#tech x ofc

[oceansssblue]

100 CELEBRATION — PROMPT 14. TELEPATHY

TECH / F READER 💖(🔥)

WARNINGS: BRIEF MENTIONS OF INSECURITIES, SEXUAL THOUGHTS BUT NO PROPER SEX SCENE.

NOTES: Here we have a fluffy and sweet/sensual one for our dear Tech. Oh, how I love that man... Let me know if you' ve liked it and reblog if you can. We've only got 3 more prompts for the 100celeb left (with our boys Rex, Cross, and Echo). See you on the next one! Xx, Blue.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Tech had a strict rule; he would not use his mind-reading ability on anyone if not for safety reasons exclusively. That meant, for example, that he was able –and would– use his telepathy to find out Cid's ulterior plans –plans the Trandoshan never mentioned to Hunter– ; but he would control himself and refrain from reading his brother's minds outside of missions and the like. If Tech didn't consider someone in danger, he would silence the thoughts that so often slipped uninvited into his mind.

However, even his own strict rule had to be broken on the rare occasion. Sometimes, the few people he cared about weren't in inminent physical danger; but experimenting some sort of emotional stress that they couldn't always resolve by themselves. Watching them suffer in silence when he might have been able to help if only he had been informed of the nature of their affliction... Well, in those cases, Tech felt morally obliged to intervene.

All this considered, there's no valid reason for him to use his telepathy on you today; but he can't help himself. He had tried to reach a logical conclusion for your behaviour around him lately; to no avail. What he knows is that you can't stand to be in the same space as him for more than a few minutes at a time. He had brushed it aside as mere coincidences at first -you had forgotten something, or had to help Omega with another-; but after a whole month of quiet observation, Tech can't deny the truth any longer. It hurts, the thought of you finding him so irritating or disliking him so much that you inmediately shied away from his presence; but he wants to know what exactly you can't stand about him. Perhaps he can find a solution to it... Tech isn't fond of many people; but he is of you, and he values the friendship that had slowly blossomed between the two of you. He thought you did too, he was sure of it. He needs to know what has changed.

And so the next time you rush out of the cockpit to the sonic, after putting an abrupt end to your conversation with him once again, Tech tunes your thoughts in. Your voice echoes inside his head in a series of stressed whispers. He has to concentrate to discern the jumbled words from one another; your mind is working light speed.

"Oh my god, will I ever stop messing up my words every time I talk to him? With how impossibly smart he is, he probably thinks I'm stupid by now!"

Then, a firm, clear sentence -Tech can imagine you pointing at yourself at the mirror, frustrated-.

"Get your shit together!"

He hears the door of the sonic opening and your footsteps moving in the direction of the bunks.

Alone with his own thoughts again, Tech ponders the new information around. He's relieved to know that at least you don't seem to be angry or irritated at him per se. You just seem to be intimidated by his intelligence; which is more of a compliment than anything else, really. Still, he can't help but feel guilty. Had he ever acted in a way that has made you feel undervalued? Had he off-handedly critiqued any aspect of your psyche? Made an unfortunate comment on how your mind processes things? He doesn't believe so; but it wouldn't surprise him either. For all the intelligence he posseses, he knows he often lacks of emotional tact; something that his brothers -Wrecker, in particular- seem to be well versed in.

Ah, there's always things to learn, mm?

He'll try to make you feel more at ease next time.

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

Tech is pleasantly surprised to have you tagging along in his exploration of Arkana's forest. The rest of The Batch had decided to stay in The Marauder, catching up on some sleep; but he had prefered to take the chance to observe the planet's rich ecosistem before they had to make their way back to Ord Mantell the following morning. You had inmediately jumped at the oportunity as well. Tech would have thought that an hour expedition would have been too much for you to be in his presence; but you had joined him with a bright smile, and half an hour later, your mood is just as friendly.

Arkana's forest is a surprising mix of bright colourful flora. There's not as much green as one would have expected; but instead, trees and flowers grow in vibrants blues, pinks and yellows. Your eyes widen in awe at a bright neon magenta flower that is as tall as yourself; steps slowing down to admire it.

"What's its name?" you ask him, curiously.

Tech doesn't need to consult his datapad; he knows exactly what it is.

"Fluoridium flowers. Their shine is not a property of the plant per se, but a result of different kinds of neon-like minerals in Arkana's soil. It is often used as..." Tech notices the way you're silently staring at him, an almost lost expression on your face.

He remembers your thoughts on him; and the rest of his explanation quickly dies on his throat. He doesn't want to overwhelm you with unnecessary information. He ends his info-dumping -as Crosshair used to call it- with a few brief words.

"Let's just say it has a lot of uses".

He nods to himself, and then re-starts their walk through the forest. You follow him inmediately, frowning in confusion at his interrumpted explanation.

"For example?" you ask him, and Tech shoots a carefull glance back at you.

"I didn't think you'd be interested in knowing that".

His words bring a honest, surprised expression on your face.

"Why not?" you sound highly confused.

You can't help but think you've done something wrong. It had looked like Tech had wanted to share the information with you; and then he had stoped himself from continuing after taking a look at your face. Had you done something you weren't aware of?

Tech's eyes flicker around the forest almost avoiding you.

"I wouldn't want to bore you" he answers, voice quiet and hesitant.

Tech is never hesitant. He might not know everything; but even then, his usual way of talking is always confident and self-assured. He has no problem in admiting a lack of knowledge in something; he'd admit it in the same firm tone he uses for everything. Why is he acting so strange now?

His words tug at your heart. Perhaps something has happened without you noticing it. Perhaps there had been some sort of discusion between the brothers; or some fleeting comment Tech had taken too personal.

You are enamoured by him; he could never bore you.

For the first time in perhaps forever, you reach your hand towards his wrist; tugging him into a stop and looking up into his eyes with your cheeks lighted up in a faint blush.

"I find all your explanations interesting" you sum up the courage to add "I like hearing you talk, Tech".

You shoot him a small, soft smile; fingers squeezing his wrist softly before letting him go.

Tech is momentarily stunned. He is first confused by the contradiction between your recent afirmation and the thoughts he had heard from you just a few days ago; he is also surprised by the tender affection he reads on your eyes. Your honest little admission sends a warm feeling to his heart.

You're still looking at him; perhaps waiting for an answer, a reaction from him. Tech's heart speeds up. He feels the need to listen to your mind tingling through his veins; and he allows himself that little exception again, just this time.

"How could you ever be boring? You're like a living encyclopedia. And you look so adorable when you're explaining something, specially when you raise your index. I like seing how excited you get, how you come to life. Ah, Tech, if only you knew... I could hear you talking all day".

Tech blushes instantly; slipping out of your mind and trying to hide the way hearing you "talk" about him is making him feel. He must have gotten something wrong. You evidently still enjoy spending time with him; you... Care. Those first thoughts he read from you last time must have been born of your own insecurities; insecurities he would try to help you leave behind.

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

You like when the cockpit is at it's maximum capacity. It means you're able to watch Tech with other posible distractions claiming his attention; masking your unwavering interest. Right now, for example, he's listening to Wrecker's and Omega's chattering; making a few brief interventions here and there. He's also piloting The Marauder back to Ord Mantell; and shooting some carefully concerned glances at Hunter, who was injured in The Batch's last mission in Targa. He has always been an expert at multitasking.

You, on the other hand, are focused on just one thing; Tech himself. How his hair is slightly ruffled after the mission, and the way his eyes seem to softly shine with the hyperspace lights. His pouty lips; and the way his long legs look when he spreads his knees apart, turning in the direction of his brothers once The Marauder is set on autopilot.

Fuck, how you wish you could be standing -or kneeling- between those legs...

Tech suddenly stutters in his speech, his cheeks blushing perhaps as a result of something one of his brother's had said. It pulls you out of your thoughts for a minute; your eyes focusing on how cute he looks with the soft tint of embarassment on his face. It's not an expression you often see on him.

You're really helpless when it comes to Tech. Your mind inmediately swings to dirty thoughts; pondering wether he'll get a similar expresion if he'd get flustered at sex. Would he be shy, cheeks set on fire and a timid, adorable wide-eyed expresion on his face? Or would he be as confident and firm as usual, making you melt at his feet with a few caresses and well aimed words? You'd be eager to please him either way, that's for sure.

Tech stands up abruptly; clearing his throat nervously, face impossibly flushed now. His eyes flicker everywhere around the room, and he inmediately makes a hasty exit muttering a rushed excuse. Your eyes trail after him in concern; asking the rest of The Batch about him in case you got lost on something important that would explain his sudden and unexpected retreat.

"What was that?" you whisper to his brothers, half confused and half concerned.

Hunter's eyes snap back at you. He looks uncomfortable; shifting in his place.

"You tell me" he answers, criptycally, inmediately turning his attention to Meg.

What does that even mean? He... He couldn't have known what you were thinking about, could he? Well, with how perceptive he is, perhaps he might have guessed the direction of your thoughts with those heightened senses of his... But certainly not Tech, right? He's smart, yes, but you hadn't been that obvious, had you? Or were your thoughts so clearly written in your face?

Wrecker bumps his shoulder into yours, trying to integrate you into the conversation and diffuse the sudden weird atmosphere that had set around you. You shoot him a soft smile; though your mind is still being pulled in Tech's direction, who had all but ran away to hide in the bunks.

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

Tech had been fighting your thoughts for one whole month now. And fighting was the apropiate word; because it had been madenning difficult to focus on anything else but the way you seem to lose your atention on the outside word when you focus on him. It had been a complete shock at first; his mind needing a few days to process this change of perspective. The realisation that your only problem with him was that you liked him a bit too much, that he made you impossibly nervous, had been hard to accept. Tech would have thought you'd go for someone like Hunter; but no, you were utterly interested in him. He didn't really understand why at first; but as weeks passed, he had listen to all kind of thoughts about him -from sincere admiration to soft tenderness to hungry lust-, and he guessed he could understand your reasons now.

Needless to say, he had been a mess. He was always so composed; but your thoughts about him had shattered his control to pieces. He spent most of his days either flustered, or lost in your own thoughts; to the point the rest of his brothers had noticed it. Hunter, who knew exactly what was going on, had encouraged him to bring the conversation to you; but even if he knew how you saw him, he was still a bit unsure. He didn't want to make you uncomfortable; and he still felt guilty of invading your privacy. What if you got furious at him? Never wanted to see him again? That would be heartbreaking.

The situation couldn't continue for much longer, though; he was distracted, and he needed to be focused on their missions -to keep all of them as safe as possible-. He had no other option than to confront you. Though perhaps... perhaps his way of going about it wasn't the most wise.

Hunter had gone to Cid's to deliver their part of the deal; while Wrecker and Omega had decided to celebrate with a few games of dejarik and Mantel Mix. Echo, though tired, had tagged along as well; if only for keeping a responsible eye on them. You had claimed to be tired as well; so you had stayed in The Marauder with him.

You were currently sitting next to Tech; watching him tinker about with an old datapad of his he was trying to fix so Omega could have her own one. He could feel the weight of your stare on his face; momentarily glancing down at his hands each handfull of minutes. The tension was palpable between the two of you; and Tech couldn't help but tune in into your thoughts once again. You were practically screaming them to him...

"Fuck, look at those fingers... So long and skilled... He really does have beautiful hands. If only I could feel them on me..."

Tech feels a small rush of excitement slowly igniting inside of him. He tries to focus on the task at hand; a futile attempt. Your thoughts keeps slipping onto his mind.

"Inside me. Fuck, wish I could feel them inside me. Clench on them while he licks my clit with his tongue and I could dig my fingers into his hair, push him against me, and he'd get me ready for his cock and... Oh, god, what would his cock feel like?"

Tech is so dizzy with the raw hunger and need laced in your words he blurts out an answer without wanting too.

"I wouldn't be opposed to trying that".

He realises, far too late, that his thought hand't stayed in the safe privacy of his mind; but exposed out loud for you to hear as well. His eyes widen in surprise.

"W-what?" you stutter, terrified of having spoken your own thoughts out loud.

Tech blushes and watches you nervously. The cat is out of the bag, now.

"I-I... Please forgive me, you were thinking very loudly and I could not help but listening in and..." he explains hurriedly, your expresion only switching from confused terror to terrified surprise.

"What do you mean? You... You can read people's mind?" You almost squeak, shocked at not having heard of any of this until now.

Tech nods, guiltily, and the realisation of your crush being aware of all you've fantasized about him makes your cheeks burn in pure embarassment.

"I'm sorry!" you inmediately apologise, wanting nothing more than to stand up and run away. "I-I..."

"It is not your fault" Tech inmediately cuts in, taking a deep, calming breath as if he is nervous himself. "There is nothing for you to apologise for. In fact, I am the one who should. Please forgive me, mesh'la. I did not intend to invade your privacy like this. I first thought you had a problem with me, and so I peaked into your mind twice to figure out why, and... And I should have stopped there, but the way you continued to stare at me made me curious and... I'm sorry, mesh'la".

You soften at the honesty of his words; and the affectionate way he calls you beautiful in Mando'a. You glance up at him cautiously; embarassment slowly melting away with his positive reaction.

"So you're not... You're not uncomfortable, then?"

Tech's cheeks are still slightly red; though he forces his eyes to stay on yours.

"No. It was a shock at first, I must admit; but your thoughts have never made me felt that way. Nervous, distracted, turned on... Yes, but not uncomfortable" he pauses and carefully adds "like I said, I wouldn't be opposed to try any of them".

You almost jump at the chance; but there's something else holding you back. You don't want this to be a one time thing. You don't want this to be merely sexual. He knows all your thoughts on this; it's just fair you get to find his.

"Did you... Did you hear all the non-sexual thoughts about you too? About us?" you ask him quietly.

Tech responds to your vulnerability with a warm smile. His hand slowly reaches down to yours; sending a shiver through your spine.

"I did. And I'd like to try those as well, cyare" he whispers, a confesion that stays just between the two of you.

Your heart soars; the explosive rush of happiness pushing a radiant smile on your face, happy tears on your eyes.

"Yes, yes, yes, yes" you chant in your head. And then, in case he's listening... "Kiss me, Tech".

You catch a brief glimpse of his answering smile before his lips join yours in a soft, passionate kiss. You sigh into him, melting against the carefull hands that slowly come up to craddle one side of your face and your left hip. Tech hums in contentment. His own swirl of excited, tender thoughts mix with the ones that slips from your mind into his. You kiss and kiss; and the passion and affection burning in both of you is so similar he does not longer differentiate in between.

THE END.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You can read the other prompts for the 100celeb here:

And you have a lot of other clone wars and bad batch stories here:

[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

[collophora]

Concept I wanted to put on paper.

[starry-bi-sky]

“Your brother is adorable.” The cashier cooed at Danny, peering over the counter with a smile. “What’s his name?”

Danny looked down to the surly, scowling little de-aged Batman currently holding onto his hand, glaring up at the cashier with bright blue eyes.

Things had already been bad enough when he’d gotten caught in a fight in Gotham, but things went from bad to worse when a magician had hit Batman with a de-aging spell and then shoved them through a portal.

Into a different fucking dimension.

Because of course neither of their lives could be easy. And now the two of them were stuck in Iowa in the middle of nowhere, at a truck stop gas station, trying to go on a cross-country roadtrip to reach the nearest hero city and get home.

He looked up and smiled awkwardly, trying to come up with a name off the top of his head — one of the heroes called Batman ‘B’ when he got hit right? B for Batman, right. B… B… Bee… Bees.

“Buzz.” He said, and tried not to grimace as the cashier’s face warped with surprise. “Like the astronaut.”

This was gonna be a long trip.

[yip-e-coyote]

rev realizes something :)

….and something else lol. don’t overthink it, rev, it’ll be okay.

[yuwuta]

peds surgeon yuuta??? u cant say things like that i need to jump. the cartoons, the glasses, of course his freaky ass would have a thing for u calling him doctor okkotsu i need to die id wanna tease him sm and be all over him but i cant think of anything if its in a hospital how did the greys anatomy ppl made it work?

the grey’s doctors were FREAKS LMFAOO bc there is not space to be doing all that in the on call rooms…. honestly yuuta is probably too busy to even try anything with you in the hospital 90% of the time… he’s either in surgery or buried in the research library or falling asleep standing up 😭 sometimes you two pass each other in an empty stairwell and have time for a kiss or two, but never more than that (also because yuuta has very little self-restraint when it comes to you… if he allowed himself more than that, then it would be much harder to stop…) 

sometimes the two of you will fall asleep in the same on call room. yuuta will page you there and by the time you arrive he’s already half asleep, it’s probably his only nap in the last 24 hours, so you do your best not to wake wake him when you cuddle up next to him. you get a few hours of bliss in his arms before his pager is waking the both of you up, and he’s got to scurry downstairs to the peds floor and in his hurry he doesn’t realize he’s snagged your lab coat instead of his own, and it’s only when he’s haphazardly slipped it on and the arms are too short and the shoulders are too tight that he figures it out. it’s too late by then, because gojo is the attending on this case which means he doesn’t miss anything, which means he’s the first to giggle and tease, poking at your name embroidered above the breast pocket, “oh? i didn’t know the two of you got married already! oh and you took her last name, how noble, yuuta!~” 

[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 😭😂

[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.

[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)

[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

[oceansssblue]

100 CELEBRATION – PROMPT 7. MERMAID AU

TECH/ FEMALE READER 💖

WARNINGS: This story alternates between reader's and third person (Tech'ish) pov. Seahorses can survive in cold temperatures in this fic because I say so. Fleeting mention of mer-child abandonment. Very tiny non-graphic shark attack. Otherwhise fluff, fluff and fluff!

Note: this is my third time –second for Tech– writing mermaids for our clones! In this one-shot, both Tech and female reader are mermaids, though from different sub-species. Hope you like it, let me know!

Link at a second (optional) part at the end.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Below the surface, where the world is a myriad of blues and different marine kingdoms coexist, there are two subspecies of mermaids. Shallow mers mainly live in lakes and ponds; the few that not, never wander too far away into the cold, dark depths of the ocean. Their thin, iridiscent scales are more suited for warmer temperatures; while the thickness of the deep-water mers allows them to travel surprising distances down where the sun can no longer reach. Deep-water mers have strong powerful tails and sharp canines and claws that turn them into dangerous predators; shallow mers, though agile and fast, aren't a comparable threat.

You've never seen one of them.

You've heard the stories, of course; heard of their aggression and how they lurk in the darkness to hunt any poor creature that has dared to enter their waters alone. You've seen the scars that their claws and bites have left on some of your people; deep marks carved deep into scales and skin. They've appeared on your nightmares –when you were nothing but a kid–; bubbles tinged with the scarlet red of your blood. Everyone shares the same opinion about them; they're hostile, dangerous, and you should never, never, never, get close to any of them.

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

It's a beautiful day. Rays of sunlight reflects the water in a way that makes it sparkle; almost as if thousends of tiny stars had fallen into it. The ocean is cold enough for a dive into it to feel refreshing; but not as much as to bring unpleasant shivers to your skin.

You spend most part of the morning exploring the reef and curiously observing different types of starfishes around the corals; pausing here and there to play with the ocasional mischiveous octopus or angry crab. After so many years living in the sea, you know by now when to interact with them and when to give them space; and you are very careful of respecting the sealife around you. It's a delicate balance for all of you to live in peace.

After a small but satisfying lunch you make your way to your best friend's home; a tiny seahorse you've long decided to name Yellow. Basic, you're aware; but well, your friendship started many, many years ago, when you were finally getting the trick on how to properly swim. When your mother left you. Once a shallow mer gives birth, the mother takes care of her child until the newborn has adquired the knowledge on how to survive on it's own; then, they follow different paths, so the young mer learns to face the difficulties of the ocean on it's own. If he's strong enough, he'll push through; and one day he may reunite with others and close the cycle with a child of it's own. Perhaps for some it may seem like a cruel thing; but that's how it has always been, how your subspecies still exists today. It's a solitary life; but there are so many unexpected places to find friends.

Yellow's home consists in an almost complete circle of redish and orange corals not too far away from the water's surface. There's a lot of plancton in this part of the reef; so it makes sense for the small seahorse to have settled here. He's as chirpy as always to greet you; swimming excitedly around you before anchoring his tail to a strand of your multicoloured hair. You chuckle at the thought of it looking almost like a tiny seatbelt for your hipocampus friend.

"Good afternoon, dear Yellow" you tell him affectionately, the knowledge that he doesn't understand your language never detering you into chatting with him. "What shall we do today, mm?"

You like to go on little adventures with Yellow; explore new parts of the reef or perhaps make new acquaintances together. He's a little energetic thing, and so adorable you never get bored with him.

"Wanna' try to find some parrot-fish?" You propose, and he moves his tiny dorsal fin in agreement.

He may not get your every word; but he can read into the way you move and talk. By the tone of your voice, he knows you're offering some exploring. If he didn't feel like it and he'd prefer to stay closer to home, he'd have let you know by staying completely immobile.

"Mision parrot-fish it is. Hold on to that seatbelt" you smile happily, and slowly begin to swim.

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

In the end, your innocent trip turns to be a heartbreaking disaster; an encounter with a triaenodon shark has an unexpected outcome. They're usually pacific creatures, but the blood slowly trickling from one of it's sides has evidently scare the animal enough to react agressively at the posibility of a second predator going in for the easy kill. You've got no time to try to difuse the situation; as the wounded shark inmediately lurches for you. A terrified Yellow abandons the now precarious cover of your hair; releasing air to quickly let himself sink into the ocean and away from the fighting scene.

It's a game of swim-dodge-redirect from there. Finally, to your relief, the shark exhausts herself and decides to cautiously leave; and panting, body aching from the effort, you let out a long sigh of relief. The terrifying part of the encounter isn't the minor wounds you now carry on your skin; not even the fear and adrenaline. No; the real scary part is that Yellow is nowhere to be seen, and you can't seem to find him after an exhaustive search.

Tears in your eyes at the thought of losing your tiny best friend, you continue swimming downwards in the direction you knew he escaped to; so anxiously focused on finding him you don't even notice the way the water darkens around you and the increasing cold that freezes your skin.

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

"Yellow!" You call him in a happy cry when you finally get sight of him.

In just two quick ondulations of your tail you're floating right next to him; and the little seahorse inmediately goes to hide on your hair.

"Oh, Yellow" a tear finally manages to roll down your cheek. You talk to him in a hushed, tender whisper. "I was so worried for you! I thought I was never going to find you! Oh, dear friend, I think we're gonna' have to take a break from exploring for a while..."

You're so overwhelmed by being reunited with the small hipocampus that you don't even notice the way he seems to shrink away; and tug insistently at your hair. You don't even realise you're not alone anymore until you hear the sound of something big moving too close to you in the darkness of the water.

Fear instantly spreads through your body, and you tense scanning the ocean around you. It's then when you noticed that fuck, you're deep; the cold almost unbearable and your eyes having trouble adjusting to the lack of sunlight. You don't see the creature lurking until it's right in front of you.

It's a deep-water mer.

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

Tech curiously observes the mer interacting with the tiny hipocampus. She's nothing like he has seen before. There are so many differences between them that the deep-water mer can't help but put a stop in his journey back home to study her. It's highly unusual to find one of them here; it's too cold, too dark, and their bodies aren't enough adapted to be permanently exposed to the depths of the ocean.

Tech has never come across a shallow mer before. Their subspecies live in different layers of their wide acuatic habitat; and shallow mers are incredibly timid, elusive creatures, always opting to flee without further questioning than to expose themselves to any danger. He can understand that; evolution hasn't gifted them with the same resources as deep-water mers. For the rumours he's heard, Tech knows shallow mers lack of pointy canines and their thick, resistent skin; tail also smaller, thinner, and less powerful than theirs. While the shallow mer subspecies had slowly adapted to a tranquil, mostly uneventful life on the surface, deep-water mers had had to perfectionate their hunting techniques; and any useful fighting traits had been inherited through generation after generation to what they are now.

Tech can't really understand her words; they sound similar to their language, though in a higher, more melodious register. Still, he can read the relief and melting worry in her body; the way she seems to sag upon finding the small yellow seahorse, who quickly hides in her hair. Tech observes them curiously; are they... friends?

She has a small heart-shaped face; her big expressive green eyes, plush lips, and button nose giving her an innocent look. Streaks of blue, green, red and yellow paints her long half-braided hair without an apparent order; perhaps trying to imitate the vibrant colours of the corals of the reefs above. Two pairs of small thin fins protrude from the tragus of each ear; probably vestigial and without real function. Her skin is much paler than his; and while deep-water mers have dark blue and black scales, colours shared as well with the tail, shallow mers apparently carry a very different canvas on their body. The scales on her upper chest begins with the same pale tone of her human skin, and transitions to a mint and persian green towards her tail. Tech notices it's much smaller and narrower than his; the flukes aren't as pointy, and there isn't a stinger at the end. It's a mix of the previous greens and some darker emerald colour as well.

Tech's own colours mostly mimetizes him with the depths of the ocean; but even with that advantage, he has remain staring for too long to pass completely unnoticed. At least by one of the two creatures barely twenty feet in front of him; the hipocampus trying to alert her fellow distracted friend.

Tech can tell when she exactly realises they're not alone. Her whole body tenses; eyes quickly scanning the water around them. They pass right over him once; then, her frightened gaze returns to his figure and transforms into terror. She freezes staring at him.

Tech understands her fear; it's only sensitive. She can barely see him from this distance in the depths of the ocean; his blue-black tail dissappearing in the darkness. Tech realises right then that, as much as he has heard stories of shallow mers been shy, mostly innocent creatures, it's possible she has heard stories about them as well; and by the mers reaction, Tech can guess the ones about deep-water mers aren't as pretty.

Still, Tech's endless curiosity hasn't been extinguished after one brief examination; so he very slowly aproaches her until they're nothing but three feet apart from each other. Tech's attention is again redirected to the creature's hair; the small underwater currents softly moving the few colourfull strands that escapes her braid in a half halo around her head. Up close, it holds an almost iridiscent hue; and Tech reaches a clawed finger to carefully trace a strand up and down, enthraced. His eyes scan the shallow mer again, and Tech has a sudden realisation that surprises himself; she's pretty, and he's so confused and lost at his own thoughts he can't do anything else but blink at her. There's endless beauty in the ocean, he has admired it countless of times before; and yet, no creature had personally called to his desires and perception of attraction like this.

Lost in his silent pondering, it takes Tech a few minutes to realise the level of stress the poor creature is experiencing at his presence. The shallow mer is uncontrollably shaking; eyes shut tight and heartbeat speeding at such a pace Tech can hear it in the quietness of the ocean. He had asumed she'd understand he meant no harm by now; but clearly there's another million options that are passing through the mer's mind, and Tech decides to give her space.

Upon the swoosh of his tail, the shallow-mer carefully opens her green eyes again; analysing him in what feels like an eternal second. Tech does his best in appearing relaxed and non-threatening.

The silent mutual observation lasts ten more seconds or so; then, the shallow mer makes an abrupt turn and sprints in a fast swim upwards, clearly running away. Tech can't help but feel dissapointed; but even if he's mostly sure he could catch up to her with a bit of effort -and something inside of him saddens at the thought of never seing her again-, he decides the best course of action is to let her go.

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

You return to the reef and give your goodbyes to Yellow in a blurred daze. Once alone, the adrenaline of your friend's dissapearance and the encounter with the deep-water mer drops down; and you feel so exhausted and drained you inmediately curl up in the safe, hidden space between the rocks you call home.

That night you go to sleep thinking on him; on how unfairly stronger and powerful he looked with his sharp claws and muscled tail. It's a fitfull dream at first; though as the night advances and the fear grows distant, other details come to light. You suddenly remember his mesmerising amber eyes; how soft his bronze skin looked, tone much darker than those of shallow mers. The colours of his tail, so different to hers; a navy blue mixed with black, with just a hint of details in faded white and cyan. The impresive width of his two tail flukes and the sharp stinger in between. He made a fine mer.

The abrupt thought rips you of your light slumber. You wake up, panting in surprise. Surely you can't find the predator that almost made you have a heart attack atractive, right? He could have killed you; you'd like to think you're a bit more intelligent than that.

But he didn't.

The tiny little thought crawls like an unexpected visitor into your mind; and then, you can't think of anything else. He could have killed you, hurt you, but he didn't. Why?

At first you thought he was going to attack you. When you first felt his dangerous clawed hand reaching for you, you had shut your eyes in terror, waiting for the inevitable doom to come. Claws and canines biting and tearing delicate skin. But nothing had happened; nothing further than a... Could you call that a caress? Was that it?

Now, away from the danger and with your head in a clearer state, you picture the encounter again in your head. You try to remember the expresion on his face; realising there was more genuine, innocent curiosity than vicious agression. And he hadn't even tried to chase you when you had swam away. Could he hold the simple gentle curiosity for you you felt for the smaller creatures you often explored in the reef? Would he... Would he not attack you if you came across each other again?

It's a dangerous thought; and when the new day starts, you can't seem to quieten it inside your head.

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

A rush of electrifying excitement zig-zags through Tech's body upon identifying the creature swimming in the distance. He interacts with orcas and whales enough to know the figure is somewhat unique; at least in this depths of the ocean. He hovers in place, patiently observing. He doesn't want to scare her away like last time. What is she doing down here again?

Tech scans the dark water in search for the hipocampus. He had the impresion the shallow mer had followed the small animal here last time; perhaps the situation has repeated itself. After a quick eye-search, though, he brushes the posibility away. She came her on her own. Why? There's no reason why a shallow mer would have to swim this deep.

Tech notices the way she swims in short bursts of energy and how her eyes constantly flicker around; like she's stubbornly looking for something. If not the hipocampus, what could that something be?

It has to be him.

It's the most logical answer; and yet, some part of Tech refuses to believe it, perhaps because he doesn't want to be hurt and dissapointed if it isn't. With a mix of hope and waryness, the deep-water mer swims towards the visitor; slowly announcing his presence to her.

The shallow mer's eyes widen in surprise; just a hint of fear and caution taking a grip on her. She doesn't make any move to run away, though; instead, she floats in place and stares.

Tech resists the urge to get closer and greet her, swim around her and gently brush his tail with hers as he does with his family. He doesn't want her to flee; so he patiently waits for her to make the first step.

Almost as if understanding this, the shallow mer flicks her flutes and cautiously shortens the distance between each other. Coming to a stop in front of him, she takes a deep breath; then, a high melodious voice breaks the silence of the ocean around them. She's talking to him.

Tech's inmediate surprise must be visible in his face. Frowning, he tries to make a sense to her words; but he doesn't get the full meaning of it, just an impresion of what she's saying. Tech thinks -or wants to believe- she's greeting him.

The shallow mer sighs quietly. Observing him for a few long seconds, she makes a move forward; a trembling hand extending towards Tech's face.

He tenses; not a product of fear. She doesn't have claws like him; Tech doesn't think the shallow mer can hurt him much with her bare hands. It's more of a wary reaction. He doesn't know what she wants; and the thought of her touching him admitedly sends a sort of carefull expectation to his body. Tech has shared a few kisses here and there with a female friend from another pod of deep-water mers; but it was sort of an agreement for them both to experience the situation together, and not out of real desire or attraction. Now, this mer... Not knowing where she stands, what her intentions are, being unable to talk to her about it, makes him nervous.

Breathing heavier and without tearing his eyes from her face, he let's her be. He shivers when he feels her soft fingertips playing with his hair; closing his eyes involuntarily before watching her with surprise.

She shows him a shy smile and then repeats the gesture in her own hair; exactly like he had done the day before. It's like she's trying to tell him something with it; and Tech flushes finally comfirming she came back because she's curious about him as well.

Tech nods; and calling his courage, he repeats the gesture on her. This time she just observes; she doesn't flinch.

It's a game of reconnaissance from there. They curiously study the other, hands no longer touching in order to try to respect their space; sometimes asking for a better perspective or trying to ask questions with mimics along the way. At one point, she opens her mouth and points with her index at his teeth, tilting her head. Tech answers showing her his sharp canines, and the shiver she gives him this time is clearly a joke, paired with an entertained smile. Tech chuckles and nods. They could look scary, he supposes. The deep-water mer makes a "no, no" sign with his hands before pointing back at her; indicating a clear "i'm not going to hurt you". The open, friendly smile she gives him is blinding.

They spend almost an hour interacting with each other. When she finally points upwards, signaling her need to return to the surface, Tech feels an instant urge to keep her with him a little longer. He knows he can't, though, shouldn't; perhaps she has other things to do.

He makes a "wait" sign and -upon her nod of acceptance- quickly dives down in the ocean; tail moving powerfully in order to take him to his home as fast as possible and back.

When he returns, he's got a mix of algae and zebrafish crushed scales in his left hand. Zebrafish are an incredibly species; they can regenerate a whole fin amputation and their own heart damage. It's one of the most interesting creatures Tech has spent his time studying.

He tries to convein this to her, his voice gentle and calm while he tries to represent his explanation with his spare hand. She frowns, completely lost at first, glancing down at the mix in his hand and back at his face. Then, he tries to draw a starfish with his index, and upon poiting to the still angry wound on her side and shoulder insistently, an "oh" of understanding washes over her expression. She nods with an appreciative smile.

Tech's hovering so close to her now that he can feel her breathing pattern in front of him; the tiny change of the water movement when it passes through her gills. Tech has them at both sides of his pectorals; while her's are positioned a bit lower, towards the end of her rib cage.

He studies her wounds with critical eye, wondering what could have caused them. There's a few scratches here and there; probably produced by the drag of skin against rocks and corals. A bigger one on one of her sides above the beginning of her tail looks like a shark bite. None are deep or particularly worrying; but Tech knows they must hurt, and if he can help her, he will.

Tech swipes some of the mix in two fingers and gently presses them against the indents of the bite. The shallow mer hisses in pain, her body reflexively trying to shy away; but he makes a soothing sound with his voice and the mer looks at him, breathing through it and regaining awareness of herself. She stays patiently put while he helps her.

Heartbeat speeding inside his chest, Tech slowly dares to trace the pad of his thumb over the scratch on her cheek. He knows the minor wound needs no medicine, it's already healing on itself; but he can't keep his hands to himself. She's beautiful; expresive eyes and cute nose, colourful hair and a elegant, delicate body he wishes he could further explore.

She shivers; but the deep-water mer doesn't detect any fear from her, can't smell anything of the sort in the ocean around them. Her eyes lock with his; and even if no words are exchanged, Tech can't help but feel there's some sort of silent conversation there. Wonder, desire, caution. A longing reflected in the other mer.

The moment has stretched too long, and Tech drops his hand back to his side. He nods, signaling that his work is finished; that she's free to go now if she wants to.

The shallow mer doesn't take her eyes off of him. Tentatively, almost as if testing his boundaries, she grazes her tail with his in a gentle, thankful gesture. Tech's aware that the gesture could be considered flirting in their species; and blushes slightly.

He hears her soft chuckle. Then, she swims up and they grow apart again.

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

You grow fond of him. It's easy to do so, really; once the frigthening first impression is out of the way, you can see further than that, and every small thing you discover about him apeases you more and more as weeks pass by.

The first few days are just more of those cautious, curious interactions. As you slowly get used to the others presence, you both start to grow more relaxed and playful; Tech –his name is one of the first things he teaches you– eventually inviting you for a long swim, and you happily accepting. You can't help but observe the way he moves; the power and strength in his long blue tail, mesmerised. When he catches you gawking, a tiny satisfied and knowing smirk makes it's way to his face; and though you inmediately look away, embarassed, you can't help but think it looks good on him as well.

A month after your first encounter you ask him to follow you to the surface. You know it's not ideal for him, his scales and skin too thick to cope with such warmth for long periods of time; but you know he'll be okay for a couple of hours, just like you are able to cope with the depths of his comfort zone. Tech nods curiously and explores with you every inch of the reef just like a kid. It's him who stares at you enthraced this time; marvelling at the way the sunlight flickers off of your iridiscent scales, at how shiny and bright the greens become. When you glance at him in confusion as to why he had stopped, wondering if he felt tired, he stares straight at your eyes and whispers one of the few words he has learned in your language.

"Pretty".

It makes you blush and internally swoon for him. You answer with a radiant smile and quickly peck his cheek before swimming away. Tech looks at you in surprise before moving to catch up with you. He affectionately rubs his body against yours as he does and passes by.

He takes you to meet his pod. You're not going to lie, the first fears and doubts about Tech resurface with the intimidating group of deep-water mers; your instinct screaming at you at the obvious disadvantage, at the danger, encouraging you to run away. But Tech –sweet, intelligent Tech– inmediately notices it; and reassures you by constantly standing by your side and giving soft caresses to your hands and back. It helps that his family is openly friendly and accepting; with the exception of Crosshair. Tech brushes his reaction aside, telling you it's normal of him to behave like that. You hope you will grow on him with time.

The way they live, play and hunt is a spectacle to see and experience. Tech tries to give you a thorough explanation on why and how deep-water mers had had to learn and adapt like that; though with the small bunch of words he has managed to learn by now and his irrepresible excitement it's hard to follow him. Tech's patient, though, and you're curious; so with a bit of effort, you both make it work.

After his quiet, surprisingly normal and easy inclusion to his family, you take him to meet Yellow. You point at the small sea horse and tell him two words –"Friend. Pod"–; Tech's amber eyes filling with some sort of melancholic understanding before he's fiercely hugging you towards him. You tremble in his arms and press your forehead against the side of his neck, breathing him in; you haven't had this kind of contact in so long –it has been years since you last came across one of yours–, and it feels so devastatingly comforting you fear you'll grow addicted to it.

Your heart clenches when you see him interacting with Yellow. He's so big, and your friend so tiny; it's an adorable sight, and the way the seahorse quickly warms up to him and the mer gently treats him is simply adorable. With a fond smile on your face, you realise you're starting to fall in love with him.

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

One of those nights when Tech can't help but feel alone, even with the knowledge that his pod is sleeping not far away from him, the deep-water mer follows his heart and thoughts and swims upwards towards the sky; towards where the stars seem to fall into the ocean. He knows his way around the reef by now; and with his speed, he's soon carefully peeking his head into the circle of rocks you sleep in and call home. You're curled up in yourself; arms crossed hugging your stomach. You look so small and vulnerable it tugs at the strings of his heart; and Tech carefully swims into your space and lays by your side.

The carefully brush of a tail against yours wakes you up; your gasp quickly growing silent when you realise it's Tech besides you. You look at him in surprise, quietly questioning him; and he answers in small melodious words in your mother tongue.

"Alone" he points at her, then at himself. "Worry. Miss".

You sigh and eliminate the tiny distance between your bodies, melting onto him.

"Miss you too" you whisper against his neck, tightening your embrace.

Tech hums happily and curls his tail around yours, softly caressing your hair. After a few minutes of memorising his embrace, when you stop hiding in his neck and glance up at him, he gently holds your chin in his grasp; amber eyes shinning with an unusual intensity.

"Love" he whispers delicately in front of your lips.

Your breathing hitches. Is he really telling you...?

Tech kisses you; a soft, reverent press of lips on lips that brands your soul with his name. It draws a sleepy, content sigh from you; and you answer him dreamily.

"I love you too, Tech".

You've finally found your mer.

THE END.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

This story has now a second part (fluff with a bit of smutt) here:

Tara! This one was so sweet, hope you' ve liked it, I love merfolk so fucking much!

Next up; prompt 8 with pirate!Hunter !! It might take me a little longer as I'm going on a trip with my friends soon.

Please, interact in tumblr! Wether if it's with a like, reblog or comment, it really helps the community to stay alive and personally make one feel more happy and appreciated. Can't deny I've felt a little ploff about it lately. Don't be a ghost, I promise I'm nice! ;)

See you in the next one. Take care.

Xx,

Blue.

Back to main masterlist here:

[wild-karrde]

Guarded - Part 1

Master List | Next Chapter

A/N: HI HELLO HOWDY! Alright, so a while back, I decided I would rework "Guarded" and "Reunion" a bit, so THIS IS THE START OF THAT EFFORT. This rework will not be as extensive as what's happening with "In Command", but this fic will be getting upgraded to an Explicit rating (with the M option still available on AO3). So if you're new to this fic, I HOPE YOU ENJOY IT, and if you've already read it and decide to revisit it, I HOPE YOU LOVE IT AS MUCH AS I ALWAYS HAVE. And for this go around, I WILL HAVE MY OUTSTANDING BETA READER HELPING FOR THE WHOLE TIME (TJ came on halfway through this fic last time), so THANK YOU as always to @teletraan-meets-jarvis for her stupendous support and beta-reading!

Chapter Rating: T (entire work is rated E, but M-rated version can be found on AO3)

Warnings: canon-typical violence, character death

Word Count: 3.4k words

She could feel it, something in the darkness, just out of reach, creeping towards her.

Not another dream.

The presence shifted, and with it, her certainty that she was in fact imagining it.

DANGER.

The word flashed in her mind like a siren. She rocketed to a sitting position, her hair sticking to her face and neck with sweat that was pouring from her brow. A dark figure loomed in the corner of her room, body half in her window. Their eyes met and his widened at the understanding that his quarry had detected him.

Oh, Maker.

Diving out of her bed, she rolled behind one of the ornately carved nightstands as a blaster bolt ricocheted off the light that stood on it. She coughed from the smoke as she yanked open the drawer on the front of it, pulling her blaster from its hiding place. Her assailant advanced, firing at her as she ducked further behind the nightstand. She heard him chuckle darkly as he stepped up onto her bed to get a higher vantage point.

She was exposed.

Without thinking, she launched herself from her crouched position, tackling the intruder. Her shoulder slammed into his ribcage, and she heard him grunt as her momentum carried them both to the ground, his helmeted head smacking hard against the floor.

He’s dazed at best. Got to keep moving.

She somehow still had her blaster in her hand and tucked it against the attacker’s exposed throat.

“Make a move and I will kill you without hesitation,” she panted.

She heard the same low chuckle again.

Suddenly, his wrist wrapped around hers as he tried to roll on top of her, but he had underestimated her strength. She squeezed the trigger once, twice, and the bolts hit him in the clavicle and throat. He gasped and wheezed, rolling off of her. She stood, her hair hanging in her face as she leveled the blaster at him again, ignoring the metallic smell of blood and charred flesh.

“Who sent you?” she demanded.

“It doesn’t matter…more…will…come…” he wheezed before falling silent.

She knelt down next to him, feeling for a pulse that no longer beat, and she cursed silently as there was a sudden banging on her door. She stood, tucking her hair behind her ear as her security protocols were overridden and her door burst open, the room immediately filling with guards. The captain stood next to her, gently taking her arm to turn her towards him.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, attempting to hide the fear in his voice.

“No, I’m fine. Can’t say the same for our friend here.”

The captain’s brow furrowed. He snapped out a few orders to the guards, and they all rushed to comply.

“They’re growing bolder. This is no longer safe, and you know it,” he whispered quietly.

“Gregar, we can’t let them win.”

“If you die, they win, and they came close tonight.”

“You don’t give me enough credit.”

“Oh, I think I give you plenty. But I’m making the call.”

---

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Three chimes echoed throughout the darkened ship. Only one of the clones was awake, and he didn’t move in his bunk, hoping one of his brothers would get it.

Beep. Beep. Beep. The comm panel was insistent.

Peering over the edge of the bunk, Hunter could see Tech was asleep at the comm station, his feet propped up on the console and his neck tipped back over the chair at a perilous angle.

How does he even sleep like that? No wonder his posture is terrible.

He could see the flashing indicator trying to tell them they had a new message, but Tech’s snores continued uninterrupted.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Hunter sighed in frustration.

He’s clearly not getting up.

He looked around in the bunk for something to throw at his sleeping brother but was unsuccessful. Groaning one more time as he stretched his shoulders above his head, he rolled out of the bunk taking care not to step on Wrecker in the bunk below him and made his way over to answer the message. He could see Echo asleep in the copilot seat in the cockpit and Crosshair was stretched out on the floor in the back of the ship. Hunter wasn’t sure how long it would take him to re-integrate with the team, but it seemed like the sniper was determined to keep his distance for the foreseeable future, even when he was sleeping. He sighed before moving over to the comm console.

Hunter shoved Tech’s feet off the console, jolting him awake.

“Hmmm…what is it?” Tech asked, readjusting his goggles, which were askew across his face. It never failed to amaze Hunter how alert his brother could be after being woken from a dead sleep. It almost unnerved him at times.

“We’ve got a message.”

Hunter punched a few keys and a hologram illuminated in front of them in the form of Senator Bail Organa.

“Greetings, Clone Force 99. I hope this message finds you safe. I have received a request for protection from one of our closest allies. I have been asked not to disclose the name over this channel for security purposes, but I am transmitting coordinates for your rendezvous with their representative. While this may seem unusual, the situation is…complex, and requires special attention, which is why I’m asking you specifically to take this. The contact has stressed that it is imperative that your presence there remains a secret, so please take the necessary precautions. Send a confirmation once you get this message and are on your way.”

The hologram dimmed and Hunter leaned against the wall, rubbing his hands over his face as he attempted to ingest all of the information.

“Well that was…ominous and vague,” Tech muttered.

“Whereabouts do the coordinates put us?” Hunter asked.

Tech punched a few buttons on the console, and a blue and green planet popped up on the display. “Naboo. Looks like we’ll be putting down well away from any major cities. Theed will be the closest one.”

“What do we know about what’s going on there?”

“So far, minimal Imperial presence. Currently ruled by Queen Kestia Nodala, who seems very anti-occupation and has thus far been successful in keeping large forces away. There’s been some rumored tension between her and the Empire recently, but nothing confirmed.”

“Over what?”

“Resources, allegedly.”

Hunter grunted as he ran the information over in his mind.

“Alright, well, let’s get heading that way. Set a course for Naboo and send Organa a confirmation and an ETA that he can provide his contact with. Also, let Omega know we’ll be unreachable for a while so she doesn’t worry if she tries to contact us.”

Tech nodded wordlessly, standing up and stretching his limbs and cracking his neck before heading to the cockpit to lay in the coordinates.

---

The green of Naboo’s forests glowed like a cut and polished emerald below them as Tech brought the Marauder in to land in a small clearing. They’d been met with no suspicion, and that was enough for Hunter’s nerves to be strained.

Nothing is ever this easy.

Quickly, the five clones exited the ship, armored and armed.

“Heads on a swivel for the contact,” Hunter’s voice buzzed from underneath his helmet.

“Do we even know who we’re looking for?” Echo grumbled, scanning the treeline.

“Me,” a voice said from behind them. A tall, dark complected man sporting an eye patch stepped from the shadows, hands raised to show he wasn’t a threat. “I’m your contact.”

The clones whirled on him, raising their blasters.

“And who are you?” Tech asked.

“Gregar Typho.”

Tech’s head cocked in recognition at the name.

Wrecker noticed. “You know him, Tech?”

“I know of him. He was the personal guard for Senator Padmé Amidala prior to her death, and he now currently works as head of the Royal Naboo Security Forces.”

Hunter stared at Typho. “The Royal Naboo Security Forces?”

The captain’s expression didn’t alter beyond a slightly raised eyebrow. “If you’ll come with me, I’ll explain on the way, but we need to get moving. We’re too conspicuous out here.”

“What about the ship?” Wrecker grunted.

“It’ll be fine. Step this way please.”

They walked to the edge of the clearing and Typho punched a few buttons on his vambrace. The ground underneath them rumbled as the Havoc Marauder slowly sunk beneath the grass, being lowered into large hexagonal opening below them. They peered down into what appeared to be a large hidden hangar below the surface. As soon as the ship was completely submerged underground, two grass-coated plates snapped shut seamlessly, and the clearing was again empty and seemingly undisturbed.

“The very precise coordinates make more sense now,” Tech stated.

“Impressive,” Hunter muttered.

“You’ll get it back,” Typho reassured him with a hint of a smirk. “Now come, my speeder is this way.”

The five clones and the captain piled into the speeder that Typho had hidden beneath the trees, and without another word, they were zooming along under the treeline, mostly obscured from view. Hunter noticed that once again, Crosshair had been largely silent since exiting the ship. In fact, he wasn’t sure if his brother had said anything since learning of their mission. When he’d given them the briefing, Crosshair had been leaning back against the hull of the ship, quietly working on yet another of his toothpicks. All he’d given was a nod of acknowledgement before starting to gear up. Now, he was sitting in the back of the speeder, his rifle tucked next to him while he stared out into the trees.

Just give him time. He needs time.

Hunter turned back to their newfound companion in the seat next to him.

“If you don’t mind me asking, Captain, can we possibly get an idea of what we’re doing here?”

Typho gave him a look out of the corner of his eye before sighing.

“You are persistent.”

“I prefer to know what I’m getting my team into. We trust our mutual friend that set this up, but faith will only get you so far.”

The captain nodded. “You’ll get more details once we reach our destination, but for now, the person I represent –“

“The queen?” Echo asked.

“The person I represent” Typho insisted, giving him a glare, “is in grave danger, and I have been assured that your skillsets are best-suited to protect them.”

“Better suited than your own?” Hunter pressed.

“There are… limitations to what my guards and I can do. Naboo is not a planet of warriors, and we believe in peace at all costs, even if those costs are sometimes great. A military force is not something we possess or something we welcome.”

“And yet you hired us,” Tech said.

“Yes, I did. Please understand the desperation of the situation for me to do so, and the risk that comes with it.” He glanced at their armor. “We’ll have to get you changed once we arrive. You’ll stand out too much with your clone armor.”

Wrecker groaned from the back of the speeder. “Ugh. Nothing ever fits me.”

Typho gave him a once over. “I’m sure we’ll find… something.”

They rode in silence for the remainder of the trip, the wind whistling by their helmets as Typho piloted the speeder through the forest. They could see the city of Theed rushing into view on the cliffs above, but the captain never turned the speeder towards the main entrances, instead steering for the bottom of the bluffs. Echo shot Tech a look, and he shrugged as they pulled into a large cavern. A few hundred meters into the cave, there was suddenly dim lighting along the floors and walls, and Typho expertly piloted through the tunnels.

“Where are we?” Wrecker shouted above the roaring winds.

“These tunnels run alongside the catacombs under the city. Best way to get in and out without being seen,” the captain replied.

Wrecker shuddered at his reply. “I don’t like dead bodies.”

Echo looked at him, tilting his head. “You see dead bodies all the time.”

“It’s different when I’ve killed ‘em.”

Echo started to ask another question but appeared to accept Wrecker’s logic as Tech shook his head, still typing away on his datapad. Crosshair didn’t budge, continuing to stare into the tunnel ahead of them, the dim lighting gleaming off of his visor.

After seemingly several klicks, Typho pulled the speeder to a stop in a tunnel that led to a staircase cut into the rocky walls. He pulled his helmet from under his seat, tucking it under his arm as the clones assembled in front of him. Making sure he had their attention, he spoke.

“From here on out, it’s imperative that you not be spotted by anyone outside of the small group of people that are aware of this plan. You must do exactly as I say, is that understood?”

The rest of the clones turned to Hunter, who nodded. “We understand, Captain Typho. We’ll follow your lead.”

The captain dipped his head slightly in acknowledgement, placing his helmet on his head, but Hunter could sense his continued unease. He turned and began climbing the stairs, and they followed. As they neared the top, Typho reached into his pocket to pull out a commlink, raising it to his lips. “Iden, do you read?”

A female voice responded. “Loud and clear, Captain.”

“Is she ready to receive her private appointment?”

There was a brief pause on the other end. “Affirmative. You have a clear shot all the way. I’ll lock down the entrances and have guards posted outside.”

“Excellent.” Turning back to them, Typho sighed. “Alright, let’s go. Try and stay away from windows if you can.”

They all nodded in acknowledgement. Typho keyed in the door’s code and they stepped through into a well-lit passageway with marble flooring and stained glass windows lining the hall. The corridor was empty, and they moved quickly to keep up with Typho’s pace. Echo had to keep elbowing Wrecker to hurry as he turned, taking in the architecture around them, slowing his strides to stare at the colorful windows.

“You’ll have time to be a tourist later. We’ve got to keep moving.”

Wrecker grunted but obliged, picking up the pace to keep up with the captain.

Typho led them up several flights of stairs and down several corridors before pausing outside a large set of closed double doors. “Iden, confirming we are clear?”

“All clear. Come on in, Captain.”

The doors swung open, and Typho motioned for them to follow him. The room they walked into had massive pillars encircling a seating area that was arranged around an ornate wooden desk. There were guards stationed around the room along with six women in matching dark robes, their hoods pulled low. A large window illuminated the room and the woman staring out of it. She turned to face them as they entered, clasping her hands in front of her.

Queen Kestia Nodala stood taller than most, her dark hair braided elaborately into the headpiece she wore, a silver diadem with dark blue stones that hung low on her forehead. Her gown billowed out, making her appear wider and more imposing with sharp shoulders and wide sleeves that hid most of her hands, only her white thumbnails poking out from the cuffs. Matching silver ornamentation lined the bodice of her gown, fanning out to the hem of the skirts, which flowed towards the floor. The queen wore the traditional white and red makeup of Naboo royalty, the red dots on her cheeks giving her face symmetry while a red line divided her lower lip in two, the Scar of Remembrance. Her green eyes glowed in the sunlight as she stepped forward to meet them.

Typho strode to her, removing his helmet again to tuck it under one arm as he bowed. The clones took their cue from him, removing their helmets as well.

“Queen Nodala, may I introduce Clone Force 99,” he gestured at them to step forward.

Hunter led the group, bowing stiffly. The queen watched him unwaveringly as he straightened, meeting her eyes.

“Your highness,” he said quietly.

His brothers bowed awkwardly behind him, doing their best to show respect even though they were all well out of their depth. There hadn’t been much time to meet politicians of any level during the war, much less any that were considered elected royalty.

The queen stared Hunter down for a few more moments before turning to Captain Typho. “I see my wish to handle this internally has been disregarded then,” her voice boomed with a slow, deliberate tone that made Wrecker shift uneasily on his feet. Her eyes snapped to him, and he quit moving, instead opting to stare at the floor.

“M’lady, we’ve discussed this,” Typho said quietly, his voice strained. “I do believe your safety warrants this measure.” Leaning closer and speaking so softly even Hunter could barely hear him. “And this was a compromise in my book, if we’re being honest.”

She watched him carefully for a few moments before letting her sharp eyes return to the clones, roving over each of them in turn. “Very well. As it appears my captain has decided you are necessary for my safety, I will accept his judgement. For now.” She swept forward, extending a hand to Hunter.

The rest of the clones watched as their sergeant fumbled with how to best greet the royalty before him. Finally, after several awkward moments, he clasped her hand, bowing again. He saw Tech nod slightly out of the corner of his eye and internally breathed a sigh of relief at somehow managing to get that right.

“Hunter, your highness.”

“M’lady,” Tech coughed behind him less than subtly.

Hunter shot him a glare before correcting himself. “M’lady.”

I guess I should be happy he at least tried to be sly about it.

As Hunter lifted his head, he could have sworn a smile tugged at the corner of the queen’s lips as he released her hand. Tech moved in next to make sure his brothers could see the appropriate protocol.

“Tech, m’lady,” he said, dipping his head as he clasped her hand gently. Hunter noted the muscles in her forearm flexing as she gently squeezed Tech’s hand before he released her fingers, raising his eyes to meet hers. Despite her initially stoic demeanor, the queen seemed slightly amused by Tech, her eyes sparkling and her mouth quirking upwards at his bespectacled brother.

Her reaction surprised Hunter, but then again, if she found Tech somewhat entertaining as a first impression, he wasn’t about to shatter that illusion.

We’ll see if she’s as tickled once he starts correcting her every move, he thought with a smirk.

Not everyone had the patience for Tech, and this queen seemed at least somewhat impatient based on her interactions with Typho. The captain was behaving as though he’d been anticipating a fight ever since they stepped into the throne room, and while one hadn’t materialized, Hunter could still see he was tensed in the way his spine was ramrod straight and the way his jaw was clenched, watching her carefully.

Once they’d all been introduced, the queen turned back to Captain Typho. “I suppose we should get these men into clothing that’s less conspicuous.”

He nodded. “Yes, m’lady. I had planned on disguising them as security officers.”

She raised an eyebrow. “What exactly will differentiate them, then?”

“They’ll be stationed right next door to your quarters and at least one of them will be with you at all times.”

Her mouth tightened into a thin line, and they could all see she was half a second from arguing with him again before another guard strode into the room. She was short with her hair pulled back into a slick plait. She appraised the clones for a moment before addressing the queen.

“Apologies for the intrusion, m’lady, but your next appointment is here.” Hunter recognized the woman as the Iden that they’d heard speaking with Typho during their walk to the throne room.

The queen narrowed her eyes at Typho in annoyance as she turned to acknowledge the information. “Thank you, Lieutenant. I shall receive them once Captain Typho and our guests have departed.”

With that, Typho bowed stiffly before turning on his heel and leading the clones out of the throne room the way they’d come, the massive double doors swinging shut behind them with a dull thud.

*Tag List: @seriowan @partoftheeternalsoul @rosmariner @misogirl828 @ellichonkasaurusrex @zoeykallus @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @staycalmandhugaclone @readheadgirl @fordo-kixed-rex @wizardofrozz @ariadnes-red-thread @justanothersadperson93 @leftealeaf @kaminocasey @echos-girlfriend @lucyysthings @obihiddlenox @merkitty49 @littlemissmanga @clonecyaree @baba-fett @sleepingsun501 @rexxdjarin @samspenandsword @babygirlrex0504 @ladytano420 @fxlsealarm @runforrestr @djarrex @corrieguards @the-cantina @witchklng @wolffegirlsunite @fives-lover @rain-on-kamino @ladykatakuri @arctrooper69 @hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall

*If you do not wish to be tagged in this rewrite, please let me know (same goes for Reunion)

[gloriousmonsters]

read camp dama.scus. enjoyed some stuff, really wish i didn't have the experience so often reading a book that's Good and Progressive and about Queer Affirmation etc of feeling like i'm side-eying the author like 'and you know that delineating the people that oppose you as pure evil that therefore deserves torture or death or being eliminated from society entirely is bad, right? you know that, right??'

[235uranium]

leftist organizers when disabled people criticize them:

[pitlanepeach]

Radio Silence | Chapter Thirty-Two

Lando Norris x Amelia Brown (OFC)

Series Masterlist

Summary — Order is everything. Her habits aren’t quirks, they’re survival techniques. And only three people in the world have permission to touch her: Mom, Dad, Fernando.

Then Lando Norris happens.

One moment. One line crossed. No going back.

Warnings — Autistic!OFC, so much fluff, strong language

Notes — This is my favourite chapter so far. Out of all 32. It's also a long one, so grab a snack and send me your thoughts!

2023 (Belgium — Japan)

The light in Nice always felt soft, like it was passing through a filter of sea salt and old stone. The sun hadn't reached its full height yet, and the market was still in that gentle hum of mid-morning, not too busy, not too still. Just alive enough.

Lando walked half a step behind Amelia, letting her pace guide them through the maze of stalls and awnings. She wasn't a talker in the mornings, not really, and that suited him just fine.

She stopped at the long flower stand, fingers trailing over a bunch of pale yellow ranunculus. He didn't say anything, just watched her examine the petals with her usual precise sort of softness. Then, after a pause, she looked back at him and tilted her head slightly.

He reached into his back pocket, pulled out a crumpled bill, handed it to the vendor without a word. Amelia's lips curved just a bit.

Two stalls later, she passed him a tiny basket of sliced figs drizzled in honey. He didn't ask where she'd gotten it or how much it cost. He just took it and pressed a kiss to her temple, because of course she would know he was hungry before he even had a chance to say anything.

They moved like that; in orbit, but in sync.

At one point, a vendor selling lavender soap called out to them in a thick accent, something about being a "cute young couple." Lando smiled, striking up a polite conversational exchange. Amelia didn't say anything. After they passed the stall, she reached down and laced her fingers through his, without looking.

She didn't do that often — didn't like to be the one to initiate physical contact, especially in public.

He felt it in his heart every time she did.

They stopped near a stall selling fresh olive bread, and Amelia pulled out her phone, tapping something into her notes app. Lando leaned over.

"What's that?" he asked, voice low and warm.

"List of food I like," she murmured. "Reminding myself."

He nodded. She paused, then handed him the phone wordlessly. There were twenty-seven bullet points. He scrolled through them.

"You liked the brown seeded rolls yesterday too. With the chilli jam," he said. "I'll add that."

She didn't reply. Just looked at him for a long second, then blinked, slow and deliberate. That was the silent Amelia version of I love you — subtle, but unmistakable.

They wandered on.

At the end of the market, they sat at a chipped café table and shared a small tart filled with goat cheese and roasted tomato. Amelia leaned into his side without thinking, her head resting on his shoulder as she chewed, still watching the crowds drift by.

Lando let his hand fall into her lap and tangle gently in the fabric of her skirt. Hers moved to rest over his without needing to look.

They didn't speak much.

And that was the thing with them. It wasn't just that they loved each other — it was that they understood how the other one loved. In gestures. In silence. In half-smiles and shared fruit and shoulders leaned into shoulders in beautiful, morning-sleepy cities.

—

The MTC sim room was cool and quiet, lit by the blue glow of monitors and the soft hum of tech. Amelia stood with her arms folded, watching the data stream from Oscar's run, her expression intensely focused. She didn't speak until the run ended and the rig slowed to stillness.

"Turn 7's still sloppy," she said bluntly.

Oscar pulled off the headset and blinked at her. "Define 'sloppy.'"

"Four degrees too aggressive on throttle reapplication. You're losing rotation mid-corner, which is fine when tyre life doesn't matter, but it will in Spa." She passed him a tablet with the graph already up. "Look."

Oscar studied it. "You memorise this?"

"I don't memorise, per se. I just... know it." She paused. "I'm pattern-oriented. You keep breaking the pattern. It's very irritating."

Lando, seated cross-legged on the floor beside the second sim rig, laughed. "She's not wrong. You are driving like a goat on ice in that sector."

Oscar shot him a look. "You crashed in Miami trying to out-brake a Williams."

"Shut up, mate." Lando stood, brushing imaginary dust off his joggers. "Alright, my turn. Fix me, genius wife."

Amelia arched a brow. "You want feedback?"

"I'm asking for it, yeah."

"Good luck," Oscar muttered, climbing off the rig.

They traded places, and Amelia slid the headset onto Lando with surprising gentleness, muttering something under her breath that only he could hear. Whatever it was made him grin.

Lando's sim run was cleaner, smoother — but not perfect. He clipped a curb on Lap 3, losing the rear slightly. Amelia exhaled loudly through her nose.

"You always hit that curb," she said. "Every year. Just lift earlier."

"I'm trying. The curb keeps coming at me," he groaned, throwing her a grin through the screen.

"Don't be stupid," she shot back.

Oscar snorted. "She's brutal today."

"She's always brutal." Lando sighed. "But it's helpful, so..." he shrugged.

Eventually his run ended. Amelia crossed to his console and tapped a few notes in; suggested setup tweaks, minor aero preferences. Lando watched her hands work.

"You're so smart, baby. How do you do it, hm?"

She didn't look up. "I watch. I notice things. I write them down. Easy"

He smiled. "You're like a high-functioning racetrack AI."

Oscar added dryly, "That occasionally hits things when she's angry."

"That too," Lando agreed, with a lopsided smirk.

Amelia looked up at both of them, expression unreadable for a beat. Then she said, very softly, "You're idiots."

Oscar grinned. "That's a compliment from you."

Lando moved to nudge her shoulder, but she stepped out of reach — except not out of irritation, just anticipation. She knew exactly what was coming.

"You're going to try to gang up on me now," she stated.

Lando blinked. "Why would we—"

Oscar pounced first, grabbing her wrist and lightly jabbing at her side. "We would never," he said with mock innocence.

Amelia shrieked and jerked away, but Lando joined in, carefully — always mindful of her reactions, but not holding back so much that it felt patronising. His fingers found her ribs, tickling just enough to get her laughing — real, loud, unfiltered laughter.

"Stop! I hate this!" she wheezed, kicking at the air as she twisted out of reach.

"You're smiling," Oscar said.

"That's involuntary!" She yelped, breathless.

They finally relented, letting her drop onto the padded bench near the wall, still catching her breath. Her face was flushed, her hair askew, and she looked... radiant with happiness.

"Jerks," she muttered, but her voice was light.

"You love us," Lando said, crouching beside her.

"Only sometimes," she said flatly.

Behind them, just outside the glass-panelled door, Zak stood watching.

He hadn't meant to intrude. He'd only come by to drop off a briefing packet. But when he'd seen the three of them — his daughter, laughing and safe, surrounded by two young men who not only respected her mind but held her heart with equal reverence — he'd stayed where he was.

He didn't move. Didn't interrupt. Just watched for a little while longer.

Amelia, who'd grown up unsure of where she fit. Amelia, who used to hide in closets with puzzle books. Amelia, who didn't make friends easily but somehow had forged these bonds — raw, steady, honest — with Oscar and Lando. A best friend and a husband.

Zak blinked hard.

When Lando looked up a few minutes later and spotted him, he just gave a little nod. Not a word passed between them.

Zak nodded back and slipped away.

Inside the sim suite, Amelia stood again, brushing herself off.

"Back to work!"

Lando and Oscar groaned in unison.

"Fine," she said. "But if either of you miss apexes like that in Spa, I'll point and laugh at you on live television."

"You'd love that," Oscar said.

"She would," Lando added. "Humiliation. She likes embarrassing us."

Amelia just smirked, already queuing up the next run. "Well. I'm not ruling it out."

And as the next session loaded, the screen filling with the digital outline of the track, she brought her hand up to apply a heavy load of pressure to her hip.

Grounding. Safe.

—

Later, much later, the sim rigs had powered down for the night.

Amelia sat alone on the low bench, knees pulled up to her chest, arms wrapped around them. Not in discomfort; she wasn't overwhelmed. She was just... processing.

Oscar had ducked out a few minutes earlier, mumbling something about protein bars and his "cramped spine." Lando had promised to bring back coffee. That left her here, in the comfortable lull, with space to think.

Oscar.

It had taken her a while to really begin to understand Oscar Piastri on a personal level. He was quiet, like her. Dry, like chalk. Flat-voiced in a way that people often mistook for aloofness. But Amelia had recognised it immediately — that instinct for silence. The calm observation. The way he didn't try to fill air that didn't need filling.

He had become somewhat like a younger brother to her — not in the way people throw that phrase around when they mean someone's simply "less experienced," but in the very real, familial sense. She worried about him. Checked his telemetry obsessively. Snuck 'drink water/have a snack' notes into his strategy folder. Looked for signs of overwork in his eyes before every qualifying session.

And he, in the way Oscar was able, quietly looked after her too.

He never flinched at her directness. Never called her intense or difficult or cold when she snapped out instructions without pleasantries. In fact, he appreciated it. He understood that when she called something "icky," it wasn't a personal attack; it was an opportunity for precision.

After a race where she'd gotten particularly sharp with him over comms, he'd found her in the engineering room, dropped a packet of salted pretzels on her desk, and said, simply, "You were right. I just wasn't ready to hear it in the moment."

And that was all.

That was the kind of person Oscar was. He saw her and he didn't need to explain that he did.

And then there was Lando.

The loud to her quiet. The warmth to her ice. The one person on earth who could decipher her entire emotional state by the mere shape of her shoulders, or the angle of her fingers curled around a water bottle.

They were married now, still new enough to feel surreal when people called her "Mrs. Norris" in emails, but the foundation they stood on had been built long before the vows. He was the only person she could touch when her skin physically hurt from overstimulation. The only one who could joke with her during a meltdown and have it feel safe instead of cruel.

Lando understood her chaos. He never tried to change her, only to interpret.

Like when they were in the grocery store, and she couldn't bear the way the overhead lights buzzed, and he just... squeezed her hand once, without saying anything, and then diverted them to the sunglasses section and slid a funky pair onto her nose.

Or tonight, when she'd needed the sim session to be productive, and he'd let her lead, followed her notes, asked questions only when her tone said she was open to them.

And then — when she was finally starting to relax, he'd poked her ribs and made her laugh until she curled up on the floor.

Lando gave her a kind of emotional mirroring she'd never thought possible. Like her feelings were real and reflected, but never judged. He loved her not just in spite of who she was, but because of it. Bluntness, hyper-focus, sharp tongue, and all.

Very quickly, Lando and Oscar had become one of her safe zones.

One was home. The other had become family. Both made the world feel a little less jagged.

She rested her cheek against her knees and exhaled.

They didn't tiptoe around her needs. They didn't act like they were noble for understanding. They didn't talk about her like she was a puzzle or a pet project. They just treated her like Amelia; sharp, driven, autistic, brilliant, flawed, enough.

It was rare to feel seen. Rarer still to feel seen and protected.

The door eased open then, and Lando returned, holding two takeaway cups. He handed her one wordlessly, sat down beside her, and bumped her knee with his.

"Hey, baby. You okay?" He asked.

"Yeah." Her voice was soft. "Just thinking."

"Dangerous."

She smiled. "I'm just feeling grateful, actually."

Lando tilted his head. "For?"

"You," she said simply. "Oscar. All of it."

He didn't tease her this time. Just leaned his head against hers for a second, warm and grounding.

"You're my person," he murmured. "My wife. My love."

She nodded. "I know." She whispered. "And you're mine."

—

Spa

The rain hadn't started yet, but it always smelled like it was about to in Spa. The mountains curled thick and green around the paddock, clouds hanging low. Amelia tugged her Quadrant hoodie sleeves over her hands and squinted at her tablet. Oscar's long run data looked steady, rear temps maybe a touch high, but manageable.

She heard the approach before she looked up. Soft-footed, deliberate. Someone in flats, not heels.

Oscar appeared first. Then, behind him, a woman with the exact same eyebrows and the same unbothered stillness in her eyes.

"Amelia," Oscar said, ever direct, "this is my mum."

Nicole Piastri smiled. warm and unfussy. "Nicole. It is so lovely to finally meet you."

Amelia didn't immediately move. Not because she didn't want to, but because her brain caught on the sudden shift in social rules; the expectation to greet, to be personable, to be human-shaped instead of work-shaped. She blinked once, then reflected the woman's smile as best as she could.

"Hi," she said. "Sorry. I was looking at tyre deltas. My brain's still... there."

Nicole just smiled. "Oscar warned me."

Amelia turned her head. Furrowed her brows. "Warned you?"

"He said you'd be brilliant but a bit intense. That I'd like you." Her tone was easy. No condescension, no forced warmth. Just observation.

Oscar folded his arms. "Didn't say 'a bit intense.' That was Mum's addition."

Nicole raised a brow. "You said she made a Ferrari engineer cry once."

Amelia blinked again. "He ignored my pit safety brief three times."

Nicole laughed, not unkindly, and that was the moment Amelia relaxed, just a fraction.

"I like your son," Amelia said simply.

"I'd hope so," Nicole replied. "You're guiding him."

Amelia nodded. "He listens. He understands things without needing them repeated. He's good."

Nicole gave her a look. "He's also stubborn and sometimes pretends he isn't tired when he absolutely is."

Oscar made a wounded sound. "Mum."

"True," Amelia said, folding her arms. "I've started watching for the eye-rubbing thing. It's his tell."

Nicole grinned. "Exactly."

There was a beat. A moment of quiet. Amelia stepped back slightly, giving herself a little more breathing room from the interaction. Nicole didn't follow, didn't press. She just let the silence exist.

That, more than anything, made Amelia feel at ease.

"You're welcome to come sit in for the long-run review," she said. "If you want."

Nicole's eyebrows lifted. "You'd let a driver's mum sit in?"

Amelia shrugged. "If it were any other mum, maybe not. But you raised Oscar. And he doesn't let nonsense slide. So I assume neither do you."

Nicole beamed, warm and wide. "You really are as blunt as he said."

Amelia nodded. "I'm autistic. Directness is safer for everyone."

Nicole, without missing a beat: "Well, I'm Australian. Directness is our native language."

Oscar looked between them, then shook his head with a half-smile. "This is going to be terrifying."

"Don't be dramatic," Amelia said, already turning back to her screen.

Nicole patted Oscar's shoulder, but her eyes lingered on Amelia with quiet gratitude.

She saw it.

Not just the brilliance, but the care.

And for a mother watching someone else guide her son at 300 km/h, that mattered more than anything.

—

It had rained sometime during the night — Amelia had heard it, soft and steady against the hotel room window, the kind of sound that settled right into soul and lulled her into deeper sleep. But now the world outside was damp and quiet, and inside, everything smelled like Lando: clean cotton, a little citrus, faint cologne lingering from yesterday's press outfits.

She was already awake. Always woke up earlier on race days.

Propped against the headboard, hair still messy from sleep, she had her iPad balanced on her knees — telemetry overlays already pulled up from FP3, tyre strategy notes highlighted in orange and blue.

The bed shifted as Lando stirred beside her.

"Mm... it's so early," he mumbled, voice rough and slow. "Why are you working already?"

"I'm not working," she replied, glancing down at him without shifting her hands. "I'm just reviewing."

He cracked one eye open. "That's working."

"I'm not writing anything new," she said. "I'm checking the data I already have. That can't be classed as work."

Lando groaned dramatically and rolled onto his side to face her. One arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her back down into the pillows, iPad and all.

She made a small protesting noise, stiff in the unfamiliar position, but didn't push away.

"You're not a robot," he murmured against her shoulder. "You're allowed to spend your morning being sleepy and stupid—like me."

"I know," she said. Bbut being still had always been difficult. There was always something to check, a variable to account for. "But I always feel better when I've gone over it one extra time."

He was quiet for a moment. Just breathing. Then he kissed the bare slope of her shoulder, soft and deliberate.

"Alright," he whispered. "One more time. And then you let it go for an hour. Just long enough to have breakfast. With me."

She didn't answer straight away. He felt her fingers tap lightly against the back of his hand — the same rhythm he'd learned years ago. The one that meant she was thinking. Processing.

Then, finally, she turned her head and nudged his forehead with hers.

"Okay," she said. "One hour."

He smiled, satisfied.

They stayed like that for a while. Her eyes flicking between data points. His thumb tracing lazy circles against her hip beneath the blanket. They didn't need to speak — didn't need to fill the air with reassurance. That was the magic of it, really. They understood each other in silences too.

Eventually, Amelia closed the iPad with a decisive click.

"Tyre data's solid," she said quietly. "Oscar'll be fine. Track temps are stable. We're good."

Lando pressed a kiss just beneath her ear. "You always say that. And you're always right."

"I'm not always right," she replied, voice flat but self-aware. "But I am today."

He laughed and leaned up on one elbow, eyes crinkling. "God, I love it when you sound like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you believe that we're going to win."

She blinked, then tilted her head a little. "You are going to win. Or close to it. I can feel it."

"Feel it, huh?"

"Yes. Based on my extensive logic and my faith in both of you."

"That's a dangerous combo." He grinned, then leaned down to kiss her — soft, not rushed. The kind of kiss people only share when they've been through everything together and still feel like choosing each other again in the quiet moments.

When he pulled back, her hand was resting lightly against his jaw.

"You good?" he asked. "Like... really good? For today?"

She thought about it. Then nodded. "Yeah. I'm regulated. My head's clear."

He smiled at that — the way she named her emotional state like an engineer running diagnostics. He loved that about her. Loved that she'd learned to say it, and that she trusted him with the truth.

"Then let's go race," he whispered, forehead pressed to hers.

And for a few more seconds, they just breathed, tangled together in a warm, sleepy cocoon, before the noise and chaos of race day swept them back into the world.

But for now, in this tiny window of stillness, they had each other.

— The air was heavy. Dense with mist, thick with tension, and wet enough that Amelia had already pre-loaded five different strategy trees before the lights went out.

Oscar had out-qualified Lando again.

She was laser-focused on Turn 1. Always Turn 1. Always La Source.

Amelia's fingers hovered over her tablet. Not touching—just tapping in the air beside it in a rhythm: four slow, one sharp. Then again. And again.

She didn't have to think as she walked Oscar through the formation lap. It came to naturally now, like a dance you couldn't forget.

Lights out.

"Oscar launch good," came one of the spotters in her ear.

She blinked. Tracked the orange blur to the inside line.

Then a flash of red, Sainz's Ferrari. sweeping across far too aggressively.

The sound in her headset crackled with team chatter, voices overlapping. She tuned most of them out and locked in on Oscar's feed just in time to see his onboard camera jolt. Not a bump. A collision.

The screen stuttered. Then black.

"Yellow flag. Incident Turn 1. Piastri, Sainz. Debris."

Amelia didn't speak.

"Amelia?" It was one of the performance engineers. "Oscar's saying steering is compromised. Damage right side—maybe suspension."

Still, she didn't speak. She tapped once against her palm. Hard. Her throat clenched. The pads of her fingers tingled like they did when she short-circuited.

She hit the comms.

"Oscar. Talk to me."

"Yeah—um—something's broken. I can't turn right properly. Think it's done."

And it was. Less than a lap.

She closed her eyes, just for a second, trying not to fall into the spiral. Not here. Not now. There was a job to do, Lando was still out there, but Oscar was her driver. Her ducky. He trusted her implicitly. And now, for no fault of his own, he was crawling back to the garage with a wounded car and nothing to show for it.

The red mist tried to rise in her chest—anger first. Not at Oscar. Not even really at Carlos. Just at the sheer waste of it. The injustice. The gut-punch of preparation ruined by recklessness. The voice in her head hissed, He finished the sprint in P2 yesterday. He deserved better than this.

She pulled her noise-cancelling headset tighter. The extra pressure helped, grounding her in physical sensation. She curled her toes in her shoes and focused on her breath.

Lando's voice broke through on the other channel, calm despite the chaos.

"Hey—did Oscar retire?"

Will gestured for her to respond.

"Yeah," she said, quietly. Then louder, "Yes. First corner damage. Focus up."

"Copy." A pause. Then softer, "That sucks."

It did. It sucked.

But Amelia didn't get to crumble, even though every part of her was fraying. She was still on the pit wall. Still working. Still leading.

Oscar's car was pushed back into the garage. She caught sight of him from across the paddock—helmet off, jaw clenched, walking quickly past the media scrum with his shoulders stiff. She didn't call him over. Not yet. He needed a minute. So did she.

By the time Lando crossed the line in P7, she was steady again. Not okay. But functioning.

—

Oscar was sitting on a flight case, race suit peeled to his waist, water bottle tucked under one knee. Amelia sat beside him without asking.

"You alright?" She asked.

He gave a dry laugh. "I made it fifty seconds. New record."

She didn't try to make him feel better. That wasn't her way. Instead, she said, "You made the right decision boxing the car immediately instead of dragging a damaged car around the track. Steering arm was shattered. You did everything right."

He nodded, but his mouth was tight.

She nudged her elbow against his.

"Still proud of you," she said.

He finally looked at her. "Even after I didn't finish a lap?"

"Especially then," she replied. "You stayed calm. You brought it back safe. You're my driver, Oscar. One racing incident that ends badly for us doesn't erase that."

His eyes softened, just a little. "You're getting sappy."

She rolled her eyes. "No I'm not. I don't even know what that means."

That made him laugh, a small honest noise, and she counted that as a win.

—

They had a brief respite in Monaco before heading to Zandvoort.

They looked at a few apartments. Didn't like any of them.

When they arrived at Max's place for dinner on the Wednesday, he took one look at their downtrodden expressions and laughed. "It is always more difficult the second time."

—

Zandvoort

The race at Zandvoort was marked by unpredictable weather. Lando finished P7, while Oscar managed to finish just inside of the points — P9.

Amelia saw it all unfold from the pit wall, her eyes scanning the monitors. The intermittent rain was a nightmare.

After the race, she found Lando in the garage, reviewing data.

"You did well," she commented.

He looked up, surprised. "Yeah?"

She nodded. "You adapted to the conditions very well."

He cracked a smile, pulling her into a brief embrace. "Thanks, baby."

That night, as they lay in bed, the sound of rain tapping against the window, Amelia whispered, "I'm really, really happy, Lando."

Lando tightened his hold on her.

—

They escaped to Lake Como for a short break between race weekends.

On the first morning of their mini vacation, they took a boat out onto the lake. Amelia sat at the bow, the wind tousling her hair.

"This place is so beautiful," she said. "Everything looks like something you'd see in a movie. Or on Pinterest."

Lando was steering the boat. He glanced at her and nodded toward his disposable camera, "Take some pictures, baby."

She picked it up and brought it up to her eye, squinting through the mini viewfinder.

He watched her fondly.

—

Monza

At Monza, Lando finished P8.

Things didn't go so well for Oscar.

Amelia let her head fall into her hands as the confirmation of the penalty came from the FIA.

"Shit," she muttered.

Her dad gave her a sympathetic grimace.

—

Japan

Amelia's fingers were a blur. Tip of her pen flicking rapidly against the plastic corner of the radio console. Three taps, pause. Three taps, pause. She hadn't even noticed the motion — her go-to stim when her body couldn't contain everything pressing up behind her ribcage.

Oscar was crossing the line. P2. Behind Max, of course; but ahead of Charles, ahead of Lewis.

And Lando... Lando was P3.

"Piastri, across the line — that's P2! Double podium for McLaren!"

The garage exploded; engineers leaping into the air, radios dropped, shoulders clapped, bodies turned into celebratory chaos.

But Amelia stayed locked in her seat at the pit wall, still staring at the screen, her breath stuck like static in her chest.

She couldn't move. Not yet.

Oscar's voice cracked through her headset, just the barest edge of disbelief in his normally even tone.

"Holy shit. Amelia. We did it."

She exhaled sharply, finally, a sound like relief and triumph tangled together.

"You drove it," she said, her voice clipped but shaking. "You followed every direction. Managed the tyres well in every stint. Well done, ducky."

"Wouldn't have got here without your mad plans." He was laughing, light and breathless. "Tell me I wasn't hallucinating this whole race."

"You weren't," she said, and suddenly her throat closed up, emotion catching on the edges of her usually flat tone. "This is real."

Will's hand landed on her shoulder, not jarring, just grounding, and she blinked up at him, eyes wide and wet.

"You can go," he said softly. "Garage's already heading to parc fermé."

She stood on instinct, legs shaky. Her hands were flapping now — the stim automatic, rapid-firing like her brain needed somewhere to put the excess. Pride, relief, noise, lights — it was too much. And it was perfect.

—

The second she caught sight of them — Lando and Oscar, helmets off, both laughing like kids who'd just stolen something valuable, it hit her like a gut-punch of joy.

They'd done it. Both of them. Her husband. Her driver.

Oscar caught her first, jogging toward her as the crowd swelled behind the fences.

She barely got a word out before he threw his arms around her.

It wasn't their usual style; they weren't overly physical, weren't the sentimental type. But she folded into it with a small, shocked laugh, her hands fluttering uselessly against his back.

"You really are mine now," she mumbled into his shoulder. "I'm not letting anyone else engineer you ever again."

Oscar pulled back with a crooked grin. "No complaints here."

And then she saw him.

Lando, weaving through the throng, his eyes locked on hers even before she noticed he was moving.

He reached her in four long strides and didn't say a word — just pulled her in, full-body, sweaty, burning fuel smell and all. His arms wrapped around her waist, grounding, safe. "You did this," he whispered into her ear. "You did this."

She shook her head, face pressed to his shoulder. "No. You and Oscar. You drove so, so well."

His hand was in her hair now, warm against her scalp. "You made the car better. You kept Oscar calm. You brought us here. You're the one who held it all together."

And suddenly, she couldn't stop the tears.

Not loud or dramatic — just silent, uncontainable release. Her body started rocking a little, barely perceptible — a comfort motion, side to side, tiny and rhythmic. She pressed her face harder into Lando's shoulder, hiding it the way she always did when the emotions got too big.

Overwhelmed. Elated. So proud she could barely breathe.

Lando didn't flinch. He just held her tighter and whispered, "I've got you, baby. It's okay."

Oscar was still hovering nearby, giving her space now, but watching with a half-smile, the kind that said he understood. And in a small way, he did.

Because Oscar had learned her tells. Her voice drops when she's overstimulated. Her stimming when she's overwhelmed. Her flinch when unexpected noise hits too hard. And still, he trusted her implicitly. Trusted her to guide him through a Grand Prix like Spa, where one mistake could end everything.

And now they were here.

P2. P3.

Double podium.

Amelia finally looked up, eyes shining, flapping her hands once more to bleed off the weight. Lando caught one, laced their fingers, and kissed the back of it without a word.

Zak was there too — in the background, watching. And for a moment, he didn't see his driver or his race engineer or the numbers on the screen.

He saw his daughter, overwhelmed but alight with joy, held safely between two young men who'd become her fiercest allies. Her husband, her teammate, her family.

He smiled to himself. He didn't say a word.

She didn't need him to.

—

The post-race buzz was elevated. Team shirts were drenched in champagne, and the McLaren hospitality tent was buzzing with an electric excitement.

Amelia didn't usually do broadcast interviews, that was more Lando's territory. But this time, after this race — a double podium, both drivers flawless, Sky had requested her by name.

The paddock mic stand felt too tall. She adjusted it twice.

"Amelia Norris," the reporter began brightly, mic held between them. "First of all, congratulations. Double podium for McLaren — Lando second, Oscar third — how are you feeling right now?"

Amelia blinked. Twice. She hadn't stopped moving since the chequered flag. Still hadn't properly eaten. Still had telemetry fragments dancing in her brain. She opened her mouth, paused, and then nodded slowly.

"I feel... good," she said honestly, voice low and a little clipped. "A bit overwhelmed. But proud. They both drove amazingly today. Especially Oscar. He nailed every brief."

There was something endearing about her calmness — like she was one breath away from shutting the whole operation down to explain exactly how Oscar had maximised delta windows through Sector 2.

The interviewer smiled. "And fans have been picking up on your dynamic with Oscar, especially from the radio. You called him 'Ducky' today — again. Can you talk us through that? Where did the nickname come from?"

Amelia blinked again, then huffed, not irritated, just... caught slightly off guard.

"I give people nicknames when I trust them," she said simply. "'Oscar' is what everyone calls him. 'Ducky' is mine."

There was a beat of silence, the reporter briefly stunned by the directness. But it wasn't defensive or awkward — just the truth, laid bare like everything Amelia said.

"Well, it's clearly working," the reporter recovered, grinning. "Because his defending against Perez and Charles today was phenomenal."

"Yes," Amelia said. "Because we planned for it. He did exactly what I asked of him."

"Did you expect a podium today?"

"I expect possibility," she said, quick. "Expectations are dangerous. But the data said we could be there. And then Oscar delivered on it. So did Lando. That's why I build cars. That's why I stay up all night running simulations. For this."

Her hands moved a little as she spoke — stimming subtly, thumb flicking against her palm. But her voice was steady.

"Would you call this the best day of your season so far?" The interviewer asked, lowering the mic slightly.

Amelia took a breath. Looked out toward the pit wall, where orange and black were still gathered like a tide of fire. Lando was being hauled in a bear hug by one of the engineers. Oscar was still helmeted, leaning back against the barrier and grinning in that quiet way he always did when something mattered to him.

Then she turned back to the camera, deadpan:

"Yes," she said. "But I plan to beat it."

The interviewer laughed. "Love it. Thank you, Amelia. Congratulations again. And give our best to Oscar and Lando."

She cracked a tiny smile, adjusted her headset, and turned back toward the garage, already thinking about what she'd tweak for Quatar.

—

They were supposed to be taking a break from apartment hunting.

It was a quiet, post-race Monday. The heat was clinging to the Côte d'Azur like a second skin.

And sure, their little two-bedroom near the Port had started to feel a touch claustrophobic. Not because it wasn't nice — it was. It had been their first proper home. But between Lando's racing gear, Amelia's engineering schematics, and the six different pairs of shoes he was tripping over daily, the place was bursting at the seams.

Still, they weren't in a rush.

Until Lando had said, offhandedly over breakfast, "Should we just go see that listing from yesterday? The one with the big balcony and the weird layout?"

She had blinked, then nodded. "I did like that one."

"And?"

"Okay. Sure. Let's go."

So they did.

They ended up viewing three places that day. One was too sterile, the kind of cold marble and glass aesthetic that made Amelia feel like she'd been dropped inside a very expensive hospital. Another had a stunning view, but a persistent echo in the living room that made her skin crawl. It was the kind of sound most people didn't even notice. Lando did — but only because he noticed her the second she tensed up.

Then came the last one.

The agent had apologised in advance. "It's a bit... odd," he'd warned, as they stepped into the building.

Amelia, eyes scanning the corridor, shrugged. "So are we."

Lando grinned.

The apartment was on the top floor — a penthouse. A strange little split-level with slanted ceilings and sun that pooled in lazy patches across the wood floors. Amelia felt it first — not a lightning bolt, but a quiet hum under her ribs. She wandered through the kitchen, into the living room, and paused.

There was a swing.

A proper sensory swing — heavy canvas, anchored securely into a ceiling beam. It was suspended just off the floor in the corner of what looked like a reading nook, draped in soft light from a low window.

Lando stopped just behind her.

"Oh," he said, voice going quiet.

Amelia didn't speak. She walked straight to it, ran her fingers along the reinforced ropes, then sat down slowly. She shifted, testing the weight, and the swing gently curved to cradle her. The instant pressure across her hips and lower back was like flipping a switch in her chest — her breathing slowed, the tension in her shoulders eased.

It felt like being held.

Lando crouched in front of her, hands braced on his knees. "You like it?"

She nodded once. "It's perfect."

He didn't need to ask why. He already knew.

Amelia rarely explained her sensory profile to anyone. But Lando had learned it like a second language — not because she asked him to, but because he wanted to. He knew the way certain fabrics made her retreat, how sharp noises cut through her thoughts like glass. He knew the difference between her shutting down and zoning out. And more than anything, he knew what it meant when she found something that made her feel safe.

He tapped the side of the swing gently. "We could put a second one on the balcony. So you can stargaze."

She blinked. "You sound like you've already decided that we're moving in?"

"You decided," he said, standing up and offering her his hand. "You just didn't say it yet."

She took his hand. He pulled her up slowly, kissed her temple, and added with a smile, "You did say you liked this one."

—

They got home late. Amelia lay on the sofa, bare feet tucked under a throw blanket, Lando stretched out with his head in her lap. Her iPad was open beside her, a checklist of questions about the new apartment left half-ticked. But neither of them were talking.

They didn't need to.

Amelia was stimming softly, tapping the curve of Lando's shoulder in a light rhythmic pattern. He hummed when she changed tempo, like he could feel her thoughts moving.

"It felt right," she said, finally.

"I know."

"I don't mean just the swing. The light. The acoustics. Even the flooring. It was all right."

"I noticed," he murmured. "Your hands didn't twitch once while we were there."

She was quiet for a moment. Then she said, "It felt like it was built for me. Which is statistically improbable. But still."

"Maybe it was waiting."

She looked down at him. "Places don't wait, Lando. They're inanimate structures."

"But what if this one did?" He said, eyes half-lidded. "What if someone built it weird on purpose so that one day a very particular girl with a very particular brain would walk in and go oh, this feels like home?"

Amelia blinked. Her mouth twitched. "That's not how architecture works."

"It's how love works, though."

She blinked again, slower this time. Then leaned down and kissed the side of his head.

When she pulled back, she whispered, "Let's make it ours."

NEXT CHAPTER

[hamilando]

ੈ✩ nxdes? (smau) ੈ✩

pairing : charles leclerc x fem reader

summary : “have you seen my boyfriend ?” “HAVE YOU SEEN HER !?”

tw : fluff, very suggestive

a/n : So this was requested anonymously, so if you are seeing this, Hope you like it 💫

·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡

liked by user1, user2, user3 and others

f1mommy how I feel when I feed you all thirsty socks 🧦

view comments

user1 idk what is killing me- the caption or the photos 🗿

user2 English or Spanish ?

user3 f1mommy 💀🦅

user4 charles, don’t be shy, drop it on me

user5 I want to ride carlos like he rides his bike-

user6 did she just call us socks !?

charlesleclerc can you stop leaking pictures ? I won’t hesitate to sue you

user7 oops-

user8 LORD PERCEVAL GOT SERIOUS THERE

f1mommy @ charlesleclerc you weren’t complaining when you sent me your nudes 💋

user9 AND I-

user10 is it true or -

user11 mommy, can we get the charles junior baby pics ?

user12 that’s quite a way to frame it 💀

user13 she casually dropped christian in between

f1mommy @ user13 you would need some Jesus after god hears your thoughts

user14 istg this girl has been taking sarcasm classes

f1mommy @ user14 rizzing your mama up classes

liked by user1, user2, user3 and others

f1mommy this is a Charles leclerc fan page ( minus the nudes)

view comments

user1 SHIRTLESS CHARLES !?

user2 IN HD!?

user3 I WILL BE YOUR SUGGA MOMMA F1MOMMY

f1mommy hit me up bbugurl 💋

user4 yes, you all are correct, he was talking to me in second pic

user5 serving your delusion ofc

f1mommy she serving looks atleast user4 @ f1mommy ily 😭

user5 who is she ?

user6 we don’t know, we just enjoy what mommy gives us 😮‍💨

user7 how does she get them ?

user8 she hacked their phones ?

user9 techie alert

f1mommy the only tech thing I know is incognito at night 💪🏻

user10 digital footprint ?

f1mommy you would like mine on you though ?

charlesleclerc can you stop leaking my pictures ?

f1mommy can you stop fucking me ?

liked by user1, user2, user3 and others

f1mommy me watching y’all burn your brains to guess who is me

view comments

user1 if this accounts turns out to be run by a 50 year old lady-

f1mommy you will ask me to fuck you ?

user2 just tell us who you are

user3 she has a things for dilf

f1mommy I am one myself -

user4 I will pay you 69 cents to reveal yourself

f1mommy I would prefer performing 69 💋

user5 dududuu HELL WHA-

user6 I have given up-

user7 the iconic toto

user8 Only king toto can help us

user9 I can feel the user smirking reading all the comments

user10 the person is definitely a sadist

liked by user1, user2, user3 and others

f1mommy Hi, I am yours and his mommy 🫶🏻 @ charlesleclerc

view comments

user1 WHAT ?

user2 YOU ARE CHARLE’S GIRLFRIEND !?

f1mommy yes baby girl ☺️

user3 please tell me that this is a joke

charlesleclerc now can you send me some ?

charlesleclerc after you have exposed that I am your boyfriend ?

f1mommy you have the keys, come watch it in 4D

user4 so now y’all decide to be freaky ?

user5 now Charles interacting on a fan account makes sense

user6 the pictures too

user7 so she really didn’t hack-

user8 welcome to the fam sis

f1mommy I was there way before you love 🧡