#tbb x ofc

[bucketbunny99]

at the far end of space

Pairing: the bad batch x female narrator (very little description I just hate writing first or second person pov)

Category: Smut (18+)

Warnings: oral sex, fingering, unprotected penetrative sex, pierced nipples, over stimulation, shower sex, a little bit of angst, a little bit of whump

Word Count: 38k+

Syala Corruss is a doctor working for the Grand Army of the Republic on the Kamino base until she is reassigned to deploy with Clone Force 99, a special clone squadron that is considered hard to work with and protective of each other. Its unprofessional to seek relations with a member of the squad she's assigned to, but that never stopped her before.

Chapters: 12/?

Link to fic

hey I'm uhhhh 12 chapters into this bad batch smut I've been writing all summer? and I'm still going? and would love more feedback on it?

when are we gonna be real and just call it reverse harem, which is what I have been calling it the whole time I've been writing it

anyways this side blog is not turbo active but I would like it to be, I'm still working on writing this and would love to update when I drop new chapters

[jedimemery]

I think we all looked past the very important fact that not only did Crosshair and Omega get away with their escape and find Hunter and Wrecker, but they managed to snag 30,000 credits in the process.

[oceansssblue]

100 CELEBRATION — PROMPT 15. ARRANGED MARRIAGE / FAKE DATING

CROSSHAIR/F READER 💖

WARNINGS: past friendship breakup, fluff fluff fluff.

Note: I originally had a different idea planed for Crosshair with this prompt (a proper arranged marriage oneshot), but it was becoming extremely long so I decided to park that one out for the future and came up with this little idea instead. I hope you like it! We ony have two more prompts left (servant!rex & demon!echo); for which I've planned a longer story, so I might just acept requests to give you all a little something while I write that. I'll let you know when I decide that. Xx, Blue.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

As soon as the words come out of your mouth, you know it's a big, ugly mistake. The eyes of your ex-best friend and sister widens; the surprise and incredulity so raw and visible in their expresions it hurts. Yes, your luck in love has been sparse; but it shouldn't be that much of a shock to hear things are working out for you for once.

"What? Since when?"

At least your sister is on the good side of surprised. On the confused but genuine one. The girl you used to consider like a second sister, however, –Mara–, almost sneers at the –admitedly, very false– news.

"More importantly" she waves of your sisters questions impertinently and asks "With who?"

You blurt out the first name that comes to your mind.

"Crosshair".

That's the second, big, ugly mistake. You don't even know if you could consider him a friend. He's no stranger –you've seen each other fair enough in both the market and Cid's Salon–; but words are few and far between the two of you. You know more about him by his brother's and Omega's stories than by the man himself. He's incredibly reserved.

Ana seems to recognise the name.

"Isn't he one of Wrecker's brothers?"

You nod in silence under Mara's watchful eyes. Your sister Ana has a stand of sweets in the market; Wrecker is a regular there.

The Batch is a curious bunch. They're hard to forget.

"Well" Mara all but looks you up and down and you have to clench your teeth to not hiss a few ill-intended words at her. "I'm glad you're having fun even if it's with a worthless fling".

"Mara..." Ana intervenes, calling her out with a frown on her face.

Your sister is the sweet, quiet type of girl; but she's protective as well. She's probably suspicious of this, of not having heard of it from you before; but she'll stay quiet for your sake until she has the oportunity to interrogate you in private. She knows you and Mara have history.

Mara shrugs and grins; and your smile is just as fake. She has developed an uncanny ability to make your blood boil.

"I wouldn't call an engamement that" you casually reply, if only just to shut her mouth and swipe her smile off of her face.

Mara's satisfied expression drastically shiftes. Oh, it tastes so sweet... It almost makes you forget that everything you've said is a sequence of lies. Almost.

"Look at you... It's been ages since you had something remotely serious" Mara comments in an humiliating chirp. "He must be special. Why don't you bring him along next friday? We're having a small get together at home with a few old friends. I'd love to meet him".

Panick fires up in your veins; and some must be reflected on your face, because Mara smiles wide like a lothcat.

Anger burns through you; once again remembering all the pain this woman has put you through.

You arrange a small, relaxed expresion for her.

"I'll try to convince him" you accept, swallowing down all the anxiousness and doubts. "I guess you'll send me the details?"

At first, Mara looks surprised; but she quickly falls back to her irritatingly sweet condescendance, smiling politely.

"Of course. I still have your com number. I'll let you know".

Mara nods at your sister; then bristly turns around without bothering on sending a goodbye to you as well.

You watch her retreating form with a mix of relief and wariness. Ana bumps her shoulder with yours.

"Hey" she calls you, quietly worried. "You okay?"

You sigh, tension melting away from your shoulders momentarily.

"Yeah" you glance back at her. "I just have to find the way to convince Crosshair to act as my soon-to-be husband. Should be easy, right?"

Ana chuckles at your sarcasm, inmediately catching up on your lie.

"You digged that hole down yourself" she reminds you, good-heartedly. "It would have been easier if you've thought of Wrecker or Hunter. Or even Tech".

You sigh tiredly. Crosshair agreeing to act as if he were in love with you?

"Yeah, right".

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

"Cross!" Wrecker's voice echoes in the cockpit of the Marauder. "Gun-girl is here to see you!"

You try not to wince at the volume –nor the pet name–; waiting patiently and praying the man won't interpret the visit as an invasion of his privacy. This ship is their home, after all. And like you pointed out before, he's very private.

Slow, carefull footsetps anounce his presence. Seconds later, a fully armoured Crosshair –minus the helmet– is staring at you with a mix of calculated wariness and confusion. He's probably wondering what the hell are you doing here.

"Hello, Crosshair" you greet him nervously. "Can I talk to you for a bit?"

He continues to stare at you in that way of his you find both nerve-wracking and intriguing; then glances at his smiling brother, and gestures you to come in.

You take a deep, centering breath and step up on the ramp of the Marauder, firmly walking towards the cockpit. You've been inside the ship only once before; when you delivered some supplies for the guys' weapon stock. Crosshair follows you; Wrecker stays outside. The Marauder is otherwise empty; which means that at least only a maximum of two persons will hear how stupid you are.

"So?" Crosshair asks, sprawling down on the pilot chair and prompting you to take the other one.

You bite your lip anxiously before you start.

"So... I need your help" he arches an eyebrow –how can that look so elegant?– and you start to explain yourself. "I... May have told someone I despise I was engaged to you, and she might have invited us to her house next Friday. I was wondering if you'd... agree to play the part?"

It sounds even more ridiculous out loud; as if you were pulling a silly prank. Crosshair's neutral reaction doesn't help either. Far from showing surprise or irritation, he stays painfully normal.

He tilts his head; long fingers taking a toothpick of his pack and placing it between his lips. A sort of endearing habit of his.

"Sounds like unnecesary trouble for me" he points out, not necessarily cold but brutally honest.

You search your brain for an answer that could please him. Perhaps if you give him something in return for this favor...

"I have a new sniper scope model arriving soon. I'll let you try it out first. I'll give you a discount too".

The offer seems to catch his attention; for he hums thoughtfully while never taking his eyes off of you.

"And who is this person you despise?" He asks –dare you say– curiously.

Your answer is acompanied by a long tired sigh.

"An old friend. She tried to humiliate me pointing out my lack of love life and I... Had to swipe her smile off of her face".

You're ashamed of admiting it to him. He always looks so controlled... You know this whole thing is inmature and futile. You don't want him to see you like a kid.

"What happened between the two of you?"

You're surprised by the ammount of personal questions Crosshair is asking. You would have thought he would have inmediately shut down your idea; or perhaps agreed but without wanting to get into the emotions and story behind it. Perhaps you don't know him as well as you thought.

"She gave me some very good memories back when we were younger" you admit. "But I then realized she's the kind of person who wants to see you doing good; but never better than herself. She tried to sabotage me when that ocasionally happened. Stole a boyfriend, a job, or two".

You hadn't intended to go that deep; but you mean every single word, and your vulnerability is exposed to Crosshair for the first time ever. For all he's a private person, you are too. You'd hate for others to consider you weak.

Crosshair observes you for what feels like an eternity, taking the information in. You force yourself not to hide from his perceptive eyes.

"Mm" he finally hums, thoughtful. "There's something I still don't understand. Why was I the first name that came to your mind?"

You blink back at him, stunned, cheeks blushing upon the implication of the question. You hadn't really thought about it either. You had somehow always paid more attention to Crosshair than the rest of your clients; but you had never realised it might mean you were simply into him. Are you?

"Well" you take a bit too long to answer, trying to sound casual and firm. "You are, as far as I know, single, and no-one really knows you in Ord Mantell. It seemed the most logical option".

Crosshair looks skeptical, but he lets you get away with it.

"Right..." he drawls, searching for something in your still warm face. Then, to your surprise, he smirks and says "I'll check your stand for that new scope on thursday. You can update me on our love story then".

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

At first you were dissapointed, then irritated, and now worried. Crosshair had agreed to meet you outside of Mara's house at eight; but no matter how long you waited for him, he hadn't appeared. You had had no other option than to knock on Mara's door on your own; and her grin upon seing you arriving alone had been another level of irritating. You had set up an excuse for him, trying not to make your hurt visible. After a few minutes of interiorising it, you had grown angry; Crosshair could have just refused to help you instead of backing off at last minute without a warning. Halfway through the dinner, though, you had received a message on your coms; and all those negative emotions had switched to genuine worry.

An hour later, in the quietness of the kitchen, you carefully read the text again.

"Mission off-world, things got out of hand. Just arrived. I'll be there shortly –Crosshair."

You're aware that the Batch often work as bounty hunters for Cid; and how the boys sometimes help with small missions for the Rebellion. You've never asked into it –you understand how dangerous the fact that you know they're on the run from the Empire and helping the Rebellion already is–; but you know it's usually dangerous, specially the second sort. You wonder just how out of hand things got. Did someone got hurt? Did he?

You're a nervous wreck throughout the rest of the night; and Mara and his friends –pretty polite and nice for a bitch like her, you have to say– can't help but notice and finally question it.

"Sweetheart, is everything okay?" One of the girls ask, genuine concern on her eyes.

You force a small smile on your face.

"Yeah. Just... Crosshair commed me telling me he had some trouble on his way back to Ord Mantell, so I'm just a bit worried" you tell them, all but Mara's face showing various degrees of sincere understanding. "I'll be fine once he gets here".

"If he manages to arrive at all, that is" Mara halfway sneers, then plasters a big smile on her caked face. "Shall we move outside for a drink?"

Your mind is so focused on Crosshair that you don't even feel the need to assesinate her this time.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

When you're well onto your third glass of wine, you feel a hand carefully grazing the skin of your spine. Lips brush across the crown of your hair; the combination bringing pleasant goosebumps to your body. Far from tensing at the unexpected contact, you melt upon hearing his voice.

"Hello, darling" his low tone is a sin. Then, he turns to look at the rest. "Forgive me for arriving this late".

You hear a chorus of acceptance from Mara's friends; but you turn towards him and your attention is solely fixed on Crosshair. You frown at the scratches on one side of his face; an angry red against his skin. Your fingers involuntarily travel upwards to his cheek, carefully tracing the contour of them.

"You're hurt" you whisper, ignorant to how Mara is quietly observing the interaction between the two of you.

Crosshair hums and takes your hand in his, squeezing softly while he takes a seat besides you at the table. He doesn't let you go; and you don't make the effort either.

"I'm okay" he assures you, voice calm. "Did I miss something interesting?"

To your luck –because you're suddenly enthraced by him, by the way the moonlight makes his grey hair look almost white and his dark brown eyes lighten up– someone answers for you.

"Just a lot of embarassing stories about our youth" there's a general laugh, and Crosshair conjures a tiny tiny smile.

Your heart swoons upon noticing it.

His gaze turns back to you. You're painfully aware of how he's still craddling your hand in his; of how gentle he is.

It's a whole new side of him you didn't even know it existed. You feel honoured to experience it.

"You'll have to tell me yours later" he tells you, and you force yourself to come back to the present with a chuckle.

"No thanks. I'd like to remain engaged tomorrow morning" you joke, and everyone laughs.

Even Mara seems reluctantly enchanted with Crosshair at the end of the night.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

"Well, that went surprisingly well" you comment once you've parked your speedcar next to the Marauder, having offered Crosshair a drive back. "You're a great actor, by the way".

Crosshair shrugs, body now turned towards you while you both remain sitting in the privacy of your car.

"It's not like it was a difficult task" he answers, eyes flickering over your face before slowly adding. "You know what I thought we'd had to do, and we haven't yet done?"

He gives you a few seconds to process his words, his intentions; before one of his hands slowly take hold on your chin and tugs you forwards to join your lips together in a surprisingly soft, unhurried kiss. Warmth bursts inside of you, heart speeding inside of your chest; surrendering to the kiss with a pleased sigh. When you part from each other, you see an unusual vulnerability in Crosshair's face.

"Well, it would have been impossible not to sell it, with a kiss like that" you try to rest tension to the scene.

Crosshair's following words shake up your world; make you look at things with a different perspective.

"It's easy to sell something when not all of it is built upon lies".

The meaning behind it swirls in your mind. He's admiting there's something between the two of you besides the mess you've put both of you through. His half-conceiled confession leaves you too shocked to react; and you can only stare at him while he gets out of your car.

"Night, gun-girl" he smirks through your window, and then casually walks away towards the Marauder.

Perhaps you'll see him tomorrow in the market, and perhaps you'll go on an actual first date with your fake soon-to-be husband.

You drive back home with thoughts of Crosshair swimming in your head. You're sure you'll dream of that kiss tonight as well.

THE END.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Back to my main masterlist here:

Back to 100celeb list here:

[bunny7567]

I got you - chapter 24

Pairing: Rex x Jedi!ofc

Word count: 7.5k Tags/Warnings: torture; canon-typical violence; grief; mourning; not me introducing a clone oc so close to the end; i do think i'm funny thank you very much; bad batch cameo ✌🏻

Previous chapter | Next chapter

ori’vod - big brother osik - shit ner kar'ta - my love cyare - beloved

~~~

“I feel like I’m picking livestock at a market,” Lexie mumbled under her breath.

“In a way, you kinda are,” Fives pondered, matching her hushed voice.

Lexie shot him a look of pure horror, but Fives just shrugged. He then snatched the datapad from her hand and started swiping through the files.

Twenty newly-trained ARC troopers were all lined up in front of them, standing tall, ready for inspection. The Council had offered her the “courtesy” of choosing Echo’s replacement from the newest batch of ARCs, and so she had spent the morning observing their final test. They all passes with flying colours, their formations solid, their tactics faultless, their agility and problem-solving skills impeccable. Either of them would make a fine addition to her covert team, however… neither of them were her ori’vod.

It almost felt like a cruel punishment for getting so attached to the clones. But it couldn���t be, the Council couldn’t actually suspect how deeply her emotional attachment to them ran, otherwise she would’ve faced an entirely different conversation when she stood in the middle of the circular Chamber the previous day. Instead she was praised for her accomplishments and then instructed to select a new ARC before her next assignment. Her small covert team worked well, so it did make logical sense to keep things as they were, so much she could understand. But she didn’t have to like it.

“What about him?” Fives suggested, handing Lexie the datapad back. “CT-7175, best score in the group.”

Lexie glanced over the file and recognised the trooper’s name. Trojan – that could be interesting. But then Rex’s comment rang in her head: “Let’s say we’re fine now”. She wasn’t exactly sure what that meant, Rex hadn’t brought him up much after that night at the 79s. Still, on the rare occasions he did, she picked up on some lingering tension. No, bringing him into the 501st without consulting the Captain wouldn’t be a good idea. And even if she did talk to Rex, she knew him, he would be practical about it, even if it made him uncomfortable. But she was a General—shouldn’t she take dynamics like this into consideration?

“I don’t know… are we supposed to just steal him from the 91st?” she questioned.

“It wouldn’t be stealing. Just… reassigning,” Fives offered. Lexie turned her head to look at him, arching an eyebrow. “What? we do need to take one of them from somewhere,” he continued with a shrug.

“Yeah, but do you really want to do it from Commander Neyo?” she commented.

Fives cocked his head to the side and frowned slightly as he thought things over. “Good point.”

Lexie looked at the men in front of her, taking in the different markings on their armor. Trojan was right in the center of the first row, she could recognise him from the red mark of the 91st Recon Corps that was painted on the right side of his chestplate. Her gaze darted over the other troopers in the rows behind. How do I even choose one?

“Do you want to see them run more battle sims, General? Get a better idea of their training and individual styles,” Commander Blitz asked, stepping closer to her.

 “What do you think?” she turned to ask Fives.

“Watch at least four more sims?” the ARC countered with a disdainful pout. “I’d say we just take the one with the second highest score and go.”

Lexie opened the file of the trooper in question, scanning through the performance reports. Sure, there was nothing wrong with him, quite the contrary his stats were very impressive, however something just didn’t click.

“I’m not feeling it,” she mumbled.

Fives tried his hardest not to roll his eyes, but the look he shot her still conveyed how exasperated he felt. Lexie returned his irritated glare. Being on Kamino, being forced to replace Echo so soon, it was not easy on either of them and their patience was definitely being tested.

 She turned her attention back to the datapad, swiping through the files of each trooper. After the first hald, she flipped through them faster, barely glancing at the first pages—until something clicked in her mind and her hand froze. She slowly scrolled back two files, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she reread the name and designation.

Lexie pressed her lips together, fighting the giggle that threatened to escape. Once she managed to get her expression back to neutral, she turned the datapad toward Fives, showing him the file she was looking at.

Her friend took the device and perused the file, his eyebrows frowning in confusion. “His scores are fine but… he doesn’t have any combat experience? General this is a shiny,” Fives stated, fully perplexed. “How did a shiny even get into ARC training?” he added, looking over at Blitz.

“Some longneck experiment,” the Commander explained. “They wanted to see if they could fast-track ARC training and boost commando numbers by placing promising cadets directly into the program.”

“So there’s nothing special about him? No genetic modifications? Nothing?” Fives asked.

“Well, he did make it through training. His batchmates washed out weeks ago,” Blitz pointed out.

“General…” Fives objected with a sharp exhale and a shake of his head. He then swiped through the files, pulling up the troopers with the second, third and fourth highest scores. “One of them would be a much better choice.”

“Maybe, but I like his name better,” Lexie replied, her grin breaking through.

Fives stared at her a few seconds, finally processing the spark of amusement in her eyes. “I’m sorry, are you telling me you want to pick him just because you think his name is funny?!” he exclaimed.

“Partly yes, but I also have a good feeling about him,” she shrugged.

“Oh sure, why not? Forget skills, forget tactical abilities, we’ll just go with funny name and good vibes,” Fives snarked.

Lexie crossed her arms over her chest and gave him a look.

“You sure you don’t want to check if any of the maintenance clones have even funnier names?” Fives continued in the same sardonic voice. “Or maybe one of the cadets?”

“Are you done, honey?” she asked, raising her eyebrows.

Fives clenched his jaw, biting back on another snarky comment and instead letting out an exasperated sigh. Lexie simply smiled at him, before making her way to the third row of new ARCs. Fives followed right behind her.

“Step forward, trooper,” she ordered after stopping in front of one of the clones.

The man complied, removing his helmet and coming to stand at attention before her. He definitely was a shiny, sporting no major deviations from the standard clone appearance, except for two horizontal lines shaved on the right side of his head, starting right above his ear. And he looked so young, maybe even younger than Echo did when she’d first met him at the 79s.

A pang of sadness rushed through her chest as a memory of that night flashed in her mind. It was brief, just one second, but enough for a lump to form in her throat. She swallowed past it and took a deep breath.

“Halves, was it?” Lexie asked.

“Yes, Sir,” he confirmed, looking straight ahead but not really at her.

“CT-5050?”

“ARC-5050, Sir,” he corrected.

“Right, of course, you did just graduate. My apologies,” she replied, amusement returning to her voice. She turned her head to look at Fives, who was shaking his head in complete disbelief. “Come on, it’s really funny,” she stated with a wide grin.

“It’s your call, General,” Fives conceded dryly. “But if he kriffs up next mission and gets me killed, I’m coming back to haunt you,” he warned, prompting her to give him a disapproving look.

Out of the corner of her eye she noticed a couple of clones very slightly tuning their heads to watch the scene unfold, and through the Force she could sense confusion and even some indignation coming from them. Halves himself appeared just as shocked to be selected, his emotions betraying him and cracking the professional mask he had put on his face until then. His eyes were darting between her and Fives and nervousness was growing around him. It was an unusual choice, of that she was aware. However, she did have a good feeling about it.

“You got this?” she asked Fives. “I need to talk with Master Ti, she’ll have more details on our next assignment.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Fives replied with an eye roll before he turned his attention on the shiny. Lexie almost laughed as she walked towards the exit and heard Fives begin barking orders. “You need to report to supply and pick up your armor and gear. You’ll be part of the 501st now, but don’t bother customising the kit just yet. We ship out in a few hours, you won’t have the time-”

Shouldn’t take too long, Lexie thought, going over the assignment in her head. She made her way towards the mess hall, where Fives and her new ARC were waiting for her. There was just enough time to eat a decent meal before they had to leave and rely on ration bars for a couple of days—well, decent might be too strong a word for mess hall food, but it still was better than the rations. Slightly better. Almost an imperceptible difference… Who was she kidding, both were just as bad.

“General,” a voice from behind brought her back from her rambling thoughts and Lexie turned, seeing Trojan make his way towards her from an intersecting corridor.

“Lieutenant,” she acknowledged after coming to a stop to allow the clone to catch up.

Trojan saluted then took his helmet off. His hair was shorter than the standard clone haircut, but not as short as Rex’s, and he had a neatly trimmed beard. Her eyes then quickly found the scar on his nose. It was faded, starting on the bridge of his nose and ending under the corner of his left eye. She probably wouldn’t have even noticed it had she not seen the holo-footage of the fight between him and Rex from their cadet days. Wolffe wasn’t kidding when he said it was pretty brutal.

“What can I do for you?” she added with a polite smile.

“I just wanted to say it’s good to see you Sir. I’m not sure if you know this, but I was in your squad-”

“On Geonosis, yes,” she interjected. “I do know that. And I also know I owe you some thanks. Rex told me you helped dig me out from under the rockslide.”

Trojan paused for a second, appearing to contemplate something in his mind. “Rex talked about me? That’s surprising,” he breathed out a sardonic laugh.

“Why do you say that?” she asked, titling her head to a side.

“It’s nothing, just didn’t think I still came up in conversation. We kinda lost contact... No time for old batchmates when you’re busy running one of the most infamous battalions in the GAR, I guess,” he said with a chuckle.

Lexie didn’t miss the slight resentment in his voice. That definitely confirmed her suspicions about the tension lingering between him and the Captain. She also didn’t miss what he was insinuating, and she did not appreciate it.

 “How often do you reach out to him?” she challenged, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Well…” he started, shifting awkwardly on his feet, “I wouldn’t want to bother him.”

“Right…” she mused. Lexie stared him down until he moved his gaze away.

Trojan cleared his throat. “How’s Captain Stuck-up doing anyway? Has General Skywalker driven him crazy yet? I heard he’s pretty unconventional. You too for that matter, Sir.”

“Captain Stuck-up?” she repeated, raising her eyebrows in a mix of amusement and confusion.

“Just a nickname,” he shrugged.

“Doesn’t seem very fitting,” she tried to defend Rex.

“Well, I wouldn’t really know. Haven’t seen him in ages. He’s moved on from his old batch quite easily,” Trojan stated bitterly.

Lexie was caught off-guard by the comment and a crease formed between her eyebrows as she started at the man in front of her, completely dumbfounded. Trojan was painting a picture of Rex she didn’t recognise. But was there any truth behind it? She’d come to understand how strong the bond between batchmates was and she couldn’t imagine Rex just turning his back on them. And yet, he hadn’t really mentioned Trojan or any of the others until only a few months ago.

She opened her mouth to ask more about it, but before she could get the words out, Trojan spoke again.

“I’ll get out of your hair, Sir.” He placed his helmet back on his head and saluted, then turned to walk away. But he hesitated. “Tell Rex I…” Trojan trailed off and shook his head, “ugh... never mind. Have a good day, General.”

With that he hurried away and Lexie followed his retreating steps with her eyes. That was an… interesting interaction. She’ll definitely push Rex to talk more about his batchmates the next time she saw him; she was really curious about what happened between them now.

Finally making her way to the mess hall, she found Fives sitting by himself at one of the tables. There were two trays in front of him and the ARC was absentmindedly moving some of the food around the plate with his fork. She took the seat across from him.

“Where’s Halves?” she asked as she sat down.

Fives pushed one of the trays closer to her. It had a bowl of soup on it, pretty much what she always had when she ate in the mess, since there weren’t many vegetarian options available. He then pointed towards the other side of the large room. “He’s having one last meal with his batchmates before we ship out,” Fives informed.

Lexie looked in the direction he indicated, finding her new ARC sat at a table with two other clones. From the jumpsuits they were wearing, they appeared to be maintenance, or maybe flight technicians. She studied the new addition to her team for a moment, watching as he interacted with his brothers, the way they talked and laughed together. Well, the other two clones laughed, Halves only let a few small smiles break through his composed appearance.

“So what do you think? Have you talked with him more?” Lexie asked.

“Not really. Gave him some instructions then left with Blitz,” Fives replied.

Something in his voice caught her attention, and she snapped her gaze back to him. Lexie scanned his face and noticed his dejected demeanour. “You okay, honey?”

“I thought I’d feel closer to him… being here again,” Fives confessed. “But, I don’t know… every place still feels so empty.”

“I get it,” she said with a rueful smile. “You don’t really expect someone’s absence to feel so… overwhelming. But it’s suffocating, this constant awareness that something is wrong, something is missing.”

“Yeah, suffocating… that’s a good word for it,” Fives agreed, looking up from his plate for a second. “I don’t think he’d like that we’re replacing him with a shiny,” he voiced as he resumed pushing the food around.

“No one could replace him,” Lexie responded, her tone decisive. “But we have to follow orders and fill the empty spot on the team.”

“Still don’t think he’d like your pick. He would’ve chose by stats,” Fives said, a smile finally forming on his face.

“Yeah, well, his name is still funny. A sense of humour is also important,” she pointed out.

“Oh, I agree. Unfortunately, it’s not his. One of his batchmates gave him the name and he didn’t even like it at the beginning. I did ask about that.”

“Eh, I’m sure his humour is fine too,” Lexie waved him off.

“Guess we’ll see,” Fives muttered under his breath.

Once they were done with their food, they stood up from the table and Lexie indicated with her head for Fives to collect their teammate. She regretted it instantly. Fives brought two fingers to his lips, letting out a loud, sharp whistle that echoed in the large mess hall, bringing all conversation to a standstill as heads turned to face the source of the sound.

“Let’s move it, shiny!” Fives shouted in the direction of the new ARC.

“Maker,” Lexie mumbled as she swiped a hand over her face.

She turned and walked out of the mess, with Fives following by her side. Halves scrambled to get up, quickly said his goodbyes to his batchmates, and put his helmet on as he hurried to catch up to them in the corridor. Lexie glanced at the windows, noticing that the rain had not relented at all since they’d touched down on the landing platform that morning. She groaned internally –flying the Amaranth through thick layers of clouds was a nightmare.

The blast doors opened and they stepped out into the downpour, with Lexie picking up her pace. As she waited for the ramp to lower, she noticed the way Halves was observing the ship, his helmet moving from side to side – he even took a couple of steps backwards in order to see more of it.

“This is an… interesting ship,” Halves remarked once he climbed the platform behind Lexie and Fives.

“Maker,” Lexie groaned, “it is not that old!”

“N-No Sir, that’s not what I meant. T-The modifications, Sir,” he stammered.

“You could tell it’s modified just from a quick glance outside?” she inquired, raising one eyebrow.

“Yes, Sir,” the ARC replied eagerly, removing his helmet. “Eta-shuttles don’t usually have reinforced repulsors. I assume you modded them to reduce the noise signature?”

“Yeah, exactly. And to improve stability when flying at low altitudes. Good eye.”

“Thank you, Sir. I… I’ve always liked ships so I… uhh, I know a lot of trivia,” he admitted sheepishly, adjusting the ammo pouch on his chest.

“Great job, Lex. You picked the nerd,” Fives quipped as he strolled into the cockpit.

Lexie rolled her eyes. “Don’t be mean,” she called after him.

“Lex?” Halves whispered to himself, his eyes wide in astonishment.

Lexie caught the quiet question and glanced back at him, having to stifle a laugh at the complete shock she saw on his face. Shinnies.

“The cargo compartment’s been compressed to make space for a bunk area with two cots and a small refresher. You can leave your pack there if you want,” she informed.

“Of course, Sir. Thank you, Sir,” he replied.

This time she couldn’t hold back a laugh. “Alright, I need you to dial it down on the ‘Sirs’. You can call me Lexie while we’re off-missions.”

“I-I… but protocol–” the new ARC started.

“Don’t ask too much of him,” Fives teased, leaning against the doorway. “You’ll break his little shiny brain.”

Lexie shook her head at her friend, before turning her attention back to Halves. “We’ll start slow, just fewer ‘Sirs’ for now, okay?”

“Yes, Si–”. He stopped himself and cleared his throat. “Yes.” he nodded.

Lexie chuckled and walked past Fives into the cockpit, settling into the pilot seat. Halves followed, but hesitated, glancing at the more experienced ARC.

“Behind me,” Fives sighed and rolled his eyes as he strode to the co-pilot seat.

Halves quickly complied, sitting down and strapping in. Lexie powered up the ship and lifted off the landing platform. From the corner of her eye, she caught Halves staring out the side viewport as the domes of Tipoca City shrank into the distance. This was the first time he was leaving Kamino, she realised. Lexie probed through the Force, sensing his nervousness… but there was something else there too. Relief. A conversation she and Echo had so many months ago came to her mind and she wondered how many of the clones might have felt something similar when leaving the ocean planet.

As they cleared the atmosphere, Lexie engaged the hyperdrive, setting a course for the Suolriep sector.

“We’re heading back to Saleucami?” Fives asked as she inputted the coordinates.

“Maalsu, the primary moon. Our objective is to infiltrate a newly established Separatist outpost and extract all the data we can,” she stated, procuring a datastick from her pocket and plugging it into the console.

A map flickered to life and Lexie began briefing the two ARCs on the mission. According their intel, the outpost functioned as a relay, redirecting communications between different bases and fleets. Getting their hands on any battle plans or troop movements would be invaluable. Technically, it was pretty straightforward – go in, slice into their systems, get the data, get out. Every so often, as she and Fives went over possible approaches and exfil strategies, she’d glance at the new ARC, noticing the way he kept fiddling with the ammo pouch on his chest. Her friend noticed it too.

“Lighten up shiny,” Fives quipped once the mission plan was finalised, “this is a textbook infiltration mission. Even a cadet could do it.”

“Then I guess the GAR’s wasting resources by sending us,” Halves deadpanned.

Fives arched a brow, glancing at Lexie. “He’s got some bark.”

“Stop being so mean,” Lexie gently scolded. She then moved her gaze to the shiny, “you’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

“I’m not worried, Sir,” Halves tried to deny, as his left hand reached for the ammo pouch again.

Lexie’s eyes tracked the movement before shifting to meet his gaze, her eyebrows lifting in response. Halves immediately pulled his hand away, blood rushing to his cheeks. Before she could say any more encouraging words however, her commlink chirped and she checked who it was, eyes lighting up when seeing Rex’s CT number flash on the screen. She opened their encrypted channel, checking the new message.

CT-7567: Please tell me Fives is joking and you didn't pick the ARC based solely on his name.

“You ratted me out to Rex?” Lexie exclaimed, leaning in her seat to playfully shove Fives.

“It’s his battalion, he should know who’s joining it,” the ARC laughed.

“I was going to tell him,” she mumbled more to herself than to anyone else. Lexie then leaned back in her seat as she typed her response.

General Khalla: It's a good name.

She waited a moment for his reply, knowing that being in hyperspace meant their messages would have a noticeable delay.

CT-7567: Lexie... General Khalla: Maker, Rex, I'm not that impulsive. He's a good pick. Good score, showed great promise as a cadet, made it through ARC training. Look him up in the military database. CT-38-5050.

It took a couple of minutes for the next message to come through, time in which Lexie let the ARCs know she was going to lay down for a moment, and she made her way to the small bunk area.

CT-7567: He still has no actual combat experience. General Khalla: Would you rather I picked Trojan? CT-7567: Trojan's been promoted to ARC? General Khalla: Yeah. He says hi by the way. And that he'd like to catch up at one point. CT-7567: Did he actually say that? General Khalla: Well… not in these exact words. General Khalla: What happened between you two?

His reply took longer than the previous one, and Lexie assumed he typed and retyped the message a couple of time.

CT-7567: That’s not a story I can tell through comms. General Khalla: When I next see you then? CT-7567: Alright. I’ll tell you then. Where are you heading this time? General Khalla: Maalsu. Shouldn’t be a long mission. General Khalla: Any news on Ahsoka? CT-7567: Nothing yet. General Skywalker is not happy. On my way to the Temple right now actually, meeting him there. We’re gonna reach out to some contacts. General Khalla: Let me know the moment you hear anything please. CT-7567: I will. Be careful on your mission, cyare. Update me when you can. General Khalla: I will ner kar’ta.

Lexie put her commlink away and allowed her eyes to flutter closed, actually drifting off to sleep for a little while.

The first part of the mission went without a hitch. The three of them managed to easily sneak past the droid patrols and infiltrate the compound. That wasn’t necessarily a surprise, she always found that getting herself into places – or situations – was a lot easier than getting out of them, but still, this felt a bit too easy. Nevertheless, they pressed on until they finally found a terminal that connected to the mainframe. Fives moved towards it, but Lexie stopped him, gesturing with her head for the new ARC to be the one to slice into it; this was his first mission after all and she did need to asses him properly.

Haves nodded, rearranged the ammo pouch on his chest, then followed her order. He kneeled down in front of the terminal and plugged the slicer spike he procured from his belt into the data port, connecting it straight to his vambrace. Fives stood behind him, his attention split between the shiny and down the corridor they’ve just come from, while Lexie took a position near the end of it, occasionally peeking around the corner into the intersecting hallway in order to keep watch for any approaching patrols.

 “This rotation if possible, shiny,” Fives drawled. She could almost hear the eye roll.

Lexie turned her head to glance at the ARCs, finding Fives anxiously tapping one of his blasters to his thigh. She could sense the tension coming off their new teammate from a klick away and she shot Fives a pointed look. He wasn’t helping by putting even more pressure on the inexperienced clone.

“I almost got it,” Halves bit back, the comment a lot more forceful than anything he had said until then. Fives dramatically looked up at the ceiling. “Almost…” Halves mumbled as his fingers quickly typed and navigated through layers of encryption. “Yes! I have it! wait… no. Osik!”

The terminal flashed red and a deafening alarm started blaring. Panic twisted in Lexie’s stomach as she turned to look at the men, just in time to see a ray shield ignite and cut her off from the ARCs. Not good… not good at all.

“What did you do?!” Fives snarled, yanking Halves up from the terminal and shoving him against the wall.

“T-That wasn’t me. It just said ‘intruder alert’, I didn’t do anything!” the new ARC shouted.

“Ah well, if you didn’t do anything I’m sure we can just explain that to the droids when they get here and start shooting at us,” Fives bellowed.

“Guys, knock it off!” Lexie shouted from behind the ray shield, her voice a little muffled as it reached them. “It was probably a delayed anti-slicing measure. Did you get the schematics before it locked you out?”

“I did, Sir,” Halves confirmed, pressing a couple of buttons on his vambrace.

Lexie received the data on her own vambrace and accessed it, projecting a small, flickering map into the air that her eyes hurriedly scanned over. “Aright here’s what we do. The Comms hub is on the second level. No point trying to take down this shield, we’ll just regroup there. Whoever reaches it first starts the data download so we can still finish the mission. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir,” Halves replied.

“Be careful, General,” Fives added.

She watched for a second as the clone troopers disappeared down the corridor, before her eyes flicked back to the holo-map. Three left turns, one right, another left, find the lifts. Lexie started running, repeating the directions in her head. She was the closest to their objective, she just needed to avoid droid patrols.  She took the first turns, running close to the wall and stopping before every corner. A couple of reroutes were necessary as she ran into a few more ray shields, but eventually she was almost at the lifts, so close – and then she heard the beeping of a probe droid coming from right behind her.

Lexie swirled around, igniting her lightsabers and slicing the probe in half with one quick, fluid motion. But she was not fast enough unfortunately. The droid managed to get its transmission through. Loud metallic stomping sounded from both behind and in front of her and soon enough she was surrounded.

“A Jedi?! Blast her!” a B1 shouted.

The sound of blasterfire mixed with the still-blaring alarms in a cacophony of noise. It was starting to give her a headache really. Lexie dodged hit after hit, using her lightsabers to redirect the shots and take out the battle droids surrounding her. Their numbers were dwindling and she was actually beginning to feel confident she will walk out of that hallway unharmed. That until the Destroyer droids rolled in, sprang open and powered on their shields. She jumped, and turned, and dodged the shots, but any redirection of blasterfire was futile as it simply bounced off their shields.

Lexie put out her second blade and hurriedly reached for her belt. She threw the droid poppers she had on her with just enough force to get them though the defences, and the three Droidekas short-circuited with an electrical fizzling sound. However, she did not even get a second to exhale in relief, as four more rolled into the hallway. The Destroyer droids snapped into position, twin blasters locked onto her. And she was all out of poppers…

She used the Force to push them, she dodged as many shots as she could and kept taking B1s down. But the damn things just kept on coming.

A shot hit her on her right arm and she dropped her lightsaber, swearing loudly at the hot, blinding pain. She quickly reignited the second blade shifting into a defensive stance. It was getting harder to keep up – she was panting heavily, air coming out through gritted teeth, and the burning pain in her arm was enough to blur her vision. Through the chaos of blasterfire, she spotted one of the droids receiving a transmission.

 “I can’t believe it. We hit a Jedi?!” one of the B1 exclaimed.

“She’s not down yet,” another pointed out. “Do we keep shooting lieutenant?”

“Stun her. Orders just came through. General Grievous wants her alive.” The sharp click of blasters switching to stun mode cut briefly through the chaos.

“General Grievous will be really proud of us,” the first droid piped up again.

Lexie tried to hold her ground, but with her dominant hand out of commission, it was only a matter of time before the droids got the better of her, and she fell to the floor once a stun bolt hit its target.

“Don’t get excited. General Grievous is never proud of us,” was the last thing she heard before everything went black.

A sudden sharp pain on her lower abdomen brought her back to her senses and Lexie loudly screamed. Her first instinct was to bring her hand to her side, but as she tried to, she realised she could not move it. Her eyes fluttered open and landed on a BX droid in front of her, armed with an electrostaff. She instinctively tried to move again, but there was no use – she was floating above the ground, imprisoned in an energy cell. Quickly taking note of her surroundings, a frustrated grunt escaped her lips as she realised there was nothing around that could aid her in an escape.

“Are there any more Jedi in the compound?” the commando droid demanded.

When she did not answer, the droid jabbed that same spot on her abdomen with the staff and Lexie’s entire body convulsed from the electrical shock. The BX repeated the question, which she once again refused to answer, receiving a third jab, this time lower, on her hip. She cursed and blinked away the tears that had formed in the corners of her eyes. This really was a spectacularly bad situation she had found herself in.

Focusing on her breathing, she tried to keep fear from overwhelming her. She wasn’t here alone, this wasn’t like the missions she did as a Padawan. Echo and Fives were somewhere in the outpost and they’ll realise she’s missing and– no… Echo isn’t here. Echo is dead.

How did she keep forgetting that? And how did it hurt more to remember his death than it did being electrocuted?

She took another deep breath, reproaching herself for thinking about it – it was not the right moment. This was a bad situation but her life wasn’t in danger yet. The battle droids said that Grievous wanted her alive and she knew for a fact that the Separatist general was nowhere near this sector. She had time to figure something out, or Fives and Halves had time to come and rescue her. If they’re still alive. The thought made her shudder.

The sound of an explosion reverberated through the air and Lexie’s eyes snapped open, a smirk forming on her face. That had to be her ARCs. A second and third explosion followed and the commando droid looked away from her at the same time that the power started fluctuating, weakening the energy cell. Perfect.

On the next flutter of electricity, Lexie yanked herself free with the Force, landing on the floor right behind the BX. The commando turned to face her but she quickly lunged at him, grabbing hold of the electrostaff. After some back and forth, she managed to snatch it from its arms and she turned it on the droid, jabbing it right in the chest, frying its circuits completely. The BX’s lifeless carcass fell to the floor with a metallic thud, and Lexie took a moment to use the electrostaff as a clutch and catch her breath.

Now she just needed to get out of the holding cell. She winced as she climbed the three steps to the blast door, still leaning heavily on the electrostaff – being electrocuted wasn’t fun, who would’ve thought? She pried open the control panel, exposing the wires. But before she could even start messing with them, the door hissed open on its own, revealing two troopers she didn’t know right outside of it. Lexie instinctively activated the electrostaff, just as one of the men pointed a blaster at her.

It looked like they were wearing clone armor, but a type she’d ever seen before. Their heights were completely different too. One towered over her – easily two meters tall – while the other was closer to standard clone height… or maybe just a bit shorter, now that she looked closer. Her eyes quickly scanned them from head to toe, and she clocked the number '99' stamped on both sets of armor.

 “You think she’s a Seppie, Sarge?” the taller one asked, titling his head towards the man pointing a blaster at her.

“Yeah, definitely. And I was being held in that cell for fun,” Lexie shot back. “Who are you?”

“That’s none of your business,” the other man replied curtly.

They did sound a bit like clones. Interesting. Lexie deactivated the electrostaff and relaxed from the defensive stance. She raised her eyebrows at the trooper still holding her at gunpoint and, after a moment of hesitation, he lowered his weapon as well.

“I suggest you get out of here before we blow the place up,” he said, jerking his helmet toward what she assumed was the exit of the detention hall.

“Blow it up? No! you can’t do that!” Lexie objected.

“Yeah? watch us,” the taller trooper laughed, playfully throwing a detonator into the air.

“Absolutely not! I have shit to do here,” Lexie retorted.

“Oh, really?” the other one challenged, “and what’s that exactly?”

“Republic business,” she answered.

The man immediately raised his blaster again, tilting his head slightly. “That’s funny. Because we’re here on Republic business.”

“Well, someone clearly kriffed up, because I was not informed there would be another team here,” she said, raising one hand in an attempt to defuse the tension.

“Or, a better explanation – you’re lying,” the trooper accused.

“Let’s not jump to conclusions. I am–” Lexie started, but was cut off.

The man raised a hand to his helmet, pressing the button of his comms system. His other hand did not lower the blaster aimed at her however. “What?” he said.

There was a pause as he listened to whoever had contacted him and Lexie studied the way his posture shifted, changing from guarded to tense and then to noticeably relaxed.

“We, uhh... we found her,” the man stated, his voice betraying a hint of embarrassment. He then lowered the blaster, this time holstering it. “Sorry about that, General.” The trooper removed his helmet and stood at attention. “Sergeant Hunter of Clone Force 99,” he introduced himself.

Lexie observed the man in front of her. She could see the similarities to the clone troopers she served with, but his face was a little different, his jaw wider – and the hair was definitely longer than regulation. The skull tattoo on the left side of his face fascinated her, she could only imagine how painful that must’ve been, but well, it did look really cool.

“Alexis Khalla, Jedi Knight,” she nodded in acknowledgment.

“That’s Wrecker,” he gestured to the taller clone who removed his own helmet, letting it rest on his head.

The clone offered her a wide smile which she returned. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the webbed scar on the side of his head. Aside from his larger size, she thought his appearance was the closest to that of the other clones.

“My other two men ran into your ARC troopers in the eastern wing,” Hunter informed.

“And they were alright, yes?” she asked.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good, that’s good,” she exhaled in relief. “You said you’re here to blow the place up?”

“Those were our orders, yeah”, Hunter confirmed with a nod. “But we’ll follow your lead now.”

“I don’t want to get in the way of your mission, but I do need to get my intel before I can let you do destroy the outpost. Do you have enough of those?” she gestured to the detonator that the big clone was holding.

“Oh yeah, the structural integrity of this building is kriffing shit. Already weakened it in the first wave of explosions. Just six more of these placed in the right spots and the whole thing's gonna crumble in a second,” Wrecker replied cheerfully.

“He's our demolition expert,” Hunter interjected.

“Well then, I'm not gonna argue with the expert,” she replied with a chuckle.  “I say we split up, you two place the detonators and I go to the Comms hub.”

“Respectfully, Sir, Wrecker can handle the detonators and you don't look that well. I'll come with you,” Hunter insisted.

“Do you always argue with the orders you're given Sergeant?” she challenged in an amused voice.

“Pretty much,” Hunter shrugged.

Lexie chuckled and nodded in confirmation. The troopers put their helmets back on before the taller one left to take care of his part of the mission. Lexie and Hunter made their way to the second level and found the Comms hub. This time, with the clone sergeant’s help, she avoided patrols and easily took down the one squad of B1s they encountered. She relayed her orders to her ARCs via Hunter’s comms, since her vambrace along with her lightsabers had been confiscated by the droids, and they decided it was best that Fives and Halves stick with the other two members of Clone Force 99.

Slicing into the Comms hub’s mainframe was not too difficult, though the layers of encryption were more impressive than expected. Still, she pulled key intel: troop movements, fleet positions, prisoner transfer schedules – even some Separatist surveillance files that might prove useful down the line. She also made note of a couple code names appearing often in communications. Maybe she would follow up on those leads at another time.

She couldn’t get everything, though. There just wasn’t time. With droids closing in, she was forced to abandon a trove of data she knew would be invaluable.

It was the right call. But still, for just a moment, her Master’s voice sounded once again in her head, telling her she failed.

Her ARCs and the other two members of Hunter’s squad had to come and clear a path, before they could flee the outpost together. The Amaranth was the closest to the Separatist compound, and so they regrouped with Wrecker at its location, and the base exploded and crumbled down just as she lifted off from the ground. The large clone let out loud, enthusiastic cheers as the outpost was blown to bits.

Lexie flew them to the squad’s ship, or rather, she let one of the other clones – Tech – handle the flying. That was because, as she sat down behind the pilot’s chair and her adrenaline slowly wore off, she began to feel the full extent of her injuries. Her muscles ached and her entire abdomen kept cramping up. A dull headache was lingering right behind her eyes, and with how lightheaded she felt, she could barely understand what was being talked around her. It was a shame really – had she been able to string two coherent thoughts together, she would've loved to ask these different clones some questions; she did find them interesting.

“General,” a voice reached her through the fogginess that had settled around her mind.

Lexie slowly looked up, seeing Halves stood next to her chair. He was trying to hand her something and her eyes lit up once she realised what it was.

“These belong to you,” he continued, holding her lightsabers for her to take.

“You found them,” she exclaimed, taking her weapons from him. “Thank you Halves.”

“The least he could do after kriffing up the whole mission,” Fives remarked sarcastically from the co-pilot seat. “He owes you an apology if you ask me.”

“It wasn’t my fault,” the new ARC defended himself, “the intruder alert just–”

“Don’t do that, kid,” the fourth member of Clone Force 99 – Crosshair – drawled, chewing lazily on a toothpick. “If you kriffed up the mission, own up to it. Whining about it’s just pathetic.”

“No! N-No, because I did the slicing perfectly,” Halves insisted, the frustration in his voice rising. “The alarms just went off.”

“Actually, he is correct,” Tech piped in, rearranging his googles. “I triggered a pressure sensor on a blast door intentionally. Since we were not aware of your presence in the facility we planned a diversion in order to focus the droid attention on Crosshair and I while Hunter and Wrecker planted the explosives. Had we known there was another team inside the outpost, we would have taken a stealthier approach.”

“Thank you!” Halves exclaimed, shooting Fives a pointed look.

Lexie chuckled, then slightly grimaced as the movement made her abdominal muscles ache. “Seems like you owe him the apology, Fives,” she observed.

Her friend mumbled “sorry” under his breath, just as the shuttle touched down next to the Marauder. The squad of peculiar clones had another mission to get to, and Lexie also had to quickly head back to Coruscant and deliver the intel, and so they didn’t spend too much time on touching goodbyes. She focused her last bit of energy into standing up, regretting it when Wrecker enthusiastically slapped her on the back and she almost tumbled to the floor.

“Pleasure working with you, General,” the large clone boomed, followed by an “oops” as Lexie stumbled and had to be caught by Hunter.

“Easy, Wrecker,” the Sergeant hissed.

Fives was quickly by her side, helping her out of Hunter’s arms while shooting him and the larger clone an irritated look.

“It’s fine, don’t worry,” Lexie brushed it off with a wave of her hand. “Thanks for the assist in there.”

“Anytime, Sir,” Hunter nodded as he moved to turn away.

“Before you go, just one question,” Lexie stopped them. “Who’s your CO?”

“Hunter’s the squad leader,” Crosshair replied, sounding bored.

“No, who do you report to?” she clarified.

“We’ve worked with Commander Cody in the past,” Wrecker piped in.

“Did he assign you this mission?” she asked with a small frown.

“Doesn’t seem like him not to check for any active Republic assets in the sector,” Fives added.

“No, it wasn’t the Commander this time,” Wrecker spoke again, scratching his head.

“Then who was it? I’d like to know who almost blew me up.”

“We’re not sure, Sir,” Hunter said.

“What Hunter is trying to say is that we are not aware of the specific person that assigns our missions. We simply receive our orders through an encrypted GAR frequency and we follow them,” Tech explained. “However, I can transmit the mission brief to you, and you might be able to trace the identifying number through High Command.”

Lexie thank him and the four men nodded, got on their ship and departed. As soon as they left, she allowed herself to lean into Fives’ side, pain and exhaustion forcefully catching up to her.

“You need to lay down,” her friend observed, concern present in his voice.

She didn’t argue with him, and allowed the ARC to help her to the bunks.

Taglist: @selene131 , @yoursrosie , @olasz-2003 , @ichimatsu-gal , @whisperofwild

If anyone else wants to be tagged in future chapters let me know

A/n: what do you guys think of Halves? i'm so stupidly proud of his name lol. i do worry i fucked myself over a little - it made sense to make him, fill the spot on the team, but now i have a character i actually need to use lol. so far my poor boy is just there 😭😂

[vodika-vibes]

Here Comes The General

Summary: Scorch is not having a good time. Sev is missing and presumed dead. Boss is on Coruscant. Fixer is on Naboo. And he’s here, playing flying monkey for a man he’s been planning on killing since the day they met. Unfortunately for Scorch, Hemlock has well and truly bound his hands.

Pairing: Clone Commando Scorch x General Rynn (OFC), mentions of Delta Squad x OFC

Word Count: 1218

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly @kimiheartblade @mire-draws-things

A/N: I have Rynn on the mind, so you get a Rynn and Scorch story. Wherein I fix what happened to Scorch at the end of TBB. Yes, I have requests, but I need a break from requests for a little bit. Sorry.

Scorch slams his fist against the panel next to the stark metal door separating him from Rynn. He only gets an hour each week to spend time with her, and he knows he should be grateful, but he’s not.

Every time he comes to see his Rynn, he leaves angrier.

The door slides open, and she looks up, a small smile crossing her pretty face, though it does little to draw his attention away from the stark bruises marring her face and arms.

“Scorch,” She still smiles when she sees him, and his heart swoops affectionately. 

“Rynn,” He steps into the room, and the door slams shut behind him, not that he minds in the slightest. Scorch tugs off his gloves and tosses them to the side, along with his helmet, as Rynn stands and steps towards him.

His hands immediately move to cup her face, gently tilting her head so that he’s able to examine the dark brown bruises better, “I’m okay,” She reassures.

“They hit you.”

“Hemlock hit me,” She corrects, her own hands coming up to press against his cheeks, “You’ve lost weight.”

“Yeah, well—” Scorch scoffs, “It’s not like anyone here cares about the health of a clone.”

“Oh, Scorch,” She sounds so heartbroken that Scorch wants to cry.

He smiles at her, and leans in to press his forehead against hers, “There’s no need to say my name like that.”

“You deserve better,”

“We both deserve better,” He corrects quietly. Scorch moves his hand so that it’s brushing through her short hair, “I tried to talk Emerie into letting you have a headscarf, cyare. But they won’t allow it.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not.” He brushes his lips against a bruise, gently enough that she doesn’t even flinch, “Your religion is a huge part of who you are.”

“My religion is more than a headscarf, Scorch.” Her voice is soft, “My religion is just as strong here in prison as it was on the Nightwing. Stronger, even.”

He sighs softly, “I know that. I do. It just feels wrong.”

“Well, they don’t exactly have the moral high ground here, no.” She replies with a small smile.

Scorch’s fingers move to the collar around her neck, thick and clunky, with a flashing red light on the front, indicating that the bomb is active. “I wish…”

“I know, Scorch. It’s going to be okay.”

“How do you know?”

“Because,” She stands on her toes and glides her lips against his, “I have faith. Faith enough for the both of us.”

“But…Sev—”

“Is alive. I know. And Boss and Fixer are just playing by the rules until we can be together again. This bomb,” She taps the collar with a short fingernail, “ensures the cooperation not only of you, my love.”

Scorch makes a face, “When we reunite, I’m not going to be allowed to touch you for days.” He bitches quietly, “I can already hear Fixer saying ‘Well, you had her all to yourself for months, so deal with it’.”

She laughs softly and presses her forehead against his chest.

Slowly, he smoothes his hand down her back, but before he can say anything, the cell door slams open, and he sighs quietly, “Times up.”

“Just for now, Scorch.” She lightly pulls herself from his embrace, and she walks over to pick up his gloves and helmet, “Back to work.”

“Back to slavery, you mean.” Still, Scorch slowly pulls his gear back on, until he’s fully kitted out again. 

Rynn smiles at him. Soft, warm, and loving, and he rolls his shoulders. It’s all for her. He will do anything to keep her safe and alive, even if it means working with the enemy. 

“Love you, Rynn.”

“Love you too, Scorch. I’ll see you in a week.”

He turns on his heel and heads out the open cell door. “Yeah.” It’s not enough. It will never be enough. But he’ll make do. He has to.

Scorch watches, amused, as his younger brothers from Clone Force 99 raid Mount Taniss. He watches as Hemlock confronts them, and he watches the oldest of them…Hunter, he believes his name is, punches Hemlock.

And then something interesting happens.

A small device, roughly the size of his palm, falls out of Hemlock’s pocket and slides across the floor.

Hemlock scrambles for the device, but Scorch gets there first. He picks up the device and examines it, uncaring of the blasters aimed at him from his younger brothers.

“Scorch!” Hemlock shouts, “Return that at once!”

He knows what this device is. This is the device that controls the bomb around Rynn’s neck. He’s seen it enough times to recognize it on sight.

Scorch meets Hemlock’s gaze, and quickly destroys the device before dropping the pieces on the floor.

“You—”

Scorch doesn’t allow him to finish as he curls his hand into a fist and slams all of his weight into the punch. Hemlock staggers back, his hand flying to his face. Scorch doesn’t think twice before shooting Hemlock twice in the head.

Execution style, Rynn used to call it.

His younger brothers hesitate and lower their weapons, “I thought you were working with him,” One of them, the one with goggles, says accusingly.

“Believe it or not, vod’ika, there are many ways to force someone to do something,” Scorch absently examines his blaster, “ways that have nothing to do with the damn chip they put in our heads.”

“So nothing has forced you to work for him?” The biggest member of the squad demands.

“Did I say that?” Scorch turns his head when there’s a rumble and the ground splits open on the other side of the room. He straightens and pulls his helmet off, hooking it to his belt, as Rynn lifts herself out of the hole she made.

She lowers herself to the ground and looks around for a moment, a bright smile crossing her face as she sees Scorch, “Have you seen my lightsaber?”

“Fraid they destroyed it, cyare.”

“Well, that’s rude of them. I guess I’ll have to make do with my spare.” She steps around some broken pieces of metal and allows Scorch to swing her into his arms, and press a light kiss against her lips.

“The Empire and rudeness go hand in hand, cyare. You should do something about that.”

Her smile is vibrant, “Oh, I intend to. As soon as I have all of my boys back. I assume the Nightwing is here somewhere?”

“Hidden. Safe and sound. Just like you ordered.”

She beams at him and presses her hands against his cheeks, “You follow my orders so well!”

“When I want to.”

“Of course.” Her smile softens, “Let’s get out of here, hm? We need to get to Sev.”

“Yes ma’am,” Scorch sets her down and motions towards the exit, allowing Rynn to take the lead. He pauses before he leaves and sends a comm code to Tech, “Here. It’ll connect you to the Nightwing. If you should need it for any reason.”

And then he’s gone too, following Rynn out the hanger door.

Scorch has no idea what comes next. Though, based on the small smile on Rynn’s face, she not only has an idea, she even knows how to pull it off. They just need the rest of their family back.

[frostycatblr-fandom-files]

Sentences For WIPs, Round Two

Thanks for the tag to play again @523rdrebel 🩷 - helps me remember to do a round two of all the WIPs I have that didn't fit in the first one! [Once again I'll be tweaking how I play to add a sentence for each vote for every WIP that gets voted for since I have so. Many. WIPs.]

Rules: Make a 24-hour poll including every WIP you want to work on, and have people vote for one of those WIPs. Then once voting has concluded, you write one sentence for every vote of the WIP that received the most amount of votes.

What else is Frost cooking? Have another taste below!

Laundry on the Line: As the six newest refugees to Pabu, Clone Force 99 moves in next door to a friendly and not to mention remarkably helpful Pabu native, the respective homes and yard space separated by a single, low fence. Everything from morning chores to supplying the extra egg they needed to make dinner, their neighbor offers a helping hand again and again. While a certain ARC trooper is plenty capable of contributing to keeping-house and other related tasks, Echo can't deny that for some things (like hanging up clean laundry on the line) you may not be able to avoid needing an extra set of hands.

Where The Wildest Stars Grow: Angst with a happy ending; mostly told from Wrecker's POV. A joint mission between a recently-Knighted Jedi's unit and Clone Force 99 experiences an attack from Separatist forces stronger than expected that forces the Jedi to call for a retreat if she has any hope of saving her soldiers. In the process of buying her men time, the new general is critically injured; Wrecker is the only soldier available to come to the rescue. He takes up a new, unfamiliar weapon in a desperate bid to keep her safe until help arrives. And somehow: it works.

This is Blue Vulture Tower, Over: Modern AU "loosely" inspired by the adventure game Firewatch. [May well be a crossover by time it's finished!] Crosshair picks up a summer job as a fire lookout for Coruscant Forest National Park, finding himself struggling to adjust to civilian life after serving for several years in the military. He is given command of Blue Vulture Tower, and has to report to the man known to the other rangers and lookouts by "Gray Fox", manning a tower of the same name. It's not long before Cross learns the Gray Fox is a veteran like himself, and he goes by Mayday. The two vets become verbal pen-pals through cassette tapes when they aren't using the radio, because there are just some matters that are best discussed without having someone accidentally listening-in. Together, they work through some of their experiences in the service while Cross navigates the new nature of his relationship to his brothers and recently adopted(?) sister.

Maker As My Witness: A fresh marriage facing trouble due to an unusual source, Boba, recently-(self)made Daimyo, finds himself making strange and out-of-character promises in his many attempts to assure you of just how much he loves you. Even if it means that it comes to letting you go. You keep dreaming of finding yourself leaving Boba for the stoic, hired gun that was here recently; and it's causing you just as much distress. (It's not like Mando did anything in particular to create this new and rather sudden way you've been feeling about him, lately. Nor did you. All Mando did was help him with a job for one of the native Tusken tribes; this is simply curiosity that has spiraled way out of control.) Together the two of you promise the other a great deal of patience in the time it takes to weather out this passing storm.

Names Are For Tombstones: In the light of a soured job, you and Din have to stick together longer than planned. Much, much longer. Only, you don't actually know the name of the man making up the other half of your prolonged partnership. And he's sure as hell not telling you anytime soon, either. That "beautiful beskar bastard" is playing coy and taking his sweet, sweet time...

Brothers & Batchmates Pt. 3: Third installment in the B&B arc of my OC storyline; Canvas and the group of batchmates (+ friends) he's been adopted into are getting one step closer to a rocky reunion with the troubled "middle child" of the batch, Scuffle. He's mouthy, rude, and is no stranger to picking fights among those he should be calling "brother". After being reassigned to two different units, the last being the 104th Battalion, Scuffle has been returned to his original deployment in hopes that if he is going to look after himself, then maybe the brothers that knew him best will do it for him. Something that Canvas can strongly relate to.

Flowers For A Brute: [Unofficial title.] Savage and his brothers, down on their luck, finally seem to be treated with the galaxy's favor once again when a humble botanist offers them a more proper place to stay when she finds the three of them hiding out in her greenhouse in the middle of the winter. She never turns the Zabrak brothers in, seeing as unlike all the silk-soft flower petals and delicate-looking plants she surrounds herself with, there's a bit of a thorny history to her, too. One she'd rather keep buried with bag upon bag of potting soil. Safe to begin planning their next moves, Savage takes to sneaking off in hopes of growing his own green thumb with a little of the botanist's guidance.

Of Honeysuckle and Haiku, Part 2: [Unofficial title.] Follow-up to Of Honeysuckle and Haiku. Generously taking you to Naboo, like you've always dreamed of, Tech finds (and creates) a bit of pressure to keep planning more and more elaborate dates now that the loth-cat is out of the bag and the two of you don't have to behave quite so professionally like before. Thankfully his brothers are there not only to cheer him on from the sidelines, but to set Tech on straight; only when he really needs it. And over-thinking the very first date certainly counts as needing it.

Wounded Wings: Crashlanding a borrowed shuttle on a remote, neutral world, the Bad Batch are thrown into a rather sticky situation when they're left without transport and a quick way home to the Republic. Luck is on their side however: they can still contact the GAR, and the local people have welcomed CF99 into their village, sharing shelter and food with the soldiers until they can either find or create a way home for themselves. In one of the many efforts to help them, a mildly Force-sensitive woman by the name of Weshla—but better known by "Wing"—agrees to serve as their guide through the dense forests not long after she befriends the squad. Hidden roots will not be the only thing Tech finds himself tripping over the longer he has a chance to get to know the woman who seems to be the unofficial guardian to a living force of nature much, much larger than herself.

[wild-karrde]

Guarded - Part 3

Master List | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

A/N: NEW CHAPTER REWRITE ALERT! This was honestly one of the chapters I was most excited to rewrite, and I hope you all love it as much as I did. As always, thank you to the wonderful @teletraan-meets-jarvis for beta-reading this for me!

Chapter Rating: G

Warnings: none

Word Count: 4.8k words

It was late, and as usual, Tech wasn’t sleeping. Hunching over several datapads at the table in the main sitting room of the suite they shared, he rubbed his temples as he pored over the information Captain Typho had provided him. He was certain to pass out when exhaustion overcame him, either in the chair he was sitting in, or perhaps he’d be lucky enough to make it back to the bedroom he was sharing with Echo. He was surprised to hear his brother’s snores already from down the hall. 

He rarely sleeps, so at least there’s that.

Sleep was never something that came easily to Tech either, not with the way his mind constantly turned, poking and prodding at information and cataloging it for later use. It was rather fortuitous that he’d proved capable of functioning on less sleep than most, and he often took advantage of the late hours to spend time alone with his thoughts. 

The others had closed their doors, which had done little to muffle Wrecker’s grunts and louder snores as he tossed and turned. He’d wound up in a room by himself with Tech and Echo sharing and Hunter and Crosshair bunking together in the last remaining room. The tension between the sergeant and the sniper was still thick enough to cut with a vibroblade, but Tech was hopeful that perhaps the forced proximity would help lessen the strain between them. 

Perhaps they’ll even have a fruitful conversation at some point. 

He didn’t always necessarily express himself in the same ways as his brothers, but he knew he really had no right to be critical of anyone’s interactions with Crosshair. After everything that had happened, he could barely look his brother in the eye.

I missed it. I just assumed he was correct when he stated his chip was gone. I should have known. I should have noted the differences in his behavior, the headaches. 

I just missed it.

The guilt wracked him nearly every second he was around Crosshair, and it had made his interactions with him difficult, so he’d limited them. He knew if they were to effectively function as a team again, it was something he would have to overcome. That seemed to be the biggest challenge for him at the moment, but one that could not take priority over the mission they’d been tasked with. 

Tech had been going over the security system for the palace, memorizing protocols and trying to get an idea of where vulnerabilities existed. He still wasn’t sure why they were needed here, but he was determined to do his best to help anyway. The work made him feel useful in a galaxy that had seemingly decided he and his brothers had outlived their utility. He understood the move to decommission the clone army from a practical standpoint, but it didn’t make him less resentful of the treatment of his brothers, both what he had observed with his own eyes and what was still just rumors. He just hid that resentment far better than most, deeming it an unhelpful feeling in the long run when there was so much more to be done, including helping the brothers the Empire had abandoned. And people like Queen Nodala and Captain Typho, whether that help was desired or not.

He leaned back in his chair, rubbing the indentations on his cheeks and the bridge of his nose left by his goggles as he sighed deeply. 

By all accounts, the system is sound. The only vulnerabilities lie in the human factors. Logs. Timeliness on rotations. And only so much can be done about that. 

A quiet, nearly imperceptible sound in the hallway made Tech turn his head just in time to see a shadow pass under the door. It could have been anyone walking by in the night, but something about how quiet it was, clearly intended to not draw attention, piqued his curiosity. Quickly, he slipped his boots back on and slid his blaster into its holster before quietly opening their door and stepping out into the corridor. 

The only sound was the echoing of his bootheels on the marble flooring as he pursued the shadow as quickly as he could without drawing attention. Stealth had never necessarily been his strongest skill, and he felt especially exposed, striding through the seemingly inescapable moonlight that poured in through the large windows. 

At least Wrecker’s not with me. He is physically incapable of sneaking up on anything.

Suddenly, Tech rounded a corner and was in the open air, a railing stretching out before him that looked out over the private palace gardens. Somewhere, a waterfall gurgled and the leaves of the trees whispered together in the cool night breeze. He shivered slightly before noticing he wasn’t alone. 

A woman leaned against the railing, her long dark hair hanging down her back in waves. She wore an emerald green robe and matching slippers, a cream colored nightgown peeking out from underneath. Her elbows rested on the stone railing, and she had her eyes closed as if savoring the breeze that tugged gently at her hair. 

Tech froze, watching her carefully for a moment before ultimately deciding she wasn’t a threat. Judging by the fact that no one else was around, he knew she was the shadow he’d been chasing, although he couldn’t understand the need for her to be sneaking around. Particularly since she presumably had permission to be anywhere in it at any time. 

Cautiously, he approached. As Tech’s footsteps grew closer, the woman turned to look at him, green irises piercing him in the dark. He’d clearly surprised her, but she recovered quickly, smiling disarmingly. 

“Good evening, Tech.” 

“M’lady.”

Her smile flickered almost imperceptibly. “You don’t have to use formal honorifics for handmaidens.”

Pushing his goggles up, Tech tilted his head to look at her. He wasn’t sure if this was a test or just a ruse, but he decided to place his cards on the table. Honesty had always been his default method of engagement, even sometimes to a fault. 

“Yes, but you’re no handmaiden,” he countered.

Her eyes narrowed and an amused smirk at her lips. “What makes you so sure?”

Tech moved to stand next to her, lowering his voice slightly. “Were all of the queen’s handmaidens present when we were introduced today?”

She thought for a moment, trying to determine where he was going with this. “Yes. We were all there.”

Tech nodded, watching her carefully. 

“Alright. There were six handmaidens in the room. It was hard to see all of their eye colors, but one I did see definitely had brown eyes, very different from the queen’s eyes, which are green like yours. Another had a scar through her eyebrow, nothing terribly obvious, but enough to where she has a gap in the hair that grows there, which you don’t have. The two that were flanking the door we entered from were several centimeters shorter than you, a subtle difference, but one I noted. And of the last two, one had hair of a similar color to yours, but it was straighter, so unless you curl your hair specifically to sleep in, that rules you out, and the other has a widow’s peak, a genetic trait that you do not share.”

Her eyes were wide, but he shook his head. “These are all subtle things that could easily be covered one way or another should they be decoying for you, so I wouldn’t be too concerned. I just notice more things than most people. But yes, by process of elimination, you are Queen Kestia Nodala of Naboo…m’lady.”

She laughed quietly, shaking her head. “Very impressive. Although I’m not sure whether to let you talk to my Captain of the Guard or not seeing as he’s already very paranoid about my safety.”

“You are on the bad side of someone willing to send assassins to kill you. I would consider that cause to worry,” he replied.

The queen pushed some of her hair behind her ear. “I apologize for the subterfuge. I’m just not normally recognized outside of my regalia, and most don’t see me like this anyway. It always feels like armor, so to speak. People respect me more, but also, coming upon someone I don’t know well without it on feels…” her voice trailed off. 

“Vulnerable?” he offered. 

She huffed a laugh. “Exactly. It was a reflex of sorts, if I’m honest.”

He nodded. “That is understandable, particularly since we only met this afternoon. But I would argue that you are, in fact, quite vulnerable without a security escort.” 

The queen nodded, a quiet sigh escaping her. “I just needed to get some air. Alone.” 

“I apologize for disturbing you then. Good night, m’lady.” Tech turned on his heel to leave. 

“Wait,” the queen said quietly. 

Tech turned to look at her, and something in his chest fluttered as her eyes met his. He straightened his stance reflexively. It felt as though she was appraising him, weighing something in her mind. Her eyes were kind though, and he felt his face warm under her gaze. She watched him as he stood stiffly for a few more moments, hands clasped behind him. Finally, she seemed to come to some sort of decision. 

“Would you care to walk with me, Tech? I’m having trouble sleeping, and I find the gardens help calm my mind. And,” she said, grinning mischievously. “It would be irresponsible for me to be out here alone at night without some sort of security escort.”

Tech dipped his head. “Certainly, m’lady.”

“So there’d be no reason to tell Captain Typho you found me out here then. Right?”

“I suppose not, m’lady.”

She nodded, striding towards the stairs before pausing, glancing back over her shoulder at him. “Oh, and Tech.”

“Yes?” he asked, pausing.

“We’re going to spend an awful lot of time together for the foreseeable future as you and your squad have been assigned as my personal security. When it’s just the two of us, please call me ‘Kestia’ or ‘Kes’.”

The lack of formality jarred him, but he nodded quietly as he followed her down the walkway to a set of stairs that led into the greenery. Her hands were clasped in front of her as she stepped onto a carved stone path, her robe and nightgown whispering around her ankles while his bootheels clicked against the pavement. They walked quietly for a while, Tech trying to determine the correct distance to follow, and ultimately finding Kestia matching his stride. He wasn’t certain if she was being intentional, but he surrendered after a few experimental pace changes, falling into step next to the queen. 

If Kestia noticed his experimental prodding, she didn’t comment. She strode through the garden, and while she seemed relaxed, Tech could tell her mind was racing as she paused at certain features, breathing in the scent of various flowers or allowing her fingers to trail through leaves on a willow tree that hung over them. He’d experienced plenty of nights like this where his thoughts kept slumber at bay, but while he normally immersed himself in datapads, he could tell this was Kestia’s equivalent, her best way of working through a problem. 

“If I may, what’s keeping you up at this hour, Tech?” the queen asked, finally breaking the silence as they followed the path along the trickling brook that wove throughout the garden.

He turned to look at her, meeting her eyes in the moonlight, glittering at him like precious gems. There was a hint of amusement playing at the corners of her lips, but her interest seemed genuine, not manufactured out of some sense of social propriety. He took a deep breath. 

“Several things actually.”

She nodded. “Well, would you like to talk through them with me?”

He stared at her with a puzzled expression. She shrugged. 

“I find it helps me sometimes.” 

She seated herself on a stone bench as he stood in front of her, eyes trained on him like a pupil awaiting a lecture.

Nodding, Tech pushed his goggles further up his nose, trying to ignore the nagging fear that he’d bore her. 

“I’m trying to determine the best way to increase our fuel efficiency on our gunship. It seems as though we’ve been running hotter than normal, and while I’ve run the usual set of diagnostics, I cannot seem to discover which part is faulty and causing the ship to consume fuel at a faster rate.”

She stared at him intently for a moment. “May I ask a potentially stupid question?”

He smiled slightly. “There are no stupid questions, m’lady. In my experience, those keep you from making stupid mistakes, which are more costly.”

“You’re still calling me ‘m’lady’.”

“A habit I shall endeavor to break. In the meantime, what is your question?”

“You’re operating under the assumption that it’s some part beyond the fuel system that’s misbehaving, causing the fuel pump to provide more fuel than would normally be required, correct?”

“That is the most logical conclusion, yes.”

“Have you considered that perhaps the fuel pump itself is faulty? Maybe there’s nothing driving a higher fuel consumption, but perhaps the pump itself is doling out excess. Or perhaps there’s something in the ship’s programming that’s making the pump think it needs to provide more than what is required.”

Tech’s mind was suddenly so busy, turning over her suggestion, he didn’t notice the queen’s surprised expression as he sat down abruptly next to her, nor her amused smile as his leg began bouncing energetically as he examined the feasibility of her line of thinking.

“That is not a thing I had previously considered,” he conceded, internally chiding himself. “It’s certainly plausible. I’ll have to check.” 

She smiled, nudging his shoulder with hers. “Sometimes I find it’s easy to go down the path that is the most logical solution and get stuck there. Glad I could help. What else is on your mind? Perhaps I can help solve all of your problems.”

Tech nodded, missing the joke completely as he ticked down his list. 

“I’m working on a new design for a cybernetic limb for Echo. He’d like to have the use of a hand while also maintaining his slicing capabilities. I’ve been attempting to come up with a housing that will be able to tap into his neural system the same way his current appendage does while also maintaining his scomp link within the wrist.”

“Ah, I’m afraid I cannot help you there,” Kestia said quietly, folding her hands in her lap. “Cybernetics are well outside of my area of expertise, and judging by Echo’s neural equipment that’s visible on his head, I have to imagine his is quite complex.”

“You would be correct, but I think there’s an elegant solution. I just have to tweak a few elements of the design concept I’m working on to ensure he’s comfortable with it.”

She hummed in reply, but Tech’s brow did not unfurrow. Kestia noticed.

“There’s something else, isn’t there?” she pressed. 

Tech felt his cheeks warm once more as he swallowed hard. He wasn’t used to having someone read him so easily so quickly, to seemingly understand him. His brothers did of course, but they’d spent the vast majority of their lives training together. Understanding one another without verbal communication was a necessity for effectiveness. And survival. 

She’s a politician. Being able to read a room and those in it makes her successful. Of course she’d be able to notice things such as personal traits. She wouldn’t have been elected queen by such an overwhelming margin if she did not have such a skillset. 

It did little to calm the sudden flutter in his stomach. He stood, taking several paces to put some space between them before turning back to face her, his hand stroking his chin as he thought.

“Yes there is another thing. But I fear it is somewhat forward and perhaps could be construed as rude.”

She tipped her head back and laughed, a reaction far from what Tech had expected. But at this point, he was starting to understand that the queen defied any and all expectations he had previously assumed. 

“Well, it’s about time someone was rude to me,” Kestia joked. “Everyone defers to me constantly, so I welcome your forward thoughts and potential rudeness.”

Her mirth did little to decrease Tech’s discomfort, but her eyes were boring into him where he stood, and after quickly weighing the options, he decided candor would once again be the best approach. He unconsciously started pacing in front of her while she watched from her seat, her hands still clasped in her lap as she leaned forward, seemingly eager to hear Tech’s thoughts.

“Very well,” Tech replied, taking a deep breath. “I…I struggle to understand why we are needed here. You have a quite capable security force from what I’ve seen, so why recruit a secret fugitive clone team that the Empire is very interested in catching? What added value do we bring?”

She smirked, flicking something off of her robe’s fabric. “Honestly, I find your presence here equally troubling, but I was very much overruled by Captain Typho and several of my advisors and confidantes, including a certain senator that I know colluded with Typho to send you here. I would rather have handled this internally and on my own, but even the Naboo guard has limits. I’m sure you’ve noticed we don’t exactly have a strong military presence, so it’s not as though I could have some strong show of force to get my enemy to back down.”

Tech nodded. He had researched the planet and its culture and was well aware of Naboo’s hesitancy to militarize, even after the Trade Federation invasion that had occurred during Queen Amidala’s rule. 

“Do you even know who the enemy is?” he asked. 

“I do. But I doubt you’ll believe me.” Her expression was a neutral mask, completely unreadable to him. It frustrated him, especially when combined with her conversational obfuscation.

“I’d be more likely to believe you if you were candid with me about everything, including the reason why your life is in danger,” he retorted, trying to keep his mild annoyance from poking through his facade. 

“Iden told you-“

“Resources. Yes, but you and I both know that a simple mining dispute doesn’t put the life of a planet’s elected monarch at risk.”

She eyed him carefully, clearly considering her options. Tech did his best not to cross his arms, fearing he’d portray hostility and send her retreating into the palace. Finally, she sighed. 

“Will you tell the others?”

Tech nodded. 

“It would be helpful if we understood our current situation better. Vague details make it harder for us to prepare and formulate any contingency plans. I cannot hide information from my brothers that will help keep them safe. And you.”

Something shifted within her as he watched. She looked away, still contemplating, but he could see her jaw set in a hard, determined line. Her shoulders relaxed slightly as she dipped her head, appearing to come to a decision.

“Alright, I will trust you with this. My captain was hesitant because he is very fearful for my safety.”

“Understandable considering what happened to the last Naboo leader he was charged with protecting.”

“That wasn’t his fault. He-“

Tech cut her off gently. “I know it wasn’t. I am merely saying I understand his determination to protect you. He obviously cares very deeply for you.”

She smiled a little, her gaze drifting to a slightly more distant point. “Gregar and I were close as children. He’s always been protective, but sometimes I feel that Padmé Amidala’s death has made that part of him even more fearful.”

Tech nodded in understanding. Kestia’s eyes fell to her lap as she nervously picked at her thumbnail.

“A few months ago, I was informed that one of our mining survey droids detected a massive deposit of Bandorium in one of our lakes. The droid had malfunctioned and wasn’t even supposed to be in that area.”

Tech tilted his head. “Bandorium? I thought that metal only existed on Bandomeer.”

“Until this point, it did. Naboo would be the first place that it’s been discovered outside of Bandomeer.”

“Its use in cloaking technology and its rarity makes it incredibly valuable,” Tech recited, recalling one of the many articles he’d read on intergalactic mining during his time as a cadet.

“Indeed, which is why I had the droid’s memory wiped.”

Tech’s brow furrowed in confusion. “I’m afraid I do not understand.”

She nodded, still picking at her thumb before finally meeting his eyes. 

“That metal is incredibly valuable to the Empire. They’ve pillaged worlds for far less. This deposit was found near Gunga City, the Gungan capital. In order to mine the deposit, the city would have to be destroyed and the population displaced. In addition, there are numerous Gungan holy sites within the vicinity that would almost certainly be destroyed.”

She stood, pacing in the grass as Tech had been a few moments before. Tech watched her quietly. 

“I had the droid’s memory wiped because I did not want the Empire to get word of this discovery,” she continued. “We classified the information and limited any distribution, compartmentalizing where we could, but some of the information still got back to the Empire. Not the location, only I have that information. However, even just the rumored discovery was enough to inspire the Empire to try and coerce me into revealing the location. But I’ve seen how Imperial mining operations plunder worlds. I know that they’d consider the Gungans collateral.” 

She stopped, turning to look at him, her eyes pleading for some sort of tacit approval, validation that she’d done the right thing. It struck him as odd, particularly from someone that seemed as set in her convictions as Kestia did. 

“When I ran for this office and took my oaths, I swore to protect Naboo and its people, all of its people,” she said so quietly it was almost a whisper. “So I cannot allow that to happen.”

Tech nodded, contemplating the information. Kestia resumed her pacing. 

“Unfortunately, I have made my distrust and distaste of the Empire fairly well known. I stand up against them, and they certainly don’t care for it. Moff Panaka has continued to offer his very unwanted advice about how I should disclose the location and allow the Empire to mine what is required, how it will strengthen Naboo and its place in the Empire, as if I would sacrifice my planet and its people to curry favor with those that are only hungry for power and subjugation.”

Her voice was angrier now, and a vein in her temple throbbed as her pace quickened. Tech was taken aback slightly at the aggression and passion coming from the monarch that had been so subdued when they first met. She suddenly seemed to remember herself, pausing her rapid steps to look at him, a flush spreading across her cheeks as she sheepishly tucked a stray hair behind her ear. “I apologize.”

“You have nothing to be sorry about. I am happy to listen if that is what you require.”

Kestia dipped her head gratefully. 

“Anyway, there have been…threats made. Moff Panaka has repeatedly warned me that if I did not comply, there was a chance the Empire would intervene and elect a new monarch that would be more sympathetic to their cause, someone that would allow them to occupy. What they don’t realize is that I’ve destroyed all records of the location. The person that made the report directly to me has since died quite suddenly. I suspect foul play, but seeing as the threats and assassins haven’t stopped coming, I can only assume they didn’t get the information they needed. Information that only exists in my mind.” She paused, looking at him. “And now, yours.”

The revelation was shocking to Tech, and he let out a sharp exhale. He’d never been one to garner or pursue the trust of others, and yet, Kestia had entrusted him with this information after only a few hours. Information that the Empire was apparently willing to kill for. He swallowed hard, trying to keep his expression neutral. He’d have to examine how he felt about this later. For now, it felt important to keep Kestia talking, to glean as much helpful information as he could front his very sudden and unexpected rapport. 

“You believe the Empire is attempting to have you killed in the hopes that the next monarch will access the information and reveal it.” It was intended to be a question, but it came out as more of an accusatory statement than intended. 

Kes shrank back slightly, crossing her arms over her chest. She did not waver, but he could feel her appraising him again, trying to determine if she had misjudged him, if he would take her seriously. 

“I do,” she said firmly. “They can’t risk an outright invasion and have the Empire’s name attached to my death, at least not yet, so they hire assassins like the one that recently visited my quarters.” The evening was warm, but Tech saw her shudder slightly at the memory. “I do not believe the Empire will risk an all-out war with Naboo yet to subdue me and my people.” She noted the twitch of his lips. “You disagree?”

He sighed. “A while ago, yes, I might have disagreed with you. Now, I’m not certain. The Empire has grown more dangerous as it’s become more powerful. More bold.”

She relaxed slightly, seemingly relieved that he at least didn’t completely discount her theory. 

“Why not just remove you from office?” he asked after a few moments. “That seems the more politically savvy route. Attacking Naboo’s elected leader is a blatant attack on the planet’s sovereignty.”

“They cannot do it without support from our politicians here, and most of them are against occupation as well. I have plenty of support on my planet. The only way for me to be immediately removed would be…well, to kill me.”

Tech nodded. As conspiratorial and far-fetched as it sounded, he couldn’t deny her reasoning as the pieces fell into place in his mind. If the Empire could keep its name from being tangled with the assassin and pin it on some disgruntled political fanatic, then they could easily slip their own pawn into place while simultaneously tying the hands of any objectors. At best, anyone that made accusations would look like raging conspiracy theorists, and their political careers would crumble. At worst, the Empire would claim treason, and they’d never be heard from again. He sighed, scrubbing his fingers under the rims of his goggles again. 

“So, now you know,” Kestia said slowly. “Do you believe me?”

Tech sighed, meeting her eyes. “I believe they will continue to try and remove you, but ultimately, if they do not succeed, I do not doubt they will try to make an example out of you and your people, one way or another.”

Her teeth dug into her bottom lip, and she quickly turned her back to him, wrapping her arms around herself as she stared out across the gardens. Tech slowly moved to stand next to her, studying her features as she thought. He was suddenly struck by how terrifyingly beautiful she was, and how much he found her determination admirable, even if he feared it was against insurmountable odds.

“They can try, but I will not yield,” she said quietly.

Tech hesitated before gently placing a hand on her arm. It felt like the correct thing to do, even though the action seemed to surprise them both. But she did not pull away, instead meeting his eyes. 

“And that is why you need us,” he said softly. “To support you in this endeavor should the Empire ramp up its efforts.”

She watched him carefully, and Tech felt his stomach flip slightly under her gaze. She was somehow even more imposing when she was out of her regalia, a normal woman in every aspect of her appearance. And yet, here he was, trying to remain steady as she pinned him down with her emerald irises. After a few moments, she tossed him another grin that almost felt flippant after the conversation they’d had. He suspected it was meant to put him more at ease than anything, and he was once again struck by how naturally she deployed the tools of a politician. It should have unnerved him but it didn’t. At all. 

Another thing to be examined at a different time. 

For now, he felt content to just exist in this moment rather than planning six steps ahead, a feeling he was unfamiliar with. It felt pleasant as he took in the sounds of the garden, the feel of the breeze on his cheeks and in his curls, and the smile on Kestia’s face.

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” the queen of Naboo said, a teasing glimmer in her eye. “I would rather you have wasted your time when this is all said and done.”

He gave her arm a slight squeeze, returning her smile. “As do I. Kestia.”

Tag List: @redheadgirl @witchklng @djarrex @arctrooper69 @sleepingsun501 @ladytano420 @echos-girlfriend @zoeykallus @leftealeaf @hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall @ariadnes-red-thread @goblininawig @merkitty49 @fives-lover @ladykatakuri @runforrestr @baba-fett @daimyosprincess @obihiddlenox @bucketbunny99 @fordo-kixed-rex @nerd-ika @amish---paradise @arctrooperechy

[mermaid-of-the-woods]

I've been working on a series for the Bad Batch Boys, stating with Echo! With references to other clone relationships that would be smaller stories. And by the end of this first story, you will have met all the following characters. But not all the stories will have happy endings

1st: And For You, I'd Break A Thousand Times (Echo x OFC)

2nd: We Yearn Like Vines and Leaves (Hunter x OFC)

3rd: If Love Was Contagious, I Might Be Immune to It (Wrecker X Of)

4th: Down To You (Crosshair x OMC)

5th: Within My Heart I'd Love to Remember (Tech x Phee)

[dystopicjumpsuit]

Stars Beyond Number - Chapter 1

Remember Us

Rating: T (rating varies by chapter; mature content will be tagged; regardless of rating, minors DNI)

Pairings: Echo x Riyo Chuchi; Gregor x OFC Cerra Kilian

Wordcount: 2.8k

Warnings: minor angst

Suggested Listening:

Summary: Soldiers. Heroes. Deserters. Traitors. They've been called many things. As the Galactic Empire rises from the ashes of the Republic, a small group of clone troopers and their allies will find a new identity: Rebels.

Echo, Rex, and Gregor are on a mission to save as many of their brothers as they can. The task is daunting, and their friends are few. But from these small and desperate beginnings will come a spark of resistance that will set the galaxy ablaze.

A/N: This story shares continuity with Martyrs and Kings and "Do It Again," but all three fics can be read as stand-alones.

Next chapter | Masterlist | Sign up for my tag list | Read on AO3

Remember us—if at all—not as lost violent souls, but only as the hollow men.

—T. S. Eliot, “The Hollow Men”

The Marauder pushed off the landing platform with a roar of thrusters and rose through the underworld portal until it disappeared in the swirl of air speeder and starship traffic. The repair shop where Rex had set up his base of operations was deep in the lower levels of Coruscant, and Echo knew the ship would keep ascending long after he lost sight of it before it reached the surface. His decision to part ways with the Batch had seemed very straightforward and logical as he’d discussed it with Hunter, Wrecker, and Tech, but in the face of Omega’s tearful farewell, his resolve had nearly crumbled.

He knew that the rest of the Batch would never let any harm come to the girl; her safety was their only priority. But Echo needed to do more to help his fellow clones, and with Rex, he would finally be in a position to do so. And so he merely watched as the ship departed, bearing his brothers and sister back to Ord Mantell and Cid’s endlessly questionable jobs.

He turned to rejoin Rex and Senator Chuchi. They had been conversing discreetly, giving him privacy and space as he said his goodbyes. The senator watched him now, her luminous eyes soft.

“It’s very brave of you, Echo, to stay behind and join our network after everything you’ve been through,” she said.

“Thank you, Senator,” he said, “but I’ve never been one to back down from a fight.”

“Please, call me Riyo,” she said.

Echo nodded as Rex clapped him on the shoulder.

“Come on, brother,” his old captain said. “I’ll show you around.”

The tour didn’t take long. The repair shop apparently belonged to Trace Martez, the young thief Echo had encountered on Corellia. Rex had taken over the shop when Coruscant got a little too hot for the Martez sisters’ comfort. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement: Rex needed a home base, and Trace needed someone to make sure the shop didn’t fall victim to the seedier elements of the underworld. Rex had set up a kitchen, a temporary barracks, and a small training gym at the back of the shop. There was a tiny room that served as a makeshift office and command center, and finally a communal refresher with two open shower stalls, an enclosed toilet, and a small sink. The garage contained few creature comforts; mostly they just used crates for furniture, though there was a broken-down old sofa with a holotable set up in front of it.

The accommodations were spare and shabby, which was familiar to Echo, but he was struck by how out-of-place Riyo looked in the shop. With her elegant clothing and elaborate hairstyle, she looked far too delicate and fine for her surroundings. Still, she didn’t display either judgment or discomfort at the sparseness of the shop. Echo stole occasional glances at her, admiring the soft curves of her face, the graceful line of her throat, the way her wide, intelligent eyes took in everything around her, missing not a single detail. He wondered how to describe the exact shade of her hair. Was it mauve? Or maybe violet was more accurate. Her gaze shifted to him, and he looked away quickly.

The unmistakable whine of a speeder bike landing on the platform outside interrupted his train of thought, and soon footsteps echoed through the shop.

“Rex? You here?” a woman’s voice called.

“Back here, Cerra,” Rex replied. “I have someone I want you to meet.”

The woman strode into view, faltering a little when she spotted Echo.

“Echo, I’d like you to meet Cerra Kilian,” Rex said. “She handles logistics. Very good at getting things clones aren’t supposed to have.”

“Nice to meet you, Cerra,” Echo said.

The woman clasped Echo’s hand in a reserved greeting and nodded at Riyo. “A pleasure, Echo. Senator, it’s good to see you again.”

“And you as well, Cerra,” Riyo replied.

The contrast between the two women could not have been more stark. Riyo was lovely, with her wide, golden eyes, azure skin, and glossy lavender—no, lilac—hair. Everything about her was soft and feminine and fragile, almost ethereal. Cerra was taller and more solid, her face more angular, and everything about her spoke of practical decisions, from her buzzed head, to her faded mechanic’s coveralls and sturdy boots. More striking, though, was the difference in their expressions. While Riyo’s face was gentle and easy to read, Cerra’s guarded eyes revealed nothing of her thoughts. 

“Got a lead on that electro capsule the clone assassin used,” Cerra said.

“What did you learn?” Rex asked.

“It isn’t underworld tech,” Cerra said. “At least, not as far as any of my contacts could tell. More likely military-grade.”

“Then it probably was Rampart’s work,” Rex said grimly. 

“Hard to say,” Cerra said. “We know somebody was pulling Rampart’s strings. I’ll keep looking.”

“I hope I don’t sound selfish, but I can’t help wondering. Do you think I might still be in danger?” Riyo asked.

Cerra looked at Rex, wordlessly deferring to him.

“It’s difficult to say,” Rex said. “For now, it wouldn’t be a bad idea for your guards to take additional precautions.”

“I can take a look at their security protocols and offer a few suggestions, if you’d like,” Echo offered.

“Thank you,” Riyo said, gazing up at him with gratitude in her eyes. “I would imagine that someone as accomplished at infiltration as an ARC Trooper would be the best person to find weaknesses in security.”

“Former ARC Trooper,” Echo said, wondering what else Rex had told her about him.

“I don’t think anyone could forget ARC training,” Rex said with a quiet laugh. 

Cerra’s eyes flickered to the front entrance of the repair shop, and Echo turned automatically, preparing for a threat. Instead, he recognized a familiar face.

“Didn’t realize we were having a party,” Gregor said as he strode into the room and clasped Echo’s forearm in greeting. “Good to have you with us, Echo.”

The commando nodded at Rex and Riyo, then draped his arm casually over Cerra’s shoulders and handed her a travel cup. The woman pushed him off with an indistinct grumble, but she took the cup with the barest hint of a smile.

“I got some intel on a clone in the 41st Elite Corps who wants to get out. Name’s Fireball, do you know him?” Gregor asked.

“I’ve met him,” Rex said. “Good man. Good soldier.”

“Is the 41st still on Kashyyyk?” Echo asked. “I was there recently. Rex, it could get ugly.”

“It’ll take some time to plan,” Rex said noncommittally.

“That’s not the only thing we’ll need to plan,” Gregor said. “If we’re going to be extracting clones, we’re going to need a way to get the inhibitor chips out of their heads. AZI took mine out on Ord Mantell, but we don’t have a medical droid of our own.”

“Karthon chop fields,” Cerra said. Riyo and the three clones all turned to her. “I’ve been looking into it. My source says there are at least three downed Venators slated for decommissioning on Karthon. We can pull the surgical pod from one of the med bays and set it up here.”

“It’s risky,” Rex said.

“Not as risky as Lotho Minor or Bracca, now that the Empire has stepped up security after your adventure there last year,” Cerra said. “I can get it, but I’ll need help. Gregor, you in?”

“I’d like Echo to go with you on this one,” Rex interjected.

Cerra didn’t react except to nod. “It’s going to take a few days to get the supplies together.”

Over the next few days, Echo began to get a feel for the small group living in the repair shop. Rex was right: his organization was spread thin. Echo wasn’t exactly sure how many others were involved, but at the moment, the only people besides himself who were at the garage were Rex, Cerra, and Gregor. Any others were either deployed on missions or based elsewhere. The three of them were run ragged. Rex looked even more exhausted than he had during the war. Cerra was quiet and remote, keeping to herself and rarely instigating conversations. Gregor was the only one who still seemed to have a sense of humor. 

In addition to running missions with Rex, Gregor was the self-appointed quartermaster and chef of the group. He was a surprisingly good cook, and when Echo complimented the food, the commando grinned.

“It’s nice to be the one in charge of the kitchen instead of just washing dishes,” he said.

“If I start cooking, does that mean I can skip dish duty?” Cerra asked.

“No thanks, I’ve tasted your cooking,” Gregor laughed, his eyes bright.

“Rude, but fair,” Cerra acknowledged.

It was the night before Echo was due to travel to Karthon with Cerra. The group sprawled around the holotable, chatting quietly as they ate Gregor’s spicy yobshrimp stew. Echo was jittery. He wasn’t nervous about the mission itself; he’d completed hundreds of missions. But they were always with his brothers or a Jedi. This was his first time with a civilian. Still, Rex obviously trusted Cerra enough to send her after the surgical pod, so Echo tried to quiet his nerves.

“I can take KP tonight,” Echo offered, looking for a distraction.

“You’re on,” Cerra said immediately.

“Sucker,” Gregor giggled.

The kitchen was a spectacular mess, and it took some time for Echo to finish cleaning up. By the time he did, he could hear music blasting from the training gym, and he went to investigate.

Gregor leaned against the wall, his arms crossed, as he watched Rex spar with Cerra. Her face was flushed with exertion, and beads of sweat speckled her forehead and dripped down her temples. Echo could tell that Rex was holding back, though Cerra had surprisingly good form. She clearly had training, but it wasn’t enough against an opponent who was taller, stronger, heavier, and had been trained literally from birth to be a killing machine. Gregor occasionally tossed out a dispassionate suggestion or command, focusing on techniques specifically for fighting a larger combatant.

“Pull guard, Cerra, just like we practiced,” the commando coached.

Cerra grabbed Rex’s forearm and took him to the ground, locking her legs around his waist. Echo immediately recognized the move; he’d practiced it often enough during ARC training. He hadn’t sparred with anyone in ages, and he wondered if his prosthetic legs were agile enough to do it. He suspected so; though they were not quite as dexterous as his legs had formerly been, they made up for it in durability and strength. A single kick would be strong enough to snap a limb or break a spine.

“That’s better, Cerra,” Rex praised. 

“Next time, rotate your foot to the outside,” Gregor said, unimpressed. “Unless you want to break your own ankle or get your leg pinned.”

Cerra slapped Rex on the back of the head. “Stop taking it easy on me.”

He grinned down at her. “Sorry, kid. Gotta walk before you can run.”

“First of all, I’m twice your age, and secondly, a real opponent won’t pull their punches,” she said.

“That’s why you have a blaster,” Rex replied calmly. “Want to go again?”

She nodded, but Gregor intervened. “You need to rest up for tomorrow’s mission.”

Cerra released Rex immediately, and he stood to his feet, then extended a hand and pulled her up from the mat. She was breathing hard, and Gregor tossed her a towel to dry off. She spotted Echo and acknowledged him with a jerk of her chin.

“Maybe Echo can teach me some sweet ARC moves while we’re en route to Karthon,” she said.

“Didn’t Fives show you any?” Gregor asked.

Rex winced, but Cerra mopped her face and arms with the towel.

“A few,” she said.

“You knew Fives?” Echo asked, surprised.

“Yeah,” she said. “I’m going to hop in the shower.”

“I can’t believe we’re taking that rust-bucket to Karthon,” Echo said.

The rickety shuttle was practically an antique. The sublight drive rattled alarmingly when it started up, and even the hydraulic struts for the ramp only worked about half the time.

“It’s old, but it still has some tricks thanks to Trace,” Rex said. “It’ll get you there and back. Besides, it’s the only ship we have with a cargo hold big enough to transport the surgical pod.”

“She’ll fly all right,” Cerra said as she joined them. “Not fast. Hopefully she won’t leak like a sieve.”

Rex was holding two travel mugs of caf, and he handed one to Cerra.

“You’re a god among men,” she said, taking a blissful sip.

“Is the other one for me?” Echo asked.

“Kark no,” Rex said, chugging half the liquid in one go. “Get your own.”

Cerra strode up the ramp and flopped into the co-pilot’s seat. “Don’t worry, Echo, we can stop at Starcups on the way out.”

Echo pulled a face. “Starcups barely qualifies as caf. More like syrup and blue milk that once heard a rumor about caf.”

“Still gets the job done,” Cerra shrugged. “Let’s roll.”

In the slow, dilapidated old shuttle, it was a full day’s jump to Karthon. Cerra was mostly silent once they entered hyperspace, tinkering with the electronic guts of a clone armor cuirass that she’d modified heavily. Echo, accustomed to Wrecker and Omega’s raucous banter and Tech’s spontaneous infodumps, found the silence deafening. He wished Gregor had come with them on the mission. The commando’s relaxed attitude and cheerful personality seemed to pull Cerra out of her shell in a way that Echo had not yet figured out how to do. He was no sparkling conversationalist, but he didn’t enjoy silence and solitude—not any more. 

It had only been a few days, but he missed the Batch. He missed Tech’s monologues as they copiloted the Marauder on long hyperspace jumps. He missed Omega’s endless questions and cheerful commentary. He thought of the way the tears had welled in her eyes as she hugged him goodbye, and his chest ached at the memory.

The cuirass sparked, and Cerra flinched and cursed.

“Need a hand?” Echo offered.

Cerra sighed and dragged a hand across her eyes. “I think I fried one of the connectors when I heated the plastoid to reshape the chestplate. The control unit fits, but I can’t get it to sync with the HUD.”

She passed the cuirass to Echo, who inspected it closely. She was right; there was a tiny scorch mark on one of the connectors.

“We’ll have to salvage another chestplate to get replacements,” he said. “Decent chance we’ll find some on Karthon.”

“At least it’ll give me some protection for now,” she said. “I’ll just have to go without a helmet until I can get it fixed.”

“I can help with the modifications, if you’d like,” Echo offered. “I have some experience with armor mods.”

“So I see,” she said, eyeing his custom suit. “I figured your armor wasn’t exactly off the rack.”

Echo chuckled. “Not exactly. My squadmate Tech helped me with my first set of armor after Skako Minor, but this set I modified myself. I added some extra features. Aside from the obvious.” He gestured to his scomp.

“What kind of features?” she asked.

“Electrical surge prevention,” he said.

She nodded. “Kix told me you got a hell of a jolt at Anaxes.”

“You knew Kix as well as Fives?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she said. “He’s gone, too.”

Darkness flickered across her face, but she took a deep breath and her usual stoicism slid back into place. Echo reached out to lay his hand on her shoulder, but something about her posture made him think she wouldn’t appreciate the gesture. He faltered and dropped his hand back to his side. After a time, he broke the silence.

“So,” he said. “How well did you know Fives?”

“Pretty well,” she said flatly. “So how about those sweet ARC moves?”

He wanted to push, wanted to know more. Rex had given him the bare-bones account of Fives’s death, but there never seemed to be enough time to actually process it. Cerra was the only person in Echo’s life other than Rex who had known his twin, but her walls seemed to be made of durasteel, reinforced with beskar. And the last thing he wanted to do was scug her off right before he headed into a mission, trusting her to have his back.

“Rex went through ARC training, too, you know,” Echo pointed out. “He knows all those moves. But I can show you a trick or two that I learned from Clone Force 99.”

---

Next chapter | Masterlist | Sign up for my tag list

Tagging: @secondaryrealm @blueink-bluesoul @spicy-clones @wings-and-beskar @523rdrebel @merkitty49 @anxiouspineapple99 @sinfulsalutations @arcsimper5 @starrylothcat @clio3kantarella @cloneloverrrrr @goblininawig @ladytano420 @arctrooper69 @wolffegirlsunite @sunshinesdaydream @mandos-mind-trick @littlemissmanga @stunkbiggu @starqueensthings @clonemedickix @marierg @idontgetanysleep @moonlightwarriorqueen @dudewhynotthis @sleepycreativewriter @tcwmatchmakingau @littlemissbshine

[sagittariuswritings]

The Red Special - Chapter One

tbb hunter x original female character

Word Count: 5.5k~

Warnings: Typical canon violence, brutal character death via lightsaber, anxiety

a/n: There's not much hunter x oc in this, this is kind of a pilot chapter. The only original character (as of chapter one) is Cordelia Vynsin. This story includes characters/locations/plots from legends and, of course, canon. This is kind of a sloppy post due to posting on my phone, I promise this will look professional in the future! ((this started as a tech fic but turned into a hunter fic rq. sorry fellow tech simps!!))

Ord Mantell was bustling with business as usual. It was the fourth location Cordelia was attempting to lay low on, and her options of contacts were running dangerously low already. Cid was a near-last resort, and she was getting desperate. 

Shoulders bumped each other, and it felt like an all too familiar scene to Coruscant. While Cordelia wasn't often outside of the temple on Coruscant, and this town was significantly smaller in comparison, it was the closest she's felt to something she's used to since being on the run.

Cordelia adorned a black robe of similar design to her previous dark brown Jedi robe, just enough of a difference to not get suspecting looks from any passerby. As far as she could tell, there was seemingly no imperial presence here, but that didn't mean there weren't some slimy residents willing to make a pretty credit off of someone's life. Her copper-red hair was pulled back into a rather loose braid, and she still wore her Jedi tunic and pants, but they were worn out enough to not stand out if she was without her robe. They were quite discolored due to several different environments and unforeseen circumstances, such as falling into swamp water, oil splashes, and there were patches of fabric torn due to squeezing into tight spaces in attempts to evade imperial eyes. Not to mention the singed fabric above her left hip, where she narrowly made an escape from Murkhana.

While Cordelia had no idea where to begin her search, and her force abilities were severely lacking since the order fell, she allowed what little connection she had to the force to guide her to Cid's parlor. She took a shaky deep breath and moved confidently through the crowd for some time before coming across a rather quiet alley with a few twists and turns ahead. She did a quick scan of the area, and made her way into the alley after seeing no sign of potential danger. 

As she made her way through the alley, she threw a few glances over her shoulder with each corner she took, making sure there were no unwanted guests tailing her.

A dull, flickering sign with sabacc dice hung above an arch in front of Cordelia. The force brushed against her senses briefly before she urged her feet forward, and headed down the stairs into the parlor.

Upon entering what seemed to be a pretty mellow parlor, she was greeted by the sounds of rather loud snoring to her right in the back corner. There were two aliens passed out at a table for two, a variety of empty glasses and some spilled liquids lying on the floor below the table. Charming, she thought, and continued onward towards the bar. Scanning the room like before in the alley, as far as she could tell she was the only one conscious in the room. That was, until, a rather short Trandoshan woman came out of what looked to be an office, mumbling something under her breath until she looked up to see the hooded figure standing before her. 

"Can I help you, Red?"

It seemed the nickname came naturally to the woman, and Cordelia blinked in response before clearing her throat, "Are you Cid?"

The reptilian-like woman looked Cordelia up and down, her stare long, hard, and focused. Her gaze seemed to remain around her waist for a while, as if she was taking note of the absence of a lightsaber. Suddenly, her eyes lit up, and then something else took over the emotion in her eyes. "My office. Now." was all she snapped before turning on her heel and returning back to her office.

Hesitantly, Cordelia followed. Although her connection to the force was weakening as the days went by, she did her best to reach out through the force in attempts to sense any danger awaiting her inside the office before her. As far as she could tell, there was no danger, so she followed the woman into the office.

The moment the door slid shut behind Cordelia, a green clawed finger was in her face, almost in an accusatory manner. "You're supposed to be dead!"

A wave of emotions splashed over Cordelia's mind and body, unsure of whether or not this was something to be worried about. A faint fight or flight sense clawed at her heart as she was pinned down by the green eyed stare of who she assumed was Cid, her mind trying its damnedest to relay the message of calm to her heart as she searched the woman's eyes. "I take it you must be Cid?" 

Cid dropped her hand, but not her stare. "I dunno how you're still alive, and as much as I want to question it, I'm assuming you want something, which is great, because now that most of you Jedi are dead, I'm slacking in business. Your mere existence is worth a pretty credit, y'know?"

Cid's stare seemed to start digging daggers into Cordelia's skin, making her shift uncomfortably. She wasn't too entirely keen on where this conversation was going, but what could she do? If she ran, with how many contacts Cid has spread across the galaxy, let alone Ord Mantell, there would be someone tracking her down in minutes. 

Cordelia pulled her arms up and crossed them over her chest, pondering over what to say. Again, her mind was telling her to be calm. She closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, finally making a last assessment of the situation at hand. All she could do was do whatever Cid asked of her at this point. Maybe in the future, she'd get herself out from underneath the woman's clawed hand. "I need a job. Which clearly is non-negotiable as long as I value my life, considering you essentially just threatened to hand me over to the empire." 

"That's business for ya, Red." Cid winked. "I'll go easy on you for your first job. Clean up the place, make it look like I'm actually running a functional parlor. Helps me get away with my actual job back here." She gestured to the office. 

"Done." 

Cid snorted. "It ain't that simple, kid."

Of course there was a catch. Cordelia had no idea what favors she'd be doing for Cid in trade for her life, and she knew it more than likely wouldn't be easy, but she had a feeling that Cid was rather slimy in her deals. She might as well kiss any potential of a peaceful life in the future goodbye, based on Cid's insinuations. 

"I've got a group of boys that are hiding from the empire just like you. They're fresh meat, just like you. Matter of fact, I've got them on their first mission for me as we speak. If they come back-"

"If-?"

"You heard me, now let me finish - if they come back, I'll have another mission waiting for them. I dunno what the mission will be, but I'll count you in. Of course, any mission for you will probably prove to be a challenge for a while, considering your lack of lightsaber, but I know you Jedi can get around just fine without one, clearly, considering you're here and not dead like the rest of them." Those last words stung Cordelia a bit, and Cid folded her arms over her chest as a sly smirk tugged at her lips, her stare down with Cordelia seeming to not waver in the slightest.

It wasn't ideal, but of course, one of the many things she was taught by fellow Jedi was to adapt. Cordelia returned Cid's stare, her brows coming down in determination. "Deal."

"Fantastic! I'll find you some less Jedi-y clothing and maybe something a little extra. I'll be back in a jiffy, wait here." And with that, Cid left Cordelia alone in the office.

Cordelia felt like she could finally breathe again when Cid left the room. Tension still hung in the air, but it was like a cloud of steam that had been partially let out due to the door opening and closing and wasn't nearly as suffocating. 

She gazed around the room, taking note that Cid was most definitely a collector of the oddities of the galaxy, but it wasn't the most absurd collection she'd ever seen. If anything, it was almost a relief to see such a scaled down collection of items. To Cordelia, it showed that Cid wasn't super sentimental, which could be bad news for future business should she ever decide to leave Ord Mantell and Cid behind. 

It didn't take too terribly long for Cid to re-enter the room, her arms full with a pile of random items of clothing. She lay them on top of her desk, holding her arms out as if to show off the pile to Cordelia. "Take your pick. Once you find something that calls your name or whatever, hop in the refresher. You could use a good scrub, girl." 

Cordelia hadn't exactly paid too much attention to her appearance since Murkhana, which evidently showed. She felt momentarily embarrassed, but managed to mutter out a "Thank you" to Cid before she exited the office. 

Her gaze fell upon the pile of clothes, and she made her way around the desk to sift through them. It didn't take her long to find something to wear. A long sleeved dark forest green base layer top called to her, along with a pair of black cargo pants. She picked out a black vest to go over the top, and a pair of calf high boots. On one hand she found it odd that Cid just had random clothes lying around in the parlor, but on the other she wasn't too terribly surprised, considering the odd collection of items around the office.

Gathering the clothing, Cordelia found her way to the refresher. She laid the clothing on an empty chair once inside, and began to peel the dirty clothing off of her body. She wasn't in a rush, in fact, ridding herself of her Jedi clothing felt like she was removing herself from her body. She'd known no other life outside the Jedi order, and here she was, stripping herself of the last thing that reminded her of her past life. 

As she removed the top, she was left to stare at herself in the mirror. Through layers of dust and assorted grime, she could still see how much paler she'd become since Murkhana. She'd dropped in weight, considering she had absolutely no credits to her name and she'd been running for what felt like forever, causing her to resort to starving until the point of needing to steal food. Her eyes wandered down her reflection, gaze landing on the blaster wound that lay just above her left hip wasn't healing well due to the lack of access to any form of bacta. She ran her hands down the front of her face, groaning into the palms of her hands. She was exhausted, and she didn't need the dark circles under her eyes to tell her such information.

Slowly, Cordelia made her way into the waterfall of warm water that awaited her. The moment the water landed on her skin, she wept. Both overwhelmed with how amazing the water felt, and the emotions that had been lying relatively dormant in the back of her mind suddenly rising to the surface. Her tears mingled with the water that cascaded down her face, and she found herself pressing her back against the wall before sliding down to the floor, now slumped against the wall. She brought her knees up to her chest and rested her forehead against them. 

.

A red blade cut down Ras and Spec like they were nothing. They were cut in half, from shoulder to hip, like a ration bar wrapper being hastily torn open. Cordelia felt a hand clamp over her open mouth that threatened to let out a scream, almost startled when she realized it was her own hand, having little to no feeling in her body. The moment the red blade was ignited, all she could feel was fear, her body becoming numb. The feeling of both shock and horror was mutual among the Jedi on either side of her, the silence from both of them nearly suffocating.

Blaster fire let loose as half of the ion team was cut down, due to Climber and Trace, the other half of ion team, making haste for the woods in an attempt to flee execution. Salvo, in particular, was sending most of the fire in Climber's direction, letting his own hatred for the commando clone take control. A blaster shot caught Climber in the leg, and she could hear him let out a yell. Somehow, miraculously, Climber and Trace escaped into the woods, and the blaster fire ceased. Cordelia watched as the cloaked figure conversed with Salvo, before yelling that he wanted them alive. She wasn't sure what she would prefer for the clones: Execution or being captured to likely be tortured. Either way, she was relieved to hear that they might have a chance to live.

Suddenly, the loud hiss of a lightsaber igniting and a blue blade appearing in her peripheral tore Cordelia's attention away from the clones making haste after Climber and Trace. Bol Chatak stood at her full height, her free hand reaching and pulling the headscarf that served as a disguise off of her head. Once more, Cordelia felt panic flood her senses as she watched the Jedi stalk towards the man wielding the red lightsaber. 

After a few circles like a predator stalking prey, the lightsabers clashed together and created an awful sound. Bol Chatak moved with grace as they went at it, seeming almost weightless as she parried with the man. Her lightsaber appeared as an extension of her arm, while her opponent appeared to be messy in his attacks. He was angry, and not in the way a sith would fight with anger. Cordelia didn't have much experience with sith, save for one brief glimpse of Asajj Ventress, but she'd heard enough stories to know that this supposed sith wasn't using his anger in the way most sith were known for. They used it to their advantage, while this man seemed to act out, appearing almost like a clumsy child with anger issues. Cordelia would've found the sight amusing, had her heart not been threatening to break through her chest.

A hand wrapped around her wrist as the fight continued, pulling Cordelia back to the other Jedi at her side. She turned her head, chin raising slightly to get a better look at Roan Shryne. 

We are no help to Bol Chatak, she's giving us time to make our escape. We must go. Roan urged the words into Cordelia's mind, the grip on her wrist tightening ever so slightly as if to give more urgency to his words. 

Glancing between the fight and the hand on her wrist, Cordelia reluctantly nodded and began working her way through the crowd with Roan's guidance. She caught Roan glancing back every few seconds to look upon the fight, but it seemed every time he looked, the crowd seemed to get in his line of view, blocking the fight from his vision, and she could feel the frustration spike through the force coming from him each time. As she opened her mouth to mutter something to him, a scream sounded from behind her.

 Both Roan and Cordelia stopped in their tracks, their full attention now on Bol Chatak and the presumed sith. The crowd parted just enough for them to see Bol Chatak on her knees and hunched over at the man's feet, her left arm amputated and lying on the ground beside her, her lightsaber discarded a couple feet from her arm. Another wave of shock and panic shot through Cordelia's body, all sense of keeping calm very quickly escaping her mind. 

Roan did his best to remain calm, as a Jedi master was supposed to do in any stressful situation, but he found it rather difficult to remain calm considering the events that have unfolded over the last 24 hours alone. It most certainly wasn't easy to remain calm with his connection with Cordelia via the force being shaken with fear, not only on her end but on his own as well. 

Cordelia felt like all the air in her lungs was ripped out forcefully as the red lightsaber was lifted into the air before swiftly decapitating Bol Chatak. 

.

"Red!!"

A gasp tore through Cordelia's throat, and her eyes wrenched open. She slammed her hands down onto the floor in attempts to ground herself before she pushed upward and jumped to her feet. 

"You gonna pay for the excessive water usage or what?!" Cid hollered from outside the refresher, clearly not happy.

Right - Cid. She was in the refresher at Cid's Parlor, not on Murkhana any longer. A shaky breath passed Cordelia's lips as she gathered her surroundings, the cranky Trandoshan woman's voice bringing her back to the present.

"I'll be right out." Was all Cordelia could get out, her voice strained from what she assumed was crying so hard. It was weeks' worth of tears, and she was so stuck on reflecting on the events that took place on Murkhana that she admittedly had no idea how much she had just wept.

"You'd better. Those boys should be here any minute. I found ya a little something, it's out here on a table when you're done." And with that, Cid had left Cordelia to her own thoughts.

She made quick work of scrubbing days worth of grime off of her body. Once more, she stopped to look at her reflection in the mirror. The blaster wound might have a chance of healing naturally, now that it was clean, but even she knew that was wishful thinking. She knew she needed bacta as soon as possible. 

Cordelia wrung her hair out and padded herself dry with a towel, and began getting dressed. She allowed her hair to remain loose, deciding it would be easier to air dry that way rather than immediately throwing it in a braid. Besides, her scalp needed a break with how long her hair was pulled back while she was on the run. It reached just above her lower back, and she briefly thought of cutting off quite a bit of length, but there was a nagging thought at the back of her head that told her to hurry up.

Cordelia left the refresher and almost forgot about the 'little something' Cid had found for her. On a small table right by the entrance of the refresher, it was a blaster holster and a blaster. 

A part of her dreaded the idea of wielding a blaster, considering the Jedi only ever used them if it was a last resort. The other part of her knew it was the only weapon option she had, considering she threw her lightsaber into the waters of Murkhana Bay shortly after the order to kill all Jedi was announced.

She pulled the holster over her thigh, fastening it as needed, before taking the blaster into her hands. She attuned herself to its weight, lifting it to aim it at the wall, her finger straight forward and off the trigger. While a blaster wasn't her weapon of choice, she did find herself wielding one on rare occasions. 

.

"Nicely done, assuming you're not entirely relying on that force thing of yours." Climber chuckled, patting Cordelia on the shoulder.

That earned him an eye roll from the redhead at his side, which quickly turned into a glare that was aimed directly at his glowing blue T-visor. "Only a little." She admitted, which in turn earned her a sigh of defeat from Climber.

"Try a moving target - And you'd better not use the force to alter anything related to the moving object." Climber instructed, wagging a finger at her.

Cordelia nodded in acknowledgment, returning her attention to the make-shift target practice zone that her master had requested be set up for her sake.

“It won't hurt to train yourself with a blaster, for the chance of unexpected circumstances." Roan Shryne had told her before leaving her with Climber. Cordelia wanted to scoff at the suggestion at first, partly because of how much she preferred the feeling of becoming one with her lightsaber while wielding it, and partly because she knew she would always have the force at her side, lightsaber or not. She knew he had a point, however, but she didn't like it. Considering her next assignment was completing the trials to become a Jedi knight, she knew better than to challenge or question her master. 

"Ready?" Trace hollered from the other side of the training zone.

"Waiting on you!" Cordelia hollered back, a smirk tugging at her lips as she heard him grumble something incoherent but laced with sarcasm. 

Trace threw the decapitated head of a battle droid into the air. 

Cordelia let it catch some air before firing off one shot, sending the head flying and smoking from the blaster shot.

"Hey hey! Not bad for a Jedi!" Climber teased, earning a shoulder check to his side from Cordelia.

.

Cordelia smiled warmly at the memory, a faint ache tugging at her heart at the thought of her friend and old master. She had no idea as to where they were in the galaxy. They could be dead, and she may never know. She shook her head, attempting to rid her mind of such thoughts, and she slid the blaster into the holster strapped to her right thigh.

"Ah, well would ya look at what the Rancor dragged in!" Cid's voice rang from the dining area of the parlor. Her words weren't directed at Cordelia, she knew. After all, she had yet to even make her presence known since exiting the refresher.

Cordelia opted to remain hidden. She found a pair of old broken slot machines that would serve well as a wall between herself and the company that Cid was conversing with.

"That is hardly amusing." A rather direct voice responded. She could hear a frown in their words.

"Where's our payment?" Came another voice. This voice sounded vaguely familiar, oddly enough. It was vague enough to not quite ring a bell, but there was something about it that Cordelia couldn't quite place her finger on. 

"Don't go getting your bandana all up in a twist, dark and broody." Cid answered without hesitation. Cordelia didn't have to have eyes to know a finger was being wagged in the direction of whom she referred to as dark and broody. "Here."

Some shuffling noises commenced, then dark and broody spoke up again. "If we're to work for you, again, I-" He seemed to cut himself off, and Cordelia didn't know why. She heard even quieter movements than before, and she felt her fight or flight senses begin to kick into gear.

Cordelia changed her position behind the abandoned slot machines, and silently cursed herself for not scanning the parlor better earlier. She had no idea what, if any, advantages she had from the position she was in. She slowly inched to the edge of one of the machines, her fingers ready on the blaster on her thigh as she prepared to peer around the machine.

The force had betrayed her at that very moment. Or was it that she had betrayed the force, and this was her punishment?

"Hands in the air. Now." Dark and broody ordered from behind her, his voice sounding a lot more familiar now that he was closer in ear shot. 

Cordelia's breath caught, but she didn't hesitate to slowly raise her hands into the air. She made sure she was slow, for she worried that if she moved too suddenly, she may not like how he reacted. She slowly stood up to her full height, her body itching to turn around and see who the voice belonged to.

"Who are you?" 

"What's it to you?"

A husky chuckle passed his lips, which sent an unwanted shiver trickling down her spine. "You're eavesdropping on my business. I'd say that's a good reason to ask who you are." 

Fair point, she thought. She parted her lips to give a false name, but she was interrupted. 

"Red! What the kriff are you doing," Cid griped, appearing behind Hunter. "Slinking around my parlor like a criminal?! You almost got yourself shot, girl. Ease up, bandana." Cid then directed her words to dark and broody. 

A few heartbeats passed before she heard him holster his blaster. "Can she be trusted?" He asked Cid, presumably. 

"I trust no one." Cid blatantly responded. "But she's harmless to you. So long as you behave yourself." 

Slowly, Cordelia let her hands fall back to her sides, and took a breath before turning around. The moment her eyes settled on his face, panic shot through her body. 

"You're a clone." Cordelia managed to get out, through gritted teeth. She momentarily let her gaze drop to Cid's and shot her a brief look of betrayal. 

Unbeknownst to her, he sensed her heartbeat increasing when her eyes landed on his face. He couldn't hide the confusion that settled into his face. "Kind of."

"Kind of? What's that supposed to mean?" The only thing keeping her from pulling her blaster on him and attempting an escape was the fact that he wasn't trying to pull his blaster on her after seeing her face. But then again, she didn't have anything on her that indicated that she was a jedi... He had no idea. That helped her relax ever so slightly. Slightly. 

"I'm a part of a group of defective clones-" He began to explain, but was quite rudely interrupted by someone appearing behind him.

"Defective and effective!" A rather large man proudly announced, a wide grin spread across his face. "I'm Wrecker, this is Hunter- the rest of us are waiting to officially meet our eavesdropper." He laughed, rather obnoxiously, Cordelia thought. She grimaced at the thought of having an introduction party, at this point wanting nothing more than to hop on the nearest transport off the planet.

Hunter seemed to be briefly irritated by the interruption, but he had a look on his face that didn't exactly reflect his initial emotions. It was a smug look of amusement at how enthusiastic his brother was to introduce someone to their squad. 

"Finally, let's get this show on the road!" Cid clapped her hands together, following Wrecker into the main area of the parlor.

Hunter and Cordelia held each other's gaze for a moment, seemingly trying to understand the other's emotions, and both failing to understand. She held his gaze until he stepped to the side, allowing her to walk by. It made sense that he didn't want to turn his back on a stranger, but it irritated her a little nonetheless. She didn't exactly trust him any more than he trusted her.

The four of them entered the dining area, and Cordelia was met with three new and rather concerned faces.

As Cordelia began to look each of them up and down, Hunter and Wrecker joined the rest of their group. Her gaze began with Hunter, who stood tall for being the shorter of the group. Besides the girl, who he stood by quite protectively. His muscular arms came to fold over his chest as he watched her give his group a once-over. The immediate thing that caught her eye, though, was the skull tattoo that took up half of his face. When she first laid eyes on him just a few moments earlier, she thought it was merely a trick of the shadows, considering how horribly low the lighting was. While he looked similar to every clone she'd ever met, there was something quite striking and different about him.

She moved her gaze to the girl that Hunter stood so protectively by. When Cordelia first entered the room, a skeptical frown was written across her features, but now she was smiling at Cordelia. Her face was surprisingly similar to Hunter's, which was odd. She knew he said they were all clones, but surely this girl wasn't a clone too? As far as she knew, the Kaminoans never made any female clones. Cordelia smiled back at the girl before moving onto the next.

While each of them were unique, especially when compared to the clones she was used to, this one in particular seemed to stick out in the unique category to her. His complexion was far paler than the rest, and his cheekbones were rather prominent, appearing to have been horribly malnourished at some point in his life. Some sort of device covered his ears, which made her wonder if he had trouble hearing without the device, and he had what looked to be multiple holes in his head. The last thing she noticed before continuing on with her once over was the scomp link that replaced his right arm.

The yellow goggles was the first thing she immediately noticed about the next member of the group. A datapad took up both of his hands, and he seemed to have quite an unimpressed look on his face, which she assumed that he would much rather have his nose buried in the device that he held than having to be attentive to the current situation. He had quite an assortment of tools and devices that were either hanging from hooks on his belt or were secured into pouches across the belt. She also noticed that he had a much different armor placement than the rest, which she assumed was to give him more flexibility in the field.

Finally, there was Wrecker. Standing significantly taller than the rest of the group, his hands rested on his hips in a proud-like pose. There was no doubt that he was the muscle of the group, his armor almost appearing too small to cover the bulging muscles on his biceps. A rather nasty blast-scar took up a good majority of the left side of his face, reaching out across his cheeks and eye. A cybernetic eye was the replacement for his natural eye, which was currently aiding his brown eye in holding her gaze.

"We're Clone Force Ninety-Nine, also known as The Bad Batch!" The girl announced proudly. When she moved to walk forward toward Cordelia, Hunter hesitated, almost reaching an arm out to stop the girl, but the one with the scomp link for a right arm reached out with said scomp link and pressed it to Hunter's chest to keep him still.

"I'm Omega," She beamed up at Cordelia, holding her hand out. "What's your name?"

As much as Cordelia wanted to trust Omega, she didn't exactly trust the rest of her group for obvious reasons. So, she settled on the nickname that Cid had given her.

"You can call me Red." She shook Omega's hand, returning the kind smile.

"Red. I like it." Omega grinned, and half turned so she could face both Cordelia and The Bad Batch. "Allow me to introduce you to The Bad Batch!" She proudly spoke.

"That's Hunter, also known as Sargeant Hunter. He's the leader of The Batch, and he's got enhanced senses. That's how he found you."

Comforting, Cordelia thought.

"There's Echo. He used to be a regular clone, but," She seemed to choose her next words carefully, which Cordelia assumed was likely due to the way Echo seemed to tense up as Omega began introducing him. "Due to unlikely circumstances, he joined The Bad Batch!"

Cordelia would be willing to bet that Echo had a story or two to tell.

"That there is Tech. You'll often find him with his nose stuffed in a data pad. He's the brains of The Batch. He's capable of deciphering nearly any code in existence!"

Their names certainly fit each of them, she thought.

"And Wrecker, of course, is the muscle of The Batch. He may look scary, but he's actually a big softie. He could lift a starfighter if he put his mind to it!"

Wrecker grinned, shamelessly flexing the already bulging muscles on his arms. Cordelia caught the side eye that Tech shot in Wrecker's direction, almost making her chuckle. 

Omega went to speak more, but Hunter seemed to throw her a look that told her to leave it at that. There was definitely more to this group than meets the eye, but Cordelia couldn't be too picky. There was more to her that they didn't know either.

"Well," Cid clapped her scaly hands together, which caught everyone's attention. "Now that we're all acquainted with one another, I've got some business to work on in my office. Hang around and decide whether or not the lot of you will work together for me, and please, try not to kill each other while I'm gone." And with that, the woman was gone, leaving Cordelia alone with a group of clones.

An ex-Jedi and a group of clones.

What could go wrong?

[lizartgurl]

Thinking it can change the beat

Of my heart when he touches me

And undo the destiny

Does this song ever explicitly state that this story takes place in the wild west? No. Is it all I can think of when I listen to it on repeat? Absolutely.

Director's Cut:

-Referenced Spirit Stallion of the Cimarron to draw the Horse. Enjoy it, bc I will never be able to draw anything like it again.

-I believe it was echo-jedis that had the idea for Hunter to have a painted horse (I think that's what they're called, it's been a while since I was a horse girl) with spots that resemble his tattoos, so that's what I tried to emulate here. The coloring was inspired by a horse my aunt owned when I was younger.

-I've been admiring the coloring of the mountains near where I live for so long and this finally gave me the chance to color it. 😁

-The Tortured Poets Department is all really a Western story and you can't change my mind.

@meadow-of-daisies-and-lavender @dilpickledd @the-shadow-of-atlantis @themaridenstationchronicles @allwhoponder

[minnierevercez]

New Chapter !

Here it is ! Chapter 10 of my Hunter x OFC fanfic, Patch Me Up, is now available here on AO3 ! It's been a hot minute since the last one but I'm glad I can post it now and so thankful for your patience ! Only one chapter to go 0.0

Here's a sneak peak :)

Patch Me Up

Hunter x OFC

Current word count : 55,943

Warning for triggering themes in this chapter : mention of death.

He barely had time to register the sound of Crosshair's speederbike approaching before it collided with his own in a clatter of metal against metal. Hunter struggled to keep his balance on the vehicle while putting distance between him and his brother ; but Crosshair came at him again, making the old durasteel rattle and clank in a flurry of sparks. Hunter picked up the speed, flattening himself further on the machine, and chanced a glance behind him ; his eyes widened as he saw Crosshair steady himself on the bike, and slowly pull out his sniper blaster, aiming not for Hunter, but for his speederbike. He managed to dodge the first shot, then the second ; a third brushed past the engines, and the vehicle wobbled for an agonising second ; the one second Crosshair needed to score his hit.

The impact sent his speederbike spinning and skidding on the snow, and Hunter was thrown in the air, the breath knocked out of him. His landing was by no means softened by the powdery layers, which weren't that deep ; the hard, rocky ground pounded his bones as he bounced and rolled, upsetting the white expanse.

He got up with difficulty, but already Crosshair was on him, and the punch to his helmet threw him back down. He struggled against the weight that pinned him there ; any other enemy, he could have fended off, but Crosshair had grown up with him. He knew everything about his mutation, about the scars and old wounds engraved in his flesh, and most importantly, about the exact points to hit so he would stay down. Hunter barely resisted crying out as fire exploded in his ankle and in his left side under his brother's blows, and he found himself unable to move, winded by the excruciating pain running through his body as Crosshair slid Hunter's helmet off his face before taking off his own with jerking movements ; nor as he took hold of Hunter's vibroblade and put it to his throat, the point barely a hair away from piercing skin.

Hunter struggled to focus through bleary eyes ; but for all the pain he was in, the look on his brother's face hurt so much deeper than his punches : anger, fear, hurt, resentment, so many emotions fighting for dominance in his brown eyes, twisting the familiar features into a desperate grimace ; but no determination. He was lost.

“Why are you here ?” Crosshair demanded, his voice a strangled hiss, and Hunter hadn't realised how much he'd missed everything about his brother until he heard it.

“The clones”, he replied breathlessly ; the pressure Crosshair was applying on his ribcage would soon become problematic, but even though the pain was slowly subsiding, Hunter had taken a fair beating, and he knew he wouldn't be fast enough to shake his brother off him before the knife went through his throat.

“Go. Away”, Crosshair spat between his teeth, pressing down on Hunter the slightest bit more. He could feel his head start spinning.

“Can't let them get dissected”, he wheezed. He tested his ankle gingerly, and winced with the renewed pain – but at least it wasn't broken. He could work with that.

“And I can't give you any more chances !” Crosshair hissed, anger winning the battle on his face for a split-second.

“I can”, Hunter murmured. His brother finally choosing to leave the Empire was about his only chance to get out of this alive ; and even if he'd been in a position to fend him off, he knew in that moment that no matter how many times Crosshair pushed them away, he'd keep trying every chance he'd get. “Come back with us. The Empire isn't your people.”

Crosshair's face twisted further in silent agony, and Hunter's chest ached with something that had nothing to do with the weight pressing down on him.

“Don't make me kill you.” The words were quiet, both a threat and a plea. Hunter was running out of air, but he talked anyway.

“I'm not. It's your choice to make, Cross.”

[oceansssblue]

100 CELEBRATION – PROMPT 8. PIRATES AU

HUNTER/F READER 💖💔🔥

WARNINGS: ALCOHOL, SCARS, BLOOD AND WOUNDS, STRONG DERROGATIVE LANGUAGE TOWARDS WOMAN, MENTIONED DEATH OF A PARENT. SEX SCENE (NOT VERY EXPLICIT, MORE SENSUAL&SUGGESTIVE).

Note: This came out to be so long! Just so you have an idea, it's 30 pages of word doc. I'll divide it in chapters in this same post so you can continue with your reading easier if you need to do it in more than one go. Don't worry about the warnings, this is mostly adventure with fluff and just a tiny sprinkle of angst (happy ending and all). Upgraded Hunter to Captain. On another note, only 4 more prompts left for the 100celeb! Enjoy and please let me know what you've thought. Reblog if u can! XX, Blue :)

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

1. The Deal

The stench of alcohol would have been overwhelming if you hadn't been living in this kind of atmosphere your whole life. It makes the air around you feel charged and warm; clinging to the old wood of the chairs, tables, and countertops alike. The crowd is loud and roars with fits of laughter; a fight or two breaking in the corner of the bar. You don't spare them a second glance. If you had been a proper lady, all of this might have scared you away; but no, you're no lady. You're a pirate.

You feel at home in places like this. There's drunk men, yes, and dangerous ones; but you've never felt more alive than surrounded by fellow pirates. There's freedom, banter, and songs so ancient everybody is able to sing along. Even the sporadic fights are a reminder that you're all human; that you get angry and make mistakes with consequences. Sometimes those in a position of power don't even look like one; just empty carcasses dolled up with pretty dresses and jewelry that somehow have learned how to move and talk. All practiced, meaningless smiles and repetitive conversation. This is nothing like it.

You're enjoying all of this while being alone and silent in the far end of the counter, perched up on one of the chairs. A patron or two have attempted a conversation with you tonight; though a quick, cold side glance has been enough to shoo them away. You're not a conversationalist; and you're on one of those melancholic moods today. Memories of your father and your youth fleets by your mind; like gusps of wind you can never catch. Still, even when distracted and lost in thoughts from a life time ago, a part of you is always vigilant; cataloguing changes in your surroundings and possible dangers. It's the reason why you hear the almost imperceptible change of the crowd straigthening their backs and their voices changing to a wary, expectant tone. Footsteps; a lazy, slow spring, light and cautious in it's feet. Ready to fight -or flee-.

You don't turn around to acknowledge the newcomer. For others it may seem like you don't even care for who approaches you or what could he want from you; perhaps it even makes you look arrogant and overconfident. But oh, you are paying attention; and even if your posture seems relaxed and nochalant with your back still facing the crowd –the aproaching stranger– the hand carefully positioned over the knife hidden in your left boot is perfectly ready to strike.

The footsteps come to a halt right behind you. The atmosphere in the bar turns tense. It must be someone of importance, to make the crowd react like that. If it weren't, people would have just continued laughing and drinking.

"You're hard to find".

Cryptic. It's a peculiar voice; you'll give him that. Deep and slightly raspy, though somehow smooth and warm at the same time. A bit of an incongruence. You know a lot about that.

You take a slow, long gulp of your whisky before answering; your index playing with the rim of the glass.

A hint of amusement slips into your answer. You can't help but play –just enough– with danger; you've always been like that.

"Perhaps you're just bad at searching".

He hums, not impressed with your comeback. Your ears pick up the sound of the man dragging the closest chair towards you. The tone of his voice –relaxed but quietly carefull– doesn't change while he sits down.

"That would be a bit ironic, considering who I am".

You've played with the moment long enough. You glance at the man sitting next to you; eyes quickly cataloguing his hard facial features, long hair, strong shoulders and trim waist. With that half-tattoed face of his and the red bandana across his forehead, he's hard not to place.

"Ah" your lips turn up in a tiny smile. "Captain Hunter, famous treassure-seeker and leader of the misterious Marauder. Yes, that would be quite the joke".

You can't help but feel in danger –and curious– being this close to him. This man is one of the most well-known pirates on this side of the Five Seas; you'd grown up at the same time the stories of the Fett brothers had grown as well. They were said to be eight; along a longer list of cousins and other distant relatives. Some had tried to join their crew under the pretense of being one of them; but their physical similarities were a dead give away. If there was a Fett around you, you just knew. They had the same bone structure, a sort of sharpness to their features, and brown or amber eyes that rooted you in place. There was no need to question it.

You've watched members of the Fett family here and there –some in bars you frequented, some walking across the harbor, a few even taking their pleasure with a lady in the protection of a dark alley at night–, but you've never once talked to one of them. There's always a first, you guess.

"To what do I owe the honor, then?" You ask, feigning desinterest though this is the most exciting thing that has happened to you in the last three months.

The pirate scans you in silence. You understand the flush the Fetts often pull from the ladies; he's got one hell of a stare. It takes all the years you have facing oponents for you to not squirm.

"I'm sure you've heard something around" he finally starts, his eyes turning to scan the crowd. "I'm planning to start a new adventure soon, all the way up to the North Sea. I'm looking for recruits".

You arch an eyebrow, not fooled by his vague explanation. You don't like when people do that on purpose; it means there's always things to hide.

"I thought you boys didn't let any stranger join your little family club" you answer, almost teasingly.

He looks back at you. He gives you a single word.

"Exactly".

It's heavy and full of meaning. He's pointing out you're no ordinary stranger; admiting that you're somewhat special. You're not gonna' lie; it strokes your ego a bit, even if you don't let that distract you.

"You need me" you realise with a smirk. That's the only reason he'd allowed you to join them. You must have something he can't find in nobody else. But what would that be? "Why?"

The pirate shrugs. So quiet, so misterious. You're intrigued.

"I hear you were born in Ionia. It would be useful, having a guide through the dangers of the North Sea. It's dangerous waters".

Your smirk widens.

"Mm, you've heard" you mock almost in a singing voice. "So you've studied me. Not many know I was born there. Ionia is too far away from here for anyone to cross-check".

Hunter's lips curve upwards in a faint smile.

"You're right with that. There are a lot of different and often oposite stories about you".

You hear the rest of the sentence even if he doesn't say it out loud; who knows which ones are true.

You fully turn your body towards him.

"And which one brought you to me?"

You'll say yes. He probably knows that too; you're not one to turn down a good adventure, and it would be a heck of one to be able to work with the Fetts.

You still want to have all the information before you accept.

"I admit all of them were pretty interesting" Hunter says, fingers tapping against the wood of the counter. "But there's only one that makes you unique".

It's involuntary; the way your face adjusts to a new proud and understanding smile.

"You need a diver" the puzzle slowly starts to make sense. "What treassure are you trying to find this time, Captain?"

Hunter's dark chocolate eyes sparkle with interest. He might be a feared pirate; but in his heart he's still a child dreaming of magic and fairytales, like all good pirates are. Like yourself.

"It's going to be a long journey. I need a diver that can hold their breath for at least twenty minutes underwater. There's only one place in the North Sea where I'd need a skill like that".

You find the last missing piece.

"The caves of Ilum" you realize, your own eyes brightening in wonder. "You're trying to find the Moon Kyber cristal".

It was your favorite story growing up; how a group of trained soldiers named "the Jedi" had learnt to canalyse the energy residing in a special mineral and used it to improve their fighting style. They were said to be extinguished –decimated in a great war in the Old Times–, and that the last of their kind had hidden his Moon Kyber cristal somewhere in the cold North Sea, burried in one of the Ilum caves. Pirates and sailors had tried to find it for centuries, desperate to fill their pockets with money or their hands with power; others, for the simple pleasure of owning a piece of history. But the Moon Kyber had never been found; soon forgotten in memories and often brushed aside as tales.

"And you're what, going to send me to explore each posible underwater cave you find?" You ask, wary about the execution of his plan.

He remains calm and unbothered.

"We could try it that way, but it would take us a bit too long for my taste. I've already done my work and I know exactly where to navigate" before you've had the chance to ask, he's already sending you a warning glance. "And I'm obviously not telling you. Can't risk you trying to get it on your own or giving the information to someone else".

You sigh in resignation.

"You want me to make a blind jump. To trust you. That all of this is true and I'm going to be safe in a ship full of men I know nothing about".

He answers with a single, final word.

"Yes".

You hum in thought. You don't. You don't trust him; and you don't trust you'd be safe with the crew of male strangers either. Perhaps he wants you to bring the cristal to him –if it exists– and then he'll get rid of you to enjoy the reward alone. Perhaps this is all a story and he needs you for something else. Who knows, he might even want to hand you to someone else for some sort of revenge. No matter. You'll be alert and you'll come out if this clean.

You make up your resolve and tilt your chin up at him.

"I'm asuming you'll sell the kyber and make a fortune from it" you point out, then state with a firm voice. "I want a third of the price".

Hunter snorts; the first real, uncontrolled reaction you pull from him.

"I have seventy men on board and you want a whole third of the reward. A bit ambitious, don't you think?"

You shrug. Negotiating is part of being a pirate. You know it's too much to ask, but it's just a start.

"Like you said, my skill is unique. We both can't get the Kyber without the other. You know where it is and I'm the only one able to get it. Good luck trying to find someone who can hold their breath for twenty minutes and swim in those freezing waters at the same time".

Hunter tries to make you back down with his stare and his silence; but you don't waver, and you defiantly stare back at him.

The pirate clenches his jaw once.

"Twenty-five percent" he conceeds.

You grin. You don't think this man is the type to soldier through an extense negotiation; and you're not in the mood for that yourself. You might have tried to go for a thirty percent some other time; but you'll consider it as a victory this once.

"Deal" you nod.

The Captain and you shake hands.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

2. Nightmares brought to life

You wake up to the king of your nightmares. You haven't seen Commodoro Palpatine in eight years; but he still manages to evoke the same feeling inside of you. Terror, anger, fear, pain. He's the one that killed your father eleven years ago; the reason why you're covered in scars you haven't allowed anyone to see.

"Hello, my dear" he smiles, a crooked, cold thing. "I was wondering when I'd have the pleasure to meet you again".

His fingers graze your shoulder while he walks around you like a vulpture waiting for the poor hurt animal to exhale his last breath; sending goosebumps through your skin.

You clench your fists; unable to tear yourself from his touch with the tight restraints they've put you in. The last thing you remember was walking outside of the tabern to get some sleep. You don't remember receiving any blow to your head, so it's possible they may have slipped a drug to your drink.

"What do you want from me?" You spit out, trying to hide your fear beneath a layer of ire.

Commodoro Palpatine laughs almost in delight.

"Straight to the point, I see" you hate the way he talks, so falsely sweet. "You've made a deal with a certain Captain lately. I want to make you a deal as well".

At this point in your life, his extense list of spies doesn't surprise you. You haven't seen him in eight years because he hasn't wanted to; not because he couldn't. It's the problem about him; he has everyone under his radar with promises of money, threats, and power.

"What deal?" You ask him directly, skipping the show of you trying to resist to his wishes. Better get this over with.

"You'll go on your little trip with Captain Hunter. You'll get the Moon Kyber for him, and once you return to land, you'll hand it to me".

You scoff, voice coming out in irritated muttering.

"And what makes you think I won't flee with it?"

Palpatine's dark smile could kill death itself.

"There's two things pirates always look for, my dear. Credits... And treasures" he finally shows you the small object that he has been hiding in his hand this whole time, an old pendant you recognise well. It belonged to your father –before he gave it to you in your eight birthday–; Palpatine must have teared it from you the day he tortured you and killed him.

Your body tingles in pain with the memory; your heart clenches. Even for pirates, credits don't have enough value compared to a few handfull of things. Your late father's pendant is one of yours. You need it.

For the second time in the week, you say the word again.

"Deal".

The emotions inside of you are vastly different.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

3. A girl versus a crew of men

The Marauder is everything you have ever imagined it would be. The ship is beautiful; dark wood and scarlet sails, with it's three mastils standing tall and a sharp bow to cut into the sea. The crew is as you expected it to be too; fierce and diligent, paired with a common distrust towards the new recruit -you–. On the first day, Captain Hunter gives them orders to let you be; though it does little to stop the glares and sneers as you move through the ship.

It doesn't matter. They'll get used to your presence; you all have a long trip up to the North Sea.

You can't help but feel excited. It's been a decade since you last stepped in home. You'd escaped Ionia with your father in an attempt to hide from Palpatine; and while Corus is full of dark memories and loneliness, you still keep a fond memory of Ionia. Of long dips in the water and a time when everything felt safe, easier. You know your return won't feel the same –not without your father by your side–; but you still long to see the white coast and it's dark, almost black waters. You've always find that to be a beautiful contrast.

You don't let Hunter out of sight. As weeks pass by, you can't help but make a habit of observing him. You're curious; and you still don't trust him. The wariness starts to dissapear with time; but it's a residue that always stays no matter how hard you scrub.

Hunter is as fierce as the rest of his men. Frown set and jaw tense, he barks orders around no-one dares to give a second glance. The ship advances so fast that you start to think that the way to the North won't take as long as you'd originally thought. It's a well oiled machine; his words are actions inmediately carried by his crew. There's a special kind of relationship between this men; Hunter might be their leader, and there might be a clear hierarchy, but they act so in sync and hold such a deep respect for each other that it's hard to see the lines between their positions. You've never seen pirates move and fight like that. Perhaps that's the reason for their fame and victories; the fact that they know each other so well, the fact that they trust each other to the bone. The fact that they're family. You wonder how it would feel to have so many siblings spread around the world and never feel alone.

To your surprise, you notice your relationship with the Captain shifting as well. With each harsh encounter you face by their side against other pirates, sailors, or the dangers of the sea, he seems to relax a tiny bit more around you, giving you more freedom to move around the ship without his gaze set upon you. The night you help one of his brothers –Echo– with a deep gash on his hand, he even offers you a nod and a slight curve of his lips you catalogue as a smile.

Alcohol has always been sailors favorite method of killing time; and facing the cold and loneliness of the night. Unfortunately, it does more than soothe one's worries away; it gives men courage, which in itself is not a bad thing, but if taken too far rum loosens tongues and problems arise. The night you finally cross the border of Corus's sea into the North one, everyone is happy and excited; bottles of rum being passed around the crew, everyone sprawled lazily in deck. Hours creep in between jokes, stories and laughter; eyes growing glassy and slowly blinking sleep away. As usual, you're sitting alone close to the bowsprit; a position that allows you a perfect vision of the rest of the ship. You're still close enough to hear them –since they're not bothering in whispering anyways–.

"Shut up, di'kut" one man playfully punches another's arm. "You're probably gonna' spend all your credits in a woman when we get back".

Everyone laughs and snickers, and the pirate in question shrugs with a radiant grin.

"You would understand why if you'd had experienced the warmth and pleasure that comes from being buried between a woman's legs. One day, vod" he rises his rum and takes a long gulp from the bottle.

The crowd roars in laughter, and the first man's cheeks light up in an embarassed red.

"Not my fault all the woman we happen to come across are whores, Blades" he mutters, as the chuckles slowly die around them. "I prefer to save my earnings for other things. And to save myself from who-knows-what disease".

The one named Blades smirks and doesn't let him go that easily.

"Well, you have a pretty pirate right there" he points at you with a jerk of his chin. "Why don't you try your luck with that one, mm?"

All eyes turn to you. They roam up and down your figure, considering the pirate's words. Like they've suddenly remembered you're a woman. And you're here, with them. The man Blades is taunting hesitates; but eventually nods tersely, and stands up to make his way towards you.

A shiver spreads through your spine. Though you don't think they'll try anything as a collective –not under Hunter's command– you can read the hunger in their eyes. This men have never been your friends –you're aware of that–, but neither have they acted as enemies. Now, though, you feel surrounded by sharks.

Even if your heart speeds up and emotions clash inside of you, you keep your breathing under control, casting your eyes downwards in order to look distracted and ocupied. You listen to his stumbling footsteps approaching you. Your left hand carefully moves towards your ankle, where you keep a blade cinched to it and covered by the fabric of your boot; waiting for the perfect second to move.

"Hey, gorgeous" he starts his line once he's just a step away from you, towering over your sitting position. "How about you and me go to have some fun below deck?"

"No, thanks" you answer feigning boredom, ears and corners of your vision still trained on him and the rest of the men avidly watching the interaction behind him.

He makes a disaproving sound with his tongue.

"Ah, come on, girl" he keeps trying, growing nervous at the thought of the rest of the crew watching his defeat. "Don't be a prude..."

He goes to grab your shoulder, but you're way faster than him. You swipe his legs of the floor with a quick strong movement of yours; and you're holding the blade to his neck in a blink. He's too stunned to say anything –watching you with wide eyes–; but the rest of the crew inmediately straightens up ready to defend him.

"The answer is no" you insist, voice low and dangerous, finally retracting your weapon and standing up and away. "Now I sugest you return to your place".

He does it without uttering a single word, perhaps still shocked from the surprise. Everyone seems to be. Surprised and wary. Perhaps your reaction has been a little too much; but once again, you're alone in a ship full of strangers –strangers that could turn on you in an unfair fight you'd had almost unexisting chances of winning–, and you need to send a message. You're no-ones plaything. And no one is going to touch you unless you want them to.

You sit back down quietly as well, studying the crowd in case of another altercation. Adrenaline pumps through your veins. There are some insults being spat under their breath and some whispering; but no one picks up another fight. Your eyes eventually find Hunter; who is standing up and watching the situation in front of the Foremast. He's tense –though you're not sure who exactly is he angry with–; and when his eyes bore into yours, your scars itch uncomfortably under your shirt. You tilt your chin up at him.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

4. Warm up

The Marauder is more or less two weeks away from the caves of Ilum. You can't help but feel a sort of peace as you stare into the horizon; an orange sun melting into black waters, setting everything on fire. It's beautiful. The air is already so much colder; though you know it's nothing compared to how freezing the North Sea is.

When the sun is completely extinguished and there's no longer light to guide the Marauder through the rocky coast of Ionia, Hunter gives the order to rest for the night. The crew bunkers down below deck –hiding from the cold– and you use the rare oportunity of being completely alone to take a quiet swim.

It's not that you're enthusiastic about going into the freezing waters at night. But it's been a few years since you did a long dive, and it's a good idea to start gaining a bit of practice. Your body needs to get used to moving in the North Sea again. It's not an easy task.

You carefully lower yourself on one of the boats until you touch the surface of the water. It's so black it acts like a perfect mirror under the moonlight; your eyes staring at your reflection without a clue of what could be hiding underneath. You try the temperature sinking a hand on the sea. Goosebumps inmediately rises on your skin.

Boots on and everything –any layer of clothing helps– you slowly leave the boat and dissapear under the water, teeth inmediately pressing against each other in an effort to cope with the paralising cold. It's almost as if it grips each one of your muscles and locks them in place, trying to drown you.

You get used to it for a few minutes first; then, your hands leave the edge of the boat. You close your eyes and remain floating with the minimum effort; legs gently moving to keep you close to the surface from time to time.

You train in a progression, just like you learnt when you were a kid. You first hold your breath for five minutes; then you do a dip of ten, then fifteen. When you come up for air again, you take another fifteen to rest. Although the water is freezing cold, your wet clothes and the wind makes the return to the sea for one last dive feel almost like a relief.

Twenty minutes gives you a lot of time to think. Your mind does a slow review of this last month in the Marauder; whatever you've happened to learn about members of it's crew, of Hunter. He's closest to other four pirates; Wrecker, Tech, Echo and Crosshair. They seem to be even more in sync than the rest. You notice they're the most different appearance-wise as well; perhaps that's what pushed them together, or maybe they have just known each other the longest.

You also think of Palpatine and your father. It doesn't sit well with you, hiding this second deal to the captain of the Marauder; but you have little choice. Palpatine wouldn't have let you go if you had refused; and you know he'll be waiting for your return. You'll find a way to fool him; but until you do, you'll keep that secret close to your heart. Who knows what would happen to you if Hunter or any of the Fetts discovered it...

Stress evaporates underwater. Your mind eventually empties; you're part of the sea. Time vanishes too.

You wake up from your trance with your lungs burning. You're forced to break the surface of the water; inmediately taking a quick breath of air in. Your head pounds; but you close your eyes and calm your agitated body down, anchoring your elbows to the boat and letting out a tired, panting sigh. Each gulp of air hurts for the first few seconds; until you regulate your breathing again. Exhausted and shivering –you really should get to warmth now–, you use what little strength you have left to pull yourself over into the boat and then lift it up to deck again.

Completely exhausted and curved forward with both of your hands resting against your knees, you don't even notice him until he speaks; his calm voice startling you and making you stand up straight again.

"You could have died and nobody would've even known".

His dark chocolate eyes are set on yours. This time, the surprise brought up by his unexpected presence makes them look innocent and young.

Water dripping onto the deck and clothes stuck to your skin, your answer comes out in a whispered shiver.

"That would have been really tragic" you agree, hugging your own body in a futile attempt to warm yourself up. "You'd never get to see your Kyber".

Hunter's lips and throat moves as if to speak; but then he stays in silence, observing you quietly with that intimidating stare of his. You can usually ignore it, but this time you feel the need to break the tension.

"I was getting myself used to this waters again. It's been eleven years since I was last in Ionia. I have a natural skill for diving and holding my breath, which I've been training since I was a kid, but believe it or not, I still need a bit of aclimatising".

"And you decided to do your first try at night without warning anyone".

You give him a shrug and a guilty smile.

"I can't really practice while the ship is moving, so it had to be at night... And I don't like others watching" it slips out.

Hunter hums. His eyes flicker down towards your collarbone, and you suddenly realise that with your loose shirt sticking to your skin, the very first of your scars is now visible. You inmediately tense and pull it back to place.

He notices it, but makes no comment.

"Your skin is starting to turn blue" he points out. "You should get to warmth".

"Guess I'll have to make myself a spot between your men under deck" you chuckle, trembling. "Steal a bed roll or two".

What Hunter offers doesn't leave your head in the next few days.

"You could take my bed. I can always bunker with Tech" the pause between the two of you is long, perhaps because you're both shocked by his words, and Hunter continues in an effort to downplay his sugestion. "We can't have you falling sick now, with no proper medics on board".

If Hunter's words surprises you, perhaps your answer shocks him as well.

"You could always stay".

There's a million of thoughts and emotions roaming in those dark eyes. For a moment, you think he'll pass; but when you shiver again, his gaze turns soft, warm, and he smiles.

"Let's go inside, then".

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

5. Vulnerable

It's unfair. Hunter is, to date, the best sex you've had; and it's difficult not to want a repeat of that night when you see him everyday, and you're both trapped in the same ship in the middle of the sea. Maybe that's why you can't tear your eyes off of him; yes, the fact that he's good like that, and not the lingering doubt that you're starting to like him.

Hunter had treated you like only lovers in books did. He wasn't rough, though he certainly wasn't soft either; it was sensual, passionate, lips moving over bodies and hips joining in endless waves. You had been reduced to moan and whimpers; and you had left him breathless as well. Hunter had been particularly unselfish and considerate, mindful of your comfort and pleasure; and in a world of pirates and dangerous men, it had shocked you to your very bone. It was a bit scary, in fact; how it felt like he was undressing your every layer and pulling them apart even when you had remained hidden in most of your clothes all the time.

The tension between the two of you builds and builds while days pass; until you can't longer keep it locked inside.

You knock on his private room at night; and when he opens with an irritated expresion that quickly morphs into hunger and surprise, you all but jump him. You bite down onto his lower lip, ravenous, and he groans into your mouth; hands caressing your back before taking a firm hold on your hips and pushing you back.

"What?" You ask him, panting, face tilted up towards him.

Hunter's dark eyes scan you. Studies you; almost as if he doesn't quite understand.

You can't help yourself. You want him too bad; you're on fire, impatient, and you kiss him again when he stays in silence. He seems to forget whatever he was going to say; because he let's you push him backwards into his room, and tugs you to bed. His eyes close while you caress and kiss his body, taking his clothes off; and he only seems to come back to his right mind when you're seconds away of sinking onto his cock.

"Wait" he asks, fingertips digging into your hips while you take position over his hips.

He breathes heavily under your confused gaze; a hesitant expresion on his face. It's like he wants to tell or ask you something; but he's afraid.

You search his eyes; the hunger and eagerness, mixed with the confusion and wariness, and you suddenly understand.

"You think this is some sort of plan. A way of using you".

Hunter sighs, relieved he doesn't have to voice his worries out loud, and you answer with a dry laugh.

"And what is that plan, Hunter? Seduce my way into your heart and flee with the cristal?"

The silent is painful. It hurts; though you understand his waryness. You'd probably have thought the same had he looked for you again. The thought has crossed your mind; that doing this is dangerous, that it could complicate things. But you don't care; you're used to running the long way.

"Perhaps I'm using you" you taunt, and his eyes darken in a warning until you elaborate with a fervor you rarely let anyone see. "But to feel something other than anger, loneliness, ambition. There's no ulterior reason why I want to have sex with you. You don't trust me. And I understand. But you can".

You wait; eyes open and eager. Honest. You don't exactly know how this trip is going to end; but you've got no intentions of hurting him, and you'll try to avoid it as much as possible.

You just want to enjoy his body and affection now; feel that exhilarating pleasure again. Leave your head for a little while.

"I can try" he finally answers, taking a deep breath. His fingers take hold on the edge of your shirt. "I want to see you this time".

You tense; it's an involuntary reaction. Hunter gently caresses your hip with one hand, patiently waiting for an answer. You can read his words in his warm eyes; "You can trust me too".

Your voice is so low and meek he has trouble hearing you.

"I've never shown them to anyone" you whisper, biting onto your lip uncomfortably.

Hunter squeezes softly. He stays quiet; letting you decide.

It's dangerous. You already see him differently than anyone else; sharing this vulnerability with him is a big step. And like him, you have trouble trusting; you don't want to get hurt.

You look at him, sprawled under you, long hair tangled in a mess and warm brown eyes staring straight at you. Gentle hands, beautiful skin. Vulnerable. Patient.

Your trembling fingers pull off your shirt; leaving you exposed to him. You tightly shut your eyes and remain inmovile on top of him; Hunter breathes out and slowly reaches a hand towards your skin.

"Who?" He asks, because it's obvious this scars haven't been made by accidents, but inflicted by someone.

You shiver.

"Palpatine".

You don't have to specify. Even if he's from Ionia, like yourself, his power and cruelty extends everywhere.

"When your father died?" He quietly questions, cautious not to push you away.

You remember he had studied you before all of this.

You give him a sad smile.

"Yeah. I foolishly wandered alone once, when we were on the run, and he captured me first. He used to play this sick game with him... Where he would cut me open and leave a trail of my blood around, for my father to search and follow like a dog. It wasn't enough to just kill him. Palpatine is a monster, and he and my father were the oldest of enemies".

And then, a confession burried deep in your soul, because you're too fierce of a pirate to be scared of anything, and more so of just one man.

"He terrifies me" you whisper.

Hunter's hands take hold of your innocent face.

"He isn't here" he soothes you, tenderly. "You're safe with me".

He kisses you, and you swallow every worry down. The "he's closer than you think", and "he'll be waiting". They're your burdens to carry; your curse. Your secret.

For now, you let Hunter kiss you and guide you onto his cock; and you surrender to pleasure and oblivion.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

6. Ilum

A whole month of nights in Hunter's bed and the heartfelt conversations afterwards, the Marauder stops in a big formation of rocks in the region of Ilum. Hunter explains to you everything he knows about this place; and then it's your turn to play.

Every single man of the crew is waiting in deck, staring at you while you're lowered on one of the boats and take a few minutes to calm down and prepare yourself.

The moment is inevitable; and you jump headfirst into the water, ignoring the biting cold and calmly starting to swim towards the rocks. You stay close to surface at first. Once your hand comes into contact with the first of the caves, you anchor yourself to the rock as best as you can and take a deep breath.

"Here goes the first dive" you think to yourself, and you start to swim straightly downwards into the depths of the sea.

The first ten minutes feel easy after this last two months of training. You try to find some sort of entrance between the rocks; but to no avail, and once your lungs start to burn, you start your way up to surface again.

Panting heavily, you make a negative sign with your finger to Hunter, who is watching among the crew from the ship, spyglass in hand; and take ten minutes to calm yourself down again.

You nod and open your eyes; swimming to the next rock and signaling you're going down again. Ten minutes of swimming downward goes; the water getting colder and the pressure on your ears bigger. It borders on painful; but you push that to a second plane and focus on your research. Your eyes follow a group of tiny yellow fishes moving towards a gap in the underside of the rock; and you wonder if the treasure could be hiding in the other side. It's wide enough that you could carefully swim through it.

There's only one way to find out.

Resolved and confident, you start swimming forward, following the trail of fishes in what you now identify as an underwater tunel. It get's progressively darker the more you advance; and your lungs start to burn, making you worry about wether if you should start your way back or continue with the dive. But then the colour of the water slightly changes; dark blue instead of black, and then ligther in what has to be... light.

You swim faster, and faster, and faster; and then, you're suddenly taking a deep, rushed breath in in what you can now identify as a cave. You've never seen anything this beautiful. Thin rays of sunglight enter through tiny spots left between the rocks; partially iluminating the cave in a faint glow. There isn't just one cristal in here; but dozens of them, all different colours and shapes, stuck all over the rocks in both the cealing and walls. They shine and sparkle. This cave really feels magical. You get lost for some minutes staring at your finding; until your eyes fall in some mineral you've never seen before.

You swim closer, one hand clinging to the rocky wall to support part of your weight; studying the sparkling cristals curiously. It's a mix between grey and blue, and the size of a finger; they look like some sort of gemstone. You know this probably isn't what you're looking for; but it doesn't mean it's not special.

You continue searching; but you're unable to find the Moon Kyber. You sigh, tired, and close your eyes. You think of the stories; the supposed origin of this cristal. The Jedi. Kybers were thought to be almost alive; the Jedi believed some could be even heard as music. That the Kybers called them; had a natural affinity with some. You're no Jedi, and you don't really quite believe all of it; but perhaps there's some truth to what you nowadays know of history.

You take a deep breath in and remain with your eyes closed; focusing on the rest of your senses. The small movement of the currents against the rocky walls; the tiny fishes swimming around. Your presence, alive and warm; picture all the other gems around you. You stay like this for a few minutes, almost in a trance; until something shines over your closed eyelids, and even before opening your eyes, you already know what you're goint to find.

It's an amber colour, much smaller than what you had imagined, and shines like there's a tiny sun, liberating energy, trapped inside the cristal's walls. Even if you're not touching it, it feels warm; in ways you can't understand. You carefully close your fingertips around it; and the cristal almost comes off of the rocky wall inmediately, like it wants to go with you. A sincere smile forms on your face.

Your eyes travel back towards the other unidentified mineral you'd found in the cave. Your mind starts to connect the dots; an idea taking shape in your head. You take two pieces of the blue-grey mineral as well; and the kyber goes into your boot while one of the blue cristals sits on top of your tongue.

Shooting one last lingering glance towards the cave, you take a deep breath; and initiate the way back.

When your head pops out of the surface of the water after almost an hour of exploration, cheers and shouts sound from the men on The Marauder. You get back onto the boat; and they pull you back onto the deck. Your breathing is shattered, exhausted, and you smile tiredly at Hunter when he inmediately steps towards you.

"Did you find it?" he asks, eyes shinning, hands coming to rest onto your shoulders affectionately.

You make a chuckling noise with your throat and open your mouth, spitting the blue cristal into the palm of your hand. Around you, there's a chorus of disgusted groans and excited whispering.

"Yeah" you laugh, pinching the beautiful shinning cristal between your fingertips. "I got it alright".

Hunter's rare smile is just as radiant as the real Kyber; which remains hidden inside of your boot when you both join each other in bed hours later.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

7. Breaking hearts

While for everyone the journey from Ionia back to Corus is one of pure hapiness and bliss, you can't help but feel melancholic; like all things are coming to an end. It's not that you'll miss The Marauder dearly; but coming to port means a possible end to your's and Hunter's relationship, and that... That you'll miss.

You catch yourself glancing up at him all the time. He notices it, and you mask it under a small smile or a teasing wink; but inside, your heart squeezes painfully. For your idea to succeed, you're going to have to betray him first. Well, you won't be really betraying him; but he'll believe so. And he has to believe it. For this to work, Palpatine has to see the hurt and pain in Hunter's eyes; the surprise and rawness of his anger and the rest of his men. It's the reason why you can't warn him. The time to soothe him will come; but first, you have to push him through despair.

You wonder if he loves you as you've come to love him. Yes, you do. It's a hard truth to accept; but it's the truth. Somewhere between liking him and growing fond of him, somewhere between melting at his rare smiles and sharing nights of pleasure and passion and the quiet conversations afterwards, the pirate had stolen another treasure, fiercely protected under numerous walls; your heart.

Sometimes you're sure he does. It's the way he looks at you; or how he grazes your hand and back. The way he shoots a glance at anyone else when he hears them speaking ill of you or how he turns protective. Even his close brothers often tease him about it. Others, his feelings seem to be burried between his own layers of distrust and nochalance; when he can't bear to show such vulnerability any longer. In those times you try to disarm him with one kiss after another one. Sometimes you suceed, and sometimes you don't; and he'll twist out of your arms to take you from behind. To escape the power of your eyes; eyes that will force him to blurt all worries and desires he isn't ready to share yet. There's still a long way for your's and Hunter's interactions to grow; but you have plenty of patience for a man like him.

The Marauder docks quietly but swiftly; it's crew happy to touch land again no matter how much they've enjoyed their adventure at the sea. Everyone rushes to enjoy their free time; The Marauder will only stock up for the night before moving elsewhere. Hunter offers you his hand in a mocking chivalrious gesture; and you accept his help laughing, entwining your fingers with him afterwards and tugging him along. Hunter chuckles quietly and follows.

"Where are we going?" he asks, lightness in his voice.

You turn to grin up at him.

"Isn't it obvious? I think we deserve something other than rum to celebrate".

Hunter smiles wider, his eyes taking that quiet warmth and softness he sometimes show when looking at you. You squeeze his hand affectionately too.

One whiskey gives way to another one; and soon you're lost again in Hunter's chocolate eyes, in how handsome he looks, how much you like him. Love him.

"Please, forgive me" you beg him in your head, memorising his features. "Please, please, please".

Palpatine irrupts in the bar three hours after you had arrived -perhaps waiting for Hunter to be inebriated, perhaps making sure none of his men would be close to help him-; followed by a flock of the Red Guard soldiers. He likes to do an entrance; and as expected, time seems to freeze with his appearance, frightened eyes and shocked expresions directed at him. Palpatine's own cold eyes inmediately find you; and Hunter -Oh, Hunter- inmediately stands up to put himself between the two of you.

You can see his tense shoulders and his jaw clench; while Palpatine looks relaxed while he shortens the distance between you.

"How lovely" his voice is that of a snake, acompanied by a cruel, dark smile. "Don't tell me you've stolen his heart too, my dear. Absolutely brilliant".

Hunter stays in place; but his eyes flicker from him to you in a mix of confusion and hope. He knows how Palpatine's words sound; he just can't believe you've done it, the thing he was afraid of from the beginning. Grow close to him only to betray him in the end. Use him.

Though surprised, Palpatine doesn't seem to be at all interested in whatever is happening between the pirate and you. He extends his hand; tone laced with sudden boredom.

"Now dear... Please, the Kyber" he asks.

This time Hunter does turn around to look at you. He looks as you push your hand into your pocket; and come up with a grey cristal. You hand it to the Commodoro.

"My fathers pendant" you demand, voice sharp and serious.

Hunter's eyes find yours; almost like he's asking if that has been the price.

Palpatine laughs.

"When you've given me the real one, dear" he points out. You knew he would.

You shoot him an irritated glance; nodding quietly and taking the blue cristal out from your breast band. Palpatine arches a brow; and examines the gemstone. It's nothing he has seen before; it shines even with no light inflection, a bright, glowing blue. Pure. It looks like it holds the sea itself. Or perhaps the moon.

Hunter makes a move to grab it; but two Corries inmediately hold him in place, Palpatine tutting condescendingly.

"Ah, ah. I believe the Moon Kyber is now mine, Captain Hunter. You should take more care of who you trust for the next time".

You can't look at him. Can't watch Hunter's face and the pain and hurt reflected on it. Everything in you is screaming to comfort him; to take his hand, to caress his hair like you do at night. You can't.

Palpatine offers you his part of the deal; and you quickly take your father's pendant of his hands, tying it up around your neck. Keeping it safe.

The man of your nightmare smiles.

"Well, it was nice to oficially meet you, Captain. I'm sure we'll see each other again" the Commodoro says, briefly nodding at him in farewell before turning towards you and gesturing to the door of the tabern in invitation. "Shall we leave now, my dear?"

You feel Hunter watching you. You want to take one last look at him before following Palpatine; but you'll break. You can't.

You take a deep breath in and walk outside the bar.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

8. A new start

A month later -one of the hardest of your life, after the loss of your father- you hear news about The Marauder docking in Kamino's port. You've been keeping an eye on Hunter in the distance; cautiously asking around and following him around the South just one carefull step behind. You'd like to have contacted him sooner; but it was too risky, considering Palpatine had yet to sell his blue cristal and he'd probably keep an eye on you as well until he had those credits in his hands. Now, though, now... Palpatine is a million credits richer; and you are free to explore the world again. Free to find him.

You know things wouldn't end well if you'd directly confronted him. He probably hates you right now; has tried to burry your memory in a pit of anger and hurt. And you understand. He might probably still resent you even after you've explained yourself; but you have to at least try.

You miss him. So much...

You send a messenger instead. It's a ten year old boy who doesn't even know who you are or who Hunter is; who doesn't know the content of the small bag he's been paid to deliver. It's safer this way.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

9. A surprise from the past

Hunter makes a silent gesture to Wrecker, and his brother let's the child pass. Wrecker -and all of his crew, really- has been particularly protective lately. Although he was just as furious and dissapointed as the rest by what had happened, his brother's love for their family would always be bigger; and thankfully, Hunter hand't had to give much of an explanation to his crew other than that the pirate girl had deceived him with the cristal. Fled.

The kid is awfully persistent, though, and he's just a kid; so Hunter receives him with a gentle but tired expression on his face. It's been weeks since he had been able to shut en eye for more than three or four hours at a time.

"I've been paid to hand this personally to you, sir" the young boy says, handing him a letter first.

Hunter guesses he has recognised him by the long hair and the bandana; or the half-tattooed face. The kid waits patiently while he opens the letter.

Hunter's mind blanks while he reads the six words scribbled on it.

"Told you; you can trust me".

No signature, no name; but he knows very well who the writer is. A girl he hasn't been able to take out of his head; one he hates and loves at the same time. Misses.

Hunter can't do anything else than to stare at the kid. The young boy nods to himself, and then hands him a small bag, almost shoving it in Hunter's hands.

"Miss will be in the last tabern of the harbour until twelve" he waits to make sure his message has been listened, and then nods again. "Good night".

The boy quickly dissapears, and Hunter is left staring at the small bag in his hands. It's very light; but somehow, Hunter knows there's something inside. He can... Feel it. It's some sort of moving energy. Alive.

He takes a deep breath; preparing himself for what he could be about to find. For possible disappointments.

He slowly opens the bag.

The cristal shines almost like it is trapping the sun inside. It's the prettiest object Hunter has ever seen before; a rich amber colour mixed with orange and gold. The different tones swirl and mix inside of the cristal's walls; it... Pumps, like a heartbeat. Calm and consistent. Warm.

A tearful smile forms on Hunter's lips. This is the Moon Kyber cristal; it's real, it exists. And it's there, right in his hands. Which therefore means she hadn't really betrayed him; just carefully played her cards. She wanted her father's pendant. It hold great sentimental value to her; even if it had hurt, he'd understand. Commodoro Palpatine had probably forced her to get the Kyber for himself; and she had been left trapped between two men that wanted her skills.

Hunter thinks of how scared she must have felt. She had explained to him the story behind her scars; carved deep all around her torso when she was nothing but a young girl. A decade later, she had still shivered and trembled when Hunter touched them; when he had tried to soothe the pain away with his hands, his lips, and his tongue. She had almost cried that first time; holding her tears if only by pure stubborness. Hunter thinks on how much stress she must have gone through; knowing what fate awaited her. He smiles realising how smart she has been; taking not just one, but two fake cristals with her from the cave as well as the real one. She'd known Palpatine would believe her to be hiding the Moon Kyber; tried to trick him. So she'd fooled them all; Hunter included, because -now he realised- she needed Palpatine to see his hurt and dispair for all of it to become real. And she had done it all in silence. And won.

Maker, he loved her. She could have kept the real Kyber to herself; and yet, she had handed it to him, maybe because... Because she loved him as well.

Hunter leaves the real kyber in Tech's capable hands and walks to the tabern; the last one in Kamino's harbour, where she awaits.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

10. Déjà vu

You're on your second whiskey when you hear the footsteps; a hand coming to rest on your back. You know who it belongs to without even looking at him; the size of it, the splayed fingers -trying to touch as much of you as he can-, the gentle presure, the emotions that somehow seeps from it.

Hunter's voice is warm and slightly raspy; your favorite combination.

"You're hard to find".

Love and happiness burst inside of you. You know what his presence here means; what that sentence means. He has forgiven you; or at least, he's willing to try.

You turn around and study him. He's... You melt under his watch. You never thought this would happen; that you'd fall in love with another pirate.

You shoot him a soft, but playfull smile.

"Perhaps you're just bad at searching".

He smiles and hums.

The End.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

PLEASE LIKE AND REBLOG! MAKE ME FEEL MOTIVATED TO KEEP WRITING :)

You can check the other AU oneshots for the 100celeb here:

And a lot of other fanfics from your favorite clones here:

[inkybyl]

Would it be weird to post a very much under construction fanfic (TBB x Reader)? Like, I wanna finish it ofc but I don’t know if I will 😫🤔

It’s basically Rex asking the reader if she’ll do an infiltration mission (the classic ‘dressing up for a gala to get some information from the host’ type thing), and the batch are extremely overprotective & on edge the whole time 🤣

Edit: posted here!

[blackseafoam]

hi buddy !!! do you have any tbb x zombie au drawings/ideas that you've been wanting to show off ?? (without spoilers for The Aftermath ofc-)

Hi Tomato!! I don’t have much outside my main piece but here are a couple warm up sketches I did while still brainstorming.

[littlemousedroid]

Reading the description I was ready to…feel some kind of way. But I was very pleasantly surprised. This is exactly what I love to see. I hope ofc enjoys😏

𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕥𝕠𝕓𝕖𝕣 𝕕𝕒𝕪 𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕖 ⋆*･ﾟ 𝕙𝕦𝕞𝕚𝕝𝕚𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕙𝕖𝕞𝕝𝕠𝕔𝕜

⋆ ★ ᴋɪɴᴋᴛᴏʙᴇʀ 2023 ʟɪɴᴇᴜᴘ

➼ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ ☆ ᴅʀ. ʀᴏʏᴄᴇ ʜᴇᴍʟᴏᴄᴋ x ɢɴ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

➼ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ☆ ᴅʀʏ ɢʀɪɴᴅɪɴɢ, ʟɪᴄᴋɪɴɢ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴄʟᴏᴛʜᴇꜱ, ᴅᴇɢʀᴀᴅᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ᴇᴍʙᴀʀʀᴀꜱꜱᴍᴇɴᴛ, ꜱʜᴀᴍᴇ, ᴅɪʀᴛʏ ᴛᴀʟᴋ, ᴛʀʏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴋᴇᴇᴘ Qᴜɪᴇᴛ (ꜱᴏʀᴛ ᴏꜰ), ꜱʟɪɢʜᴛ ᴠᴏʏᴇᴜʀɪꜱᴍ.

⋆ ★ *ꜱᴛᴀʀɪɴɢ ᴀᴛ ꜰʟᴏᴏʀ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴅᴇᴀᴅᴘᴀɴ ʟᴏᴏᴋ, ᴇʏᴇꜱ ᴡɪᴅᴇ* ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ. ᴘᴇʀᴄᴇɪᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ. ɪ ʙᴇɢ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴍʏ ᴘᴇᴛᴛʏ ʀᴇᴠᴇɴɢᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴅɪᴄᴋʜᴇᴀᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ᴏꜰᴄ ɪᴛ'ꜱ ꜱᴇxᴜᴀʟ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ'ꜱ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ʜᴏᴡ ɪ ᴀᴍ. ɪ'ᴍ ꜱᴏʀʀʏ.

➼ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜰɪᴄ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴꜱ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ. ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ 18+ ᴅɴɪ

⋆ ★ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀᴏ3 ⋆*･ﾟ ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀᴍ

No other sight in the entire galaxy will ever be more satisfying than this.

Royce Hemlock, wide-eyed and on his knees at your request, in your medbay.

His short-winded intakes of air are no match for your own leveled breathing; you’re composed and still, as you loom above him, twirling a small strand of his hair between a finger and letting it fall out of place over his forehead. Create an image of imperfection and disheveledness he never wears and you never get to see.

“Doctor, I do not see the need in kicking me down to the ground like this–”

“Shut up,” You snap back, a permanent scowl etched on your face as you lift his chin. “Don’t talk to me like that. I’m sick of it.”

There’s a pout on his face, similar to that familiar neutral expression he tends to wear often, but not close enough. Besides the typical sociopathic, emotionless fascination with the most inhumane things, there's true emotion behind that face at this moment. 

“You’re going to address me as your superior,” you instruct, pinching his chin between two fingers. “And you’re going to do as I say. Understood?”

Hemlock takes a few moments to respond before nodding slowly and gulping hard.

“Understood.”

You feign a sweet smile and ruffle his hair, backing up to press your back onto the wall. Curling a finger toward yourself, you tilt your head and wink.

“Crawl.”

He takes his sweet time as if he’s still internally debating himself on the matter. He’s mortified, you see it in the eyes; though that tent in his pants tells you all you need to know. 

Once he finally reaches your pelvis, he tilts his eyes up with a spiteful expression as if he hates this. His reputation would be in shambles if someone were to hear your instructions and pitiful coos through the thin walls.

“Open your mouth.” Yet he seems to resign quickly.

A wad of spit drops onto his tongue.

“Don’t swallow yet.”

He keeps his tongue stuck out for you to examine until you’ve finished.

“You can swallow now.” He does quickly with your authorization, taking a deep breath afterward and letting his eyes flutter close. 

“Lick me,” you sigh out, tilting your head back as you spread your legs. He leans forward and shamefully opens his mouth, licking right over the seam of your pants, where your center lies covered.

The act itself is sloppy and rushed, obscene, brings you only the slimmest bit of pleasure, but he’s ever so obedient, and that itself sends all the heat to rush to your sex. He makes no sound. Not a peep from that throat. You flick the side of his head.

“Won’t you make some noise?” You tease, trying not to smile all sly and satisfied; that’s how you feel, however. He knows so.

“I–” he begins, voice dying with no real direction of thought. You click your tongue.

“If you have nothing to retort with, just do what I ask without “It isn’t so hard to not be a brat.”

“Right,” he answers rather quickly. Swiping his tongue over his bottom lip barely saves him from dehydration while he darts out to 

How degrading, you coo to yourself, watching him shamelessly grind his face against your clothes and finally letting out the meekest of whimpers.

You tug on the locks of his hair.

“Louder,” is all you instruct.

He tries, but it’s not enough.

“Little louder.”

You press a thumb onto the pressure point by his collarbone and elicit a long wail out of his throat. 

“That’s it.”

A knock on the door startles the both of you. Hemlock turns in horror, the thumping of his heart audible even to you as he lifts a knee off the ground and tries to push himself up.

You press a hand on his shoulder blade, forcing him down to his knees again.

“You haven't finished here yet,” you click your chin down as if gesturing him to look, look at what you’re neglecting. 

“I know those voices,” he retorts, voice smaller than you expect. “You know those voices.”

You do; it’s Emerie and your assistant accompanied by melodic steps, getting louder by the second. Hemlock’s eyes widen, pleading silently to you.

In the face of salvation, you lean down and gesture for him to stick his tongue again. As you leave another wad of spit on the tip and have him curl it back into his mouth, you giggle and tilt your head with a begging question.

“Want to greet them?” 

His mouth falls agape. You curl it close with a finger.

“Want to show them how good you’ve been for me? How disgusting?”

He shuffles on his knees, rubbing his legs together in an almost vindictive matter. You coo and nod.

“Yeah, you do,” there’s no need for him to answer himself. “You get off on this just as much as I do.”

The door creaks open and the previous conversation dissolves once their eyes lock on the two of you. Their stare dances on your skin and sends you reeling in satisfaction. Your gaze barely lingers on the expressions etched on each of their faces as you shuck nonexistent dirt off your top and stand up straight, the doctor still kneeling ashamed by your feet.

“Sorry for my improperness,” You tell them, no longer paying Hemlock any attention. “Would you two walk with me outside? Dr. Hemlock will wait in here.”

ragu list: @starstofillmydream @pb-jellybeans @corrieguards @badbatchbabe @ladytano420 @jediknightjana @sleepycreativewriter @shinyshayminflower @thebahdbitch @secondaryrealm @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius @dukeoftheblackstar @meshlaxbunny @kimiheartblade @followthepurrgil @wolffegirlsunite @starrylothcat @sev-on-kamino @aconstructofamind @padawancat97 @littlemissmanga @starqueensthings @anxiouspineapple99 @freesia-writes @wings-and-beskar @clio3kantarella @secretthegriffin @idontgetanysleep @523rdrebel @dystopicjumpsuit @mandos-mind-trick @sunshinesdaydream @clonemedickix @andrakass2 @jesjestraverse @crosshairlovebot @wizardofrozz @dangraccoon @lickylickylicky @thebomb-diggity @jedi-hawkins @who-would-want-a-broken-heart @ladyzirkonia @multi-fan-dom-madness @moonlightwarriorqueen @eyeluvmusic21 @mythical-illustrator @imarvelatthestars