It’s alright,” you assure. Plucking your bag from where it fell from your grasp, you give the trooper a little wave, then glance down at the massiff. Fishing a now-smushed treat from your pocket, you toss it to her. She snaps it out of the air with lightning-quick reflexes. “Keep an eye on her.”

“I will,” he says with a curt nod.

And that’s that. You gather the rest of your belongings and watch as the trooper leads the massiff away without a second glance. Sighing, you turn away, putting the incident from your mind as you hurry to work. 

--- 

A week later, standing in line at your favorite caf shop, you huddle beneath your umbrella as rain cascades from the sky. It’s your day off, the first one you’ve had in weeks, and of course the weather has to be shitty. You’re doing your best to not let it affect your mood. You don’t want to spend the day wallowing. But, you reflect with a sigh, moving with the line, that’s easier said than done.

The wind is cold as it whips through the narrow street, but the rain is colder where it mists onto your exposed face. Shivering, you turn your head away from the breeze—

And catch sight of a familiar duo. Motionless beneath the neighboring shop’s awning, stand Grizzer and her helmeted handler. You glance away, hoping your moment of ogling went unnoticed. By the time you reach the front of the line and order your usual hot drink and pastry, you think you’re in the clear. 

“Five credits,” the barista says. 

Fishing in your pocket for your money, you fail to notice the armored presence sidle up alongside you until he speaks. 

“Bill that to the Chancellor’s office,” he says.

Behind the counter, the barista pops her bubblegum and gives a shrug, while you gape at the trooper. 

“I— What—?”

“I never said sorry last week,” he says, like that explains everything. 

You frown. “You did, though.” 

“Did I?” He rubs the back of his neck, and the gesture makes your stomach squirm pleasantly for some reason. “Hah. Coulda swore I... Well. Grizzer didn’t apologize, now did she?” 

Arching an eyebrow, you fix him with a level, deadpan stare. It’s cute, actually, the way that he’s trying to be nice, and while his technique is certainly interesting, you’re unsure of his actual motivations. He fidgets under your gaze. Fiddling with the loop of Grizzer’s leash, he drops his head. 

“Thank you,” you finally say, putting him out of his misery. 

Cradling the umbrella in the crook of your arm, you accept your items from the barista with a grateful smile. The trooper hurries to get out of your way as you step out of line, not wanting to make yet another scene. At your hip, Grizzer nuzzles you, an intelligent light shining in her eyes.

“Oh, ah.” You fumble for a moment but you manage to get your pastry tucked beneath your arm so that you can lean down awkwardly to give Grizzer a pat on her head. “Hey, girl. I don’t have any treats on me today. You been good? Have you tackled any more strangers?” 

She pants happily and licks your hand. You snort.

You can feel the trooper’s gaze heavy on your face while you lavish affection on the massiff, and you suppress a shiver. While you’ve never really interacted with the clone troopers much, you’ve heard second- and third-hand accounts of how helpful the Coruscant Guard is in particular. Clearly, they train well not only in combat but also in manners, if your mystery man is any indication. 

“What’s your name?” you ask, still keeping your attention on Grizzer. 

“Hound,” he says, and his tone makes you think no one has ever asked him that before. No civilian, anyway. 

“Hound,” you repeat, a smile ghosting your lips. When you give him your name in return, he nods once. 

“I should let you get back to your day,” he says. 

You’re about to agree, about to make some lame joke about how he’s probably got more important duties than babysitting you, but something makes you pause. Maybe it’s the way that Grizzer leans her body against your leg, or maybe it’s the butterflies that continue to beat against the insides of your stomach after Hound’s display of shyness a few moments ago, but you find a giddy kind of warmth well up in your chest. 

So instead, you say, “Do you— I mean, are clones given time off?”

His helmet snaps to you; you have his full attention. “Why do you ask?” 

“I was just thinking that...” You chew at the inside of your cheek, suddenly bashful. “Oh, I dunno. I was hoping maybe I could buy you a drink to say thank you.” 

“You already said it.” His voice sounds reserved, cautious.

Throwing your own caution to the wind, cold as it is, you flutter your eyelashes, ignoring the way your heart pounds in your chest. “Sure, but I didn’t tell Grizzer, did I?”

He seems to get the hint. “Oh. Well. Yes. I mean, no. I mean— Kriff. Yes, clones get time off. I’m off duty tonight, around 7.” 

“Great.” You smile at him, wide and genuine, and he seems to relax. “I’ll meet you at Dex’s at 8, then.” 

---

Eight o’clock comes and goes. You’d arrived to Dex’s early to snag a good booth, not one that would give the impression that this is anything more than a light-hearted get-together with a man whose face you’ve never seen (because no, you don’t count the fact that they’re clones—they’re unique individuals), but also not one so close to the front door as to give the idea that you want an easy escape route.

The server droid had only waited so long before prompting you to order or get out. So you ordered. May as well make the most of the situation, right? At least, that’s what you keep telling yourself as you pick at your meal. Normally, Dex’s is one of your favorites, a guilty pleasure. But tonight, the comfort of the greasy food does little to quell the sting that pulses through you with each beat of your heart. 

Foolish. Stupid, silly, naive of you to hinge any expectations on this meeting. It had been a spur of the moment decision, certainly not one that you’d normally entertain for yourself, so why does his absence leave such a bitter taste in your mouth?

Not wanting to go back to your apartment, though, you sigh and spend a few hours scrolling on your datapad. Grateful you’d thought to bring it with you, you’re able to catch up on the latest holoforums you’re a part of. By the time the clock reads 10, you sigh, locking the device and leaving a handful of credits on the table for the server droid. 

At least the rain has let up. Where the ground is still slick and puddled with rainwater, you trudge through, splashing yourself. The sky remains heavy with pregnant clouds, oppressive in their proximity to the city. 

The bright neon lights of Dex’s sheds illumination for dozens of feet, and you’re still within that radius when a voice calls your name. You pause, frowning. Again, your name echoes to you, and when you turn, your eyes widen at the sight awaiting you.

Hound—because it can only be Hound, being the only clone trooper you’ve ever talked to—jogs through puddles, his heavy boots thudding on the permacrete ground. Gone is his armor; instead, he wears a tight-fitting black tee (is that a tattoo you see peeking out on the inside of his bicep?), muted green combat pants, and, draped over one arm, a black leather jacket. His dark curls coil nearly to his shoulders, bouncing with each step as he stumbles to a halt in front of you. Panting, he peers up at you through his eyelashes, hands on his knees. 

“Hound?” you ask, equal parts confused, bewildered, and hurt. 

“I’m so sorry, mesh’la,” he says. Without the filter of the helmet, his voice is deep and rich, with the barest hint of gruffness, an old engine turning over for the first time in years. “Huge security incident right before my shift ended. I couldn’t get away.” 

You wait until he catches his breath to respond. Once he stands up straight once more, his weathered and lined face pinched with concern, you sigh. 

“S’alright,” you say. 

He shakes his head. “Next time, I’ll need your comm so I can let you know.” 

“Next time?” you say, the barest hint of a grin tugging at your lips. 

“If you want there to be one,” he immediately says. “Kriff, I— I’m not good at this.”

Warmth surges through your fingertips at his admission. Shaking away the funk you’ve been in for the past few hours, you offer him your hand. “C’mon.” 

He blinks at your outstretched palm. “What?”

“Come on,” you say again. “I don’t think I can sit in Dex’s any more tonight, but I’ve got food at home if you’re hungry.” 

Tentatively, like he’s afraid you’ll explode into smoke when he touches you, he reaches for your hand. His skin is rough and hot against yours, his fingers calloused from years of training. Adding to the texture is a massive scar that travels from his palm all the way up to the outside of his forearm near his elbow; he must see the way your eyes widen when you spot it because he chuckles breathlessly. 

“I, uh, got that from a training accident,” he says. “Over-eager massiff puppy.”

Nodding, you can only tug him along with you as you lead the way back to your apartment. If he were anyone else, you’d never even consider bringing him home like this; but he’s a member of the Coruscant Guard. And besides, you’ve already thrown out any expectations for this to be a normal night. 

The air is humid and thick as you walk, both a promise and a reminder of rain. Your skin feels sticky. Next to you, Hound seems lost in thought, impervious and oblivious to the world around him. 

You nudge him gently with your shoulder. “Credit for your thoughts?” 

He blinks at you. “Sorry. Just... can I be honest with you?”

“Sure.” You keep your eyes facing forward, perplexed by his question. 

“I’m glad Grizzer clobbered you.” 

You laugh, loud and genuine, your head thrown back. And once you start, you can’t stop, the giggles bubbling up your chest without end. Tears dew at the corners of your eyes. Hound digs his heels in and stops walking, pulling you to a stop as well. 

“I’m s-sorry,” you gasp out. “That’s a very apt word for what she did. And not at all what I expected you to say.”

His wounded expression softens slightly. “Well, what did you expect?” 

Hiccuping, you shrug. “I dunno. Not that, though. I apologize for laughing. Please, continue.” 

He squints at you like he’s unsure of whether he should believe you, but then he sighs. “Alright. I was saying, that I’m glad she did that, because then I wouldn’t have been able to meet you.”

That sobers you up. Biting at your bottom lip, you smile, but say nothing, sensing there’s more he wants to say. 

“My vod’e—brothers, they teased the hell outta me for letting Grizzer get loose,” he says. He rubs the back of his neck, the same gesture that first endeared him to you earlier today. “But if it means that I got to buy someone as attractive as you their coffee, worth it.”

“Technically, you charged it to the Chancellor’s office,” you remark, smile turning wry. 

“Have you never heard the phrase ‘it’s the thought that counts’?” 

You snort. “Point taken.”

The two of you begin walking again, palms still pressed together. Against your skin, his heat is a comfort, holding at bay any chill the night air seems determined to impart. You sneak a glance at him. In the yellow glow of the streetlights, his tanned skin glows, ethereal, beautiful. 

“Hey,” you say, voice soft, “I’m glad I met you, too.”

The look he gives you makes your breath catch. Swallowing against the sudden lump in your throat, you tug him along, walking faster. Your apartment isn’t far from here, and you want as much time as you can afford getting to know this man.

--- 

You make him a quick dinner, nothing fancy, but he wolfs it down with voracity and gumption, a look of bliss scrawled over his features. As you lean your forearms on your kitchen counter, you can’t help the small spark of attraction that kindles to life deep in your belly. He looks so...at peace in your small apartment, tanned skin glowing in the incandescent lights caged above the kitchen island.

A thought occurs to you, and you startle into action. “Oh! I almost forgot!”

Hound hums his curiosity, mouth still full of food. 

“I promised you a thank-you drink,” you say over your shoulder. Rummaging through your cabinets, you snag two dusty shot glasses and a half-empty bottle of dark whiskey. You rinse the glasses, then, with only a few spilled drops, pour two shots. 

Hound places his empty bowl in the sink. He crooks one eyebrow at you. “When was the last time you drank this?” 

Squinting in thought, you pause with the small glass perched between your fingers. “I...honestly couldn’t tell you.” 

“Well,” he says, a warm, teasing smile ghosting over his features, “suppose I should feel honored.”

Clink. Knocking back the shot, you shudder at the burn of the alcohol as it slides down your throat. It settles with comfortable heat in your stomach. Hound grimaces, sucking his teeth. 

“Kark,” he mutters. “I can see why you don’t drink it often.” 

Chuckling, you shake your head. “C’mon. I’ve got some sweets we can wash it down with.” 

You retrieve an unopened box of chocolates and rip open the packaging as you lead the way to the sofa. You settle into one corner of the plush couch, and Hound curls into the opposite corner; you perch the chocolates on the cushion between you. He looks...good, relaxing into your couch the way he is.

Emboldened by the strong alcohol now coursing in your system, you gesture to the sweets. “Wanna play a game?”

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“The rules.” 

You snort. “The rules are that you only get to eat a chocolate if you answer a question the other person asks. If you don’t answer, you don’t eat.”

Hound’s eyebrows twitch upward as if in curiosity. “What kinds of questions?” 

Shrugging, you gesture vaguely around the room. “Whatever you want to know.” 

“I already know what your job is and where you live,” he muses. “And what pastry you like. What else is there to know?”

You narrow your eyes at him, trying to decide if he’s being facetious or if he genuinely just has no interest in learning more about you. Kriff, have you misread this entire situation? Your palms begin to sweat. 

Then his face breaks into a sly grin. “I’m kidding. C’mon. Ask me a question.”

“Dick,” you mutter, giving him a playful glance. Then, you sigh. “What’s your favorite color?” 

“Really, that’s what you want to know?” He rolls his eyes, giving an exaggerated head roll to go with it. “Of all the questions you could possibly ask—”

“It’s a perfectly acceptable question!” you interrupt, outraged. “Let’s see you ask something better then!”

He huffs. “Fine. What was the name of your first massiff?”

Suppressing an eye roll of your own, you sigh and pluck a chocolate from the box. “Spike.” 

“How original.” 

“I was a child!”

“So was I.” A grin plays at his lips. 

“Yeah? What did you name yours?” you challenge, then pop the chocolate into your mouth. 

He’s silent for a few seconds too long, his eyes looking everywhere but at you, and a victorious grin curls over your lips. 

“You named yours Spike, too, didn’t you?” 

“Maybe,” he grumbles.

Laughing, you nudge the box of chocolates towards him. “Technically, that was a question.”

He inspects the box. Once he chooses his first sweet and bites into it, his eyes slide shut and he groans in appreciation. Your core pleasantly lurches at the sound. 

And so the game goes. You swap stories about your youth: his training on Kamino, your upbringing in the Coruscanti upper levels. You tell him about your dreams for the future, and he muses, however briefly, on what the end of the war might bring for clones. At some point, the chocolate supply dwindles, until there’s only one left.

Mostly you talk about massiffs. His eyes light up when he recounts memories of Boomer, Tusk, and Spike, and his early days with Grizzer. His enthusiasm and passion for the creatures is infectious; you find yourself entranced by the direct gestures he uses, the sweep of his tongue over his lips when he pauses between sentences, the sparkle in his eye when he recalls a particularly feisty massiff. In your chest, your heart pounds. You’ve never been able to resist a man who is good at his job and passionate about it to boot.

“There’s that look again,” he says softly, drawing you out of your thoughts. 

Heat flushes up your neck to your face. “What look?” 

“The one you just gave me,” he says with a teasing smirk. 

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Which is, of course, a lie. If you had to guess, you were giving him bedroom eyes.

“That so?”

You hum in affirmation. 

His topaz gaze holds your own for a few moments longer than necessary. The uncomfortable, embarrassed heat in your face morphs into something more pleasant, more aroused. Letting your gaze wander, you catch the shallow breaths he takes, the way his tongue darts out to wet his lips yet again, the fist he clenches along the back of the sofa. When you meet his eyes again, they’re darker. 

“Hound?” 

“Yes, mesh’la?” 

A shiver dances up your spine, his voice taking on a rumbling quality. “One more question for you.” 

“Ask away.” His gaze searches your features. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

He blinks at you, full lips parting in surprise. Then, quicker than you can react, he snatches the very last chocolate in the box and stuffs it in his mouth. “Yesth,” he lisps around it.

Heart leaping up into your throat, you carefully set the now empty tray of sweets on the coffee table, then crawl across the couch cushions to him. He watches with half-lidded eyes and shifts to face you, stretching his legs beneath your form. Straddling his hips, you gently, uncertainly, rest your hands on his broad shoulders. His hands find home at your waist—not low enough to touch you anywhere you don’t want, but their solidness and warmth make you shudder with delight. 

“If that’s okay, I mean,” you breathe out. This close, you can see the flecks of darker brown in his golden eyes, and count the freckles on his nose. 

“Please,” he murmurs. 

Tilting your head down, you brush your lips against his, testing. A groan rumbles out of his chest; his arms slide around you in an enveloping embrace, hugging you closer. His mouth moves against yours softly yet no less intensely for it. You whimper, head spinning. 

When you pull away, you don’t move very far, Hound’s arms still wrapped solidly around you. He gives you a soft, timid smile—so unlike the gruff, sarcastic trooper who’s been trading quips with you all night. Rubbing your thumb over his cheek, you return the smile. 

Ignoring the surge of need in your lower belly, you sigh. “I need you to know I don’t normally do this.” 

“I believe you,” he says, tone as quiet as yours. “But I want you to.”

Searching his eyes, you find nothing there but sincerity and the beginnings of lust. Capturing his lips in another kiss, you give yourself to this strong, stolid, snarky man. He carries you to your room, undressing you reverently, lavishing your skin with kisses and praise. His hands are everywhere, grabbing, squeezing, feeling you; in return, your own hands roam his toned body, delighting in the rippling muscle beneath his skin. 

And when he slides home within you, you both sigh, fingers twined together. He draws you, slow and languid and breathless, to the edge again and again, murmuring sweet praises in your ear.

After, pressed to his sweaty skin, chest heaving with exertion, you kiss each of his fingertips. Under your ear, his heart beats loud and steady; slowly, its rate lowers as you both unwind. He trails his hand over the expanse of your back. Rubbing in methodical strokes, his touch lulls you to the brink of sleep. 

You startle yourself awake. “Hound?” 

“Yes, mesh’la?” he murmurs. 

“Remind me to give Grizzer extra treats,” you say, voice thick with sleep. 

He chuckles, the sound rumbly and smoky beneath your ear. “I will, mesh’la. Go to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Mmkay.” Yawning, you curl tighter against his side, and drift to sleep, your dreams filled with playful massiff pups and Hound, the steadfast trainer.

---

Mando'a: 

Ke'mot - "halt!" (used as 'heel' for Grizzer)

Gev - Stop it! Pack it in! (more severe a command than ke’mot for Grizzer)

[clone-anon]

Finding a Way

Pairing: Hevy x GN!Reader

Rating: SFW, we’ll say PG-13

Word Count: 2522

Warnings: Explosion at Rishi Station, some angst but plenty of fluff, description of injuries and healing, kissing, cuddling

A/N: This was written for @sinfulsalutations as part of the @rare-clone-fic-exchange. I hope you enjoy this. It's my first time writing Hevy, but I love him.

Summary: This is a Hevy Lives AU. You're a GAR contractor who takes supplies to various outposts, including Rishi Station. You strike up a friendly relationship with Hevy and are devastated to learn of the explosion, doing what you can to reach out to him once he heals, and getting a lot closer along the way.

Other characters mentioned: Domino Squad, 99, and OC clone medic Shots

Hevy did not like Rishi Station. All that training just to get here? The time passed in the usual way.  You connected via comms, bringing a shipment of cargo in for the squad.  He acknowledged when you asked for permission to land.  Your job had you skipping around to various outposts bringing supplies. Sometimes, you were the only outside face they saw for many rotations. 

You landed and Hevy greeted you as you got off the ship.  Echo confirmed the cargo you brought was exactly what they ordered. Ration bars, dehydrated soup mix, standard issue soap and shampoo, and five sets of spare blacks.  The boys all helped you unload the cargo and Hevy decided to walk you back to the ship. He didn’t have to. He wasn’t sure what propelled him forward, but he thought it would be a nice gesture.

“Thanks, Hevy,” you said, just before boarding.

“My pleasure,” he replied.  He smiled slightly and gave a small nod.  You returned the smile and had a feeling this was going to become your favorite stop on this route.

Every two weeks you would stop at Rishi Station with supplies and every two weeks Hevy would be there to greet you. You got to know Domino Squad well and made sure it was your last stop of the day so that you could take your time without having to worry about where you were headed next. You started including a few things that were not standard issue, just so they didn’t feel forgotten out there. They appreciated the fresh fruit, candy, and puzzles.

“You don’t have to do that,” Hevy said, as he watched his brothers immediately start scrutinizing one of the puzzles, excited for something new.

“I know,” you answered, “I just thought you’d like it.”

“I do,” he said with a smile. “I mean, er, we do. We definitely do.”

He walked you to your ship again, but instead of boarding right away, you stood outside long enough to look at the stars. You didn’t want to stay out too long with the local fauna being what they were, but you loved how clear the sky was tonight and you were really starting to like Hevy. He was strong and loyal to his brothers, but there was a gentleness to him too.  You looked at the night sky together and showed him some of the routes you took, your finger tracing a course between dotted planets. Hevy committed them to memory so he could think about you flying around out there, somehow close even if you weren’t there with him.

“If they ever let me off this moon, can I take you on a proper date?”  The question escaped his lips before he even had the chance to stop himself.

“I’d like that very much,” you replied.  “I live on Coruscant. I’m sure we could find something to do.”

“It’s a date then,” he said, reaching for your hand. You softly clasped his hand in your own, giving it a light squeeze and feeling heat fill your cheeks.  You were stuck staring into each others eyes and smiling when your chrono went off, reminding you that you definitely had to leave.

“I’m sorry,” you sighed.

“I understand,” he said, giving your hand a squeeze in return and letting it go. “Until next time.”

You nodded with a grin and got on your shuttle. He watched you fly away before rejoining his brothers.

There was not to be a next time, though.  You’d never go back to Rishi Station.  Several rotations after you left, there was an attack.  You heard about it from some other troopers on your route and your heart dropped to the floor.  It was another rotation before Echo managed to find you through a GAR database and managed to contact you.  They were back on Kamino with Hevy.  He’d nearly died, but somehow, the side panel on the bomb they made managed to stay intact and push him out of the building, protecting him from certain death.  Still, he was badly injured and the Kaminoans weren’t sure he would make it. If several jedi generals hadn’t intervened, he might not have found himself in a bacta tank. He had massive burns all over his body and a massive concussion along with internal bruising.  The recovery would not be easy.  His armor had been mostly destroyed, but it helped save him.

When you received the message, you read it as quickly as you could, hoping against hope that it wasn’t as bad as it sounded. You started crying when you read that Hevy was alive. Although your heart broke every time you got to know a clone and found out the war had taken them, Hevy was special to you. You gave yourself a moment to let the tears flow as relief swept through your being.  Once you were ready, you read the rest of the message. Hevy was doing poorly, but they were trying to keep him alive long enough for him to heal. Echo and Fives had joined the 501st and Hevy was set to join too, as long as he pulled through.  He was stuck on Kamino in the meantime.  He and Fives wanted you to know, but they couldn’t say more than that.  You immediately asked if you could come and see him, but the Kaminoans didn’t want that.  You didn’t really have a reason to be on Kamino and sneaking you in so you could visit had its risks.  Your heart sank again, but in your correspondence, Fives had an idea.  He asked if you could send a voice recording for Hevy and they could play it to him to try to help lift his spirits. They didn’t know if he could even hear it while in the bacta tank, but it was worth a shot.

And so, Echo and Fives found themselves standing outside Hevy’s bacta tank playing your recording multiple times a day. Hi Hevy. It’s me. I heard what you did and what happened. I’m proud of you and you need to get better. You still owe me a date. Promise me you’ll be there.  When Echo and Fives had to ship out with the 501st for their next mission, they gave the recording to 99, who sat there diligently playing your message at least once a day and keeping Hevy company.  After a couple rotations he started to notice Hevy’s hand twitched when he heard the recording.

Hevy heard your voice and his brain was trying to comprehend where he was. Was he alive? How was he alive? He felt himself floating and could hear 99’s voice after yours. He wished more than anything to see his brothers and to see you.  He promised himself he’d find his way back to you. 

It was only one more rotation and he was out of the tank.  He was greeted by 99, a medical droid, and a clone medic named Shots. 

“Glad to have you back, Hevy,” smiled 99, as the droid and Shots helped Hevy dry off and lay down.

“Glad to be back, 99,” he replied.

Shots and the droid started scanning Hevy and he just rolled his eyes.

“I just woke up,” he protested.

“Yes, but the faster we scan you and confirm you’re fine, the sooner you can leave,” Shots retorted with a grin. 

Hevy sighed and waited, keeping a particular eye on the droid.  There wasn’t a single clone he knew who loved the medbay or wanted to spend more time there than they had to.

“Okay, looks like your burns healed, internal bruises are mostly gone, and you have no signs of concussion,” Shots reported. “We’ll get you a training session to see how that goes, but barring any major issues, you should be ready for duty.”

Hevy was pleased with the news.  99 walked him down to his temporary quarters and told him what happened during and after the explosion. Hevy took in the information and accepted that it just wasn’t his time yet. At least they had been successful in defending Rishi Station. 

“99?”

“Yes?” 

“There was another voice. When I was in the tank. I heard your voice and one other.”  He didn’t want to give too much away, but he had to know.

“Oh yes,” 99 replied.  “Echo left this for you. Something about communicating with a supplier?”

Hevy smiled. “Thanks 99.”

A couple rotations later he passed a physical exam, was cleared to join the 501st, and headed out into battle, but not before following the instructions Echo left for how to contact you.  It all seemed to happen so quickly in your mind.  He nearly died and they were already sending him into battle. In his message, he explained what he remembered and promised you he’d be on Coruscant soon.  You wanted to see him before he headed into battle, but knew that’s not how the GAR worked.

You kept yourself busy in the meantime, still delivering supplies to the outposts and adding a new stopping point. Every time you went past the old route that would have taken you to Rishi, you smiled to yourself. You missed that stop. You missed him.  You were thankful you got to have some text correspondence while he was gone so you knew he made it through each day. He wasn’t allowed to say much about where he was or what he was doing as that was on a need-to-know basis and the army certainly didn’t want to risk soldier’s transmissions being intercepted while communicating with a civilian, but you heard from him and that got you through the day.  Your messages started getting more personal, allowing him to know you and asking questions about him. You told him about a cool plant you saw in the market or the new flavor of ration bar which did not taste as good as was advertised.

On his end, Hevy looked for a new message from you every chance he got. They always made him smile.  He loved reading about life on Coruscant, learning about your friends and the places you liked to go. He loved all the little details too.  He had gotten to know you and really liked you before the accident, but he was seriously falling for you now. He would be on Coruscant soon and felt his heart pound as he wrote, “So what about that date?”

On your end, you had to read the words over and over, just to make sure you still weren’t making it up.  You replied, “I’m ready when you are.”

The day came and your mind was only on him. You didn’t pretend to care about work that day, so much as deciding to take the day off so you weren’t distracted while flying.  Hevy wore a new set of fatigues and stood a little awkwardly at your predetermined meet-up location, but he didn’t have to wait long.  As soon as he saw you he ran to embrace you. It felt like the most natural thing. You held on to his back and shoulders, subconsciously trying to make sure he was really here. You breathed deeply and felt tears coming to your eyes. You pulled away from the hug a little, your hands tracing down each arm and resting on his hands.

“You’re here,” you said, looking up into his beautiful brown eyes. “You’re really here.”

He hugged you again. “I finally made it, cyare.”

There was so much you wanted to show him.  You took his hand and led him through that part of town, stopping at one of your favorite places to eat.  He wanted to try more food than he could possibly fit in his stomach and you told him you’d just have to bring him there back again and again.  Now that he was here you could take your time. Even though the war was still going on, you had this moment right now and you weren’t going to waste it.  Hevy loved walking around with you and held your hand the entire time, not wanting to let go. You walked him through a small festival, enjoying the music while lights shown through blown glass art in every color.  It was beautiful, but it was even better that you were sharing the experience. You chatted well into the night until the festival was starting to shut down. 

“I don’t want this night to end,” you admitted.

“I don’t either,” he agreed.

“When do you ship out next?”

“A week. The 501st boys really needed a break. I just joined them, but they’ve been out there fighting for a long time without shore leave.”

“Hevy,” you retorted with a grin, “You are part of them now and you need a break too. Besides, you just got blown up.”

He chuckled. “Fair enough.”

You looked down and thought for a moment.

“What is it,” he asked. “Is something wrong?”

You shook your head. “I was just wondering if maybe you’d like to spend the night at my place. Nothing more than… I don’t know if that would be too much.”

“I’d love to,” he answered. “I’d also love to kiss you.”

You beamed and leaned toward him.  His lips planted firmly on yours made you both smile. As he pulled away you surged forward just a bit to leave one more little kiss for him.

He took your hand and let you lead the way. You were just one level down and it wasn’t long before you let him inside, suddenly wondering why you hadn’t cleaned up more. Hevy didn’t mind though. He didn’t even notice. He liked seeing where you live and seeing your personality in the little items you had around your home.  After you both took your boots off, he grinned and picked you up, kissing you again.

“Oh! Hevy!” You looked down, a little unsure.  He calmly looked up at you, happy to have you in his arms.

“I carry a Z-6 rotary cannon,” he said confidently.  Then, a little softer he added, “I could carry you anywhere. Just say the word.”

You leaned down and rested your forehead to his, placing your arms on his shoulders and smiling down at him.

You whispered, “For tonight, how about you just take me that way.” You tilted your head and looked down the hallway toward your bedroom.

He grinned, “I can do that.”

You found yourselves in bed, snuggling against each other. While the environment was new to him, because it was you and your home, he immediately relaxed. Right now, the war didn’t exist. Right now, he was with you. He was alive and here and happy.  He settled against the pillow and pulled you a little closer.  You kissed him again.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” you said quietly.

“So am I, cyar’ika.”

You listened to his heartbeat and felt his chest rise and fall with each breath. It was comforting.  It wasn’t long before you fell asleep in each other’s arms, wanting nothing more than to steal away any moment with him you could get.

[littlemissmanga]

Maybe Among the Stars

Pairing: Broadside x (gn)Reader

W/C: 2,737

Summary: Broadside was literally built to withstand risk and danger. He’s willing to take the chance this will all end badly. But that was back when the only one at risk was him. How can he face that same danger knowing it’ll roll over onto you now?

Warnings: Angst/comfort, the realities of loving a soldier, slight nod to intimacy but think like PG-13 rating. Lots of longing, but it's got a happy ending.

A/N: Goodness, I had this drafted out so long ago but real life and brain pain made this take forever. I’m terribly sorry @sunshinesdaydream for the slight delay, but here is your Broadside fic for the @rare-clone-fic-exchange! I had a lot of fun researching Broadside, Shadow Squadron, their planes and getting to dive into a starfighter’s mentality. I hope you like what I did with his personality since there isn’t too much in canon to go off of, other than his limited screen time showed me a very confident man. And what’s better than a fic about a man in crisis with himself?

Also, submitting this as an entrance for my @clonexreaderbingo card, the “Hope” square. 😊

Inspiration song, The Word of My Body from Spring Awakening: “Oh, I’m gonna bruise you. Oh, you’re gonna be my bruise.”

dividers by @saradika

It wasn’t fair. To either of you, but he understood the risk and was willing to face it. He knew what could come next and didn’t care if it meant one more chance.

But you …

You put up a great front. It took him too many rotations to see the softness under your steel. Weeks of finding reasons to fuel up at the café you worked at before he was shipped off just to tease you and get under your skin. It was a challenge that gave him a little lightness to his step before he and his brothers were back in the heat of battle, the memory of a cheeky smile on pretty lips settling his battle-tossed nerves.

Eventually, the face behind the smile was the thought that gave him comfort. But he’d never say it. He could keep you at an arm’s length and still get his fix as long as he didn’t cross that line.

And you never backed down from this game you couldn’t have known you were playing, giving as good as you got but never with cruelty. Your responses had even gotten downright flirtatious recently, a taste of normal that he couldn’t resist.

Until the last time.

Right after the Battle of Coruscant. Broadside had been flying high even with his feet solidly on the ground. Shadow Squadron had taken impressively minimal damage as each trooper flew beside General Skywalker bravely and proved integral to the safe retrieval of the Chancellor.

He’d opened the door to your café with a swagger that would make even his General blush, ready to leverage his status as planetary savior for a free slice of meilroon pie.

But instead of the sweetness he was expecting, the salt of your tears was all he could taste for hours after. The relief couldn’t erase the deep worry lines on your face at the sight of him, and while Broadside wasn’t above imagining what you’d feel like in his arms, the reality of your half-choked sobs racking your form as it melded to his when you pushed into him and held him like he would float away weighed on his heart.

“They were showing the dogfights over the holonet. I saw … there were so many … I didn’t know if …”

The realization hit him like a proton canon blast: He had become someone important to you. You felt the same way about him as he did you.

And ever since, elation and dread warred within him.

Since the Battle of Coruscant, Shadow Squadron had been requested to handle more escort missions for the Chancellor, meaning more time on Triple Zero.

More time with you.

But proximity to the Chancellor and by extension the Corrie Guard meant no room for deviation from the regs … including the one about not fraternizing with spunky natborns who’d be brought to tears at the thought of a trooper in danger.

A specific trooper. Him.

A gorgeous soul who kept him on his toes, challenging every truth he thought he knew. Who’d started saving a serving of his favorite meals when they were on special without knowing if he’d be coming in that day. Who’d throw an extra serving in for a customer going through a bad day but feigned ignorance when questioned. Who fought off the thugs and lowlifes that’d crawl in from the lower levels with a broken broom without an ounce of fear but shattered at the sight of his Squadron in danger overhead.

He was going to hurt you.

Maybe, just a little, he understood why the Jedi didn’t allow attachments. Because more and more, Broadside could feel the craving to see you again rise and overshadow the knowledge of just how thoroughly he’ll ruin you.

***

“Is this where you’re gonna murder me?”

Broadside threw an exasperated look over his shoulder. “Why would I drag you all the way here just to murder you?”

You cocked an eyebrow as your head swiveled to take in the narrow, at to be fair rather dingy, ally he was leading you through. “To throw the cops of your trail, duh. It’s like you don’t even listen to those crime holos I send you.”

He heard the smile in your voice and felt its match stretch on his own lips at your macabre humor.

“Those are all full of fluff anyway. It’s all nonsense.”

“No, they’re-”

“Shush.” He turned back and continued leading you on. “We’re almost there.”

“Would be great to know where ‘there’ is. Or what’s gonna happen there.”

Despite your grumbling, Broadside could feel your grip tighten around his hand. All at once, your simple show of trust filled his chest and brought him to his knees.

He didn’t deserve it. But he hoped he’d earn it.

Reaching a nondescript door ­— one of many to line the ally — Broadside stopped in the entranceway, pulling you over to face him.

“You already know the answer, mesh’la. You came up with this idea.”

Confusion covered your face with an aching cuteness. He could see the wheels turning inside, your eyes giving everything away as you searched for an answer.

“Closing time ... I was helping you sweep ... You asked what civvie experience I wanted to have …”

Your eyes sharpened in a playful glare. “And you said, ‘working in a diner’ just to be an ass.”

He leaned in close, towering over you and invading your space just to rile you more. He couldn’t help it. Broadside was addicted to that spark and needed it, needed you, like a hit of spice. “Not just to be an ass. But that’s not the important part. What came next?”

“You … You asked me what I’d want to do …”

Your eyes were wide as moons when you looked back up at him, disbelief filling every inch of your expression. “No …”

“Yup.” He confirmed, entering the access code and opening the door to reveal the back entrance to the hanger where Shadow Squadrons brand-new Y-wings were lined up all nice and pretty.

This time, he didn’t take your hand. Broadside strode through the hanger like he owned it, confidence grounding every step and growing at the sound of your quick footsteps franticly trying to keep up with his.

“Broadside!” You hissed quietly, earning a rich laugh at your idea of stealth. “This can’t be allowed. We’re gonna get caught!”

He stopped next to his new ship, ladder at its side at the ready. “You know, I’m actually insulted. You think I haven’t thought this through.” Turning, Broadside gestures broadly at the hanger. “See? No one around. Maintenance has been reassigned and my squad is grounded right now.”

Your eyes followed his across the cavernous room and you nodded in agreement. But your lip was still caught between your teeth, a telltale sign.

Letting the levity slip away, Broadside brought his hands up to cup your face and pull your gaze to his. Once again, he invaded your space but this time, all teasing was gone. “No one will know we’re here. I’ve got you.”

You gave him that look again. The same one as that day, the one that screamed to him just how unsure you really were underneath all your strength and bluster. The one that broke his heart with how much he wanted to erase it from your face. The same one that told him, just maybe, that you knew how tenuous this all really was.

And then you stepped closer.  

You turned to reach for the ladder, stopping to look at him one more time. He gave you an affirmative nod, fighting every cell that cried out to shatter in relief. Maybe this would go better for you both than he thought.

Following closely, he climbed up the ladder after you, settling behind you in the cockpit.

It was a tight fit, only being designed for one person at a time. Broadside struggled for a moment, trying to get his legs to fit around yours in the narrow space until you took matters into your own hands. A touch was all it took to get him to sit still, your hand holding down firmly on his thigh.

The look you sent him over your shoulder is so soft, Broadside wanted to preserve it somehow. To freeze time so you’d always look at him just like that. To make a galaxy where you’d have no reason to ever look at him any other way.

“May I?” Your voice was steady, but barely a whisper.

“Yeah,” he rasped back.

Lifting yourself up, you moved your legs to straddle his before resting yourself on his lap.

“Sorry, but I think this may be the most comfortable configuration.”

Broadside reached around you to start the operating procedures, reveling in the feel of you so close. It was a mockery of an embrace, but it was enough for now.

“No need to apologize, angel. We’re all good here.”

Once all systems were engaged and optimized, he pressed his comm. “Shadow One to Tower. All systems go, here. Ready for clearance.”

You spun in your seat to level him with an intense glare. “No one will know we’re here?”

And Broadside couldn’t resist stoking your fire, sticking out his tongue like a cadet just to revel in how riled you got. “No one who will say anything. Corkscrew is on tower watch tonight and he owes me a favor or three.”

“Tower to Shadow One. Request for test flight confirmed. You are clear for launch. You have 30 minutes.”

“See? Just a standard test flight for the new fighters,” he said smugly.

With that, Broadside went through the launch procedure without a second thought, focusing instead on every way you shifted on his lap, how your hands fumbled for purchase on the sides of the ship before gripping hard on his knees. His hand curled around your hip, holding you in place for all the good it did. The turbulence had you shaking against him and by the Maker if that friction wasn’t the most sensational thing in the entire galaxy.

But everything settled when they broke the atmosphere, the stillness and quiet covering them and isolating them from the chaos of the city planet below.

He watched with delight as your head moved on a swivel, turning back and forth to take in the vast array of stars in front of you.

“It’s beautiful,” you breathed.

“Yeah, it is.” Broadside’s response was just as quiet as he took in your awe before adding louder, “But we didn’t come up here just to look at it.”

“No?”

Before you could do anything else, he grabbed your hands. Without asking, he brought them to the steering column, molding his over yours.  “No. You’re gonna fly.”

He could see the broad, devious grin overtake your face in the reflection of the transparisteel and for the briefest moment, Broadside second-guessed whether this was a good idea.

Worry quickly gave way as he lost himself fully in the joy you exuded. Playful cheers filled the small Y-wing cockpit as he instructed you through a few of his simpler maneuvers. Eventually, he began taking a bit more control, showing off with several rolls and drops all in hopes of earning just one more delightful shout, one more squeeze of your thighs around his. All while his hand kept you in place on his lap.

Leveling out after his latest round of showing off, you leaned back against him fully, losing all tension in your body to rest soundly against his chest.

“So, what brought this on?”

His pause is palpable, creating a stillness that could rival space itself. He knew it would happen eventually. But he hated that it could ruin everything.

“I … I don’t know when I’ll be able to visit you next.”

His eyes were trained onto every inch of your body, so he saw the moment your shoulders tensed.

“I see. Even though I know Shadow Squadron has been assigned to escort the Chancellor from now on.”

Broadside took a breath, preparing for his practiced spiel, but you wouldn’t give him the chance. “Oh, yes. Don’t think I don’t follow the news. I do. Of course I do, because how else would I know where you were, what you were doing, if you were okay. You don’t tell me these things when you visit. I have to piece together rumors and suspicions. So I know you’ll be around more. But sure, tell me the lie. Tell me you won’t be able to see me. I’ve been dumb enough flirt with you. To start feeling …”

Your voice tapered off. He couldn’t see your reflection anymore, your face cast downward, but he could see how tightly you were holding yourself.

“Maybe I’ll be dumb enough to believe the lie,” you whispered.

He reached forward, snaking his other arm around to encircle your waist and pull you impossibly closer. Like a child clutching a soft toy, he curled around you in the cocoon of the cockpit.

It must have hurt. His armor was hard and unyielding. He could imagine all the ways it dug in to your pliant skin, how your curves arched around its firm plains.

Even his embrace was painful to you.

And yet you didn’t fight. You didn’t pull away or even adjust yourself. No, you pushed yourself closer, folding yourself in to fit into him like a missing piece.

“It’s not a lie,” he whispered, hoping for all the galaxy that you heard his promise. “It’s not safe.”

“For who?”

“For both of us.”

The silence lingered, and he knew you understood. If you really had been following the war, if you’ve been slicing through the holonet for information, then you had known the truth of his words for a while.

Shifting your hips, you turned in his hold, folding your legs under you to sit sideways on his lap. You didn’t look at him, though. Instead, you tucked your head under his chin, staying as close as possible. “Is that why you brought me up here? Show me the stars so I have something pretty to look at when you tell me it’s over?”

His grip tightened. “No.”

“Then why?”

He brought his hand up to cup the back of your head. He needed you as close as possible. “Because I can’t say it’s over. I want to. But I can’t. I will knowingly put you in danger just to see you again, to hear you again.”

He pressed his lips to the crown of your head. His first kiss has the aftertaste of salt and bitterness, but he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

“Bringing you to see the stars like you always wanted is the least I can do. I’ll give you anything within my power ’cause I’m taking so much more.”

You wriggled in his grasp, pulling away just enough to look him in the eye. Your cheeks were stained with tears he didn’t even hear begin to fall. Instinctively, he brought his thumb to swipe it away, but your hand stopped him.

“You’re not taking anything, dumbass. I’m giving it willingly.”

Broadside’s eyes close as relief surged through his body. He relaxed even more at the feel of your forehead pressed against his.

“I don’t care about the danger. And take as much time as you need to make things as safe as possible. But you’re not the only one who can’t call quits, so don’t act like you’re carrying the burden alone.”

He couldn’t help the smile that spread easy as sin across his lips at your declaration. Knowing that you were as far gone as he was. Now that he had your knowing consent, that you could handle all that came with being together, there was nothing holding him back.

“So, I don’t have to plan such extravagant dates?”

You let out a peel of laughter in response, your delight breaking the last remnant of grief. “Oh, you absolutely have to try and top this next time. I’ll accept nothing less.”

Fueled by hope and the fire of his wanting, Broadside pressed his lips to yours, tasting starlight and a hint of the blumfruit juice you had earlier.

“I’ve created a monster,” he murmured into the kiss.

“Indeed, you have.”

Your smile against his lips is all the reassurance he needed to not care.

You can find the rest of my fics on my Masterlist here. And you can sign up for my taglist to be alerted to any new fics here.

[starrylothcat]

Pairing: Echo x Reader

Summary: Echo knows you are alone on Life Day Eve and wants to spend the holiday with you.

Warnings: Light angst/meloncholy related to the holidays, kissing/making out, slight allusion to sexy times but not described and nothing explicit. Fluffy and happy ending. 🎄

WC: 2676

A/N: This is a gift for @cc--2224 as part of the Life Day Fic Exchange hosted by @cloneficgiftexchange !

I played with ideas from the prompt: Having no one to spend the holidays with and being invited out/over to spend it with [x clone].

❄️ Happy Holidays and I hope you enjoy @cc--2224 ! ❄️

The sun was setting, and delicate rays of light poured into the streets from residences up and down every street on Pabu.

Life Day lights began twinkling on above doors and around windows as the sun sunk beyond the horizon.

Laughter and melodic tunes floated in the air, along with mouth-watering aromas from holiday feasts being set out on tables for friends and family to enjoy.

Echo stood outside your small Pabu cafe, trying to steady his nerves. He was clutching a bottle of rare Tevraki whiskey in his hand, something he had been saving for some time.

Your neon “Open” sign was switched off and the cafe was dark, though a string of Life Day lights flickered above your storefront sign.

You lived in a small apartment in the back of the cafe, and Echo could see a dim light illuminating your living room window.

It was Life Day Eve, and Echo knew you were alone.

Echo had been frequenting your cafe for a while now, making a point to come in the early mornings when your delectable baked goods were fresh out of the nanowave oven.

The more he got to know you, sipping caf and sharing stories and smiles, the more he realized he was catching feelings.

It started small, at first. Little fleeting flutters of his heart when he entered your cafe, knowing you’d be behind the counter. His face warming when you’d laugh, a wonderful medolic laugh that made those flutters in his chest beat like a porg’s wings trying its damdest to fly.

When he was away on missions with Rex, he thought more and more of you, truly missing you and how he felt when he was in your presence.

He felt…safe. Comfortable. At ease. Emotions he hasn’t felt in a long, long time.

You were kind and generous to everyone who entered your cafe and went out of your way to help the people of Pabu. You often hand-delivered bespoke baked goods to new arrivals to make them feel at home.

Echo admired your kind heart, quiet strength, and warm demeanor. It took him time to fully realize what he was feeling, but let it happen. Echo had been thinking more and more of his future, especially now that he was in control of his destiny for the first time in his life.

He had much taken from him, his very soul used against his will. He was given a second chance, and he was not going to waste it.

So when Echo discovered you were spending the holiday by yourself, he knew he couldn’t let you be alone, not tonight.

You cared so much about Life Day, just the day before describing your fond memories of celebrating with your family as a child. You were a refugee like most Pabu residents, and you’ve been unable to see your family for many years due to the war.

Echo picked up the melancholy in your voice and how your body language changed when you spoke of your memories, a heavy weight anchoring you down knowing it was another Life Day without them.

Echo had his brothers and Omega. He was incredibly lucky to have a support structure, even after all he had been through.

The thought of you having no one to celebrate with didn’t sit right with him, so he decided to surprise you with a bottle of whiskey he purchased some time ago, a drink he used to share with Fives on this very holiday.

Echo found himself with a similar weight in his chest this cycle, thinking of Fives. Life Day was Five’s favorite holiday, and Echo had many memories of him and Fives savoring this drink on this nat-born holiday, cheering their brothers, and speaking of their hopes for the future.

Echo couldn’t think of anyone else he’d want to share this drink with tonight. Not even his own brothers. But you.

Now Echo stood in front of your door, hesitating for a moment, hoping he wasn’t coming on too strongly.

Echo never had time for relationships and was currently flying by the seat of his pants, but wasn’t dumb.

Echo has noticed how your expression softens when you look at him, or how your hand always brushes against his every time he hands you credits for his caf, touching his hand just long enough to be noticeable.

He was here as a friend, as much as he wanted to be more than friends. He wanted to kiss you, hold you, and let you know just how much you meant to him.

Echo wanted to respect your boundaries, though, and if you just wanted to be friends, he would continue to stand by your side as that and nothing more.

Echo took a breath and walked to the back of your cafe, up to your front door that was adorned with a Life Day wreath.

He tapped on your front door with his scomp.

It was now or never.

He waited a moment, hearing quiet music playing and some shuffling.

“Hello?” Your voice called from behind your door.

“It’s Echo.”

Your door clicked open, revealing your face, warm light spilling out, illuminating Echo who stood before you.

You were wearing your apron, the one you always adorned in the storefront, and Echo could immediately smell something sweet drifting from your kitchen.

“Echo!” Your face lit up. “What are you doing here?” You looked surprised, glancing at the whiskey in his hand.

“Thought you could use some company tonight.” Echo held it up, trying his best to act casual.

Your lips parted in a delicate oh, a blush warming your cheeks as you took in the man you are seriously crushing on standing in your doorway.

“Echo…you didn’t have to…I’m sure you have plans with your brothers…?”

Echo shook his head. “I want to be here, with you. You shouldn't have to spend the holiday alone.”

A genuine smile graced your features and Echo felt the tension in his shoulders dissipate.

You stepped to the side, gesturing inside. “Please, come in!

Echo stepped inside your small home. It was cozy, with a few dim lamps casting a pleasing glow throughout your living space. A Life Day tree was tucked in the corner of your living room and sparkling lights lined the ceiling, adding a magical feel to the space.

Your dining room table had racks of tooka-shaped cookies cooling, the culprit of the delicious smell.

“Sorry for the mess.” You walked to your kitchen, opening a cabinet to grab glasses. “I wasn’t expecting company…” You laughed, reaching with your tiptoes into the cupboard.

“No need to apologize. I’m the one intruding.” Echo stood near the table, placing the whiskey bottle down where there was space.

You walked back over to him, holding the glasses.

“No, not at all, Echo. I’m…really glad you’re here.”

You smiled your beautiful smile that Echo replayed endlessly in his head, making his heart do flips in his chest.

“Hope you like whiskey.” Echo said, “I used to drink this with my brother on Life Day. We’d save up credits for months to get a bottle.”

You scooted a rack of cookies out of the way, placing the glasses on the table.

“I’m honored you’re sharing it with me.” You untied your apron, draping it over a nearby chair.

“And yes, I do like whiskey, so you will have to share.” Your eyes held a mirthful glow, the Life Day lights hanging above mirrored in your irises.

Echo’s heart was thumping as he poured you each a glass of the amber liquid.

You gestured toward your couch. “Shall we?”

Echo sat next to you on your couch, sinking into the comfortable cushions as you settled near him. The couch was small, leaving little room between you.

You cradled your glass of whiskey, the lights from your tree reflecting off the crystaline glasses. A comfortable silence spreading between the two of you, only interrupted by the music playing from your radio.

Echo looked so handsome in the glow of your lights. His jaw was set, strong, and stubbled. His skin had gained some color back from the Pabu sun, and you could see his muscular shoulders tight against the civilian clothes he was wearing.

You have known Echo for some time now, ever since he and his brothers first came to the tropical planet. He stopped by your cafe every morning he could for caf and a spice cake. You learned some of his story before Pabu, but not all. You knew how he got his cybernetics, a story he told you early one morning in your shop.

Your heart broke for him but admired his resilience and ever-present strength. It’s one of the many reasons why you have fallen for him.

“Thank you, Echo.” Your eyes met his brown ones, butterflies coming to life in your stomach.

“I didn’t mean to give you my whole sob story yesterday…I usually keep myself busy on Life Day, as you can see.” You motioned behind you to all the cookies.

Echo shook his head. “Don’t apologize. The holiday can be hard on everyone, especially now. I’ve been thinking more of my brother, and it hurts knowing he can’t be here. You’re not alone in this.”

He lifted his glass of whiskey toward you.

“Cheers.” He said, clinking his glass against yours. “To friends and family.”

“Cheers.” You replied, “To friends and family.”

You both sipped the sweet alcohol, enjoying the warmth in your chest it provided as you swallowed.

“You and your brother had good taste.” You smiled behind your glass, taking another small sip, savoring the drink.

Echo chuckled.

“Glad you think so.”

You watched something flash across Echo’s eyes.

Echo had told you a little about Fives in passing, but not much.

“I’m sure he’d be happy that you are continuing your tradition.”

Echo nodded, a small, sentimental smile pulling at his lips.

“Yeah…he was a good man. One of the best I’ve ever known.”

“Tell me about him,” you started. “Only if you want, though.”

Echo knew Fives would be happy for him, and while he desperately wished he could be here, talking about him lifted the stone off his chest that had settled ever since he saw this whiskey.

He told you of the first time they bought this drink, and almost getting caught with it in their bunk when they were cadets.

The night went on, trading stories of the past, you talking of your family and Life Day traditions, and Echo speaking of his brothers, reminiscing on the trouble he and Fives used to get up to.

There was a newfound intimacy between the two of you, for once not just talking in your cafe. Echo had never felt closer to you than now, watching how your features glowed under the lights, talking of fond memories and the current goings on in Pabu.

You weren’t sure when it happened, but you ended up sitting close enough to Echo that your legs were almost touching.

Your conversation lulled, and Echo glanced at your chrono, seeing how late it was, well past midnight.

Time always went by so quickly with you. That peaceful serenity that he only felt with you had overtaken him, not wanting it to end.

“I didn’t mean to keep you this late.” He spoke softly. “I should go.”

Without thinking, your hand shot to his knee, feeling the hard metal underneath his clothing.

“You don’t have to go, not yet.” You said quickly.

You didn’t want him to leave. Your gaze met his, your hand still on his cybernetic knee.

Echo’s honeyed eyes swam with emotion, feeling your hand on his knee slide up toward his thigh, where his skin began.

Echo, spurred on by your touch and maybe a little bit of the whiskey, laid his hand atop yours. The gentleness of your hand contrasted with his larger, calloused palm.

Your eyes darted to where your hands met, and back to his.

Echo whispered your name so quietly you almost missed it over the thrumming of your own heart.

“Thank you for being here tonight.” You took a breath.

“I know we both have people we are missing right now…it’s usually a difficult time for me, but this is the happiest I’ve felt in a long time.”

Your voice was quiet too, enjoying the weight of his hand atop yours.

“You…mean a lot to me, Echo.”

Echo’s eyes widened slightly, heat rushing up his neck, hoping he was hearing you correctly.

“You mean a lot to me, too.” Echo’s hand lightly squeezed yours, your confessions hanging around you as excitement flooded your systems, realizing you both felt the same.

The air was suddenly thick, a magnetic pull tugging at both of you toward one another.

You were so close now, his nose brushing against yours as you both tentatively leaned in, your lips just centimeters away as you slowly closed the distance.

Finally, your lips touched, soft and chaste, his scomp lifting to gently trace down your arm as his lips captured yours.

Echo felt as if sparks were going off in his entire body, your lips sweeter than he imagined. He never wanted to let go of this moment.

It was pure bliss to kiss you, Echo’s mind solely focusing on you, how you felt, the way your breath hitched when he brought his hand to cup your face, gently caressing his thumb under your eye.

You pulled away, already missing his spicy musk and surprisingly plush lips.

“This is the happiest I’ve felt in a long time, too.” Echo traced his knuckle down your cheek. “And it’s because of you. It’s always because of you.”

You leaned in again, overwhelmed by emotion, wrapping your arms around his neck and bringing him into a more passionate and fervent kiss.

Everything that had been building between the two of you didn’t need to be spoken, the way your mouths danced and hands roamed one another’s bodies spoke for itself.

You sighed into his mouth as he shyly slid his tongue across your lower lip, politely asking for more.

His hand cradled the back of your head, entangling in your hair as your kiss deepened.

Emboldened, Echo broke the steamy kiss and traced his mouth down your jawline, placing hot kisses slowly down your neck.

The quiet whimpers that left your swollen lips ignited his body with passion, hoping he hadn’t fallen asleep on your couch and this was just a dream.

Echo lavished your skin, making his way back up to your lips for another profoundly devoted kiss.

When you both finally pulled away to catch your breaths, your lips were shiny with saliva, and your bodies flushed.

You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh as Echo held you against his strong body.

“Do you still want to go?” You asked.

Echo shook his head.

“I think you convinced me to stay.”

He brushed his lips against yours, slowly leaning you back on the couch, until you were laying down and he was above you.

You looked up at him through hooded eyelids as he took in your form beneath him, your soft body pliable against his.

“Can’t let you wake up alone on Life Day, either.” Echo’s voice was deliciously deeper than usual as he pressed an open-mouthed kiss right under your ear, causing you to shudder in delight.

Echo waited for your answer, not wanting to take things further than you wanted.

“No, you can’t.” You replied, pulling him down flush against you, your lips meeting again, your bodies entwining.

When you awoke the next morning in one another’s arms, for the first Life Day in a long time, you both felt indescribable happiness.

As you drifted off the night before, speaking softly to one another in the afterglow of your ignited feelings for one another, Echo was afraid when he woke up, that peace he felt only with you would be gone. Or that maybe you’d only wanted that one night with him, and nothing more.

The feeling was still there, even stronger than before. His fears dissipated when you left feather-light kisses across his chest, asking if he’d like to stay for breakfast and help decorate some of the cookies you had made last night.

Echo wholeheartedly agreed, inviting you to the dinner Hunter was hosting that evening with Omega and the rest of his brothers.

The heaviness that had settled over both of you leading up to the holiday had lifted away, replaced with glimmering elation and harmony that only you could give one another, knowing you would never have to be alone on Life Day ever again.

⋆｡˚❆˚ ⋆ Comments & Reblogs Appreciated! ⋆｡˚❆˚ ｡

Dividers by @saradika

[the-bad-batch-baroness]

Fortunately Unfortunate

Jesse x GN!Reader

Summary: Jesse’s number is drawn in a lottery, forcing him to participate in a cross-training event with the 212th, and he’s not happy about it. However, his view of the training mission changes when he crashes into your life, literally.

Pairing: Jesse x GN!Reader

Characters: Jesse, Rex, Cody, Waxer, Boil, Sinker, Violet (OFC)

Tags & Warnings: 18+, grumpy Jesse, vehicular accident, no injuries, clone jokes, bad puns, shirtless clones, fluff, humor, angst with a happy ending, implied sexy time offscreen, suggestive themes

Word Count: 9.2k

Author's Note:  Apologizing now for the word count (my small ideas never stay small), and for the fact that this fic only went through two rounds of editing before posting... This fic was written for @snippy-tano as part of the @rare-clone-fic-exchange. I hope you like it sweetie, and I hope you don’t mind the additional side characters 😘 As always, please enjoy 💚

@clonexreaderbingo Square: Tradition

“You can’t be serious?” Jesse groans with an exaggerated eye roll.

“I am,” Rex answers. “Your number was drawn, so you’re going.”

Jesse grunts. “This program is stupid!”

“This program is tradition,” Rex retorts.

“Can’t you send Fives?” Jesse asks. “He loves this stuff.”

“Fives’ number wasn’t drawn, yours was,” Rex crosses his arms and scowls. “ You’ll just have to learn to love it too.”

“But–”

“That’s an order,” Rex interjects.

Jesse grits his teeth. “Yes, sir.”

“Good,” Rex hands Jesse a data-pad. “Your transport leaves in an hour. I suggest you take that time to adjust your attitude. Cody is a good friend of mine and I don’t need you giving him grief.”

Jesse takes the data-pad. “Yes, sir.”

Rex turns to leave and Jesse is left in the cargo bay alone. He sighs as he sits down on a crate to review his new orders. Every month, the battalions swap a few clones in the name of “cross-training”. The clones are picked at random via lottery, and unfortunately for Jesse, his number was drawn this month. Out of the millions of clones, why did it have to be him? It’s not that he’s opposed to cross-training, but he shouldn’t be forced to leave his own battalion to do it.

Jesse swipes through the data-pad and skims over the details. He’s been assigned cross-training with the 212th attack battalion, specifically their ARF unit. He scoffs. The 501st has an ARF unit, and a darn good one. There’s no reason for him to be shipped off-world to play ARF trooper with a different battalion. If the GAR wants to cross-train clones so badly, then he should be able to do it with his own brothers, not with a bunch of clones he doesn’t know.

Jesse sets the data-pad down next to him on the crate and shakes his head. He wants to make Rex proud, but his heart just isn’t in it. Even if meeting a marshal commander does sound interesting, he knows he won’t be working with him exclusively. He’s an ARC, and he wants to do ARC things, and go on ARC missions with Fives and Echo. It's a shame that he’s missing out on their newest assignment. It sounded like a wild ride, and he was looking forward to it.

The intercom speaker interrupts Jesse’s thoughts to notify him that his transport is boarding and will be departing soon. With a heavy sigh, he hops off the crate, grabs his data-pad, and makes his way to the transport. He straps in and closes his eyes, letting his mind go blank as the transport whirs to life and delivers him to his new temporary post. The time it takes to get there is just under one standard rotation, so he takes this time to try to prepare himself for anything.

The transport lands and as the ramp descends, Jesse raises an arm to shield his eyes from the bright sun and the dust swirling into the transport. He steps down the ramp and observes his new surroundings, which isn’t much to look at. It’s a desert planet with little to no vegetation, and the sun glares down hot onto his plastoid armor. He experimentally grinds his foot into the tan earth beneath him and it shifts like powder until he reaches a layer of rock underneath.

“You must be Jesse,” Cody says on approach.

Jesse looks up to see the commander and straightens himself to attention. “Yes, sir!”

“Welcome to the 212th,” Cody gestures for Jesse to follow him. “I’ve heard good things about you from Rex. He says you’re one of his best.”

Jesse follows next to Cody as they make their way to the command center. “Just doing my duty to the Republic, sir.”

“He also mentioned that you’re not particularly fond of this assignment,” Cody adds.

Jesse grimaces and tries to backpedal. “With all due respect, sir, I only meant that I’d rather not be away from my brothers at the 501st when they might need me.”

“Fair enough,” Cody says. “However, if the survival of the entire battalion rests on you being there at all times, then perhaps Rex should be demoted.”

Jesse scrunches his face with indignation and raises his voice. “Captain Rex is–”

Cody turns on his heels to face Jesse and crosses his arms in a silent word of caution.

Jesse takes a startled half-step back and holds his tongue. “Nevermind, sir,” he stammers with embarrassment.

The rest of the walk to the command center is silent. Jesse kicks himself as he realizes how far he stuck his own foot into his mouth. So far that he’s surprised he hasn’t choked on it yet. He doesn’t want to embarrass Rex, yet here he is picking a fight with a marshal commander. It’s definitely one of the dumber things he’s done in his life. But, when it comes to his captain, Jesse finds it difficult to control his emotions. Their history together is too deep not to defend him.

When they enter the command center, Jesse sees two ARF troopers in camouflage armor with colors matching the tan dust that’s been sticking to him since he arrived. He also sees another trooper in gray and white armor standing next to them. As he gets closer, he can hear them chatting away about something nonsensical. He eyes the three clones and mentally sizes them up; not entirely sure what to make of them yet, but he’ll reserve judgment for now.

“This is Lieutenant Waxer and Boil,” Cody gestures with his hands. “They’re part of our elite ARF unit, Ghost Company, and will be conducting your training for the next few rotations.”

The four clones trade head nods of acknowledgement.

Cody turns to Jesse and the clone with gray armor. “I expect you to address them as you would a commanding officer, with respect. Follow their orders and do what they ask of you.”

“Yes, sir!” Jesse and the other clone affirm.

Cody nods. “I’ll leave you to it.”

A moment of silence passes between the four clones as an awkward air blows in.

Waxer is the first to speak up. “Do you guys have names?”

“I’m Jesse,” Jesse answers and stretches out his hand to shake that of the two ARFs. “With the 501st.”

The clone in the gray armor follows suit. “I’m Sinker, with the 104th.”

“Nice to meet you both,” Boil adds.

Another awkward silence passes between the clones and Jesse starts to question the validity of his new assignment. Perhaps this whole thing is a big joke and he can board the next transport off this dust bowl. He absentmindedly grinds his foot into the dusty floor, a habit he picked up somewhere during the war to keep him from running his mouth when he’s bored. If someone doesn’t say something soon, he might, and they probably won’t like what it is.

“Alright, boys,” Waxer says with a gesture of his head towards the door. “We’re heading out to the corral.”

“Corral?” Jesse asks, raising an eyebrow. “Are we learning to ride animals?”

Boil chuckles. “Sort of.”

Jesse looks at Sinker, hoping that he’s on his side about how crazy this whole thing sounds.

Sinker shrugs. “Sounds fun.”

The three clones head out of the command center, leaving Jesse alone in his bewilderment. When his brain catches up to him, he jogs up to the rear and follows them out to the so-called corral. Although, Jesse wouldn’t call it a “corral”. It’s just a barricaded motor pool full of AT-RTs. A part of Jesse is relieved that he doesn’t actually have to ride any animals, but his intuition tells him that whatever they have planned isn’t going to be as easy as he thinks.

Waxer stops in front of the barricade and addresses the squad. “As part of your cross-training in the ARF unit, you’re each going to learn how to ride an AT-RT.”

“Don’t you mean drive?” Jesse interrupts.

“No,” Waxer answers. “An AT-RT isn’t just some machine you can climb on and control. It takes concentration, skill, dexterity, and a mutual understanding between you and the walker. You don’t drive an AT-RT, you ride it.”

Jesse rolls his eyes. There’s a reason he’s an ARC and not an ARF. He doesn’t have the patience for these pansies, talking about a machine as if it’s a living animal. What utter nonsense.

“Shinies don’t even look at an AT-RT until they can show competency riding a living breathing animal,” Boil continues the explanation. “Since both of you are well-established and accomplished soldiers, we figured we could skip the live animal part and see what you’re made of.”

A smirk flashes across Sinker’s face and Jesse realizes he’s alone in his feelings about the training. He grinds his foot against the dusty earth again, feeling way out of his element. ARCs don’t “ride” AT-RTs, they infiltrate enemy lines, perform sabotage, steal secrets, and tip the scales of an assault. His last hope that he might get some in depth reconnaissance training has officially been dashed as Waxer opens the corral and ushers them inside to show them the AT-RTs.

“Do you name them?” Sinker asks as he inspects one of the units.

“Of course!” Waxer exclaims with a proud smile. He pats the side of the unit Sinker is looking at. “This one’s name is Sella. She’s a little glitchy, but she’s seen a lot of combat.”

If Jesse rolled his eyes any harder, they would roll right out of his head.

“Can I ride her?” Sinker asks, his eyes bright.

“Eh, not for your first ride,” Waxer says. “Like I said, she’s a little glitchy.” Waxer moves across the motor pool to another unit and pats the side. “Vala here will be a good starter for you.”

Sinker punches Jesse’s shoulder in excitement and heads over to where Waxer is standing. Jesse rubs his shoulder in mock discomfort, then crosses his arms. He’s still not convinced this is proper ARF training. He wants to be looking at charts and battle strategies, not galivanting around in AT-RTs. There’s nothing useful about this exercise that he can take back to his unit, unless they let him take the AT-RT as a souvenir, which he highly doubts they would.

“How about this one for you?” Boil asks while leaning against another unit. “Her name is Mina and she’s pretty gentle on the new guys.”

Jesse huffs and approaches the AT-RT. “Sure.”

The AT-RT training goes just as well as Waxer and Boil expect. Both Jesse and Sinker fall off their AT-RTs multiple times just on start-up, when the machine initially jerks to life. The breath is knocked out of Jesse’s lungs more times than he can count and he wonders if Kix can order him a replacement set if he ever makes it back to the 501st alive. The only buffer he has is his ARC armor and it’s not enough to prevent the litany of bruises from growing on every part of his body.

By rotations end, Jesse and Sinker manage to stay on their AT-RTs and even take a few steps forward with them. It’s been hard work, but they’re finally seeing the fruits of their labor and Jesse’s ego is just as bruised as his thighs. He gets it now. He understands what they mean by riding an AT-RT instead of driving it. It’s not like a starfighter or an ATTE that he’s driven in simulations. No, these things are like living animals and they need to be respected as such.

At the end of the training session, Jesse doesn’t stop for food at the mess hall. Instead, he hobbles to the medbay for some bacta, then makes his way to the barracks. He gingerly pulls his armor off, each flex of muscle a new sensation of pain. He winces and grunts until it all comes off and he stacks it neatly beside his assigned bunk. He pulls out a ration bar from his pack and settles onto the cot, mindlessly munching away at the bland bar while trying not to move.

Tomorrow, they’re taking the AT-RTs out on a fake reconnaissance mission. He’s not sure who decided that he and Sinker are ready to take the AT-RTs into the field, but he definitely doesn’t feel ready. He doesn’t even know if he’ll be able to move when he wakes up in the morning, let alone climb onto the back of an AT-RT and ride it out into the middle of who-knows-where. Just the thought of his legs doing that climbing motion again makes his thighs twitch in protest.

The next morning, Jesse wakes when the sun rises and its rays shine into the barracks. He was right, his entire body objects to him moving even one inch off of his cot, but he doesn’t have a choice. He feels like a cadet all over again. Like he just went through a rigorous course of simulations and he needs to go again. Those are days he wishes he didn’t have to remember. He’s much stronger now, and more resilient, but his aching thighs force his recollections.

Jesse swings by the medbay before meeting up with the others at the corral. He begs the medic on duty for anything he can give him to help soothe the pain. He’ll even take a muscle relaxer at this point, even if it makes him drowsy. The medic takes pity on him, tosses him a small bottle of painkillers, and threatens him not to mention it to anybody or he’d be returning to his battalion in a bodybag. That’s a risk Jesse is willing to take. Besides, Kix has threatened him with much worse.

Jesse downs a few of the pills, stuffs the bottle out of sight in one of his belt pouches, and heads to the corral. Everyone else is already there, and he hopes that he isn't too late that they make an issue about it. Luckily, no one mentions his tardiness, but Waxer does have a small grin on his face that makes Jesse suspicious. He wonders how much enjoyment Waxer and Boil get out of torturing their shinies with this training, because clearly they know why he’s late.

Waxer gives the squad a short briefing on their fake mission. He pulls out the data-pad with the map coordinates on it, their rendezvous point, the intel they’re supposed to be acquiring, and any enemy obstacles in their way. This is what Jesse has been after ever since the beginning of the cross-training. He studies everything Waxer shows them, eagerly consuming all of the information and stuffing it away in his brain to use later when he’s back with his own battalion.

After the mission briefing is over, they mount their AT-RTs, Jesse on Mina and Sinker on Vala. Waxer and Boil mount their personal AT-RTs, the ones they’ve been using since they became ARF troopers, and the squad heads out into the desert. Unlike Waxer and Boil, Jesse and Sinker do not have ARF trooper armor. Since the mission is fake, there is no need to outfit them. The squad looks rather odd up close, but from a distance no one can tell they’re mismatched.

The squad spends hours in the desert. The constant back and forth motion on the AT-RT has Jesse convinced he’s also going to need a spine replacement. He wonders how hard it will be to requisition and if there’s a special form he needs to fill out. He tries to pop a few more painkillers but as the AT-RT continues to lunge forward like a jack-rabbit, it makes the task very difficult. In all honesty, he’d rather be dropped out of a LAAT without a jetpack than do this full time.

Around mid-day, Waxer calls over the comms to let the squad know that they’ll be stopping for a break soon. He gives them the coordinates for the only known piece of civilization within ten klicks of their location, and they all head in that direction. Jesse can’t wait. His back, thighs, and butt all thank the Maker that he’s going to be able to rest soon, even if he has to fall off the AT-RT instead of hopping off. At this point, he’s not even sure his arms are still attached to his body.

As they approach their rest-stop, Waxer gives the order for the squad to halt. Waxer, Boil, and Sinker all stop relatively close together, but Jesse keeps going.

“Jesse, halt,” Waxer calls through the comms.

“It won’t stop,” Jesse calls back while pressing every button he can think of to try and stop.

“What do you mean it won’t stop?” Waxer asks as he watches Jesse move further away.

“I mean, it won’t stop!” Jesse yells.

“Hit the emergency brake,” Boil orders into the comms.

“I did,” Jesse answers. He refuses to panic, but the building is getting closer and his AT-RT is not obeying his commands. “I think there’s an electrical malfunction.”

“Great,” Waxer sighs. “Just steer her out of harm's way and we can figure it out.”

“About that…” Jesse pauses. His heart rate increases as the building is looking a lot bigger than it did a few seconds ago. “The steering isn’t responding either.”

“Bail!” Waxer calls as he starts his unit up and rushes over. “Bail, Jesse, bail!”

It’s too late. Jesse braces as his AT-RT crashes into the side of the building.

“Order up for table twelve!” the cook calls from the kitchen as he rings the bell at the end of the order window.

“Coming!” you answer, then rush over to grab the order.

“What’s the hold up?” the cook asks. “Are you daydreaming again?”

“Only everyday I’m stuck working here,” you sing back with a sweet smile.

The cook huffs. “Just make sure the customers are fed. You don’t get paid to daydream.”

“Yes, sir!” you answer with a mock salute as you balance the tray of food on one hand.

You turn around and roll your eyes before walking the food over to table twelve. You’ve been stuck working at this diner for four cycles now with no end in sight. It’s not the worst job you could have, but with the small amount you’re being paid with no raises in the near future, you’ll never be able to afford to go find a new one. It’s an endless cycle of work, work, work, and never any time for yourself or what you want to do. It’s agonizing, but it’s all you have.

The only reason you even have this job is to pay off your parent’s debt. They left you on this barren rock to go on their “galactic tour” and never returned. From what you know, they made a deal with the owner of the diner to ensure you had a place to stay, and in return, when you were old enough, you would work for him to pay off the debt. It’s definitely not the life you would’ve chosen, but it’s the life you have been given, and you should be grateful for even that much.

Your only solace is your best friend Violet. She also works at the diner and hates it as much as you do. The two of you became fast friends when you first started working at the diner and now you spend all of your free time together. Violet also doesn’t have any parents planet-side, so there’s an even deeper connection between the two of you and an unspoken understanding about life. At least you have each other, is what you tell yourself when things get unbearable.

“Tooka got your tongue?” Violet asks as she peers over your shoulder.

“Ah!” you startle. “Where’d you come from?”

“Table eight,” Violet answers. “You had that look in your eye again.”

“What look?” you ask.

“The dreamy and distant one,” Violet answers with a flip of her hair.

You groan. “That obvious, huh?”

“If you were any more obvious, you’d have a neon sign stuck to your forehead,” Violet laughs.

You sigh. “Don’t you want more?”

“More what?” Violet asks.

“I don’t know,” you answer. “More anything.”

Violet thinks for a moment. “Yeah, more sleep and more credits.”

You pout. “Besides that.”

“What else is there?” Violet asks as she picks up another tray of food.

“Oh, you know…” you trail your voice quietly while bussing the table next to hers. “Like love and stuff.”

Violet snorts. “What? Love? Out here? In this dust bowl? You’re nuts.”

“I am not!” you retort. “It could happen.”

“Yeah, sure,” Violet rolls her eyes, “because gorgeous and attractive people just tumble into our diner like it’s a speed-dating site.”

“I–”

CRASH

The violent shockwave shakes the diner to its core and knocks both you and Violet off of your feet and flat onto the ground. You instinctively cover your head as pieces of debris and dust fall from the ceiling. The patrons in the diner start screaming and run past you to the diner exit as you lay on the floor, stunned by what just happened. You slowly open your eyes and look over at Violet, making sure she’s okay. She looks dazed, but nods and you both help each other up.

“Kriffing banthas!” you exclaim. “What was that?”

“I don’t know,” Violet says with a shaky voice, still in shock.

You turn around and see a gaping hole in the side of the diner and your eyes grow wide. A mess of twisted dura-steel, snapped electrical wires, and broken water pipes are poking out in every direction. You’re not sure what to make of it. You tilt your head from side to side trying to figure out what happened until you see a clone trooper’s body laying under some debris. You rush over, climbing through the rubble to get to the trapped man. He’s unconscious, but breathing.

“Violet, help me!” you call back. “He’s trapped!”

Violet climbs up alongside of you and you each grab an arm, tugging with all of your might, but it’s no use, he’s too heavy. You pant at the exertion and look around for anything that you could use for leverage. But before you can make your next move, three more clone troopers burst through the front door of the diner. They look around frantically before meeting your gaze as you wave your hands to try and get their attention. They must be with the clone that’s trapped.

“Over here!” you call out to them. “He’s over here!”

The three clones rush over and replace you and Violet. The two troopers in camouflage lift the debris and the third clone in gray armor pulls the trapped clone out from underneath it. They carry him away from the debris pile and lay him on top of one of the diner tables. The clone in gray armor pulls out a bag with a medic symbol on it and rummages through it. Finding what he’s looking for, he scans over the unconscious clone with the device, then sighs in relief.

“No internal injuries,” the gray clone says. “Looks like he just got knocked out. He’s lucky.”

One of the clones in camouflage shakes his head. “Of all the things to go wrong.”

“At least he’s not dead,” the other clone in camouflage says. “Try explaining that to Commander Cody and Captain Rex.”

The first clone in camouflage visually bristles.

“Um, excuse me,” you interrupt with a slight raise of your hand.

The first clone in camouflage takes his helmet off. “Apologies, I’m Waxer, with the 212th.” He points to the clone next to him. “This is Boil, also with the 212th, and that’s Sinker, with the 104th.” He looks down at the clone on the table. “And that one is Jesse, from the 501st.”

“Pleasure…” you say as you try to take it all in. There’s so many numbers and names, you’re not sure how you’ll keep them all straight.

“Wait, hold on,” Violet interjects, dumbfounded. “Y’all just crashed into our diner and you're exchanging pleasantries like you met at the local market?”

“Correction,” Boil says. “Jesse crashed into your diner.”

Violet’s jaw drops and she turns to you. “Are these guys for real?”

“I assure you ma’am,” Sinker says. “We are, in fact, real clones.”

You start to snicker and Violet throws her hands up in defeat. “You know what, I’ve had enough for one day.” She takes her dusty and torn apron off and tosses it on the ground with the rest of the debris. “I do not get paid enough to deal with clowns!”

“Don’t you mean, clones?” Boil asks.

“I meant what I said!” Violet yells back as she navigates around the debris to the exit.

You try to stifle a laugh, but fail. “Don’t worry about her. She’s just stressed. It’s not every day we get clones crashing into our diner.”

Waxer rubs the back of his neck. “Oh, yeah, sorry about that. One of the AT-RTs had a malfunction and Jesse couldn’t get it to stop.”

“I see,” you look down at the clone on the table and knit your brows with worry. You feel bad for him. It must have been scary, being stuck on an uncontrollable collision course and knowing you can’t do anything to stop it from happening. Well, at least for you it would have been scary. You’re not even sure if clones feel fear. It’s not something you’ve ever thought about, until now.

“We’ll fix the wall for you,” Waxer says. “Might take us a couple rotations, but we’ll get it done.”

“The owner will definitely appreciate it,” you smile. You’re not quite sure where the cook went off to, but he must have bailed when the wall was smashed. That coward. He talks a lot about your head being stuck in the clouds, but when things go wrong, you’re the only one keeping a level head.

“Can you stay with him?” Waxer asks. “We need to comm our superiors.”

“Yeah, sure,” you agree, then pull out one of the table chairs to take a seat. You didn’t realize how much your legs were shaking until you were sitting down and relieving them of their duty, but now that the adrenaline is wearing off, you’re starting to feel exhausted.

You watch Jesse like Waxer asked you too, but to be honest, you’re not sure what you’re supposed to be watching. You look him over from head to toe and take in all of his features. He’s wearing different armor than the other three clones, but it’s not the standard issue clone armor that you see in the news either. You’re not sure what it is. He’s got two thick leather skirt-looking things around his thighs, two holsters, and a big flappy thing across his shoulders.

You shrug and continue your examination. He also has some type of pouch on his chest that looks like it could either hold ammo or snacks. You figure both are important. There’s also an extra chest plate on top of the standard one. Must be for extra protection. You then look at the blue markings that adorn his arms and legs and wonder if they have any meaning. The last thing you look at is his face. There’s a huge GAR tattoo covering one side. Curious, but not bizarre.

You lean over his body to get a better view, when you hear him stir. You quickly remove yourself and wave your hand over his face to try and get him to wake up.

“Hey,” you call. “Wake up, Jesse.”

Jesse groans as he comes to. “Am I dead?”

You chuckle. “No, just got a little knocked around.”

Jesse hisses as he tries to sit up and raises a hand to hold the side of his head. “Ow, my head.”

“It’s gonna hurt a bit,” you say. “That was a nasty crash.”

Jesse closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. “What crash?”

“You don’t remember?” you ask in concern.

Jesse opens his eyes, and as they finally focus, he sees the mess of twisted dura-steel and a crushed AT-RT within it. His body jolts at the memory. “The building!”

“Whoa!” you put your hands on Jesse’s shoulders to try and get him to calm down. “Easy, Jesse, easy.”

Jesse breathes heavily at the new surge of adrenaline, but settles down. He shoots you a quizzical look. “Who are you and how do you know my name?”

“Oh, right,” you laugh nervously then introduce yourself. “I’m a waitress here and your friends are just outside. They pulled you out of the rubble and told me to watch you.”

Jesse leans his head back against the table and groans. “Rex is going to kill me.”

“Who’s Rex?” you ask to try to keep him talking. Concussions are very serious, and without knowing if he has one, you don’t want him falling unconscious again.

“My captain,” Jesse answers. He drapes an arm over his face. “He’s the one that sent me to this desolate dust bowl.”

You chuckle at his disdain for the planet.

“Oh, sorry,” Jesse apologizes. “I guess this is your home, huh? I didn’t mean to be rude.”

“No worries,” you wave off the remark and smile. “I think it’s a dust bowl, too.”

Jesse chuckles.

“I’m sorry about your AT… thing,” you offer, trying to remember the exact acronym.

Jesse laughs. “Don’t worry, it wasn’t mine.”

You snort and then laugh along with him. “You’re funny.”

“And you’re pretty,” Jesse blurts out.

You stop laughing as you process what he said. “You think I’m pretty?”

Jesse’s stomach flips when he realizes his thoughts didn’t stay in his head. “Kriff, did I say that out loud?”

“Uh, yeah,” you answer nervously, your face feeling warm.

“Maker, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that,” Jesse apologizes, the embarrassment written all over his face.

“So, you don’t think I’m pretty?” you ask.

“Uh, no, I mean yes, well, you see,” Jesse stammers, then gives up trying to explain himself. He sighs. “I think my brain got scrambled in the crash.”

You chuckle and pat his arm. “It’s okay. I forgive you.”

After your short but awkward conversation with Jesse, the three clones reassemble in the diner to debrief the now awake Jesse. Waxer commed Cody, Boil commed Rex, and Sinker commed Wolffe, although from the sweat on Sinker’s face, you can tell who has the most commanding officer of them all. The consensus is that the GAR will pay for the damages and the four clones will repair the diner wall. None of them seem too thrilled about it, and you don’t blame them.

By the time the excitement has calmed down, and the materials to fix the diner are located, it’s nightfall and you are exhausted. You’re practically dead on your feet, body swaying with your broom while trying to clean up some of the debris on the other end of the diner. You’re the only staff member left to help clean up, so you chose to stay. Of course won’t be paid for any of this, but the faster the diner is back in business, the faster you can start getting paid again.

You dump another dust pan of rubble into the trash receptacle, then plop down onto one of the stools lining the diner counter. You yawn wide and lean your elbow on the counter, propping your face up as you close your eyelids for just a moment to rest. The moment must have lasted longer than you expected, because when you open your eyes again, you wake up in one of the booths with a blanket on top of you and another one folded under your head for use as a pillow.

It’s still dark out, the moonlight beaming in through the large transparisteel panes that line the front of the diner, and you sit up to get your bearings. There’s three clones nestled on the floor, all tangled up together in a mess of armor and limbs. You’re not sure how sleeping like that is comfortable, but more power to them. You realize Jesse is missing, and you pop your head up over the booth to look for him, hoping that he hasn’t wandered off somewhere and gotten lost.

You tiptoe around the sleeping clones, blanket hung around your shoulders to keep the desert chill out, and walk around looking for Jesse. He’s not inside the diner, so you walk outside. You really hope he didn’t leave to relieve himself and you’re about to walk in on something you’re not prepared to see, and luckily you don’t. You circle the entire building and you still can’t find him. Finally, you hear your name being called and you look up to see two legs dangling from the roof.

You shake your head and climb up the side ladder to join Jesse on the roof.

“You should be asleep,” he says, not moving his gaze from the horizon.

“So, should you,” you retort back. “You’re injured.”

“I’m fine,” he dismisses. “Barely even a scratch on me.”

You sit next to him and let your feet hang off the edge. “I was talking about your brain.”

Jesse chuckles. “That’s fine, too.”

“No more accidentally calling me pretty?” you jest.

“Not making any promises on that one,” he smirks.

You smile and fidget with the edges of the blanket. “Did you move me to the booth?”

“Hope you don’t mind,” he answers. “That counter was doing nothing for your back. Probably should’ve asked first.”

“Oh, no,” you dismiss with a wave of your hand. “I just wanted to say thank you.”

Jesse smiles. “You’re welcome, mesh’la.”

You don’t remember falling asleep on the rooftop, but when you awaken feeling like a rolled up burrito with Jesse’s arm draped across your side, the memories start to come back. You must have talked for a while before dozing off, because you feel like you barely got any sleep at all. The blanket wrapped around you is tight and you wiggle to try to get yourself free from it, but as you do, you start to roll away. You panic slightly before feeling Jesse’s firm hand stopping you.

“Going somewhere?” he asks, his voice rough with sleep.

“Thought I’d roll myself to work today,” you answer.

Jesse raises an eyebrow. “How’s that working out for you?”

You wiggle against the restraining blanket. “Ten out of ten would not recommend.”

Jesse snorts and sits up. “I didn’t want you to get cold or fall off the roof.”

“Appreciate it,” you strain out as you wriggle some more. “Please help me.”

Jesse unravels your blanket cocoon and helps you to your feet. You straighten your dirty uniform out and climb down the ladder to get the day started with Jesse trailing behind you. Violet is already inside the diner, chatting with the other three clones. She gives you a knowing look when she sees you walk in with Jesse, but doesn’t say anything. You’re just happy she’s here to help. When she stormed off yesterday, you weren’t sure if she was going to come back.

As the clones start discussing their plan of attack, the two of you decide the best way to start the day is to eat a hearty breakfast. There’s a lot of work to be done and everyone is going to need as much energy as they can get. The cook never came back, but that’s of no matter, you know how to cook. In no time, a full breakfast and hot caf is served. You dust off some of the debris before placing the plates and mugs down on the table and everyone digs in.

Once breakfast is over, the four clones get to work hauling away the large debris pieces from the wall and the crushed AT-RT. You offer the use of the dumpster in the back of the building, but they insist that the GAR will come pick it up and you should use the dumpster for smaller debris. You don’t argue with them and set out with Violet to clean whatever you can of the mess inside the diner, making sure to wear gloves so you don’t cut your hands on any sharp pieces.

As the day continues, the desert heat begins to seep into the diner. The crash must have broken the refrigerant lines, but with the gaping hole in the side of the diner, the climate control wouldn’t be of much use anyway. You and Violet switch gears and make a refreshing batch of Tatooine Sunset to ensure everyone stays hydrated. You also put damp towels in the conservator to help cool everyone off during breaks. It’s barely midday and you know it’s only going to get hotter.

Soon enough, the clones start shedding their armor, at least the top halves of their armor. You’ve never seen a clone without their armor, but honestly, you haven’t seen that many clones to begin with. It’s when they start taking the top black portion of their bodysuits off that you really take notice. They’re jacked. You stand back in one of the corners, mindlessly moving your broom as you watch them work. Not a single piece of debris makes it into the dustpan.

Violet elbows you in the side.

“Ow!” you exclaim. “What was that for?”

“You’re staring,” Violet answers.

“Am not,” you argue.

Violet crosses her arms. “Four hot, shirtless men are flexing their muscles and sweating in our diner, and you’re not staring?”

You purse your lips trying not to give her any satisfaction.

“Well, I’m going to stare,” Violet says. “I mean, look at those abs. But the difference is that I can stare and sweep.”

You roll your eyes and push some garbage into the dustpan.

“You wanted more,” Violet says as she nonchalantly scoots away with her broom. “Well, more is standing over there with a giant tattoo on his head.”

You open your mouth to protest, but she’s too far away. You hate it when she does that. Violet always seems to know what you’re thinking before you’ve even thought it yourself. According to her it’s her gift to the world, but really, it’s just a nuisance. She is right, though, because Jesse does make your heart flutter. You’ve just met him, but it's like you’ve known him your entire life. Talking to him feels as natural as breathing, and for the first time, you truly feel fortunate for your job at the diner.

You lean on your broom and start staring again, watching Jesse walk over to the rubble, pick up a large piece, then carry it out of the diner and drop it onto the pile. Each movement he makes causes the muscles in his arms and torso to ripple with dramatic effect. The sweat that drips down his body only serves to accentuate how toned he is. Before you even realize it, Jesse’s looking at you and you nearly fall off your broom in embarrassment, but he smiles at you.

You continue cleaning up the diner while stealing glances at Jesse, but he also glances back. You want so badly just to sit down and talk with him more. Your conversation on the rooftop last night was a lot of fun and you both shared different things about your lives. You told him about your parents and how you got stuck working at the diner, and he told you about his battalion and how he got stuck going on this training mission. Both equally unfortunate, but now, it feels okay.

The late afternoon break comes around, so you and Violet make another batch of Tatooine Sunset, as well as some sandwiches. The clones inhale the sandwiches so fast that you’re embarrassed you didn’t make more. You offer to, but they turn you down, being grateful just for the opportunity to eat real food instead of rations. You smile and turn back towards the kitchen. Jesse follows you through the double-doors and leans his hot back against the cool conservator.

“Like what you see?” Jesse asks with a smirk.

You turn around to look at him. “The wall’s coming along nice.”

Jesse scrunches his nose. “You weren’t staring at the wall.”

“How do you know?” you jest. “Maybe I like walls.”

Jesse tilts his head to the side and folds his arms over his bare chest. “Are you sure you don’t like something else?”

You groan. “You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?”

Jesse gives you a devilish grin.

“Fine,” you sigh. “I like what I see.”

“I knew it,” Jesse says, a little too excited.

“Maker above, would you two please get a room!” Violet exclaims from the order window. “I’m so sick of you staring at each other. The closet is empty if you’re looking for a place to smash.”

“Violet!” you yell as your face flushes with embarrassment.

Jesse snorts. “That closet can barely fit a broom.”

“Then kiss or something,” Violet says. “Anything to get you two back to work.”

Jesse pushes off the conservator and heads towards the double doors. “You heard the task-master.”

“Wait,” you call. “Aren't you going to kiss me?”

Jesse stops and turns his head. “Do you want me to kiss you?”

You fidget with your hem. “Kinda.”

“Kinda isn’t a yes or a no,” Jesse says.

“Yes,” you correct. “I want you to kiss me.”

Jesse takes his hand off the double doors and walks over to you. Your eyes dart around as your nerves start to get the better of you. You can’t believe you just asked him to kiss you. You’ve never kissed anyone before. What if you’re bad at it? What if he doesn’t like it? What if you accidentally bite him? Maker, your stomach is in knots. Your breathing becomes heavier as he gets closer, but your nervous energy comes to a halt when he cups the side of your face.

Jesse smooths his thumb over your cheek and gives you a reassuring smile. He dips his head and tilts it to the side before pressing his lips against yours. His lips are warm and their touch ever so gentle as they melt into yours. You place your hands on his chest and all of your worries and concerns slip away as all you can think about is Jesse. You don’t want this moment to end, but eventually he pulls back, breaking the kiss, leaving you breathless and wanting for more.

Without a single word, Jesse turns on his heels and leaves the kitchen to go back to work fixing the wall. You stand there, alone in the kitchen, completely dazed by what just happened. You’re not sure if you’re dreaming or not, but you’re too afraid to pinch yourself to find out. You press your fingers to your lips, thinking about the kiss, and your body warms. You’re not sure how you can work now, but you do know that you’ll be spending every spare moment you have with Jesse.

Finally the repairs are complete and tonight is your last night with Jesse. Your stomach aches at the thought of him leaving. Only a couple of rotations ago, he crashed into your life and stole your heart. You didn’t mean to fall for him, but his soulful brown eyes and bright smile captivated you. Besides, the feelings are mutual. You don’t want him to leave, but you know he can’t stay. He’s a soldier, with things to do and places to go, and you’re just a waitress at a diner in the middle of nowhere.

You’re spending your last night together sitting up on the rooftop of the diner, legs dangling over the edge, as you gaze up at the moon and soak in each other’s presence. It’s quiet, like it usually is in the desert, and not a soul would dare to disturb this moment, not even Violet. You want your last night with Jesse to be a memorable one, and what better way to end it then with the way you started it; on the roof. It may be silly to some, but it makes the pain a little easier.

“You’re leaving tomorrow,” you say sadly.

“Yeah,” Jesse answers, equally feeling sad about his departure.

“I don’t want you to go,” you admit as your voice quivers.

Jesse wraps an arm around you and pulls you against his side, leaning his head atop yours. “I don’t want to go either.”

“Stay?” you ask.

“You know I can’t,” Jesse sighs.

“Please,” you plead while nuzzling into his neck. “Don’t go.”

Jesse’s heart breaks. He picks his head up and cups the side of your face, leaning in and closing his eyes to capture your soft lips with his own. You press your body against his, deepening the kiss until Jesse is laying flat against the roof and you’re straddling over his stomach. Your lips are locked as Jesse glides his rough hands over your smooth back, pulling your shirt in different directions as he maps out the plains of your body.

Jesse breaks the kiss for a moment. “Come back to Coruscant with me,” he whispers while ghosting his lips over yours before nipping at your bottom lip and pulling them back against his.

Now it’s your turn to break the kiss. “Jesse–”

“We could get an apartment,” he cuts you off before you can protest, then plants a gentle kiss on the corner of your mouth. “I’ll take care of you.” Another kiss finds its mark. “My vode will adore you.” A gentle suck at your bottom lip. “We’ll make lots of babies.” He smirks and you can’t stop the giggle from forming.

You sit up and release a soft sigh. “Sounds nice.”

Jesse reaches up and cups your chin. “But?”

You melt into his caress for a moment before removing his hand from your face. “But I can’t.”

Jesse bends his knees so you can lean back against them, then laces his fingers under his head. “Why not?”

You absently draw small circles around his chest with your fingers, the longing evident in your actions but missing from your words. “My home is here.”

“I could be your home,” Jesse reassures with a small smile.

You briefly smile back and tap at his chest. “What if something happens to you? I’ll be alone.”

Jesse knits his brows and frowns, fully understanding your hesitation. He’s a soldier, created to be expendable. His brothers die every day and no one bats an eyelash. There’s no guarantees that he’ll come back from his next campaign alive, but still, he wants this. He wants you.

Jesse untangles his fingers from behind his head and takes both of your hands in his own, kissing them tenderly. “I can’t promise tomorrow,” he admits. “I can only promise now.”

A single tear rolls down your cheek. “Then can I have you, at least right now?”

Jesse wipes your tear with his thumb, then flips you onto your back so he’s hovering over you. He leans down and presses his lips to yours once again, yearning to taste as much of you as possible. If this is his only moment with you, then he wants to remember everything. Every sweet taste, every curve, every bump, and every heavenly sound you’ll make for him as he ravages your body with only the moon above as a witness.

“Jesse,” you say his name breathlessly as your desire builds. “I want–”

Jesse places a finger against your lips to hush you. “I know, mesh’la,” he soothes while rubbing his finger across your plush lips before gently pushing it into your mouth, causing you to gasp. “We’ve got all night.”

The light of the rising sun pierces through your eyelids, rousing you from your slumber. The morning comes quicker than you expect and you groan as you sit yourself up on the hard dura-steel roof. You rub the sleep from your eyes and look over to your right, expecting Jesse to still be sleeping, but he’s gone. Your heart sinks and you whip your head around to make sure he didn’t get up and stretch his legs, but you don’t see him. He must have left before you awoke.

Holding tears back, you stand up and pat down your wrinkled and disheveled clothes, trying to regain some semblance of normalcy. But who are you kidding? How could you ever be normal again after a night like that? A night of romance, passion, and longing that made you feel everything and nothing all at the same time. You know this is for the best. He’ll go back to Coruscant, back to the war, and you’ll be here, working your minimum wage job.

You break at the thought. Dropping to your knees you begin to sob, grieving over what you let go of. You don’t want Jesse to leave. You don’t want him to be a one night stand. You want a life with him. Even if it means him being away for weeks at a time or that he may leave and never come back. That slim chance is lightyears better than never seeing him again, than never feeling his burning touch on your skin or hearing his deep voice whisper sweetly in your ear.

You have to go after him. You can’t let him leave, not without you. Maybe it’s selfish, but you don’t care. Burdened with the thought of never seeing him again, you wipe your face, pick yourself up, and head to the ledge. You grab the ladder and stare off into the distance, wondering if you’ll catch a glimpse of him, but you don’t. You may be too late. Regardless, you slip down the ladder, ignoring the rungs and land with a thud onto the dusty ground.

You’re breathing heavily, your hair is a mess, and your clothes are horribly wrinkled, but you don’t care. You push open the front door violently. “I quit!”

Violet looks up at you from where she’s mopping the floor and pauses to lean on her mop with a knowing smile. Love wins, she guesses, and she’s right.

You walk over to Violet and throw your arms around her. “I’m sorry, but I have to go.”

“I know,” Violet says as she hugs you tightly.

“I’ll miss you,” you whisper, the tears barely held back.

“I’ll miss you too,” Violet answers with a tremble in her voice. She breaks your embrace and composes herself. “Now go, or you won’t catch him.”

You reluctantly let go of your best friend, and with tears in your eyes, you back away and leave.

“You got everything?” Waxer asks as he carries another crate into the transport that’s taking Jesse back to Coruscant.

“Hm?” Jesse snaps out of his daze. “Oh, yeah,” Jesse answers, and then pauses. “I… I left something in the desert.”

“I hope it wasn’t valuable,” Waxer laughs.

Jesse stares out towards the dusty horizon and sighs. “Priceless, actually.”

Waxer claps a comforting hand on Jesse’s shoulder. “Sorry to hear that.”

Jesse gives Waxer a half smile, but it quickly fades back into a frown. His transport leaves within the hour and he wonders if he made a mistake by not saying goodbye. He thought if he left without a word, it would be easier for both of you, but he was wrong. His chest feels tight and his heart aches. What he wouldn’t give to hear your voice one more time. He didn’t think it was possible to leave this dusty planet more upset than when he first landed, and yet here he is.

Jesse takes one last look at the place he initially despised, then turns to board the transport. It’s not just you that he left in the desert. He left his heart there too, on the rooftop of that old diner. He sits on one of the crates in the back of the transport and leans his head against the cold frame. He didn’t want this assignment. He didn’t want to come here. It could have been any other clone, but no, his number was drawn. The universe has a cruel sense of humor.

Before the ramp closes, Jesse hears someone calling for the transport to halt. Leaving his bucket on the crate, he makes his way back down the ramp to ask what’s delaying the departure, thinking it might be something mechanical. However, as he barely steps off the ramp and onto the dusty earth, he sees a speeder in the distance. He grabs a pair of scopes from a nearby clone trooper and dials in on the speeder. His breath catches in his throat. It’s you.

Jesse gives the scopes back to the clone trooper he took them from and starts walking away from the transport, his heart beating rapidly out of his chest, wondering if it’s really true or if the desert heat is playing tricks on him. Did you just want to say goodbye or do you want to go with him? He doesn’t dare let himself think the latter. You made it clear to him last night that you won’t go with him, but he wants to hope so badly. He wants to believe that it’s the only reason.

The speeder comes to a screeching halt a couple yards away from Jesse and he watches with bated breath as you jump out of it and sprint towards him.

“Jesse!” you yell as tears fall from your face.

Jesse smiles and opens his arms. You jump into them without a second thought and bury your face into his neck. He wraps his arms around you and lifts you off of the ground and onto his hips, one arm cradling your butt and the other securing around your back.

“I didn’t think I was going to make it in time,” you cry.

“You made it, mesh’la,” Jesse soothes as he kisses your cheek. “I’m sorry I didn’t say goodbye.”

You pick your head up and look at him through blurry vision, a small smile growing on your lips. “Not goodbye. I’m going with you.”

Jesse’s eyes dart around your face, looking for any semblance that you’re joking or maybe this is a dream, but he can’t find anything. “You’re coming with me? To Coruscant?”

You nod your head, afraid that your voice will crack if you try to use it again.

Jesse squeezes you tighter, terrified that at any moment you’ll be ripped away from him. He can’t believe that you changed your mind, that you’re going back with him. His thoughts race a mile a minute as he thinks about your future together. He has a stake in this war now, something worth fighting for that wasn’t thrust upon him by someone else or programmed into him as duty and loyalty. No, now he has you, and he will fight this war to make sure you stay safe in his arms.

“Let’s go home,” Jesse says as he carries you into the transport.

You smile and rest your head on his shoulder. “I’d like that.”

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[dystopicjumpsuit]

Double, Double Boil and Trouble - Part 5

A/N: This is part 5 my fic for the @rare-clone-fic-exchange, which I wrote for @goblininawig. The story takes place in a shared continuity with Stars Beyond Number, Martyrs and Kings, and “Do It Again,” but it stands alone and can be read independently of those fics.

Pairing: Clone Trooper Boil x Reader (GN, has hair; reader practices tasseomancy/reads tea leaves) 

Rating: M (mature content intended for readers 18+; minors DNI)

Wordcount: 3.1K

Warnings and tags: mysticism; angst; fluff; mild critique of the Jedi Order (but no Jedi hate); fade-to-black sensuality; implied oral sex; ritualistic drug use; a description of being high on hallucinogens/psychedelics

Obligatory disclaimer: Please don’t use this as a how-to guide for or endorsement of drug use, because 1. it’s inaccurate to the real world, and 2. depending on your location, ThAt WOuld Be ILlEGal. This is a Wendy’s fanfic.

Summary: Boil is willing to do what it takes to get answers about Waxer.

Suggested Listening:

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“You sure this won’t make me pop positive if I get tested?” Boil asked, eyeing the tin of tea warily.

“Completely. You have two rotations left of shore leave, and this will be out of your system in twenty-four hours.”

You spoke with certainty, and Boil felt some of his doubts ease. He picked up the tin and removed the lid, giving the tea a curious sniff. It didn’t smell like much; just faintly earthy and vegetal. 

“So how does it work?”

“You brew it and drink it, just like regular tea,” you replied. “After a few minutes, you start to feel the effects.”

“And what do the effects feel like?” He set the tea tin down and took a bite of his breakfast.

“Nothing much at first,” you replied. “But when it hits, you’ll know. Everything will look a little clearer and brighter. Food will taste a little better. Everyday things will start to seem really, really interesting. People will be prettier and funnier and smarter.”

“That just sounds like a couple shots of Cheedoan whiskey,” Boil observed.

“Oh, somebody’s fancy,” you teased. “I didn’t realize I was in the presence of royalty.”

He laughed and tossed his crumpled napkin at you, mostly for the fun of seeing you shudder and flick it away with a revolted expression. “The general bought a round for Ghost Company one time.”

“I hope he charged it to the Jedi Order,” you laughed. “Do Jedi get paid?”

“Search me,” he shrugged. “Clones don’t.”

You grimaced. “I know. Kriffing banthashit, is what that is.”

It didn’t change a thing, but Boil still felt a little better knowing you weren’t as complacent as the rest of the galaxy seemed to be about the clone troopers’ situation. 

“So what makes this tea any different from a decent buzz?” he asked.

“That would be the visual hallucinations,” you replied with a cheeky grin.

He eyed you curiously. “I take it you’ve done this before.”

“A few times,” you nodded. “It can be pretty fun. You haven’t lived until you’ve watched the Eye of Aldhani—you know what, never mind.”

He laughed. “What about the ritual part?”

“It’s a little different. The dosage is higher, so the effects are more intense.” You hesitated a moment before adding, “There’s another element to it as well.”

“What’s that?”

“Force sensitivity,” you replied bluntly. “You need to either be able to wield the Force yourself, or have a strong connection with someone who can.”

He nodded, recalling a detail you’d told him months ago. “And your grandmother taught you to wield it? Why didn’t she send you to the Jedi for training?”

“Our world isn’t part of the Republic,” you explained. “The Jedi order has no jurisdiction that far out in Wild Space, and to be frank, we prefer it that way. They mind their own business, and we mind our own.”

Boil pondered your response quietly, noticing the strained expression in your eyes, and he remembered that you tried to stay off the Jedi’s scopes. “You don’t have to tell me if you’d rather not talk about it.”

You gave him a grateful look and replied, “It’s all right. It’s not a secret or anything. It’s just…” You paused and took a deep breath before continuing. “We do things our own way. And when someone is born with the Sight—the Force—we train them in our own way, too. It doesn’t happen often, and there weren’t many elders with the Sight left by the time I was born. Gran took on my training, but I was only fifteen when she passed.”

Boil gazed steadily at you, feeling a deep sense of foreboding. “What happened?”

“I came to Coruscant, hoping the Jedi could help me. I scraped together everything I had in the galaxy to pay for the trip. But when I went to the temple, they said it was too dangerous to train someone who’d been ‘corrupted.’” The word came out harshly, as though it tasted bitter on your tongue. “They sent me away. Said I would be better off knowing nothing of the Force.”

Boil was horrified. “But you were just a kid!”

“Yeah,” you replied grimly. “I grew up pretty fast after that.”

He didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t imagine most of the Jedi he’d met ever treating a child with such callousness, but he and his fellow clones knew better than anyone that the Jedi order contained all sorts of beings, ranging from those who were kind and wise like General Kenobi, all the way to monsters like that kriffing traitor, Pong Krell.

“I’m sorry,” he said at last, feeling the inadequacy of his words. “I didn’t know.”

“It’s all right,” you replied. “I’m older and wiser now, and I realize I probably wouldn’t have been the best fit in the Order. And I’ve picked up quite a bit of knowledge since then—especially since I met Tas. There are more paths to the Force than people think.”

The conversation had strayed into territory that was wholly unfamiliar to Boil, so he was relieved when your serious expression faded and the usual glint of humor returned to your eyes. “Lucky for you, I know what I’m doing.”

He smiled, content to let you steer the topic back to the ritual. “So when you say we need a strong connection, how strong are we talkin’?”

“It requires a very high level of trust. We will have to lower our mental defenses enough to allow each other in. When I’ve done it in the past, it was with people I was very close to—people I had known for years.”

“So you don’t do this for every trooper you bewitch?” he asked.

You grinned. “Actually, yes. After tonight, I will have done this for every single trooper I’ve bewitched. One-hundred percent success rate. Hopefully.”

“So what happens if our connection isn’t strong enough?”

Your smile faltered slightly. “Nothing. We’ll have a hell of a trip, and tomorrow we can thank the Force that it wasn’t our money that got wasted on the tea.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” he said. “When should we do it?”

“We’ll need a few hours of uninterrupted privacy, so we’ll want to wait until I get off work tonight,” you replied. “It’ll be about half an hour before you start to feel the effects, and then we’ll begin the ceremony.”

“That sounds ominous,” he laughed. “Is there a blood sacrifice, or is that only on Centaxdays?”

“You know, I’m fresh out of sacrificial victims, so we’ll have to skip it this time.”

Your eyes sparkled, and he inhaled softly, stunned by how beautiful they were when you looked at him with that mischievous expression. Not that he would tell you that, obviously. What was he supposed to say?

You have the sweetest eyes in the galaxy.

I’ve never kissed anyone with such perfect lips.

The last two weeks have been the best of my life.

When I’m with you, I feel like everything is easier.

I don’t want to leave.

Please. He wasn’t a total sap.

“Cutting corners?” he asked instead, a hint of a taunt in his tone. “And here I thought I’d get special boyfriend privileges.”

He watched for your reaction out of the corner of his eye, and he didn’t miss the way you bit your lip to keep from smiling.

“Oh, you get boyfriend privileges,” you replied. “Door keycode, toothbrush, unlimited conservator access, your very own caf mug… And other things.”

He grinned, moving closer and sliding his hand around your waist, easing his fingers inside your ridiculous bathrobe to caress the bare skin of your hip.

“What other things?” he murmured in your ear, nipping the skin of your neck softly.

Kriff, you taste delicious.

“Ten percent discount on readings,” you replied.

“Ten percent?” he whispered, trailing kisses down your neck to your shoulder as he untied the sash of your robe and brushed his fingers lower on your body. “You can do better than that.”

“F—five percent,” you stammered in a gratifyingly breathy voice. “That’ll teach you not to haggle.”

“Mm,” he hummed as he worked his mouth down your torso, dropping slowly to his knees in front of you. “Maybe we could work out a barter system. I’m sure I could provide some services you might find appealing.”

Your only response was a broken whimper as he took you with his mouth, gripping your hips and then sliding his hands back to cup your ass and pull you against his face.

Maker, I could worship you forever. I don’t want to leave.

Boil would rather die than admit he was nervous. For kark’s sake, he faced off against entire divisions of battle droids on a daily basis; how intimidating could a cup of tea possibly be? Besides, you seemed perfectly comfortable as you brewed the tea and lit a stick of incense, and there was no way he’d let you see him blink. He was a soldier of the Republic, and he wasn’t afraid of anything.

Still, some of his definitely-not-nervousness must have shown on his face, because you gave his arm an encouraging little touch as you walked past him into the living area. He watched as you pulled all the throw pillows off the sofa and your bed and piled them on the floor to make a soft, chaotic nest, and then you dimmed the lights. Your flat had already taken on a strange, mystical air, and he hadn’t even tasted a sip of the tea yet.

He watched curiously as you placed colorful stones in all the windowsills and doorways of your flat.

“What are those for?” he asked.

“Just making sure the only spirits that show up are the ones we want,” you replied with a lopsided grin, but the look in your eyes made him think you were deadly serious. “Nothing to worry about.”

He blinked. So I guess that’s definitely something to worry about.

“I’m not gonna get haunted by this, am I?” he asked, aiming for a casual tone and not quite nailing it.

“Definitely not!” you replied, before adding under your breath, “... probably.”

“Probably?”

“I’m ninety percent sure,” you reassured him. “Eighty-three percent sure.”

“Are you kriffing with me, or are you serious?” he demanded.

You laughed. “I’m kriffing with you. You definitely, probably won’t get haunted, and even if you do, Tas has a banishing spell that’ll get rid of anything.”

“You know you’re not exactly inspiring confidence, right?”

Your only response was a playful smile that made him want to kiss you until you forgot your own name, so he did. He caught you by the hand and hauled you into his arms, threading his fingers through your hair as he kissed you again and again.

“Could you be serious for ten seconds?” he murmured between kisses. 

“No promises.” You flicked your tongue against the corner of his lips, and he nearly called off the entire operation and tossed you onto the bed on the spot.

With a rather impressive display of self control—if he did say so himself—he pulled away slightly and asked, “Are the walls of the Venator going to start weeping blood if I do this?”

“Oh, almost certainly not,” you replied. “Maybe just a droplet or two on the refresher mirrors…”

He stared into your eyes for a moment, then let out a reluctant laugh, dropping his forehead to rest against your shoulder. You wrapped your hand around the back of his head and pressed your lips against his temple.

“We don’t have to do any of this if you don’t want to,” you said quietly.

His arms tightened around you as he inhaled deeply, trying to memorize your exact scent. “No. I want to know. I need to know.”

You held him silently for a moment, and then you nodded. “If you’re sure, then everything is ready.”

“I’m sure,” he said, pulling back just far enough to look into your eyes. “Let’s do this.”

“Okay.” You held him tightly for another moment, then broke away to retrieve the two mugs of tea from the kitchen. You passed one to him, then tapped your own against it. “Bottoms up, Buttercup.”

Boil was expecting the concoction to taste awful: bitter and sinister, maybe with a hint of brimstone. In reality, it was actually pretty good. It was smooth, a little spicy, and sweetened with honey, and he drained the cup without complaint. He waited expectantly, but nothing happened.

“Now what?” he asked.

“Now we watch an episode of It’s Always Sunny on Abafar and wait for it to kick in,” you replied, glancing down into the mug to quickly scan the leaves the way he’d noticed you do every time you finished a cup of tea.

Whatever you saw must not have been too terrible, given that you didn’t immediately cancel the evening’s activities. He shrugged and moved to the sofa, pulling you down with him as you turned on the holoscreen. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to the luxury of being able to watch whatever he wanted, any time he pleased. Not to mention that your sofa, shabby as it was, was quite possibly the most comfortable piece of furniture in the galaxy—particularly with your head resting on his shoulder and your body tucked in close to his own as he curled around you. 

“Don’t fall asleep on me,” you warned, nudging him with your elbow. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he lied.

The episode failed to hold his attention, and his mind and hands began to wander. He traced his fingertips over your shoulder and down your bare arm, around your wrist and back up again, enjoying the smooth warmth of your skin. He’d never touched shimmersilk in his life, but he would have bet a month of rations that your skin was softer. Eventually, he draped his arm around your waist and began to play with the hem of your shirt, tugging it up to expose your abdomen.

“Don’t even think about it,” you said, resting your hand over his. “There’s no way in hell I’m going there on your first trip.”

“Even if I want to?” he murmured, kissing the back of your neck.

“Nope. Besides, we’re not just doing this for fun, remember?” You rolled over to face him.

“Fine. Maybe next time.” He rested his forehead against yours, stroking your cheek softly as he gazed into your eyes. “Your pupils are huge.”

You snorted a laugh. “Seems like the tea is working. Shall we get started?”

He nodded. “What do we do?”

“I have bad news,” you said gravely. “We’re going to have to break the cuddle.”

“Not the cuddle!” he gasped in horror.

“I’m afraid so.”

He grumbled, but begrudgingly disentangled his limbs from yours. As he sat up, the room seemed to sway slightly, almost as if the entire building were floating in water. He didn’t want to alarm you, so he didn’t mention that the pattern on your wallpaper was definitely, absolutely, one-hundred percent coming to life. The designs gyrated and churned in a nauseating swirl, and he tore his eyes away from it, determined not to abort the mission for a reason as pitiful as tea-induced motion sickness.

He followed you silently to the nest of cushions you’d arranged on the floor, sitting opposite you with his legs crisscrossed. You scooted forward until your knees touched his, and you took his hands, holding them in a loose grip. He stroked his thumb over your palm, and the smile you gave him in return made him forget all about the wallpaper.

“Close your eyes,” you said softly, “and take a slow breath, all the way down to the bottom of your lungs.”

He did as you said, and as he exhaled gradually, he felt his stomach settle and the tension drain out of his shoulders. The pair of you repeated the exercise a few times, and then you asked him to focus on keeping his breath smooth and even. He was starting to feel incredibly relaxed and drowsy, and only his promise not to fall asleep kept him from drifting off.

“Think of somewhere you felt safe and happy,” you said in a low voice. “Picture it in your mind.”

Here. With you. 

“Do you see it?” you asked.

“Yes,” he whispered, envisioning your cozy, colorful little flat as clearly as though he had opened his eyes. 

He was alone in his mental version of the flat, and he took a moment to look around. It was tidier in his mind, with the nest of cushions all put back where they belonged, and no telltale pastry crumbs on the kitchen counter. But aside from that, it was the same, filled with signs of you—the eclectic jumble of teacups on your kitchen shelf; the colorful array of robes hanging on hooks on the wall; the vibrant collection of thrifted art hanging on the walls. It even smelled like your scent. The only thing missing was—

Knock knock.

He turned toward the door in his mind, and then he was standing in front of it without ever having moved his feet. He leaned in to look through the peephole—wait, your door has a holoscreen. The image in his mind warped, and suddenly the holoscreen appeared. You stood outside in the hallway, waiting.

“Will you let me in?” you asked quietly.

Your lips didn’t move in the vision of you he saw within his mind, and he realized you’d spoken the words aloud.

“Yes,” he replied, opening the door.

As you stepped inside, your gaze flicked around the flat, and your breath caught. Too late, Boil realized he’d revealed far more than he intended. He swallowed nervously, bracing himself for your mockery now that you had witnessed the true depth of his feelings for you. 

When you looked at him, though, there was no trace of ridicule in your eyes. You stepped closer and took his hand in yours, and as you did, he felt the soft pressure of a gentle, reassuring squeeze on his physical hands. To his relief, that was the only acknowledgment, though he had a feeling the two of you would be having a long conversation once the effects of the tea had worn off.

“Are you ready?” you asked, and somehow, he knew you’d asked the question directly to his mind.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” he replied without speaking.

You smiled. “In that case, I’d like you to meet someone.”

Your gaze shifted to a point over his shoulder, and he turned slowly. A stranger stood behind him, ancient and wrinkled, with eyes that somehow seemed very familiar and very, very kind. A faint blue glow emanated from her, and though she seemed solid enough, Boil had the distinct feeling that if he were to open his eyes, he’d see nothing but you, sitting across from him in a nest of cushions.

“Is this the boy you told me about?” she asked, inspecting him closely.

“Yes,” you replied. “Gran, I’d like you to meet Boil.”

[skellymom]

"Ballroom Blitz"

The Bad Batch Clone Fic Gift Exchange

*FINISHED FULL STORY*

(Pinterest pic credit: Not Labeled)

 @hexerein SURPRISE! Here is your gift for the @cloneficgiftexchange ENJOY!

Used BOTH of your prompts:

"This is not a clone clubhouse." Appears in this introduction.

"I don't believe that is the proper use of delicate equipment."

Characters: Hunter, Tech, Wrecker and 3 female OC's to pair with them. Stayed away from the tropes mentioned that you didn't want used. Had these OC's dancing around in my mind for several months...and YOU gave me the inspiration to use them! Thank you!!!

Story is written in third person as I LOVE supporting characters and being omniscient about the surrounding environment, building it up like YOU are watching a movie.

Summary: Clone Force 99 visits a dumpy nightclub for "science". These guys can't stay out of trouble. Tech finds friendship, Hunter figures out a secret, and Wrecker falls in love for the first time.

Word Count: 3.2K

Warnings: Swearing, fighting (no blood), explosion, fire, clone angst, sexual suggestion only.

Dancers waited behind the stage for their cue scanning the club’s dance floor. 

A Chiss named Saxe remarked with a disgusted look as she spied numerous shiny's among the crowd, "This is not a clone clubhouse."  

Rueby rolled her eyes at Saxe and sassed, “Honey, I thought this was a clone WHOREHOUSE!” 

The other dancers laughed at the clap back. Most of them KNEW the clones enjoyed the woman, men, and the genderfluid staff genuinely, happy to lap up the attention, tipped handsomely, and brought their favorites gifts as often as they had GAR leave to visit. Plus, they were handsome, non-threatening...most of the time. Usually only did the occasional stupid thing, which the Republic covered for monetarily. 

However, there was the rare dancer that didn’t appreciate these men. Usually, the uppity, better-than-you types. Rueby shot a disdainful glance at Saxe who backed off. Saxe then exited the stage to relieve one of several cage dancers. 

Rueby took a deep breath and did her most inspiring power pose, psyching herself up for the next number.  

She made her entrance oozing sass and sex appeal.  Cat walking, swinging her hips and ass.  Kill you/fuck me eyes trained on the audience.  All 6 and 1/2 ft of strongly muscled dancer's frame with ONE mission in mind: TO SLAY! 

MUSIC FOR THIS FIC!

The seedy club flooded with patrons.  Officially over capacity for fire code and safety.  But the deadbeat owner of the Flushed Orchid considered this a suggestion and not a rule.  He paid off the authorities to stay open.  They looked the other way on fire codes, treatment of his dancers, dealing of spice/death sticks/sketchy backdoor tub liquor, along with other unsavory activities. 

Rueby gyrated and flipped her hair around to the eardrum splitting music.  Multicolored lights trained on her through the dark while she danced her heart out on the elevated stage. She LIVED to dance. The harder, louder, and dirtier the music, the better. A collective whoop went up from the crowd as she backflipped and ended up in the splits on the floor. 

Hunter, Wrecker, and Tech wandered into the club taking in the chaos.  

“Eh...if you guys want to leave; I have no problem...” Hunter wasn't really a fan of the lights, noise, crush of people pressing by, or the prospect of getting a beer spilled on him. 

“The Coruscant Guard HIGHLY recommended this establishment.”  Tech practically yelled over the din.  “I’m here to conduct RESEARCH.” 

Hunter wrinkled his nose. “Tech, this place is a DUMP!” 

“True, it’s not 79’s. My data gathering there is complete.  I required another study environment.” 

“WHAT WERE YOU STUDYING?”  Wrecker’s regular voice could be heard perfectly within the loud environment. 

“The pre-mating rituals of the general populace of Coruscant.”  Tech answered.  “Specifically, their affinity for meeting at extremely loud and crowded places that handicap their ability to communicate effectively.  In addition, to observe how the consumption of alcohol changes the degree of their deeply held inhibitions.” 

Hunter shook his head.  “Go head, gather ‘data’.  I’m going to the bar to inhibit my senses.” 

Tech made a beeline for the stage.   

Wrecker followed...then he spotted Rueby! 

A beautiful, strapping Zeltron woman, with ample hips, and a Calypgian behind.  Her smooth skin was a beautiful shade of passionate red. Wrecker heard of legends regarding woman warrior giantesses.  Women almost as large as himself.  Probably even strong enough to sweep him off his feet.   

And she was hanging upside down off a metal pole, sensually caressing her deep indigo hair. 

Wrecker followed Tech through the crush of gyrating bodies on the dance floor.  They could only get 20 feet from the stage. 

Tech was too busy being IN the crowd, watching the “pre-mating ritual” of the people around them. 

Wrecker was entranced.  Rueby was now SPINNING ON THE POLE and holding herself horizontally off it with minimal effort!  While wearing stiletto boots.  

Rueby DEFINITELY noticed Wrecker.  She smiled right at him and released pheromones in her excitement. 

Honestly...this was a FIRST for Wrecker.  He usually noticed food, bombs, and the infatuations of his brothers.  For himself...it just never seemed to be the same. 

Until tonight.  Wrecker was experiencing an AWAKENING. 

Meanwhile, at the bar, Hunter flagged down Tipsy, the Twi ’lek barkeep.   

“What’ll it be Handsome?” She usually flirted playfully with the patrons.  And her tips reflected the extra attention they appreciated. 

“Take some Spotchka.” Hunter smiled. 

Tipsy filled the glass, sliding it across to Hunter.  “YOU boys don’t strike me as the usual clones who hang out here.  What’s your story?  IF you care to tell...” 

Hunter sipped his drink.  The lavender hued lady taking an interest had him rethink hurrying Tech and Wrecker out of the bar early. 

“We’re defective.  Belong to Clone Force 99.” 

“Oh!  Heard about you guys!!!”  Tipsy leaned forward on the bar taking extreme interest.  “Crazy stories.  You guys are OFF THE CHAIN!” 

Hunter grinned.  “Hm...we get the job done.” 

“Good looking AND capable.” she winked. 

Hunter blushed and took another sip. 

Several Reg clones and a Gotal summoned for service at the other end of the bar. 

“Be back later.  Gotta serve the patrons.” 

Hunter watched her go, grinning into his glass. 

Vix loaded up her tray and waded out into the tight crowd.  She HATED nights like this.  Being short and petite felt stifling in the crush of bodies.  On top of that, carrying a tray full of drinks and hoping not to spill anything was nerve wracking. 

She was SO CLOSE to earning enough money to quit this dump and start school.  Her plans were to study Botany off-world.  The thought of sitting in a quiet hololibrary and studying up on plant life relieved a bit of stress until... 

...someone YANKED on her tail!  Vix yelped angrily, baring her teeth. 

SHE WAS SO SICK OF THIS SHIT!!! 

Tech heard Vixs’ protest and looked up from his holopad. 

He noticed she was a small Amaran female who seemed to be in pain.  Their eyes met briefly.  His in query to her predicament, her’s in frustration. 

Vix flattened her ears and turned away from Tech to the large Houk holding her tail in his grasp. 

“Hello foxy lady.”  He leered. 

“Sir, the view is the ONLY thing I’m obliged to give you.  Let go of my tail!”  Her anger rising. 

“Aww...such a cute little angry redhead...” 

“I do believe the lady politely requested that you release her coccygeal vertebrae.”  Tech was now standing next to Vix. 

“Wut?” The Houk was dumbfounded. 

“HE SAID LET GO OF MY TAIL, YOU ASSHAT!” Vix screamed above the din of the nightclub.  Some of the patrons stopped dancing, turning to watch the fracas. 

The Houk’s attitude went from stupid to vitriol.  “BITCH!” 

Vix had enough.  She threw the tray of drinks at him. 

He finally let go of her tail.  But he went for the throat with his big hammy hands. 

Tech pulled her out of the way, the Houk stumbled past knocking over patrons.  Many of the dancers stopped and stared at the altercation. Some of the clones stepped up to assist but fell back seeing it was only the Defective Clones who were in a bind. 

The Houk got up and ran for them again.  Vix yanked the holopad from Tech’s hands and threw it with all she had, hitting the Houk right between the eyes.  It stopped him only minimally, as he bellowed in anger. 

"I don't believe that is the proper use of delicate equipment" Tech quipped as the Houk picked him up off the ground and was lifted above its head. 

“Oh...NO... I’M SO SORRY!!!” Vix was terrified Tech would meet his end trying to help her. 

Tipsy and Hunter were really hitting it off, until... 

Her eyes went wide in horror, pointing over Hunter’s shoulder “Is THAT one of your guys over there???” 

Hunter spun around to see Tech being held aloft horizontally above the crowd by an angry Houk.  To his credit, Tech looked extremely calm.  But the Houk looked as though he was going to throw Tech across the room. 

“WHAT THE KRIFF DID HE DO???”  Hunter just wanted a drink or two, then leave to go to bed.  

There was NO way Hunter was going to get across the bar to save Tech’s ass in time.  Too many bodies in the way...but he tried to wade through... 

Until Wrecker’s fist connected with the Houk’s face.  He went down like a sack of bricks.  Wrecker caught Tech from falling into the crowd. 

That move caused TOTAL MAYHEM!  Drunken patrons with pent up emotions took this as a sign to commence in a BAR FIGHT!!! 

People started screaming, fighting, breaking things. Mob mentality took over, infecting the whole establishment. 

Wrecker stood above the fray with his tall frame.  Still holding Tech to keep him from being dragged under in the craziness.  Vix wasn’t as lucky. 

“Vix!”  Rueby yelled from the stage.  Wrecker turned to see his Zeltron crush dive off the stage into the crowd like it was a river.  She came up pushing bodies furiously away from her path.  One patron decided he wanted to throw a punch her way.  She picked his ass up and threw him across the room. 

“Rueby!  HELP!!!”  Rueby pushed and struggled her way through the crowd towards the small panicked voice.  Then dipped down below the frenzied sea of bodies.  A minute later, Rueby emerged pushing bodies out of the way while holding Vix. 

Someone’s death sticks ignited something flammable in the room, and huge flames erupted.  The patrons who weren’t fighting were pushing and trampling each other to escape the burning building. 

“WRECKER!  TECH!!!”  Hunter was now caught in the fray and being pulled away from his brothers. 

“RUEBY!”  Tipsy could see Hunter was too far out in the crowd to bring him back to the bar.  “Help him!  WE ALL HAVE TO GET THE KRIFF OUT OF HERE!!!”  Tipsy pointed to Hunter.  Then she grabbed a chair, busted out the window, and jumped through it. 

Rueby recognized the boys by their matching armor, knowing they belonged together. 

“HEY BEEFCAKE!”  She yelled to Wrecker.  “GO OUT THROUGH THE BACK STAGE!  I’LL GET YOUR SERGEANT.” 

Wrecker nodded. 

“WAIT!”  Rueby yelled.  “CATCH!!!” 

She tossed Vix over the heads of the crowd to Wrecker.  He shifted Tech to his right arm and caught Vix with his left.  She yelped in terror.   

“Hold on!”  Tech grabbed onto Vix “This is going to be a VERY bumpy ride!!! 

Wrecker mowed through the crowd, hip checking people out of the way and hopped up on the stage. 

Rueby pushed and body slammed people out of the way best she could in the chaos.  Reaching out to Hunter as he extended his hand to her.  She grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him up and out of the crowd.  As her other hand could reach, she grasped the front of his armor and yanked him up over her shoulder...like he was a tiny child. 

Hunter was used to Wrecker doing this, but not a beautiful strapping woman wearing next to nothing.  She was holding his leg with one hand and gripping his buxom bottom with the other.  He could feel the fire, smell everything burning, the screams of fear were too much for his ears...it ALL was too much for him right about now. 

He just wanted a drink.  How did everything go SO WRONG??? 

Rueby managed to make it to the stage.  Wrecker set down Tech and Vix.  Then pulled Rueby up.  She set Hunter down. 

“We gotta bolt!  When the bar catches fire, WE’RE BANTHA BARBECUE!!!” 

Everyone ran like hell to the backstage exit. 

Hunter, Vix, and Tech made it out first.  They ran behind the trash dumpster for safety. 

Rueby and Wrecker barely made it out when all the alcohol in the bar ignited. 

The back door blew off its hinges, slammed into Wrecker, who slammed into Rueby.   

Hunter, Vix, and Tech watched their friends literally ride the heavy metal door across the back courtyard, over the tower railing...screaming bloody murder all the way. 

They disappeared out of view... 

...as their screams carried off into the distance...and down. 

“HOLY SHIT!” Hunter was mortified. 

“They...are they...” Vix couldn't even finish. 

“Sounds as though they are in freefall.” Tech’s head was cocked, listening.  “It’s an awfully long fall down to The Bottoms of Coruscant.” 

They ran past the courtyard, up to the railing, and leaned over... 

...to see Rueby and Wrecker hugging each other tightly, sitting on the steel door like a magic carpet as it gracefully glided up towards them. 

“How the HELL???”  Hunter was STILL mortified. 

Tech was glad he recorded the whole ordeal.  What an amazing visual. 

The door glided up over their heads coming down to rest on the balcony.  Both Wrecker and Rueby were safely out of harm's way.  But they wouldn’t let go of each other for quite some time. 

They all stared at each other for a minute speechless. 

“You’re welcome!”  Came a voice behind them. 

They all spun around to see Anakin Skywalker standing up in his hover craft hands raised.   

Obi Wan Kenobi was in the driver’s seat.  “Detonation Surfing seems to be a rather dangerous sport to take up, wouldn’t you say?”  His eyes twinkled. 

“You’re pretty lucky we drove by when we did.”  Anakin smirked.  “That first date would have been your last.”  

Wrecker sheepishly glanced at Rueby, who hugged Wrecker tighter. Her Zeltron pheromones had him in a state of horny bliss. The danger aspect of what just happened had her shivering against him...in an excited manner. 

“Anakin and Obi Wan thank you for assisting Wrecker and...” Hunter deferred to... 

“Rueby!” Tipsy appeared, running up and embracing her and Wrecker. Then she ran to Vix and Tech hugging them both. “I’m SO GLAD everyone is safe!”  

Tech was surprised by the physical contact. But not put off about it either. 

Tipsy then embraced Hunter and planted a HUGE kiss on his lips. He leaned in, embracing the Twilek, kissing her deeply, then pulled away, face bright red. He turned to see everyone staring at him... 

...Anakin Skywalker gave Hunter a conspiratorial look and smiled...something passed between them both in an instant... 

...and it occurred to him suddenly WHY Anakin was so odd with Rex the other day on the landing pad, why he seemed to spend SO MUCH time with Senator Amidala. 

That DOG! His secret was safe with Hunter.  

“General Skywalker, General Kenobi.” Hunter cleared his throat and nodded to them both. 

Kenobi spied the nightclub on fire behind him then addressed Anakin. “Seems there may be more souls in need of our assistance.” 

Before Kenobi could brief his padawan, Anakin Force jumped from the craft...over the guardrail and the group, then ran TOWARDS the fire disappearing from view. 

Kenobi shook his head and sighed “A Jedi’s work is NEVER done. Stay safe, everyone!” He swung the craft around and headed towards the burning building. 

The group waved as he sped away, stunned by their Jedi antics. 

The night wasn’t a total loss.  

Our merry group convened at the local Waffle Hovel. It was Wrecker’s idea. 

The men pushed together several of the small tables to fit everyone in their party. Besides, Baash the “Awful Waffle’s” owner, was used to seeing people in all sorts of conditions after partying all night on Coruscant. He didn’t care, long as they paid the bill. 

Rueby, Tipsy, and Vix lamented that their wallet’s burned in the fire...as they certainly didn’t have pockets in their skimpy attire to carry on their person.  

“No worries, ladies. We’ve got you covered.” Hunter’s headache left him as soon as they stepped into the quiet establishment, smelling the wonderful aroma of Baash’s Space Flapjacks.  

His attention was also taken up by Tipsy, who sat across from him. They made silent goo-goo eyes at one another. 

Same for Wrecker. He and Rueby eyed each other over their menus, making funny puns about the food. 

Sitting across from one another and between the two smitten duos were Tech and Vix. They babbled and info dumped excitedly realizing they both shared a passion: Botany. 

“...we were lucky to have survived the carnivorous Meat Flower of Dagoba, and I must say...” Tech trailed off. “Whatever is the matter?” 

Vix had suddenly gone silent and sad. “I was SO CLOSE to being able to quit the Flushed Orchid...and start my studies. Have to find another job that will hire an Amaran...don’t know if we are going to see our last credits from this one.” 

Tipsy added “Bet that slummy boss of ours will take all the insurance payout credits and run off.” 

“He was probably betting on it being the Fried Orchid at some point. That man let the place go SO badly. And he’s got friends that will ignore the way he kept it to get those credits.” Rueby was angry. 

“We know people at 79’s who will happily hire you. That is if you want to continue bar work and dancing?” Hunter offered. 

“Yes! It was much harder to get hired in due to it being more upscale. I’ll take it!!! Tipsy perked up. “The pay is SO much better too.” 

Rueby smiled. “Whooo! I’ll get to dance at the REAL CLONE CLUBHOUSE!!!” 

“OOH, and I can visit ya at work in-between missions!” Wrecker was excited at the prospect. 

“Oh honey...YOU can visit me ANYTIME.” She released more pheromones. Wrecker almost floated away with pure bliss. 

Vix exhaled and exhaustedly hung her head. “I can’t do it. Tried so hard...but, the bar scene just isn’t for me.” 

Tech politely intervened. “I am quite certain you will qualify for some financial assistance, including dorm rooming as well...If you choose.  In addition, I shall speak to Coruscant University’s head administrator. They have some...’ wiggle room’ filling seats at their lectures.” 

Vix was speechless.  “Wait...what’s the catch?” She warily inquired. 

Tech and Hunter were taken aback by the query. 

Rueby and Wrecker ignored the conversation and kept flirting. The rest of the people at the table no longer took precedence. They were in their own little world. 

Tech added curtly “Vix, remember the clones who witnessed how you and I were treated tonight? And their refusal to step in to help a stranger in need...and a fellow brother.” The memory struck a chord with the otherwise emotionally removed clone. 

“Oh... Yes.” Vix’s face clouded with disappointment. 

“We are NOT like THEM.” Tech glibly answered.  

Hunter softened and fixed Tipsy and Vix with puppy dog eyes “Just want to help. We know what it’s like to struggle. There are no strings attached. WE PROMISE.” 

“Ehhhh, MY FAVORITE CLONES! And they got some company here. HELLO LADIES! What are we orderin’ tonight eh?” Baash swooped in. “Tonight's special is Baash’s Hash! Best spicy potatoes this side of Coruscant. Ha-HAAA!!!” 

Tech and Vix debated the various choices on the menu while Baash patiently assisted. 

“Mmmm...I LIKE spice...” Rueby eyed Wrecker. 

He giggled like a maniac. 

“Get a room you two.” Hunter sassed. 

He was then hit in the face with a wadded-up napkin from across the table. 

Tipsy’s lekku went from a light lavendar to a blushed grape color. He noticed her sly smile. Then he detected a heady scent just under the aroma of cooked food. 

She leaned forward and whispered, “Let’s get one of our own.” 

(Credit: Cool moving star dividers by @4ngelic-wh1spers )

PLEASE like, comment, and REBLOG!

[embeanwrites]

Yours & Mine - Hunter x Reader

Clone Fic Gift Exchange

Prompt: “I’m yours and you are mine” with Hunter (with a mention of “don’t go far from me”) 

A/N: Here’s my piece for the @cloneficgiftexchange! I’m so nervous to write/post this since @photogirl894 is one of my favorite authors here on Tumblr, so to write a piece for them, I was NERVOUS! I hope you enjoy this 🥺 Special thank you to @kakyoweeniesdump and @pinkiemme for editing and feedback! (I’ll post this to AO3 once I get home from Star Wars Celebration!) 

Word count: 2047

Some days Hunter couldn’t believe his luck. To have his squad. To have Omega. To have her. He was created in a lab on a rainy planet, meant to die in a war he was created for, to serve a master he had no control over, and now his life has done almost a total 180. After retiring from working with Cid, the group had decided to settle down on a little planet in the Outer Rim that Rex had found and had been helping clones resettle who were tired of fighting away from the Empire. Between all of them, they had been able to make a fairly sustainable home. For the first time in their lives, they had the true freedom to choose. 

Omega was able to go to school and make friends, something she thoroughly loved. She was frequently up before the boys in the morning, ready to go. Hunter thought the excitement would wear off, but as she entered her 60th rotation of school she still seemed to find wonder in school every day. Tech had gotten a job with a local mechanic shop after he had fixed some farming equipment for a farm nearby in record time. Wrecker had been loving helping some of the local farms with their animals and taking care of the livestock, he had been in the process of trying to convince Hunter that they needed some cattle for their farm, but Hunter wasn’t sure he was ready to deal with the smell every day. Hunter had found himself helping the townspeople with hunting and tracking and somehow, teaching some of the younger kids how to survive in the woods nearby. And unsurprising to Hunter their medic had quickly settled into helping with the local clinic. 

Hunter had been very well aware of his feelings for her before the group had settled down, but with them always on the run from the Empire, he had no desire to tie her in with their group in any way that could get her hurt or worse. He tried pushing her away or at the very least get her to understand the danger she would be in by running with them. Cid had essentially forced them to have a real medic join the crew after too many missions had gone sideways due to injuries. It wasn’t that he was ungrateful to have a medic with knowledge that wasn’t learned from the holonet five minutes before putting it into practice like Tech used to do, but Hunter felt weird about any civilian traveling with them. The team warmed up to her quickly, especially Omega, and it was shortly after she had gone out of her way to get colorful band-aids for Omega did Hunter allow himself to start to give in to these feelings. The warm feeling her smile and gentle touches gave him kept him up at night, thoughts of her would circle his mind and on the rare occasion, he’d allow himself to think of a peaceful future with her. 

He thought he hid his feelings well. 

He did not.

It was clear to everyone, including her, almost immediately that his feelings for the medic were stronger than just another crew member. He frequently tried to push his feelings away, denying them or not even affording himself to indulge in them, but she had none of it. Every idea to dissuade her from a relationship with him seemed to do nothing but persuade her more. She reminded him almost daily of her own feelings, either intentionally or unintentionally, until he let his heart thaw out. She loved him unconditionally and he couldn’t help falling for her deeply and wholeheartedly. 

Hunter still remembered the moment he decided that it was time to take that chance with her. When she had finally convinced him it was worth it. She had just patched up Wrecker and had been softly arguing with Tech that he needed more rest when she had sat next to him on his bunk, surprising him. 

“Do you want to talk about what happened out there?” She asked him softly and he fought back a sigh. 

“Nothing happened out there.” He replied, going back to sharpening his vibro blade, avoiding eye contact. 

“Oh really?” She taunted. “Was it not you, pulling you behind me in the middle of the mission saying ‘don’t go far from me’?” He clenched and unclenched his jaw, he knew this had been coming and that she wouldn’t let this go. 

“That wasn’t-” He tried. 

“Hunter, how long are we going to dance around this?” She muttered, he could hear her heart pounding and the frustration in her words, he felt his hands grow clammy. This was a conversation that had long been coming. “It’s not fair to either of us. Why aren’t you letting yourself be happy? What are you so scared of?” He slowly sheathed his blade and turned to face her, not allowing himself to look her in the face just yet. 

“What if I fail and lose you.” He finally muttered, feeling as if a tank was sitting on his chest. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost any of the squad, but you? Darling, I don’t think I could come back from that.” He groaned and dropped his head in his hands, hunched over in embarrassment and frustration. 

“But Hunter-” Her voice raising, ever so slightly. 

“How do you not understand that I’m doing this for you!” He dropped his hands and looked at her from the corner of his eye, unable to face her fully. “I don’t ever want you to hurt, don’t ever want to see you in pain, and the odds of me living through the Empire? Living through dealing with Cid’s missions? Not great. All I want is to see you happy, and I’d love for you to be happy with me, but that will no doubt be brief and I can’t leave you hurting without being there to help.” He looked away, not eager to see her face when she responded. 

“Well that’s very morbid and a bit arrogant.” She snorted. Hunter turned to face her scowling, ready to retort. “But even more infantilizing. If anything happened to either one of us, not just you, I think we would both grieve, but never take for granted any of the time we shared, or the care we had for each other. I’m not so fragile that your loss would break me, sure it would hurt, and I’d be heartbroken, but I have more respect for you, your memory, and for myself than to let that misery take hold forever, and I think you are stronger than that too.” She grabbed his hands, pulling him to face her. “You are letting fear keep you from living, and there is a lot of that to do outside of the war. You can be afraid, but don’t be a coward. Bravery isn’t the opposite of fear, it’s being afraid, but going for it anyway. You’re so brave out there, be brave here, with me.” She smiled, small and hopeful, but her eyes never left his, steely and determined to sway him. “And you know your brothers won’t stop giving you shit if you-“ he cut her off, his hand holding her cheek, thumb pressed against the apple, roving over her cheekbone. He was a breath away from her, his nose brushing against hers, watching her closely, waiting for her to push him away. He knew she wouldn’t push him away, not after that speech, not after everything, but some part of him still wanted to run, wanted her to run. But running wasn’t her and he was tired of trying to fight off his feelings. 

“Are you gonna kiss me or not, Sarge-“ and cutting her off once more his lips were on hers, and it was everything she’d wanted for months. 

She was so soft against him, it was startling how right she felt in his arms, but when her lips demanded more from him, pressing back harder and forcing what a sweet, chaste gesture to a passionate embrace one he knew she was anything but. He broke their kiss, moving back a hair's breadth to look at her. He was mesmerized by the way her eyes fluttered open, her mouth slightly agape and flushed. 

“You won’t take no for an answer, will you darlin’?” He chuckled, his hand ghosting down her face to grasp her jaw. 

“Absolutely not.” She smirked, then her hand weaved into his hair and pulled him in for another kiss. And that was that, she made no room for any further argument between them.

And that kiss is what led the two of them to now, roughly one standard cycle (and many kisses) later in their very own home. The two of them were currently lying on a soft rug in front of their fireplace, fully clothed and just enjoying the ability to have some serenity near each other. The night was quiet and having her so close made Hunter feel more warmth than any heat the fire could provide. He willed himself to hear her soft heartbeat, to smell the gentle shampoo she used in her hair, the feel of his hands on her cheek. He wanted so desperately to freeze time and live in this moment forever. 

“Are you okay, my love?” Her soft voice interrupted his thoughts. He let out a gentle sigh as he looked over at her face, ever caring and ever wondering about his well-being over her own. 

“I was just thinking about everything we had to go through to get here.” He murmured, she gave him a small smile, knowing the pain the entire batch went through to get to this peaceful time in their life and it was clear to all of them, even if they didn’t discuss it, that there was still a fear in each of them that this life may come to an end abruptly the moment they get too comfortable. “Sometimes I worry I’m going to wake up back in our barracks on Kamino and after everything that’s happened…I just fear that I don’t deserve this.” He closed his eyes as she moved her hand to cup his tattooed cheek, forcing him to look into her eyes. 

“Hunter, honey, of course, you deserve happiness.” She gave him a soft smile before continuing, “Plus I’m not complaining about having an absolute hunk of a man on my arm.” She joked, causing Hunter to let out a slight laugh. 

“I’m glad you find me nice to look at.” He responded, still stuck in his thoughts. 

“Among other things, you know.” She leaned forward and kissed the side of his mouth, his stubble rubbing against her. “I love how kind and protective you are. I always feel so safe when you’re around.” She murmured, moving ever so slightly to kiss his tattooed cheek. “I love when you’re watching Omega and you have this dad pose-”

“Dad pose?” He questioned. 

“You know, the one you do with your hand on your hip and you lean against the wall, watching her with a small smile. You do it all the time, you did it today when she was playing with her friends after school!” She teased while she resumed her soft kisses along his face. “I love that even when we’re out of missions you’re doing everything you can to make sure everyone’s safe. I love when I’m cooking and you come up behind me to hold me. I love-” 

“Alright, alright! I get it, you love me.” He chuckled, face burning bright from all the compliments, so unused to any form of love outside his brothers. 

“But do you know what I love the most?” She asked, moving so she was now on top of him, playfully pinning him.  

“Now, what would that be, sweetheart?” 

“That I’m all yours and you’re all mine.” She responded before leaning down to kiss him. And for once, Hunter allowed himself to relax in this moment, because she was right. While his fear of losing her was still there, he knew that at this time in his life, they had each other and nothing was going to change that. 

[wanderer-six]

Across the Stars (for @loving-the-cambridges)

AN: this is my story for the CLONE FIC GIFT EXCHANGE @cloneficgiftexchange! I had so much fun participating in this and really hope another happens soon💖 this one got super long but nonetheless I hope you enjoy!! (also big shoutout to @starrylothcat for beta reading!!)

Relationships: Commander Cody x Royal Fem!Reader

Summary: Commander Cody had hoped that being assigned as security detail for a royal gala would be nothing more than a mundane distraction from the war. But when Separatists attempt to assassinate the you, the princess, he's forced to take you into hiding--and forced to reevaluate his priorities.

Prompts: "I didn't mean to throw you off your feet"; "Are you going to stay"

NSFW (MINORS DNI) WARNINGS: eventual smut (pretty vague, but includes oral (f! receiving), unprotected piv sex)

Word Count: 9.2k (SORRY)

Cody was rarely one to complain about assignments, but for gala detail, he would make an exception.

The night was young, and Cody grew older by the moment as every high society aristocrat passed him by on their way into the ballroom. Not one of them so much as acknowledged his presence, and frankly, he preferred it that way. Fox had told Cody his fair share of stories—tales of shepherding senators who’d no more faced the horrors of war than any hardship in life. On any other occasion, this should’ve been Fox’s jurisdiction in the first place: no world had the privilege of constant political parties more than Coruscant, after all.

But it seemed the fates had cruel intentions for Cody. This particular gathering was not to take place in the heart of the galaxy, but rather, a Mid-Rim planet he and his men were in near enough proximity to after their latest battle. Cody had tried to argue that their efforts were best spent elsewhere—fighting the war, for one. But high command in the Republic demanded the presence of the 212th at this event, and without General Kenobi there to argue on his behalf, Cody and his men were forced to comply with the order.

But it was just for the night, he reminded himself. He winced beneath his helmet as yet another couple entered the ballroom, dressed in robes so costly they could fund a whole battalion of his brothers.

Just for the night.

Cody activated the communicator in his helmet.

“Status report,” he spoke. 

He’d called for a status report not even thirty minutes prior, but he felt compelled to do so again. Not out of any concern of attack—just so he could be certain the men were still awake.

He was struggling, as it was.

“All clear from the northern balcony,” came a reply.

“No trouble in the shipyard.”

“The gardens are still as boring as they were when we got here.”

The slightest smirk found Cody’s lips.

“Affirmative. Keep your eyes peeled. And open,” he asserted. “We’re just here for the night. You’ll be back to blasting clankers before you know it.”

An unenthused “sir, yes sir” followed in a chorus over his comms, and Cody sighed. He glanced up at the stained glass ceiling hanging over the ballroom, seeing the moon rise ever higher beyond it.

Just for the night.

The active chatter of the crowd in the ballroom fell all at once to a murmur, and Cody hadn’t the slightest idea why. He stood taller than his already perfect posture, trying not to appear out of sorts as he sought out what had drawn the room’s attention.

The briefing for this assignment had mentioned precious little about the purpose of this gala, and it had certainly neglected any note of the princess hosting it. But when you emerged through the massive ballroom doors, Cody grew transfixed just as everyone had.

From atop the grand staircase, you possessed the eyes of every noble in attendance. Your long gown flowed with every step of your descent, its simple design never once distracting from the perfect poise with which you carried yourself. A crystalline tiara glittered atop your head, earning glances of envy from the crowd, but Cody hardly noticed it; he was much too distracted by the radiant eyes beneath it.

In the midst of your angelic descent to the ballroom floor, Cody overheard a pair of nobles whispering somewhere on his flank.

“The princess is here?” one of them asked in hushed tones.

“Of course she is,” replied another, “it’s her gala.”

“I know that! It’s just… is it truly safe for her to be here? If the Separatists knew—”

“—then what? They’d be foolish to try something.”

As you landed on the final step, you did something no one else had dared to do the entire evening. You glanced at the clone commander standing guard by the bannister, meeting him with a shy smile he would remember for the rest of his life.

As quickly as the moment had begun, the night returned to normal. The regular commotion resumed as you were swept into the awaiting crowd, greeted by politicians and royals alike, all while Cody remained frozen in time. Admittedly, Cody was not the most sociable man, even by the standard of the clones. Never in his life, in all the planets he had visited, had he seen a woman as remarkable as you. He honestly wasn’t even sure how to respond to it all—the fluttering in his stomach and the burning beneath his cheeks.

A quiet sigh passed his lips. As if there was anything to do besides remain in place. He could be the most charismatic man in the galaxy, and it wouldn’t matter. There was more that stood between him and you than his own gracelessness. A soldier speaking to a princess would be shut down well before he began fumbling the conversation.

So, he stayed in place, perfectly unassuming, trying to stifle the wish to get one more glance at you. Waiting.

Just for the night.

“Commander… we might have a problem.”

The chirp of Cody’s commlink brought him out of his silent moping. He pressed his fingers to his helmet.

“What is it?” he asked.

A pause. No reply. Cody nearly called in again, when another soldier called in.

“Commander! We have hostiles approaching from the northern ridge!”

“Close ranks! We’re being overrun!”

Cody opened his mouth to give orders, when suddenly, the stained glass dome above the ballroom shattered. In the glow of the moon, a fleet of droids crashed through the ceiling, landing among the nobles below. The ballroom erupted into chaos, nobles running and screaming as the droids readied their weapons.

“This planet is under Separatist control!” cried a battle droid as it paced among the crowd. “We demand that the princess be brought to us for immediate execution!”

Execution?

Cody sprung to action, scanning through the crowd, hoping to find you before the droids could. At last, his eyes spotted the sparkling tiara in the sea of panicked nobles. Try as you might to move to safety, too many shoving partygoers kept you locked in place.

And what was worse was the imposing shadow of a B2 battle droid stalking up behind you, growing closer by the second.

Barging through the crowd, Cody sprinted to your position. The B2 stopped in place a few paces from you, slowly lifting its arm into firing position. Cody’s eyes shot wide.

“Princess!” he shouted.

He barely managed to catch your attention before breaking through the mob, collapsing upon you just as the B2 fired its wrist rocket.

The two of you crashed to the ground, Cody doing his best to keep you in his arms and shield you from the heat of the explosion. When the blast faded, he pulled away, quickly getting to his feet and helping you do the same.

“Princess, it’s not safe here,” Cody called over the commotion. “We need to go!”

The frazzled, frightened face that looked back at him made his heart ache. But the small, half-lucid nod you gave him was enough for him. He kept your hand in his as he began guiding you to safety.

The two of you ran, Cody steering you away from any possible threat. As he pulled you up the grand staircase you’d entered from, he triggered his commlink.

“This is Commander Cody; I have the princess,” he spoke. “We are moving for evacuation. Hold out as long as you can!”

As he burst through the ballroom doors, he turned sharply down an adjacent hallway, looking over his shoulder at you.

“Princess, what’s the fastest way to the landing platform?” he called. For a moment, you were too dazed to answer, and Cody’s brow furrowed. “Stay with me, Princess. The landing platform?”

“Take… take the next left,” you answered at last. Your voice was soft—far too soft for what you’d endured that night. “There’s a ship on the landing platform… my ship—we can use that.”

Cody nodded firmly, following your instructions to the letter. Through the echoed sounds of attack, you and Cody emerged onto the landing platform, where a small golden vessel awaited you. Cody wasn’t worried about where the two of you were headed—for now, offworld was all that mattered.

Together, you boarded your starship. Once Cody ensured you were situated in the ship’s living quarters, he rushed to the cockpit. Before the droids could grow wise to where you’d run off to, he picked the ship off the ground, navigating to the temporary reprieve of hyperspace.

, , ,

“Troubling news, this is…”

Cody stood in the cockpit of your ship, looking upon holograms of the two Master Jedi to whom he relayed the news. It was rare he had an audience with Master Yoda, but General Kenobi’s presence was familiar.

“More than troubling,” General Kenobi agreed. “To attack a peaceful gathering entirely unprovoked… the Separatists have gotten bolder.”

Master Yoda nodded, his chin clutched between his fingers. “Indeed. What they were seeking, I wonder?”

“I believe I can answer that, General,” Cody spoke at last. “Assassinating the princess seems to be the likely motivation. If the Separatists were to install their own leader, the planet would act as an important staging ground for future attacks on the Mid-Rim.”

“And save her, you did?”

“Yes, sir,” Cody confirmed. “She’s in stable condition aboard this vessel.”

Cody’s eyes lingered to the living quarters of the ship, where you had been since the two of you fled the planet. You’d kept quiet so far, unmoving from the bench you sat on. It struck Cody with an inexplicable worry.

“Good. Make sure she remains that way,” General Kenobi instructed. “The Separatists will be hunting her even now. You’ll need to ensure they aren’t able to find her.”

“Undercover, you must go,” Master Yoda added. “Refuge, on a nearby planet, must you seek. Until the princess’s planet, liberated, it is.”

Cody’s jaw tensed.

“And… how long will it take to muster enough forces and reclaim her world?” he asked.

“We believe we will have the required numbers in ten rotations,” General Kenobi answered.

Ten rotations?

Cody stifled his surprise, masking his uncertainty with his usual stoic expression.

“Understood, General,” he answered with a curt nod.

“Good,” General Kenobi answered. “Until we contact you, keep a low profile. And do not let anything happen to her.”

“That will be all, Commander,” Master Yoda said. The slightest smile appeared on the corners of his lips as he added, “May the Force be with you.”

The holograms before him dissipated, leaving Cody alone. He released the heavy sigh that he’d harbored in his chest. Ten rotations. To think that hours ago, this had been a mere pit stop on his way back to Coruscant, where he could await redeployment to a battlefront in need of his support. Now, it had become a full-fledged mission of its own…

Again, Cody glanced towards the back hold, seeing that you still hadn’t budged from where you sat. You stared hard at nothing, but he could tell that the violence of the droid army still flashed before your eyes. A wave of guilt washed over the commander. For him, this was just another assignment in years of war. But for you, your entire life had changed—taken from you with no warning and no remorse. If ten rotations was truly all it would take to see your world returned to you, it would be a blessing.

Treading quietly, Cody approached you. As he grew closer, he could make out more and more lesions on your skin. He tried not to grimace, but the sight of injuries on someone so beautiful ate at him. Though he was thankful you were still alive, he faulted himself for not being able to protect you from all the harm you’d endured that night.

“Princess…” he began. Immediately, you blinked out of your stupor, turning your attention to him. “I’ve received word that the Republic will be mounting a campaign to retake your world. But in the meantime, we’ll need to take you into hiding to ensure there are no more threats to your life.”

Your shoulders slumped.

“I see,” you murmured. “For how long?”

“We’re estimating around ten rotations.”

“Oh.”

It didn’t take a Jedi to discern the worry on your face, but in short order, you put on a smile. Right away, Cody knew it looked wrong—polite, pretty, but not at all real. Not anything like the warm smile you’d shown him when you first passed by him. 

“Thank you, sir, for informing me,” you said.

Your gaze fell to the floor, and the smile you’d forced onto your features fell along with it. Cody thought to take his leave, but couldn’t. Not yet. He didn’t want to abandon you in an empty hold, on a ship with an unknown soldier, to remain all by your lonesome. If he’d learned one thing from General Kenobi’s leadership, it was just how far a modicum of kindness could take you.

And for you, he could certainly be kind.

“Are you… all right?” he asked. His stilted voice made him wince. He hoped you didn’t take his rigidness as disrespect—he just wasn’t used to this. Any of it. 

You offered a weak nod in response.

“I’ll be fine,” you assured him. “I… I think I’m still a bit out of sorts, is all. Thank you for your concern.”

 Cody took a seat beside you on the bench—though making sure to keep an overly respectful distance from you.

“It… must be hard for you. Leaving your home behind so suddenly,” he continued.

You shook your head halfheartedly.

“I’m not worried about me. I’m worried about my people,” you sighed. “We’ve resisted Separatist occupation for so long. I shouldn’t be in hiding while they suffer.”

Cody watched you as your hands trembled, your brow knit with worry. The pain you held ran deeper than your wounds from the attack, and that much was obvious even to him. Cody solved his problems with a blaster more often than he did with words, but for you, he felt compelled to try.

“If it means anything, Princess… I’m sure your people are just as concerned for your well-being,” Cody spoke at last. Your gaze met his once more, and the sincerity in your eyes nearly paralyzed him. He dashed his nervousness with an awkward cough. “The Republic values your world and your people. As soon as the necessary forces are able to deploy, I have complete confidence that you will be returned home with no further struggles against the Separatists. We won’t let you down, Princess.”

The hold fell silent. Your eyes, sparkling in the glow of hyperspace, peered into his. Although his sheepishness begged him to look away, he stared back at you. When at last a small grin formed on your lips, Cody wasn’t sure whether to feel relieved or petrified.

“... I don’t believe you ever told me your name, sir,” you mentioned.

Cody gave an awkward nod. “It’s… Commander Cody, your highness.”

Your smile widened.

“Cody…” you repeated. The sound of his name on your lips made Cody’s face burn. “I’m thankful to have your company through all of this. I can’t imagine how much worse things could have been without your intervention. I owe you my life.”

In all his time on the front lines of this war, Cody had rarely been thanked. He never expected to be—he was quite literally born for this conflict, so gratitude was far from necessary. But knowing for once that his actions had meaning—that he was valued not merely as part of an army, but as an individual… it made his chest ache.

His gaze broke from yours, glancing away in hopes of slowing his rapid pulse.

“Of course, Princess. It’s what we’re here for,” he assured you. “Though… I should apologize.”

You tilt your head. “What for?”

His eyes returned to you; when he saw the bruises forming on your arms, he frowned.

“I’ve had better rescues,” he confessed. “I didn’t mean to throw you off your feet like that. I should’ve been more careful.”

To his surprise, a gentle laugh escaped you. He grimaced, wondering if he’d said something wrong. With a shake of your head, you rested your hand on his shoulder.

“Cody… a few bruises are no cost at all for staying alive to wear them,” you assured him. “I’d prefer getting knocked over by you to becoming a victim of the Separatists any day.”

The warmth of your touch and your smile seeped through Cody’s armor. Suddenly, the prospect of spending a few rotations ensuring your safety no longer troubled him so much. “Well… good,” he said. “Though, if you don’t mind, I’d prefer not to make a habit of barging into you—whether or not you prefer it.”

You beamed. Cody swore he saw the faintest blush on your cheeks.

“Just for special occasions, then?” you teased.

Cody chuckled, allowing his guard to drop for the first time that evening.

“If that’s what you want to call it… sure,” he replied.

 Something about the kindness you showed him made the war feel so distant, even in spite of all it had taken to get the two of you here. At your side, maybe ten rotations would feel like no time at all.

In the back of his mind, a small part of Cody even wondered if ten rotations was long enough.

, , ,

The transition to life on a quiet planet hadn’t been kind to either of you, but thankfully, having one another meant the struggle was not so overwhelming. Cody had taken a number of precautions from the moment you touched down—finding accommodations far from the nearest town center and ensuring that as few locals as possible even knew of your existence. The two of you had lived there in isolation for a few days now, in a little domicile out in the woodlands. And while those first few days were tense with worry, they were thankfully uneventful.

At first, Cody had tried to keep himself distant from you. He had little knowledge of what the life of a royal might entail, but something told him that fraternizing with a common soldier was probably considered an etiquette breach of some kind. But despite his attempts at maintaining decorum, every kind gesture made your company irresistible to him. Each time you brewed a pot of caf in the morning, you would offer him a mug. His rations were always tended to before your own. Even at night, you wouldn’t sleep before ensuring there wasn’t something he needed your help with. Compared to his typical soldier’s life, you treated him like royalty—a bit of irony that was far from lost on him.

The uneventful days meant the two of you had ample time to talk. You clearly had experience with speaking, having penned and performed countless speeches on your homeworld. But the way you talked to Cody felt different from any senate address he had ever heard. You spoke so fondly of things you missed from your homeworld, memories that you could glow about for hours. Cody was content to let you, though admittedly, there were times he found his attention drifting from your words—watching instead the way your eyes would glitter, your lips would purse, your cheeks would blush.

Of course, you turned the conversation to him just as often. Cody initially struggled to match your enthusiasm, not one to hold such a romantic memory of most anything. But you quickly found a way through his shell when you landed on the topic of his brothers—the only family he had, and the one he devoted himself fiercely to. Something about your attentive gaze and warm smiles made it easy for Cody to open up to you in a way he had never even considered opening up to anyone else.

Your talks served as such a fitting distraction, in fact, that you barely noticed just how much time had passed the two of you by. Both of you were caught by surprise the day you awoke to no caf left to brew—and hardly any rations, to match.

Faced with the options of going hungry or making the trek to the nearby marketplace for supplies, Cody chose the latter. He had grappled for an hour whether it was wiser to leave you alone in the domicile where you might be safer, but lack his protection. However, you made the decision for him—insisting that you would be joining him no matter what he had to say about it.

He hadn’t been so keen on the idea, at first. But as he watched you browse the bustling farmer’s market, he warmed to it quickly enough.

As the two of you roamed around the marketplace, you stopped for what Cody estimated to be the tenth time in the past hour, taking an interest in a hand-woven tapestry hanging on a stall.

“Hmm…” you hummed, taking in the uniquely knitted fabric.

Cody tilted his head, a smirk on his lips. “Enjoying yourself?”

You returned to his side, grinning up at him.

“I am, thank you,” you returned, speaking in stride as the two of you began walking again. “Have some sympathy, will you? I’m lucky if I get to leave my palace once a cycle.”

When another patron skirted a bit too close for comfort, you didn’t hesitate to walk nearer to Cody’s side. It swelled a strange sense of pride in him, knowing that you trusted him enough to keep you safe. To be your protector. He swore to never make you regret that trust.

“I’m just… trying to act natural,” you continued.  “I’ve never had to get supplies for myself, as strange as that is to admit.” You look up at him curiously. “Do you think we stick out at all?”

A dry smirk found Cody’s lips.

“What, a clone and a princess on a planet of farmers? I can’t imagine how we would,” he snarked. 

When you donned that sweet, flustered grin, Cody’s smile widened.

“You’re mean,” you teased.

“You make it easy.”

With a roll of your eyes, you checked satchel on your hip.

“Well… since we have almost everything, I don’t think I’ll have to endure your cruelty for much longer, at least,” you pointed out. “I think we’re just missing…”

Before your sentence ended, a clamor from further up in the marketplace interrupted you. Cody placed a hand on your shoulder, holding you close as the scene developed. At first, he could only make out the sight of fleeing patrons and frightened stall owners hastily stowing their merchandise.

But then, that familiar, metallic clanking droned into Cody’s ears, and he knew. 

The Separatists were here.

A full squad of droids trampled into view on the dirt road, kicking up clouds of dust behind them. At the center, a B1 barked orders at the civilians.

“Attention, citizens! There is a royal fugitive hiding on your planet. Bring her to us, or face the consequences!”

As the droids advanced, you stiffened. Given the unlikelihood of a different princess running from Separatist forces somewhere on this world, these droids were here for you. And if the two of you didn’t act quickly, they just might find you.

Cody’s eyes narrowed, donning the Commander’s mindset with ease. He reached for your wrist, taking extra care to be gentle in fear of reliving the first time he rescued you.

“This way,” he said, his voice hushed. With deft strides, he led you through the crowd—all of whom seemed far too distracted by the encroaching droids to notice just who was passing by them.

Cody’s eyes scanned the marketplace, and the moment he spotted an alleyway behind a few abandoned stalls, he began formulating an exit strategy. But his swiftly-made plan met almost immediately with challenges. A separate squad of droids approaching from a few dozen meters off prepared to slam his only window of opportunity shut.

With no time to explain, Cody slipped his arm around your waist, sweeping you toward the alleyway alongside him. Just as you entered the shadows, he pressed you against the wall, leaning his hand against the brick surface in such a way that the shawl on his shoulder fully obscured you from the main thoroughfare.

At first, Cody listened closely to the sound of the droids stalking past, counting the paces as their metallic frames shambled down the street. Only when his focus returned to the sight directly in front of him did he realize just how close you were as he loomed over you now.

Years of outmaneuvering droids made the invading Separatists all but mundane. Standing chest to chest with you, his lips a mere tilt of his head from yours… that was what sent his heart racing at lightspeed.

“Ah… a-apologies, Princess,” he murmured, his gaze trying to meet anything but you. He silently chastised himself, unable to imagine how daunted you must feel by his actions. 

But it was your touch on his cheek that pulled him back to reality—and the gentle guidance of your hand that pulled his gaze back to yours. The smile you wore drew a blush to his cheeks.

“Cody…” you spoke softly. His name… you made it sound so perfect. “You have nothing to apologize for. I don’t know what I would do if you weren’t here.”

Cody could only hope the droids were long gone, as the only sound he could hear clearly was the pounding pulse in his ears. The weight of your words hit his chest like a speeder, leaving him hopeless to muster any meaningful response.

“...o-of course,” was all he could utter. With all his strength, he found the slightest smile of his own, holding your gaze until he could no longer handle the sight of you without losing sight of himself. “It is my honor to protect you, Princess.”

When at last he looked away, he drew a steadying breath. From the sound of it, the droids outside the alleyway had passed. A relief, but not a great one, since the challenge of escaping the city still remained.

However reluctantly, Cody pulled himself away from you, though keeping a hand on your waist to ensure you stayed at his side. A cautious glance out of the alleyway revealed no additional droids—a promising sign.

“We need to keep moving,” Cody said, staying vigilant as he walked you through the market. “We’re nearly at the edge of town. If we can get clear of the market and into the forest—”

“You! Stop right there!”

The shrill, tinny voice of a battle droid brought Cody to a halt for a mere moment. The rhythmic clanking approached from behind the two of you.

“Identify yourselves, citizens!” the droid hissed as it got nearer. Cody didn’t respond. The droid stalked ever closer. “Are your auditory processors working? Identification—now!”

Cody squeezed your hip, leaning in just close enough for you to hear him whisper.

“Run.”

Abruptly, he released you from his grasp, whirling around and ripping his pistol from its thigh holster along the way. He needed only a split second to spot the droid—and shorter still to fire a shot into its head.

The sound of blaster fire alerted the dozens of other droids scattered around the marketplace, drawing them all in perfect pace to the location of their fallen comrade. Not wanting to give them an easy shot, Cody took off running the same direction you had.

As he ran, he looked ahead, trying but failing to see you—especially now that the blaster fire had stirred the remaining civilians into a frenzy. He kept faith that you’d listened to him and ran, unable to do much more with the droids’ stray blaster bolts ringing by his ears. He darted through the mob, tuning out every distraction—the clamor of the crowd, the dust plumes kicked up by the droids’ blasters...

“Cody!”

Your voice, however, always seemed to get his attention.

Cody locked his legs, sliding to an abrupt halt against the dusty road. He whipped his head in the direction of your voice, and at last, he spotted you taking cover behind a market stall. You waved him over to you, and as he ran, he saw why you’d chosen here, of all places, to wait for him.

Parked beside the stall was an abandoned speeder bike ripe for the taking.

As Cody arrived at your side, he stopped only briefly to set his hand on your shoulder.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

You nodded. “I’m fine. I found this speeder—”

“Already on it,” Cody interjected. Before he turned to the speeder, he handed you his blaster. “Have you ever used one of these?”

“Once or twice. O-Only for ceremonies…”

“Good enough,” he grunted, already on his knees to slice the speeder’s controls. “If any droid gets close, point it and fire.”

Cody tried to ignore the impending march of the clankers, rewiring the bike as quickly as he could manage. He’d nearly cracked it when he heard a blaster bolt ring out at his side, and a metallic pang some dozen meters behind him. He didn’t dare risk a glance over his shoulder to take in your handiwork, but beneath his adrenaline, he felt the smallest tinge of pride.

At last, the speeder’s engine revved to life. Cody got to his feet, finding you standing over the crumpled body of a B1. You gripped his blaster with white knuckles, hands trembling ever so slightly, just waiting for another clanker to try its luck. Biting back a smirk, Cody took the pistol from your hands.

“Nice shot,” he said quickly. With his free hand, he helped sit you on the front of the speeder. “Hold on tight. Once we get moving—”

“Cody, look out!”

You pointed past Cody with wide eyes, and he had barely a moment to follow your gaze as another droid rounded the corner. Just as it raised its blaster and fired, you yanked Cody down by his wrist. The bolt that would’ve been in Cody’s chest instead singed his shoulder, and Cody was glad he was alive to feel the pain that coursed from his wound.

Fumbling for his pistol, Cody fired two shots—managing to drop the droid with the second. But as it fell, even more came to replace it. With gritted teeth, Cody clambered onto the speeder behind you.

“Your shoulder…!” you cried, looking upon his wound with wide eyes.

“I’ll be fine,” he grunted. “Hold on!”

Pushing through his pain, Cody clasped the bike’s handlebars. The engine roared, launching the bike forward and gaining speed by the second. A hail of blasterfire flew around the two of you, and Cody veered as well as he could manage to avoid it. Once the speeder cleared through the treeline, the bolts became fewer and fewer, until at last, none at all chased after you. , , ,

The adrenaline driving Cody subsided little by little on the long ride back to the domicile. By the time the two of you arrived, the stinging wound on his shoulder had begun to ache and burn. Even so, he forced himself to keep his priorities straight—which meant tending to you, first and foremost.

When he parked the speeder, he got to his feet, before reaching his hand down to help you stand. To his surprise, though, you stared back at him in horror.

“Princess…?” he breathed.

Tears welled in the corners of your eyes.

“Cody… w-we need to get inside,” you instructed.

You dismounted the bike, only taking his hand to lead him indoors. You slammed the door behind him, a shaky breath leaving your lips as you sat him down on a chaise in the living quarters. Cody watched you, confused as you began to rifle through cabinets.

“Princess, what’s wrong?” he asked.

You didn’t answer, merely shaking your head. He could see the way your hands trembled as you fished the bacta patches out from one of the cabinets. When you turned to face him again, the glow of the sunset through the windows was just enough to light the tears on your face.

You sat beside him, and before he could say a word, you reached for the collar of his shirt. His chest seized as your nimble fingers ran down his body, too nervous to even breathe. One by one, you unhooked the fasteners, before carefully stripping the fabric from him. Seeing the wound on his shoulder more clearly now only made you cry harder, forcing you to pinch your eyes shut as you prepared a bacta patch.

Realizing now what had you so worked up, Cody found the ghost of a smile.

“Hey… it’s all right,” he promised. “I’ve taken worse hits than this. I’ll be fine.”

You sniffled, wiping away your tears with the back of your hand before carefully affixing the bacta patch to the wound on his shoulder. Your hands lingered there, reddened eyes unmoving from his injury.

Against his better judgment, Cody put his hand on your cheek. Gently, he turned your gaze to meet his.

“Princess, please,” he begged. When more tears slipped from your eyes, he swept them away with his thumb. “Please, tell me what’s wrong.”

Your lips parted slightly, but still, you struggled to speak. Cody’s heart ached at your hesitation; he leaned closer to you, running his thumb softly against your cheekbone. To his relief, you leaned into his touch, sighing and calming down.

“This is all happening because of me,” you confessed at last.

Cody tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

“None of this would’ve happened if the Separatists weren’t hunting me. You… you got hurt because of me.” Despite your best efforts, tears overwhelmed you again. “You could’ve died… and it would’ve been my fault.”

Your sorrow ate away at Cody. Never had he felt this irrepressible instinct—the desire to pull you into his arms, to hold you against his chest and promise you over and over that everything would be all right. He’d make it all right for you. Someone like you didn’t deserve to feel this way… and certainly not on his behalf.

Though he wished he could break that barrier, the most he could manage was placing his other hand against your cheek—cupping your face softly. He gazed into your glassy, beautiful eyes, struggling to find the words to convey everything on his mind.

“Princess…” he began softly, “please, listen to me. None of this is your fault. Believe me, the Separatists have no trouble shooting at me whether or not I’m with you.”

You pouted. “But I—”

Cody pinched your cheek playfully. “Hey. Just listen.”

To his utmost relief, the slightest smile formed on your lips. But though he was glad to see it, it made what he planned to say next all the more difficult.

“If anything… I’m happy I was the one to take a hit today. I don’t know what I would’ve done if something happened to you under my protection,” he continued. His words felt strangled in his throat, and every passing second begged him to find the courage to speak. “I… I would do anything for you, Princess. I… um…”

Looking into your eyes—seeing just how beautiful, soft, and breathtaking you appeared in the bloom of the setting sun… Cody couldn’t finish his thought. The words that lingered on his tongue held such consequence—both for him and for you. He couldn’t say which he feared more: that you might reject him, or that you might not.

But as always, you saw through him. You leaned in closer, resting one of your hands on his.

“You what?” you prompted him, gazing fondly into his eyes.

Unable to deny you, Cody drove himself to speak. 

“I… care about you.”

It wasn’t what he truly wished to say. But in your eyes, he knew you understood.

“Cody…”

His name on your lips drove him mad. But your lips on his sent him spiraling.

Every glance he’d stolen at your lips never could have prepared him for the feeling of kissing you like this. What little distance remained between the two of you melted away, and the uncharacteristic hesitation that had plagued Cody since the day he met you finally left him. Knowing that you felt just as strongly as he did finally allowed him to be his true self. It compelled him to serve you as more than just a soldier.

Nothing but a word from you could have stopped Cody then—from carrying you to your bed, from laying you carefully upon your sheets, from gently stripping the fabric from your figure. Your hands minded his injury as they ran over his skin, but he had forgotten about it long ago. His only concern was you.

“Cody…”

His name dripped from your lips like honey as he worked his way down your body, marking inch after inch of your form with delicate kisses. It was a softness he hadn’t believed himself capable of. But every fleeting, tender touch you graced him with inspired something in his heart. He had never been loved before; he was a soldier, built for battle and nothing more. And yet, you treated him with such care—as though he might break from too swift a touch. In a way, he supposed it was true. The mere feeling of being cared for swelled his heart so full that he feared it might burst.

No, he had never been loved before. And if this was to be the last time, he wanted to relish it utterly.

“Cody…”

He couldn’t say which he was drunk on more: the sound of your voice as you breathed his name, or the wetness he lapped between your legs. With your fingers roaming through his hair, his head held snugly between your thighs, there was nowhere else in the galaxy that could’ve filled Cody with such bliss. Every twist of your hips, every arch of your back, every hitch of your breath only drove him to please you more.

“Cody…”

You looked so beautiful as he loomed over you now. The warm dusk painted your skin, though your cheeks burned red without it. And your smile… even as he ran his thumb along your lips, even as he trailed his length against your sex, it never faded from your face. You wore it just for him, and he would not take that privilege for granted.

Only when he pressed into you did the overwhelming pleasure turn your expression to something different, but he didn’t fret, choosing to meet your lips with his, instead.

“Cody…!”

In an eternity and an instant, he could feel himself unraveling. It took all his strength to keep from succumbing to the agonizing, heavenly warmth you enveloped him with. How could he, when you still needed him? Lips lavishing your neck, hands tangled in your hair, he buried himself in you over and over. While your nails dragged across his back, your voice grew hoarse from whimpers and moans. He knew you were close—so horribly, painfully close.

When his hand trailed down across your form, and his fingers grazed the aching point between your legs, you cried his name for the last time that night.

“Cody!”

Wave after wave of your release shuddered through you, the sensation spelling Cody’s end, all the same. Your ankles locked around him, holding him in your depths as he filled you with his warmth. Trembling and spent, Cody barely managed to keep himself from collapsing on you, maintaining his balance just long enough to meet you in a soft, tender kiss—one that could never convey the full extent of his adoration.

Reluctantly, he pulled away from you, if only to join you at the head of the bed. As the heat of your encounter faded, an inkling of uncertainty entered Cody’s mind again. His hands longed for you, but as before, your titles stood in his way. He feared being improper, offending you somehow even after the love you’d shared…

But, to his utmost thankfulness, you were not about to let him flounder. Unabashed, you worked your way into his arms, burrowing yourself against his broad chest. The mere sight overwhelmed Cody with warmth. With no further doubts, he embraced you, dotting kiss after loving kiss upon your head.

After a moment, he leaned back, if only to look upon you. Again, you met him with that smile—the one he would never tire of, and the one he hoped you would wear any time he was near. Gently, he pressed his lips to your forehead.

“Princess…” he hummed. “I…”

You bumped your nose on his. “Yes, Cody?”

He sighed. There remained no part of him that could resist you now.

“I love you.”

His heart did not race at his words, nor did yours. Your smile merely widened, and you snaked your arms around his neck, drawing him in for yet another kiss. His confession was no shock to either of you. You’d had his love from the moment he first laid eyes on you. But what you said in turn—however much he had hoped to hear it—he still felt unprepared for.

“I love you, too.”

The moons rose over the horizon as the two of you shared in each others’ affection, and Cody had never been so content. Even as he drifted off, holding you in his arms, he thought not of the war, the Separatists, the dangers he might face come morning.

Only you.

,,,

That morning, you hadn’t brewed Cody a mug of caf, as was routine. But given there was no force in the galaxy that could pry you from his arms, he had to forgive you.

Lazy mornings felt strange to Cody—and lazy mornings in the embrace of a beautiful woman, even stranger. His fondest dreams could never compare to the sight of you waking up on his chest, eyes full of love as they looked upon him for the first time that day.

Gently, he set his hand against your cheek, beckoning your lips closer. You offered a soft kiss, with barely enough weight to graze your lips against his. Cody could feel you smile against him, and he could only smile, in turn.

“Good morning, Princess,” he hummed, trailing languid kisses along your jaw. “Now what has you smiling at this hour?”

His teasing only served to widen your grin. You giggled—not stopping when his lips continued down your neck.

“Oh, nothing, really… I suppose I’m just in good spirits,” you sighed. Your hands ran along Cody’s shoulders, slipping up his neck until you buried your fingers in his hair. “It’s entirely possible that it has something to do with waking up next to such a handsome man, but… I can’t be sure.”

Cody chuckled. His lips had reached your collarbone now, and he had no desire to stop lavishing you anytime soon.

“You can’t, can you?” he echoed. “What would it take to make you sure?”

As he asked his question, Cody’s calloused hands slipped up your thighs, roving over your hips and up your gorgeous frame. His touch drew the faintest gasp from your lips, emboldening him ever more. Though the night you shared had exhilarated Cody beyond his wildest dreams, he couldn’t help but long for more of you. And judging by the way your back arched against him, you hadn’t had your fill of him, either.

“Cody…” A whimper passed your lips when his hands cupped your chest. Through a love-drunk smile, you breathed, “I love you…”

Cody hummed softly, intoxicated from the caress of your fingers along his scalp. He kissed along your sternum, reveling in your every sound.

“I love you, more…”

The shrill beeping from the strewn pile of Cody’s clothes on the floor startled both of you, a cruel return to reality. With a heavy sigh, Cody shook his head. If someone was making the effort to reach him on an undercover operation, it had to be important… much to his displeasure.

Wrapping you tightly in his arms, he offered a kiss to your forehead as a parting gift.

“You stay put,” he instructed playfully. “No getting into trouble while I’m gone.”

You rolled your eyes and bumped your nose against his. “I’ll try.”

With a heavy sigh, Cody left the warmth of the bed and your arms behind, making himself presentable for whomever awaited on the other end of the ringing commlink. Once he was dressed, he stepped out of your bedroom, ensuring the door closed firmly behind him. Alone in the main room of the domicile, he accepted the incoming transmission.

“General Kenobi,” Cody spoke as the Jedi flickered to life on the holoprojector.

“Good morning, Cody,” General Kenobi answered. “It feels like it’s been ages since we’ve talked. How are you getting on?”

Cody swallowed the immediate fear that shot through him, forgetting for a moment that the general was looking for a situation report—not any summary of what trouble his commander may have gotten into the night prior.

“We’re… surviving,” Cody replied. “We had a close call yesterday—some Separatist deployments have made their way to this planet looking for the princess, and they nearly found her, too. But we were able to evade them without incident.”

“I see,” the general hummed, stroking his beard. “I suppose this news will be a relief, then. We’ve successfully liberated the princess’s homeworld, so the two of you won’t need to fend for yourselves any longer.”

Cody’s eyes went wide. 

“Already?” he uttered.

“You sound surprised.”

“Well… i-it’s just that it’s only been eight rotations,” Cody floundered, trying to recover. “I was expecting we’d be here longer, but… that’s… good to hear, General.”

“I’m glad,” General Kenobi returned. “I’ll be on the lookout for an update or your arrival. May the Force be with you, Commander.”

“Thank you, sir. We’ll be there soon.”

The hologram dissipated, and Cody’s heart sank along with it. As a Marshal Commander, it was rare for him to lose track of… well, anything. But it seemed he’d gotten so wrapped up in this little fantasy with you that he forgot the caveats that came along with it—most notably, that it would eventually come to an end. It was bittersweet: on one hand, he was thankful to know your planet was safe, and he would be eager to return to his brothers…

…but on the other, the mere thought of leaving you behind twisted his stomach into knots.

Sighing, Cody pinched the bridge of his nose. He supposed all that remained was to break the news to you. But he couldn’t say why his feet stayed put—why he couldn’t bring himself to open the bedroom door again.

“I’m guessing it’s bad news for you, too…?”

Your voice brought Cody back from his brooding. When he turned, he found you wrapped up in one of his shawls, leaning against the doorway with a sad smirk on your lips. The sun bathed your skin in a radiant glow that made you look simply ethereal.

As if the universe couldn’t make this any harder on him…

Cody returned to you, his hands slipping around your waist. He could see the disappointment in your smile; even as you draped your arms over his shoulders, resting your forehead on his, you didn’t beam as brightly as you had before. Cody couldn’t blame you—his smile was just as somber.

“Yeah. I didn’t realize how long it’s been,” he sighed. With a bitter chuckle, he added, “I guess that’ll teach me to train my battalion so well. If they were worse soldiers, we might’ve had more time.”

Though his words earned a giggle from you, it didn’t linger. Before long, you fell quiet again, and Cody couldn’t bring himself to break the silence. He held you close, safe and sound in his arms. His hands ran up and down your back, and he planted kiss after lazy kiss upon your head. All while his mind raced.

What could he say? The options overwhelmed him, but not one felt like enough to make up for the reality of the situation. I love you with all I am. I wish we had more time. I want to marry you.

“Are you going to stay?”

Your voice caught Cody by surprise. He leaned back, if only to meet your eyes. When he did, he found you looking back at him with the slightest sorrow.

“What?” he asked.

The ghost of a smile formed on your lips, your gaze bashfully falling from his.

“You don’t have to go, you know… and I don’t have to go back to my homeworld. We can stay together, just the two of us.” As you spoke, your fingers trembled against his skin. “I know it’s a forlorn hope, and it’s asking a lot, but… I want to stay with you. I love you, Cody. I don’t want you to go.”

When your gaze met his again, your misty eyes pleaded with him.

“Will you stay with me, Cody? Please?”

Your words tore Cody asunder, a pain more agonizing than he’d felt on any battlefield. Pieces of him begged to stay with you—to never be without the love you showered him with, to be your protector for all his life. But as you could already tell, those pieces of him were not enough to shun his duty, his purpose. Even if he wished he could.

“Princess…” Cody sighed. From his first word alone, he saw the hope drain from your face. Though he wanted to subvert your fears—to say whatever it took to bring the light back to your eyes—he couldn’t. He owed you the full answer, as much as it hurt to hear—and to say. “I’m sorry. I love you, too… more than I ever thought was possible, I love you. But… I won’t let you give up everything for me. Your planet needs you, and my brothers need me. We can’t leave our lives behind.”

Dejected, your gaze fell from Cody’s. He could feel the tears slipping from your cheeks onto the soft fabric of his shirt. Guilt weighed on his chest, with every tear you shed crushing him further. Was he truly so cruel, to make the woman he loved more than life itself devastated like this? 

He knew he had more to say. He knew it would be nowhere near enough to temper the pain of your separation. But if he could not give himself to you, he would leave you with hope to hold onto in his absence.

Gently, he took your chin between his fingers, moving your gaze back to his again.

“But Princess… I promise this isn’t the end for you and me. Even if we’re apart, I’m still yours… and I will be until the day I die.”

He pressed a soft kiss between your eyes.

“The moment this war ends, I’m boarding the first transport to your homeworld. And no matter what anyone says, I’m marrying you. I’ll spend the rest of my life making up for the time we lost. Nothing else will matter to me but you.” Though halfhearted, he managed a smirk. “Understood?”

You smiled. Even through the tears that streamed down your face, you smiled. It was real, and it was beautiful.

“Understood,” you whispered.

Softly, Cody kissed away every last one of your tears, before meeting your lips once more.

The two of you still had the day, and you both agreed to make the most of it. Packing up the little life you’d built together went slowly, interrupted countless times by kisses, conversations, lovemaking... Cody cherished every moment. He never wanted to forget the warmth of your body in his arms, the taste of you on his lips, the sound of your laughter in his ears. Soon, his senses would once more be overwhelmed by the battlefield, and he would long for these comforts in his dreams. If he couldn’t stay with you, he at least wanted to carry your memory with him.

When at last the two of you boarded your ship, ready to return to your homeworld, you were content. The pain of your imminent parting had dulled, and in its place came the bittersweet comfort of knowing you’d enjoyed what little time you had to the fullest. 

The flight was uneventful, but unlike those first few days you’d spent with one another, the two of you had nothing to say. You merely held one another close, your adoration speaking for itself.

, , ,

“Your commander is to be commended for his service to this planet. Without him, I may very well not be here to retake my throne.”

You stood before the armored commander and his Jedi General, bowing your head politely to show your appreciation for their actions. In every sense, you were back where you belonged—in the halls of your palace, dressed in the finest regalia. The princess you were meant to be. But stunning though you were, Cody could not help but remember you as you had been during your time together. Dressed without concern for royal protocol, stripped down to your truest self… a side of you that was his alone to see.

From beside Cody, General Kenobi nodded graciously.

“He is an impeccable soldier. I am pleased to hear he took such good care of you,” General Kenobi said.

Cody’s heart raced, and he tried to keep a solemn face. His struggle was made all the more apparent with how easily you could mask any reaction, merely meeting the general with a kind smile.

“Indeed. I hope he is well rewarded for his assistance,” you said. For the briefest moment, your eyes met Cody’s, and your smile softened. “I’m afraid my gratitude is not nearly enough to thank him for all he has done.”

A ghost of a smile formed on Cody’s lips. He stood just a bit taller at your words.

“We’ll see to it that he is, your highness,” General Kenobi agreed. “But in the meantime, I’m afraid the war demands our attention. We wish you well, your majesty.”

You curtseyed politely before the two men.

“May luck follow you in your battles, Master Jedi,” you said. When you turned your attention once more to Cody, your expression faltered for the briefest moment. “And may luck follow you, Commander Cody.”

Cody gazed back at you, doing little to hide the feelings buried beneath the surface. Even as the General began the walk back to the transport, Cody remained—lingering just as long as he could. Savoring the sight of you until the last, desperate second. Praying to the Maker that his every thought of you could be conveyed through this last moment alone.

“Thank you… Princess.”

You smiled. Though the faintest sadness hid behind it, you meant it from the depths of your being. And even if it was unbecoming of a soldier, Cody smiled back at you. 

But he knew this was not the end. Even as he finally turned away, setting his helmet upon his head and boarding the LAAT, even as he looked back to you one last time before the shuttle doors closed, he knew.

He would see you again. 

AN: Thank you for getting to the end lol I hope you enjoyed it despite the intimidating wordcount LOL and I hope you like it @loving-the-cambridges ! Also, huge thank you to @ghostofskywalker for putting this event together and organizing, it was so much fun and I would love to participate again!✨✨

"""taglist""" - @shinyshayminflower @starrylothcat

[diaphanouso]

✨Spec Reqs 2024 - Gifts & Recs!✨

This was my third year participating in the Spectre Requisitions Rare Pair Exchange (@spectre-requisitions-exchange) and let me tell you, the creators COOKED 🔥 These fanworks have been sustaining me all week. Do yourself a solid and check out this year's full collection of amazing fics and fanart here, and don't forget to show these works some well-deserved love with some kudos/comments!

Here are my recs so far—I'll add to this list as I progress through the collection! Creators are still anonymous until Tuesday, April 9, at which point I'll update this post with the creators' Ao3 handles.

Works listed below are fics unless otherwise noted. And lastly: as always, mind the tags!

❤️ My Gifts ❤️

This year I was blessed with two amazing gift fics:

A Gaping Wound to the Heart | Castis Vakarian/Adrien Victus | Mature | by @teamdilf

Castis and Adrien finding comfort in each other lights up my soul, and this fic DELIVERS. The angst 🤌 The care 🔥 PERFECTION. chef's kiss

a still, small voice | Fshep/Wrex | Explicit | by calypsid

An absolute gem with hot as fuck smut, incredible prose, and a Shepard grappling with the unsettling experience of inhabiting her new body 🤌 Wrex is there to help (and does he ever) 🥵

🔥 My Recs 🔥

Byte Me | Fshep/Legion | Explicit | by @kalliesa

Reach and Fucking Flexibility | James/Garrus | Explicit | by @ginbiscuit

God is a Verb | Mshep/Jack, Mshep/Kaidan, Implied Jack/Kaidan | Mature | by @krahka

A Deal is a Deal | Fshep/Shadow Broker | Explicit (cw: dubcon) | by @vorchagirl

Be Gentle (Artwork) | Thane/NBShep | Explicit by @finchmarie

comm chats and more | Diana Allers/Samantha Traynor | Gen | by @hazelestelle

Mourning what we could be | Fshep & Fshep Clone | Gen | by @depressed-sock

[rare-clone-fic-exchange]

𝕔𝕙𝕚𝕝𝕕𝕚𝕤𝕙 𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕥𝕥𝕖𝕣 ⋆*･ﾟ 𝕔𝕝𝕠𝕟𝕖 𝕥𝕣𝕠𝕠𝕡𝕖𝕣 𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕤𝕖

➼ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ ☆ ʜᴀʀᴅᴄᴀꜱᴇ x ɢɴ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

➼ ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ ☆ ʜᴀʀᴅᴄᴀꜱᴇ ᴡᴀᴋᴇꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ᴜᴘ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍɪᴅᴅʟᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ɴɪɢʜᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴀꜱᴋ ᴀ Qᴜᴇꜱᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴜᴛᴍᴏꜱᴛ ɪᴍᴘᴏʀᴛᴀɴᴄᴇ. ɪᴛ'ꜱ ᴅᴇꜰɪɴɪᴛᴇʟʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀ ꜱɪʟʟʏ ᴘᴜɴ. ᴅᴇꜰɪɴɪᴛᴇʟʏ.

➼ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ☆ ᴛᴏᴏᴛʜ-ʀᴏᴛᴛɪɴɢ ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴜᴍᴏʀ, ʟᴏᴛꜱ ᴏꜰ ꜱɪʟʟɪɴᴇꜱꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴀᴅ ᴊᴏᴋᴇꜱ (ɪ'ᴍ ɴᴏᴛ ꜱᴏʀʀʏ), ᴛʜᴇʏ'ʀᴇ ʙᴏᴛʜ ꜱᴏ ꜱᴍɪᴛᴛᴇɴ ꜰᴏʀ ᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ

➼ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ ☆ 1.4ᴋ

➼ ᴘᴏᴠ ☆ ꜱᴇᴄᴏɴᴅ ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴ

➼ ʀᴀᴛɪɴɢ ☆ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀʟ ᴀᴜᴅɪᴇɴᴄᴇꜱ

ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜰɪᴄ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴡʀɪᴛᴛᴇɴ ꜰᴏʀ @ᴄʟᴏɴᴇᴛʜɪʀᴇ ! ɪ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ, ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ꜰᴏʀ ʜᴀʀᴅᴄᴀꜱᴇ ɪꜱ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ꜱᴏ ꜰᴜɴ.

“Babe. Babe. Babe.”

That’s the first thing you hear when you awake. 

With tired eyes and a heaving chest, you try to stir and fully jolt yourself awake in Hardcase’s arms. There aren’t any lights on, only the soft lumination of passing speeders at this unholy hour. 

“Babe.”

You huff, turn over, and almost immediately collide with Hardcase’s watchful eye above you. Leaning on an elbow, he has an idea-struck face, as if anticipating anyone with willing ears to listen.

“What is it?” you rasp, yelping at how dry your throat feels as you speak. While swallowing down some gathered saliva and clearing your throat, Hardcase hums and leans further, riveting feelings of brilliance in his eyes. “It’s not even 0400 yet.”

He had better woken you up for something good.

Hardcase pouts at your foiling glare and continues without a moment to linger further.

“Do you think if the Jedi ever find out about General Skywalker and his wife, they’ll tell him ‘may divorce be with you’?”

Your jaw slacks, your elbow slowly sliding down, and you plop your head back down on your pillow, incredulously scoffing.

“Maker, `Case,” You groan, biting back a laugh. “You woke me up for this?”

“Yes!” He exclaims, shuffling to lean over you with a speculative eyebrow raise. “It’s genius. Do you think it isn’t?”

“I think it’s silly,” You retort. Hardcase whines and leans down as well, cradling his face with a forearm to keep his stare on you. How he manages to stay so wide-eyed at this hour, you’re unsure.

“Haters gonna hate,” is his only response. You sigh.

“I’m not a hater,” you bite your lip when you feel his breath on your creep closer, body heat radiating toward yours. He’s still got that pensive, mischievous look on his face. But you can feel yourself beginning to drift off. You yawn out, “Just a person who likes their sleep.”

“Hm,” Hardcase hums as though he doesn’t believe you yet.

Silence rushes over the two of you, and your eyelids weigh heavy, just as though you’re about to fall asleep. But then Hardcase talks again.

“How do you unlock doors on Kashyyyk?”

Oh lord.

You try to stay silent so he thinks you’re asleep.

“With a wook-key.”

You’re unsuccessful.

The snicker that lurches in your mouth gets Hardcase smiling all smug and satisfied into your shoulder. 

You slap the back of his head lightly with a whine.

“That wasn’t funny!” You say in a whisper-yell.

“Is that so?” Hardcase mutters against the bare skin of your shoulder, vibrations of his voice sending relaxing yet rousing shivers through your chest. “Then why’d you laugh?”

Your mouth falls ajar, gasping softly as he continues giggling.

“I’m not laughing because it’s funny!” You snap back in your greatest attempt to convince him of your innocence. “I’m only laughing because you’re just so unbelievable.”

“But you love me,” Hardcase says in a cheerful, sing-song voice. With a roll of your eyes, everything softens as you feel a featherlight kiss against your neck, his lips lazily pursed and pressed to your skin.

“Yeah, I do.”

Silence finally rushes between you, but as you suddenly become restless, you decide to give him a taste of his own medicine.

“How do Jedi eat?” 

Hardcase perks up, reverence coating his stare for indulging him so. Your lips curl upwards in a tight, lovely grin.

“They force-feed themself.”

His incessant giggles make you bite your lip and bring him down into the crook of your neck and shoulder again.

“That’s a good one,” he compliments, hand crawling up from his side. As he talks, a cold hand slithers up your stomach, slipping under the fabric of your tank top to trace aimless patterns into your skin. “Where’d you learn it.”

“‘Heard it ‘round the base.”

“Clever.”

You nod. “I know.”

“Makes sense that you didn’t make it yourself then.”

You gasp, flicking his forehead lightly when he erupts into childish giggles again. Despite it, you don’t shush him or urge him to stop. His laughter could fill you with more joy for twenty lifetimes.

He eventually comes up with a new reveling thought, tilting his head and leaning up again so you can look at each other.

“`You ever think about the fact that having sex on a lift is immoral on so many levels?”

Your nose scrunches with a soft chuckle, wincing at the cheesiness of his joke.

“Babe, that means we’re immoral on so many levels.”

Not even a second is spent processing your retort; Hardcase simply shrugs in response with a drifted-away gaze.

“I’m not saying otherwise.”

You purse your lips.

“Hm…”

“Just stating the facts,” he continues, lying down again. “You can come to the conclusions for us.”

“Ah, yes,” you agree, coyly grinning at your next words before they even come out of your mouth. “As always, I’m the brains of this operation.”

Hardcase doesn’t properly respond to you; he only nods softly into your neck as he waits for you to continue.

“Yeah, I think we’re immoral on so many levels.”

Hardcase laughs harder and plants a kiss on your bare shoulder. Then another. He brushes all things obscuring his path to trail more over your collarbone to reach your other shoulder, hands pressed on either side of your arms as he moves. You sigh and smile, the softest laugh leaving your lips. They purse when your mind wanders, trying to devise another joke to continue the conversation.

“...Two clones walk into 79’s,” you begin, voice strained and dwindling with the uncertainty of your joke and where it should lead. “...And one tells the other.” You pause again, eyes drifting away when you feel Hardcase’s perky, awaiting look. “‘You look familiar.’”

Hardcase’s disbelieving cackle is hushed when he presses his face into the pillow, shaking his head.

“Babe, that was so bad,” he says, lifting his chin to speak more clearly. You shrug, eyebrows knitted while you whine out a measly defense.

“I don’t know!” Your response only elicits more laughter. You turn on your side, awaiting for Hardcase to meet your eyes again while you fend for yourself. “It’s too late for this. Just… let me get back to you in the morning.” 

Turning on his side and resting his cheek on his forearm, he nods with a perceptive fix of his lips.

“Fair enough,” he leans in further, resting his forehead on yours and shifting closer to your body. “I mean…”

You raise an eyebrow.

“What?”

Hardcase shrugs, impishly grinning in entire admiration.

“There’s potential there for a good joke,” he says.

You nod with full agreement and a smug crook of your eyebrows.

“‘T’s why I said it instead of just shutting up.” Hardcase chuckles deep in his chest. You shove him lightly, just enough to get the message across but not hard enough so your foreheads disconnect. “We can workshop it in the morning.”

With a nod, he tilts his chin up and presses his pursed lips to the space between your eyebrows.

“Definitely,” he mutters against you. “Y’know what else we can workshop?”

You hum, slowly melting further into his touch. His hands have returned, rubbing circles over your collarbone and shoulders, and you keenly sigh as the caresses get deeper.

“I’ve got a great joke about construction I want to tell you, but I’m still working on it.”

In your state, you become susceptible to his silly jokes, and you snort unwisely. It goes to his head very quickly.

“See? I’m funny!” He argues with a victorious glint.

You sigh loudly and roll your eyes.

“I’m just more susceptible in this state.”

“That’s why I tell you at this time.”

You deadpan, frowning and rubbing your eyes with a yawn.

“Is that why you woke me up? To tell me your dumb jokes when I’m more likely to laugh?”

“Yep,” he answers, making a little pop sound at the end of the word. You scrunch your features.

“You’re a dork,” you tell him, adjusting on the bed and ruffling the sheets to go over your shoulders.

“And you’re still here.”

With the objective statement, you melt and nod, blinking with entirely smitten reverence.

“I am,” you assure.

With a soft smile, he leans in and pulls you by your shoulders, encouraging you to cuddle into him. You do enthusiastically, nuzzling your face into his chest. The sound of his heartbeat and steady breathing fills your eyes and becomes the only important thing you could possibly focus on for the rest of his night, your soothing bedtime lullaby.

But then he speaks again.

“What do Gungans put their food in? Jar jars.”

You tilt up, stare blank and deadly.

“That’s it, time for bed.”

And the sound of his laughter instead becomes the loudest noise to soothe you back to sleep.

[avatarmerida]

New brain rot? No, just Huntlow in a different font. It’s a Willina (?) HC/ if I wrote a fic this would be it but also I dunno if I will get so here are some crumbs under the cut if you care:

William gives me the vibes of like he is a grimwalker that Belos made but he’s the only one he’s gotten right so he has to “preserve” him until he’s needed because making a grimwalker is hard let alone a sustainable one. So that’s why he’s doing the classic sleeping thing and in his mind he’s under a curse which is why he can’t like remember a lot about his past or who he is and that’s where his arc stems from like he believes stopping by wild magic will restore his memories or something.

Also I feel like a fun little twist since this version of Hunter is very Disney-esque and I think he’d still be made of palistrom trees if they did like a Pinocchio type thing where he can’t lie (or at least can’t lie to Belos) without it causing him pain or like branches grow from him and he just chalks it up to the curse not to the clone thing. I also picture him like that frog from the Swan Princess movie where he’s convinced a kiss from a princess will save him but since he’s been asleep for who knows how long there are no royalty left.

And then okay also his is instantly charmed by Paulina. Like he just thinks she is so cute right away and she’s the only person who isn’t annoyed with his speeches of his backstory and mission and is genuinely nice to him. And they meet sooner in this version and Paulina takes longer than Willow to migrate to the plant track and maybe practices in secret and confides this to William in exchange for his secret about the lying thing. And she’s like “That’s awful, I wish I could help you.” And he’s like “I appreciate it, but only a princess can.”

And I fully subscribe to the HC that he calls her princess as a nickname and so she says “I’d like the try anyway.” And she’s not great at magic but she tries anyway and there’s a montage of them trying different spells and potions and stuff and then either they discover or William finally mentions that a kiss from a princess is how the spell was broken (according to the stories which are not factual but we’re brought over by Belos to like help manipulate people somehow) and Paulina plant girl is like “OMT there is a flower called Princess kiss and it’s rare but maybe that’s it.” And they go on a little quest where they get to know each other better and they find the flower and all it does is make him sneeze a bunch. It’s clear the books mean a literal kiss.

So William is so grateful but poor Paulina is like “If only I was a real princess, and not just a half a witch then I’d actually be able to help you.” And William blushes as he little brain process the fact that she basically said she would kiss him if it would help him and he’s like “Well, it couldn’t hurt to try.” And then they get very close to kissing before being interrupted (of course).

And then later on, William is like on to Belos and done with him and goes to tell everyone but Belos doesn’t wanna destroy him because he worked hard to make him so he turns him into a frog while he makes up another sleeping potion to try again later. And frog William tries to warn everyone but he is not a talking frog so he can’t communicate with them but he brings Paulina the princess kiss flowers and starts sneezing and Luz is like “I didn’t know frogs could sneeze?” (And idk if they do let’s pretend they don’t, Amphibia fans don’t come for me) and Paulina is like that’s weird and she puts two and two together and realizes it him and while they’re trying to figure out how to reverse it, she’s holding him tightly and assures him it’s gonna be okay and gives him a gentle kiss atop his head and he transforms back.

He’s so overjoyed and he picks her up and spins her around and he’s like “I told you being a princess was about more than a shiny crown.” Or something which is a callback to a conversation they had before. It doesn’t cure the grimwalker thing because that’s not a curse it’s what he is but then every time something goes wrong he’s like “Paulina can just kiss me and it’ll be okay.” And everyone is like “Dude you cannot just think you’re invincible because her kiss undid one super outdated curse.” And he’s like “Well it can’t hurt to try.” (It still can, btw) And Paulina is just a blushing smitten mess about how her scrawny little prince truly thinks there is nothing she can’t do.

Idk I feel like it would be a longer fix to explain all the differences but it’s an AU that I would get messy with and a little confused but that’s the vibe I got from th like 10 second clip.

[freesia-writes]

*dj khaled voice* another one

Okay but 5 with Echo would be so cute because he is rarely depicted as flirty. I personally don’t believe you can grow up with Fives (and be part of the 501st) without developing some kind of … playfulness lol

- Dang 💛🤟

ALRIGHT it's been long enough on these! Thanks so much for the patience, and thanks so much for the multiple asks! ;) I chose this one, because if I write Crosshair again (especially with that line) I'm gonna be lost in another multi-chapter obsession with that damn magnet. ;) So you can read Sharp Edges or my recent four-part fic over on @spicy-clones if you want some Crosshair action. ;) They're both NSFW though. <3 And I can't deal with Eriadu Tech just yet. It still hurts, somehow?! Soooooo I hope this is satisfying! :D

TCW Echo x GN!Reader. At 79s. As usual. ;) 1.7k words - SFW

“Are you ever gonna join me to dance?” you asked, waggling your eyebrows at the ARC trooper that you’d been toying with for weeks.

“Not on your life,” he answered, and the goateed clone next to him rolled his eyes with dramatic exaggeration. 

“I’ll dance with you, pretty little thing,” said Fives, poking his head over Echo’s shoulder. 

“Been there, done that,” you poked, and he laughed, shaking his head. You had indeed been there, but it was harmless dancing with him and Jesse, along with a handful of your friends. Echo always sat it out though, preferring to exchange verbal jabs and suggestive comments. 

It was an odd dynamic you’d fallen into -- what started out as playful flirtation seemed to stall there, with neither of you appearing to want to take it further. Both of you felt fully convinced that it was just a game, a lighthearted way to have fun and try to ruffle the other’s feathers. There had been a few incidents where you pushed the boundaries, trying to feel him out, but he played along, and the constant mood of humor overshadowed the entire thing to the point where you’d feel like a fool to admit you had feelings for him. 

But you did.

Damnit.

He was so wildly intelligent, and beneath his sharp sarcasm and witty retorts you’d caught glimpses of not only incredible depth of thought and complexity of interests, but a kindness and integrity that drew you in. Plus, his elite soldier status was pretty darn sexy in and of itself, and you found yourself wondering what else he might be good at. 

But apparently you would never find out, as the two of you were stalled in this flirty game of chicken. So you finally decided to let it go, settling for quips and playful touches while the two of you enjoyed your separate lives, crossing frequently as you enjoyed nights at 79s. 

“Come on, Echo,” you crooned, gracing his cheek with the backs of your fingers for a moment and relishing the flash of surprise across his face. “Let’s see those fancy ARC moves. Or are you gonna let Fives keep showing you up?” 

He turned on his stool to face you, leaning on the bar counter with an elbow. “You can keep playing with Fives because I don’t think you could handle this,” he retorted, and you laughed in delight. Fives smacked the back of his head lightly, muttering some fond insults, and took your hand, dragging you out to the dance floor. The two of you bopped along to the music, and when it changed to something a little more sultry, you allowed him to come up behind you, placing his hands on your waist and moving against you with a little more intention. Your eyes were on Echo, though, who had pointedly engaged in a conversation with Dogma, and they both looked as though they’d rather be doing literally anything else. 

“Are you ever going to cut the playful crap and be real with him?” Fives asked against your ear, pulling you closer against his front as he moved. You were slightly distracted, because the way he gyrated his hips and pulled you along was surprisingly sensual, but when his words sank in fully, your mouth dropped in surprise. 

“What do you mean?” you asked, turning your head so he could hear you. 

“Come on,” he said sarcastically. “It’s obvious you two have the hots for each other.” 

“I thought so at first, but it’s just playful fun,” you answered. 

“Hm. I don’t think he sees it that way.” 

The night continued with uneventful relaxation -- conversations with a variety of troopers, drinks in a booth with your friends, and the occasional wink flashed at Echo, who would make kissy faces in your direction before turning back to his group. It sent a tingle through your chest though, wondering if perhaps there was a real potential there. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about what it would be like to sit in his lap and mess up that neat military haircut…

But it was not to be. 

You didn’t see him for almost two weeks, and part of you wondered if you’d scared him off, or if he had gotten tired of your little game. You tried to push it from your mind, but it simmered. One night, you’d almost succeeded in forgetting about it all, when a few battalions were on shore leave and 79s was particularly packed. You’d been having a great time, laughing with your friends and receiving drinks and compliments from more troopers than you’d ever had. 

One in particular was lingering close to you, engaging in conversation with the whole group but making a point to touch your arm, your shoulder, your waist as much as possible without being a gropey pervert. You didn’t really mind, either -- he was asking all kinds of questions about your life and your interests, carrying the conversation effortlessly and peppering it with wit and flattery. He wasn’t quite your type, appearance-wise at least… he did have the standard military crew cut but had accessorized it with a horseshoe mustache that lay heavy across his lip and down the sides of his mouth, all the way to his chin. You’d never been much of a facial hair sort of person, but right now his effervescent personality was making up for it. 

As the night went on, the crowd grew more raucous, and it became almost impossible to hear anyone well and even less possible to move around freely. You made a joke, but it was drowned out by a sudden cacophony of howls from a squad in the corner, clad in white and gray armor. The Wolf pack, no doubt. It was answered by an obnoxious symphony of cat calls (and a couple fart noises) from another booth, where you caught sight of the boys in blue, feeling your heart skip a beat as you saw Echo wedged in the middle of a very boisterous Jesse and a more subdued Tup. 

Of course fate would have it that he would catch you staring at him just then. 

You turned quickly back to Boil, who was tracing light circles on your forearm, tilting his head to fix you with an admiring smile. You couldn’t help but smile in response, and when he asked you to dance, you figured what the hell. He took your arm in his in a disproportionately gentlemanly move and pressed through the crowd to the edge of the dance floor. WHY did you have to be so close to Echo, who was determinedly avoiding your gaze now? 

You felt wildly self-conscious about your dancing all of a sudden, trying to lose yourself in the music and the feeling of Boil’s strong arms around you, but your eyes were magnetized to the 501st booth and it took all your effort to keep flicking them away. You eventually just ended up closing them, mind swirling with too many thoughts to track, until a loud voice broke through the noise. 

“Oy! Cody wants you upstairs!”

Your eyes flew open to see Echo standing in front of you, being jostled in all directions by the dancing crowd around him. Boil gave a lighthearted shrug, coming around your side, and leaned in to whisper in your ear where you could find him, but all your focus was on Echo, whose face contorted briefly as the trooper’s lips brushed your cheek. With a quick salute, Boil disappeared, leaving you standing there in front of Echo, staring with a hopelessly dumbfounded look on your face. 

He moved closer, stepping into your personal space, and the determined look in his eyes paired with the sheer force of his presence and attention had waves of tingles coursing through you. When he placed a hand firmly on your waist, bringing you even nearer, and began to rock to the music, you were about ready to faint. He was barely dancing, if it could even be called that, but you had no complaints, laying your arms across his broad, armored shoulders and clasping them behind his neck. His other hand found your hip, and you looked at him with a wide-eyed, questioning gaze. The smolder in his face was unlike anything you’d ever seen before, and when he lifted a hand to your cheek, you stopped moving completely, absolutely lost in his possessive energy. 

“Echo, listen…” you began, but he was slowly leaning in, eyes watching you like a hawk to detect any trace of rejection as his lips drew closer to yours. 

There was no trace.

With fireworks exploding behind your eyelids, you closed your eyes and met him halfway, pressing your mouth to his in the most fulfilling, satisfying, electrifying kiss you could have imagined. His hand slid around your waist to your back, pulling you flush against him, and he tilted his head to deepen the kiss. Your knees buckled, quite literally, tearing you from him as you dropped a few inches before he caught you with a strong arm and a smile on his face. You stumbled back, regaining your footing with an embarrassed laugh as you looked at him with delighted surprise. 

“What was that?!” you yelled over the music, but he took your hand and headed for the front door, jostling through the crowd. You stepped out into the chill night air, ears echoing in the relative silence compared to the cacophony inside, and he led you around the corner, releasing your hand to lean against the wall with a satisfied grin. 

“I was tired of your games,” he said, buoyed by the exhilaration of the undeniable affection radiating from your face. 

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” you admitted, stepping closer to lean against him again and idly trace your fingers along the handprint on his armor. 

“Well now that we’re past all the nonsense…” he murmured, eyes twinkling as he tipped your chin with a gentle finger, “What else have you wanted to do for a long time?” 

Your response was cut off by his kiss.

[clone-anon]

Coming Home for Life Day (Hevy x GN!Reader)

Word Count: 1049

Warnings: None, just fluff and a bit of making out

A/N: This is a little continuation of the fic I wrote for @sinfulsalutations for the @rare-clone-fic-exchange because I saw a comment from @anxiouspineapple99 and thought "I need to do something with that." This is a Hevy lives AU.

Happy holidays to all my readers! It's been such a great pleasure to write for you all and read as many fics around here as I can. I hope you know that even if you are alone or struggling this holiday season, your favorite clone will always hold you in their heart.

Your heart dropped when Hevy sent you a message to say the 501st wasn't going anywhere for Life Day and he wasn't yet sure how he could see you. You'd been looking forward to your first Life Day together, but were happy to hear he was still going strong with the physical effects of the explosion on Rishi seemingly behind him. A lot had happened since you saw him last. Kamino had been attacked and he'd been made an ARC trooper along with Fives and Echo. It was something he always wanted and you were so proud of him, but not being able to be with him made it bittersweet.

You decided to plan a trip for yourself and the next morning and headed to Naboo. It was few days before Life Day. Things could get hectic on Coruscant and you wanted some quiet time. A few rotations away from it all seemed like just what you needed. That night, you sent him a message and told him where you were, still hopeful you might be able to meet up on a nearby planet. You stayed at a little hotel in the foothills of the mountains. You'd been with some friends before and had always loved it. You described it in detail, pointing out the scenic spots that brought you peace, and describing the excellent food from the local bakery and cafe.

"I wish you were here," you added at the end.

"So do I," he replied to himself out loud as he read your message. He was already thinking about how he might get there. He wrote back, "I wish I was there too. I'm looking at our star."

Two troopers looked over his shoulder, read what he'd wrote, and started chuckling. Hevy turned around to look at them and pointedly replied, "Something that this di'kut and the one giggling next to him wouldn't know about."

Hevy wasn't afraid for his brothers to know he was in love. Even when they gave him a bit of a ribbing, he had good humor about it, but also knew when to set them straight. You messaged each other a quick good night. Hevy said he had a lot to do and you wanted to make sure he could do his job. What you didn't realize was that the work he was about to do was finding a way to get to Naboo in time for Life Day. The 501st had two rotations off. The GAR didn't see the point in sending them anywhere, so they were told to stay put, and they'd be shipped out to the next battle in two rotations' time.

Without telling you, he found a way to spend a night with you and get back in time to leave with the rest of the 501st. Rex had given him leave to take a civilian transport to Naboo from the nearest city. Once there, he got directions to the location you described. Apparently it was a favorite getaway for locals. He paid for transport and found himself standing in front of the hotel he was pretty sure you were staying at. He was really hoping he hadn't misunderstood what you'd told him.

You had been to the bakery and were just returning to the hotel. As you walked inside, you stopped and there he was.

"Hevy! It's you!"

You hurried up to him and practically threw yourself at him. He pulled you into his arms and kissed you, relief and joy washing over him.

"What are you doing here," you asked him. You didn't know what to do. It was the first time seeing him in his new kit. It had been too long since you'd seen him, since you'd been able to touch him, to kiss him. He looked so handsome.

"I came to see you." He hugged you and kissed your forehead. "I have about a day before I have to go, but let's make the most of it."

You brought him up to your room and invited him in. You watched him take off his armor before shuffling into bed next to you in his blacks. It had been too long since you saw him last. All he wanted to do right now was hold you.

"I wasn't expecting this," you said. "If I'd have known I would have planned something. Brought more. Made reservations for dinner..."

"Don't worry about all that," he replied. He kissed your hand and held you. "You're all I want. Wherever we are, I'm always home when I'm with you."

You kissed him sweetly. He pulled you into his lap and took his time kissing your cheeks, massaging your back and hips, and pulling you as close as he could get. Your tongues gently danced together and you hummed at his familiar taste. You ran your hands through his hair, feeling the dryness brought on by the use of GAR issue shampoo and made a mental note to get him some conditioner while he was here. You pulled away just enough to search each other's eyes as you left little kisses on his face. He let out a deep breath, his body relaxing under your touch.

"So what else do you want for Life Day," he asked with a grin.

You gave him a look, but beamed back and replied, "I've always watched a holo in the afternoon while snacking on some treats. Actually that's why I was at the bakery earlier."

You set out the food and both got cozy in bed. You turned on a holo and watched together while munching on the variety of baked goods and dried fruit. It was perfect.

That evening, after getting some dinner together at the cafe across the way from the hotel, you laid in bed together, watching your star from the window. You put your head in his lap and Hevy carded his fingers through your hair. Moments like these were why he did all he could to see you with even the shortest amount of shore leave. Whether it was just for a few hours, a few nights, or a few weeks, he loved the feeling of you laying on him, resting, breathing slowly, as he ran his hand through your hair and soothed you to gentle sleep.

[anxiouspineapple99]

We do x reader here babes. You don’t like that? You know where the door is!

Legend:

✨ - new post

❤️‍🔥 - smut

Rambles/HC:

Unique As The Stars [Unnamed Clone/GN!Jedi]

Clone Affection

Tech and Crosshair are twins

The Clones are Artists

One Shots:

Tech

Fireflies [GN!JediReader]

The Systematic Termination of the Jedi is a Big One For Me - WIP

Fragrances [Fem!Reader] NSFW - Collaboration with @spicy-clones -❤️‍🔥

Read to Me, Mesh’la [Fem!Reader] -❤️‍🔥

Little Lies & Brown Eyes [Fem!Reader] - ❤️‍🔥

Lightning Then The Thunder [OC!Silvio Rea] - OC Silvie belongs to @vimse ❤️‍🔥

Wrecker

Home [GN!Reader] - ✨

Fives

The Best Cake on Coruscant [Fem!Reader]

Rewriting The Stars [Fem!Diplomat!Reader] NSFW

Just a Touch of Your Love [Fem!Reader] -❤️‍🔥

Revelations [Fem!Reader 3rd Person]-

Echo

Safe in Your Arms Again [Fem!Reader] NSFW

A Workout With Echo [Fem!Reader]- ❤️‍🔥

Rex

You Hold the Stars and My Heart [GN!Reader]

Kix

In Case of Panic, Hug Your Clone [GN!MedicReader]

Being Loved By You Gives Me Strength [GN!NurseReader]

Hound

The Sweetest Constant [Fem!Reader] - Submitted to the Rare Clone Fic Exchange -

Cutup

A Good Batch [GN!Reader]

501st Legion

Himbo Noodle Soup for the Soul [Fem!Reader]

The Bad Batch

You Don’t Have to Choose [Tech x Fem!Reader x Crosshair] - ❤️‍🔥

No Pairings

Jango’s Sons

OCs

Avery Leto

Full-Length Works:

Of Healing and Breaking Again [Tech x Fem!JediOC]

Fives for Flying [Fives x OC] TBD

[dystopicjumpsuit]

Double, Double Boil and Trouble - Part 3

A/N: This is part 3 my fic for the @rare-clone-fic-exchange, which I wrote for @goblininawig. Part 4 coming soon! The story takes place in a shared continuity with Stars Beyond Number, Martyrs and Kings, and “Do It Again,” but it stands alone and can be read independently of those fics.

Pairing: Clone Trooper Boil x Reader (GN; reader practices tasseomancy/reads tea leaves) 

Rating: T, but minors DNI

Wordcount: 2.5K

Warnings and tags: fluff; banter; DJ spent way too much time on a visual gag; angst

Summary: You and Boil test the limits of the GAR comms filter.

Suggested Listening:

Part 1 | Part 2 | Masterlist | Sign up for my tag list

gars-best-stache: You up? languishing-in-obscuri-tea: Are you seriously booty calling me at four in the afternoon? gars-best-stache: It’s not a booty call. I’m halfway across the galaxy. Just thought your species might be nocturnal. languishing-in-obscuri-tea: I’m human, you stale baguette. gars-best-stache: You sure about that? languishing-in-obscuri-tea: [MESSAGE REDACTED BY GAR OBSCENITY FILTER] languishing-in-obscuri-tea: WTK, they censor your messages? gars-best-stache: Everything gets scanned when we’re deployed. languishing-in-obscuri-tea: [MESSAGE REDACTED BY GAR OBSCENITY FILTER] languishing-in-obscuri-tea: That’s a *heck* of a way to live. Happy now, censors? languishing-in-obscuri-tea: HA! It worked! gars-best-stache: You’ll have to tell me what you were trying to say next time I’m on Trip Zip. languishing-in-obscuri-tea: TF is Trip Zip? gars-best-stache: Coruscant languishing-in-obscuri-tea: Do I want to ask for an explanation, or is it something boring? gars-best-stache: It’s boring. Let’s talk about something much more interesting: me. languishing-in-obscuri-tea: [MESSAGE REDACTED BY GAR OBSCENITY FILTER]

That was how it started. Simple, mundane messages about your day: he’d complain about his bunkmates’ snoring; you’d describe the most bizarre patrons you saw wandering into the bar next to your shop. He’d send you holos of his favorite gunship nose art; you’d send him silly things you found on the holonet. 

languishing-in-obscuri-tea: Where you at? gars-best-stache: Headed to Kiros. GAR rations are disgusting. languishing-in-obscuri-tea: Sucks to be you. I’m eating crumblebuns and spiced tea right now. gars-best-stache: Maker, why would you tell me that? Are you trying to torture me? languishing-in-obscuri-tea: Mmmmm, crumblebuns… gars-best-stache: I hate you. gars-best-stache: …  gars-best-stache: Can you send me a holo?

Galactic time zones being what they were, Boil’s messages were sporadic and unpredictable. More than once, you lay awake all night, exchanging messages for hours, never talking about anything serious, but strangely reluctant to stop. 

gars-best-stache: Saw this bird while I was on patrol, reminded me of you.

languishing-in-obscuri-tea: First of all, that bird is glorious, and I’ll take the comparison as a compliment. Secondly, [REDACT] you. gars-best-stache: … did you just redact your own message? languishing-in-obscuri-tea: I wanted to be sure you got it. Where you at? gars-best-stache: [MESSAGE REDACTED BY GAR SECURITY FILTER] gars-best-stache: Oops, guess it’s classified.

By unspoken agreement, you both kept things light. Boil had a hard enough time opening up in person; there was simply no way he would be willing to show the vulnerability you’d glimpsed in a holomessage that was subject to GAR scans. 

gars-best-stache: How are things in the con-artist industry? Taken any unsuspecting tourists for all they’re worth lately? languishing-in-obscuri-tea: Careful. I might hex your pillow so it’s never cool again. gars-best-stache: That the best you can do? languishing-in-obscuri-tea: Not even close. I could curse one of your boots so it always squeaks, or make it so your caf is always either too hot or lukewarm. gars-best-stache: Oooh, I’m so scared. languishing-in-obscuri-tea: Tremble before my wrath.

Some days, he’d send dozens of messages; others, only one or two. Sometimes a week would pass with no word from him, and you knew he must be in active combat. The churn of anxiety in your gut would worsen with each rotation until, at last, your datapad would chime and send you scrambling to check your messages. Not that you told him this, of course. You’d send some flippant comment and go back to your usual lighthearted exchanges.

languishing-in-obscuri-tea: Where you at? gars-best-stache: Hyperspace. languishing-in-obscuri-tea: Am I allowed to know where you’re going? gars-best-stache: Nope. What did you do today? Aside from luring innocent victims to financial ruin, I mean. languishing-in-obscuri-tea: Went to the charity shop. gars-best-stache: Get anything good? languishing-in-obscuri-tea: I found the perfect gift for you. gars-best-stache: Aww, you bought me a present? languishing-in-obscuri-tea: 

gars-best-stache: [MESSAGE REDACTED BY GAR OBSCENITY FILTER] gars-best-stache: My stache is amazing! How dare you. languishing-in-obscuri-tea: That’s certainly one word for it. I’m amazed every time I see it. gars-best-stache: As you should be. languishing-in-obscuri-tea: Amazed that none of your brothers have held you down and forcibly shaved it off. That thing is a crime against sentients. gars-best-stache: Didn’t realize it was a crime to look this good. languishing-in-obscuri-tea: I’m calling the Corries. gars-best-stache: They’ll never take me alive!

One of the things that surprised you was just how kriffing boring GAR life was when the troopers weren’t risking their lives in active combat. The tedium and monotony of long hyperspace jumps with nothing to do and nothing to look at except the endless gray of durasteel walls—your soul shriveled at the very idea of such a drab existence. 

Of course, for Boil and the other clones, the alternative was the deadly chaos of the battlefield. It was no wonder the troopers were so ready to hit the entertainment district and blow off steam during their shore leaves. Thus, you took it upon yourself to entertain him.

languishing-in-obscuri-tea: I look hot as K today.  gars-best-stache: Holos or it didn’t happen. languishing-in-obscuri-tea: What’s the GAR policy on spicy holos? gars-best-stache: Wait, what? languishing-in-obscuri-tea: [IMAGE REDACTED BY GAR INDECENCY FILTER] languishing-in-obscuri-tea: I guess that answers that question. gars-best-stache: WHAT WAS IT?? languishing-in-obscuri-tea: 😏 gars-best-stache: You’re killing me. languishing-in-obscuri-tea: Where you at? gars-best-stache: Headed to Sarrish. Might get messy.

“Hellooooo,” Tas called, waving her hand in front of your face. “Anyone home?”

You glanced up from your datapad, blinking as your brain struggled to switch  gears. You stashed your datapad and gave the Dathomirian an irate glare that she definitely hadn’t earned.

“Don’t you have some runes to cast?” you asked.

“Nope, but one of your regulars is here,” she replied.

You peeked out into the reception room and spotted a clone trooper. He was wearing civilian clothes, but he wasn’t hard to identify. As he turned his head, you spotted the distinctive scar on his jaw—courtesy of a lightsaber, he’d once told you—and your mouth went dry as your heart began to pound.

“I think he has a crush on you,” Tas teased.

“He definitely doesn’t,” you muttered.

You quickly straightened your clothing and glanced in the mirror to make sure you didn’t have anything in your teeth. Straightening your shoulders, you plastered on your patented brilliant smile and walked out to greet him.

Not all armor is made of plastoid, you thought grimly.

He glanced up as you entered, his eyes as cold as ever. The broken nose was new, though. No doubt it had been well-earned. You were briefly envious of whatever lucky individual had broken it.

“Hello, Hart,” you said. “Welcome back.”

He nodded, and his eyes flicked past you to Tas. His jaw tensed, and you intervened quickly before he could say something awful to her. She might have been a Nightsister, but she was the softest marshmallow imaginable, and you’d be contractually obligated to murder Hart if he hurt her feelings. Not that you had any particular objection to the idea, but bloodstains were so hard to get out of the carpet. Best to avoid them if possible.

“Right this way,” you gestured toward your reading room.

“I know,” he growled.

You ushered him into the room and closed the door. “Is there any particular advice or guidance you need today?”

Like maybe a complete personality transplant?

“Cut the kark,” he said. “You know why I’m here.”

You felt your teeth clench, and you suspected that your signature smile might have briefly morphed into a snarl before you recovered.

“Indeed, I do, Captain,” you said in a voice so artificially sweet you could practically feel the cavities forming. “But my readings take at least fifteen minutes, so you might as well get comfortable if you don’t want anyone to suspect why you’re really here. Would you care for tea?”

“No.”

Suppressing the urge to roll your eyes, you rummaged through your tea cabinet until you found the tiny latch you were searching for. You flicked it open, and the back of the cabinet slid down to reveal a hidden compartment. You withdrew a small case and handed it to Hart without a word.

He opened it and glanced through the contents.

“It’s all there,” you said.

He grunted, then glanced impatiently at his chrono. “Kriffin’ hell, how has it only been three minutes?”

You shrugged and began to brew a pot of tea. “Might as well make the best of it.”

He grumbled, then reluctantly asked, “Do you have any of those chocolate biscuits from last time?”

“Those are only for people I like,” you replied. “You can have the boring ones.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, but still ate the plain biscuits you gave him. You assumed that Hart’s sweet tooth was even bigger than most of the troopers’ to offset his general sourness.

“Milk? Sugar? Lemon?” you offered more out of habit than hospitality.

“You have milk?” he asked.

You pulled the bottle out of your mini-conservator and passed it to him.

“I’m taking this,” he said, then he grabbed the packet of biscuits. “And these.”

He stood and strode toward the door.

“It’s only been ten minutes,” you pointed out as you followed him.

“Longest of my life,” he snapped.

You didn’t bother to suppress your eye roll this time. He threw open the door to your reading room and headed for the exit, pushing past Tas wordlessly. She watched him with an expression of astonishment, and when the door slammed behind him, she turned to you.

“Was that bantha milk?” she asked, baffled.

“Yeah,” you replied. “What a kriffin’ weirdo.”

“Hmm,” she said contemplatively. “Kind of hot, though.”

You snorted. “Maybe if you have a thing for sociopaths.”

“He can’t be that bad,” she laughed.

“He’s worse. Want a cup of tea? I’d just finished making a pot when he decided he didn’t require my services today.”

She gasped in faux outrage. “The nerve! You’re right; sociopath isn’t a strong enough word. Clearly, he’s a monster.”

“Exactly,” you replied. “Now come help me drink this tea and tell me what horrors your nightmare of a flatmate has committed recently. Is he still doing that thing with his feet?”

You didn’t hear from Boil for several days. You had more or less expected this, but still, his silence made you restless. It wasn’t so bad at first. The shop was busier than usual because the palm reader had traveled to his home planet of Aldhani for Mak-ani bray Dhani, leaving you and the rest of your fellow mediums to pick up his customers. Every night after the shop closed, you dragged yourself to your flat and collapsed straight into bed, endlessly thankful that the Eye of Aldhani only happened once every three years.

Of course, once you were in bed, your mind would begin to race, wondering where Boil was, whether he was safe, when—or if—you would see him again. Inevitably, you would get up after a few hours and settle onto your sofa with a cup of tea while you practiced the mind-calming techniques your grandmother had taught you so long ago.

One such night, as you sipped your tea and levitated a sugar spoon in tiny circles in front of your face, a thunderous crash sounded outside, rattling your windows and instantly obliterating your concentration. The spoon clattered to the floor as you rushed outside to investigate. 

On the walkway in front of your shop, beings of every imaginable species stumbled out of the various bars, clubs, and shops. Speculation ran rampant: was it another Separatist attack? Another Zillo beast incident? Sirens began to blare in the distance, but no further disturbance occurred, and eventually the walkways began to clear out as people either drifted home or returned to their revelry.

The next morning, you awoke in a bed drenched with sweat. Your apartment was stifling. Groggily, you stumbled to the window to slide it open, but it was even hotter outside.

“What the kriff?” you mumbled, grinding your palm against your face to clear your bleary eyes.

Your datapad flashed with a notification indicator, and you snatched it up, hoping to see a message from Boil at last, but instead, you had a missed comm from Tas. You called her back immediately.

“Tas, what’s going on?” you rasped, your voice hoarse from sleep. “Why is it so hot?”

“Did you hear that big boom last night?” she asked.

“Yeah?”

“It was the district relay substation for the planetary weather control system,” she said. “Coruscant WeatherNet said it could be days before it’s repaired.”

“What?” you asked, aghast. “What about air filtration?”

“They’re trying to compensate with other relay stations to keep it livable.”

“Do you think we should close the shop until it’s repaired?” 

“I doubt we’ll have many customers,” she said. “I’m more worried about you, though. The rest of us don’t live in the district, so we’re all safe. Do you have somewhere you can go if it gets bad?”

You swallowed, suddenly feeling very alone and vulnerable in a way that you hadn’t felt in years. “Not really.”

“Then you can come stay with me,” she said firmly. 

“What about your horrid flatmate?” you objected. “Won’t he object to me crashing on your couch?”

“Who cares?” she asked. “We’ll outnumber him.”

Reluctant to cause even more tension between Tas and her flatmate, you waffled. “Maybe I’ll stick it out for now. If it gets bad, then I’ll come stay with you.”

“Are you sure you want to wait that long?”

You shrugged, forcing an optimistic tone. “Maybe it’ll be fixed soon.”

“Maybe…” she said doubtfully.

“Look at it this way. The Entertainment District is a huge credit-cow for Coruscant. They won’t let it go on too long and risk losing all that tourist revenue.”

“Good point,” she replied. “Well, if you change your mind, my couch is super comfy, and you already have my door keycode.”

“Thanks, Tas,” you replied gratefully. “You’re the best.”

You ended the call and prepared for a few very uncomfortable days. It wasn’t ideal, but you managed. The air quality never did get as bad as you expected, but the temperature grew steadily warmer. Against all odds, you managed to buy a small climate control unit—the last one in the store, and you nearly had to fight an Ishi Tib for it, but you set it up in your studio and ran it round the chronometer to keep the flat livable. For the first time, you were grateful for how tiny your studio was; if it had been any bigger, there was no way the little unit would have been able to cool the space.

As Tas predicted, no customers came to the shop, so at least you didn’t have to worry about closing up. It was a strange sight: the Entertainment District, silent and completely deserted. Empty walkways; empty nightclubs, bathed in the neon signs advertising closed businesses to an audience of nobody. It was kriffing eerie, was what it was.

If you’d thought it was hard to sleep before, you were nearly frantic now. The silence was overwhelming, accustomed as you were to the endless roar of traffic and thumping of dance music. Eventually, you found an ambient noise station on the holonet and let it play nonstop.

And just when you thought things couldn’t get any worse, they did.

Five days after the relay station failed, you turned on Republic HoloNet News to see a headline that knocked the air from your lungs: “Overwhelming Republic Casualties at Sarrish; GAR in Full Retreat.”

Boil.

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A/N: the mug says, "Galaxy's okayest mustache." Both pictures by me 🧡