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captn-trex · 12 days

Text

we never quite made it

Tech x F!Reader

word count: 10k

description: after first meeting on kamino, you and tech seem to keep running into each other, without being able to fully indulge in each other's company. will you ever find the time to be able to tell each other of the feelings that have bloomed over the years?

warnings: not a happy ending!! death, torture (not in any great detail), blood & needles, some mentions of other medical stuff, tech brainrot I fear, don't wanna spoil it but... cx-2...

a/n: okay this was originally just gonna be a cute little fluffy thing and then I kinda went over board. it's a little more high-concept (which feels like a generous word for it) than my other oneshots but i'm pretty happy with how it turned out :) also anyone who writes tech fics regularly I salute you 🫡 it is truly not for the weak

22BBY, KAMINO

You waited patiently in the medical bay, lining up your various tools so none of them were out of place. You weren’t necessarily a neat freak, it was just something to occupy your hands. You were about to see your first patient since transferring from the hospital on Coruscant, to Kamino, in an effort to help the war effort.

The other medics around you weren’t new, and seemed a lot more relaxed, and sure of themselves. You had faith in your abilities as a medic, you had graduated from university into the job a number of years ago now, but somehow this felt like a lot more responsibility, looking after the men that fought for the Republic.

Your fingers were fidgeting at your sides when the door to the medical bay slid open, and a large group of clones were ushered inside by a Kaminoan. You were at the back of the room, so the clones from the front of the group were shown to the medics closest to them. As the group parted, you could see there were a group of clones in vastly different armour from their brothers, and your interest was certainly piqued.

You watched with intrigue as they got closer to you, and before you knew it, one of them was standing in front of you. You still felt nervous, but the timid look on the youthful face of this clone was enough to snap you into gear.

“Hello” You smiled at him sweetly, gesturing to the cot next to you, “Do you want to take a seat?”

The clone didn’t say anything, but obliged quickly. He was taller than many of the clones you worked on before, his hair a light auburn, and he wore goggles that were tinted a subtle yellow.

“What’s your name?” You asked politely.

“CT-9902, Ma’am”

The nervousness was evident in his voice, which you noted was different from the other clones, a more formal twinge and bite to the vowels.

“No need for all that Trooper, just my name is fine” You chuckled a little, tapping the name badge on your uniform, “and I asked for your name. What do your brothers call you?”

The clone looked to the name badge and then up to your eyes, “Tech”

“Well Tech, I understand that this is your last check-up before you graduate, is that right?”

“Uh, technically, we have already graduated. We are waiting to be deployed” He corrected you and you nodded.

”I understand” You smiled, “I’m just going to take some of your blood, if that’s okay”

“Of course it’s okay” He said matter-of-factly, “I wouldn’t expect anything less”

You had to suppress a smirk at his observation as you took the syringe from the tray, “It’s just what they ask us to say, bedside manner and all that”

“Ah” He replied, a blush tinging his ears pink, “My apologies”

It was hard not to find Tech adorable. He was so young and fresh-faced, somehow more so than the other recently graduated clones around the room. Perhaps it was the difference in facial structure, slightly pursed lips, or the big brown eyes that looked up at you though his goggles.

“No need” You waved off his apology, “It’s nice not to have to baby your patients really”

Tech nodded thoughtfully, and took of his left vambrace to allow you access to the correct vein, rolling up his sleeve. You raised an eyebrow at his actions.

“You had a lot of blood taken before?” You asked, and he looked at you puzzled.

“No” He replied simply, “Why?”

“I didn’t have to tell you where I was going to take it from” You gestured the syringe towards his now bare forearm.

“Ah, well” He looked down at himself and back up, “I am… a little knowledgeable about such things”

You smirked a little as you took his arm, keeping him talking while you placed the needle to his skin, “Knowledgeable huh? and why is that?”

He looked up at your face as you worked, wholly uninterested in the needle that was pressing into his arm, “I am interested in knowing about it”

You hummed slightly in reply, drawing the blood from the clone and placing the syringe down again.

“Just a few more things to check” You said, taking the small torch from your belt, “Would you mind taking off your goggles for just a moment?”

The clone didn’t hesitate, and pushed his goggles atop his head.

“Now, look straight ahead” You told him, and shined the light into his eye, checking to see if his pupils were dilating properly. At some point his eyes flicked up to yours, and you were surprised by the flurry of butterflies that filled your stomach. “Eyes ahead, Tech” You reminded him, and he righted himself straight away. You had to bite back your grin at his certainly interesting demeanour.

As you moved onto his other eye, you let your curiosity get the best of you, “If you don’t mind me asking, why are you and your brothers… a little different?”

“I do mind you asking actually” He said plainly, and you were unsure if you had actually upset him, if he was kidding, or if that was just how he spoke.

“Okay” You smiled graciously, choosing to just move on, “You can put your goggles back on now”

Tech watched you carefully as he pulled down and adjusted his goggles until they were comfortable again. With your pleasant smile, it seemed that you were just being sincere and inquisitive in asking about him and his brothers, and he felt a little silly for just brushing you off.

“We usually get seen by the Kaminoans” Tech noted, “Why are there civilian medics on Kamino now?”

“We volunteered” You shrugged with a small smile, “Could you lie down?”

Tech once again did as you said quickly, a little too quickly this time, hitting the back of his head on the cot that was not as comfortable as he had thought. You winced a little and his cheeks flushed immediately.

”Good thing I’m about to scan you” You joked, “Hopefully that didn’t do any damage”

Tech pointed his first finger up as he talked, “It is highly unlikely that I would sustain any dam-”

“I know Tech, I was just kidding” You interrupted, and he stuttered as he looked up at you standing over him with a gentle smile

“Right” He nodded, “Of course you do, my apologies”

”There’s no need to apologise” You smiled, pulling down the scanner over him “Stay still now”

You stepped back from the machine and picked up your datapad, reading over the information as the scanner picked it up. It scanned his identifying code in his wrist and your eyebrows raised at his profile. Defective, genetically enhanced intellect and cognitive functions.

“Is something wrong?” He questioned your reaction.

“No, you’re in perfect health in fact” You answered his question, pulling the machine away so he could sit up.

“What is the… matter, then?” He asked slightly hesitantly.

“The machine scanned your identifying code” You explained, unable to hold back your grin, “You sound like a very interesting individual indeed, Tech”

Tech blushed furiously, looking away and noting that his brothers were already finished with their examinations, huddled together watching him with the widest grins he had ever seen from them. He only blushed further upon seeing them, scowling and turning back to you. You just watched him with a look of vague amusement on your face.

“Well, you’re all good to go now” You informed him, and he stood quickly, accidently knocking the elbow of his armour against your hip.

He was mortified. “I am so very sorry” He spoke hurriedly, turning back towards you with wide eyes, gently holding onto your arm without even realising.

“It’s really alright” You replied with a chuckle, though it was a little strained.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, that is the last thing I would mean to do” He continued, and you couldn’t help but find his reaction so effortlessly charming

“I like the way you speak, Tech” You smiled, genuine happiness just taking over your face.

Tech didn’t think it was possible for his face to heat up even more, but he had to clutch at the edge of his blacks and pull them away from his neck so it didn’t feel like he was over heating. He didn’t know what to say at all. He couldn’t think of the last time he had ever been complimented by someone, let alone someone as pretty as you. He willed himself to get a grip, knowing he was just giving in to his body in allowing those kind of thoughts to fester, and he cleared his throat.

“Well, it was a pleasure to meet you” He added your name with an emphasis, as if it was to help him remember it, “If I weren’t about to leave I would ask you to explain the functionality of this machine you’ve just used on me”

“Maybe another time?”

Tech nodded, “Another time”

“Goodbye Tech” You smiled at him warmly, “It was a pleasure to meet you too”

Tech nodded and turned to leave, making a beeline for his brothers, who welcomed him by teasing him mercilessly, the largest of the bunch ruffling his auburn curls. You watched them leave, and caught Tech looking back at you as he exited the room.

21BBY, KAMINO

“New orders”

Before you could realise, a datapad was being thrown at you. Luckily you got your hands around it before it dropped to the floor. You looked over the screen, then up at the other medic.

“We're not trained for that” You implored.

“The GAR is running low on medics, they asked for some of us to fill the roles for now” They replied with a shrug, “It's probably more interesting than being here anyway”

You could agree with that.

“What squad are you with?” The other medic asked, and you looked back down, tapping on your name.

“Clone Force 99” You informed them. The name rung a bell from somewhere…

“Never heard of them” The medic replied, “Guess you'll find out tomorrow”

Having stayed up late investigating the group of clones you were instructed to be joining, it was no wonder that you were bouncing on your toes with a beaming smile as their ship came hurtling into the hangar. You were impressed by their success rate, not falling short of perfect, but it was from realising exactly who was a part of this team that made you so eager.

You would be lying to say you hadn't thought of Tech a few times since first meeting him. With him being your first patient here on Kamino, it was hard not to compare the other clones to him, and while you had no issue with the other clones, you had not enjoyed your time with them as much as that first encounter.

The ship was set down on the ground, and soon the small batch of clones emerged from inside, looking particularly disinterested, and your smile faltered. They huddled together outside, talking amongst themselves, some of them leaning on the side of the ship.

You walked over slowly, feeling a little more hesitant than you had initially been. You couldn't see Tech, as he was behind his brothers, but you recognised the rest of them by their differing appearances.

You cleared your throat, gaining the attention of the clones, and offering them a small smile. They turned to look at you, apart from Tech who's face was buried in a datapad.

“Hello, I think I've been assigned to your squad” You spoke, and that's when Tech's head snapped up, his eyes meeting yours.

He looked a bit older than the last time you had seen him. His face seemed slimmer, his cheekbones slightly more hollowed out and defined, his jaw strong, but his widened eyes had the memorable sparkle in them all the same.

“We don't need you here” One of the others said, earning a elbow in the ribs as you looked up at him.

“Shut up Cross” The elbow-er hissed quietly at the elbow-ee, “Ignore him, it's nice to meet you…”

You told the man your name.

“Well, I'm Hunter” He introduced himself, and you gave him a nod of acknowledgement.

Crosshair rolled his eyes, “Why are we being made to have a medic?”

“I'm not sure” You shrugged, “I wasn't really told all too much about it”

Crosshair seemed almost pleased that you were just in the dark as them, then grunted, pushing his way past you and onto the ship.

Hunter huffed, noting your slightly offended expression, “Sorry about Crosshair, he's in a mood. We just weren't… expecting this, is all”

You chewed the inside of your cheek, “Me neither”

“Well anyway, let's get going” He walked up the ship's steps.

“I'm Wrecker” The large clone introduced himself with a warm smile, which you were inclined to return.

You held out your hand to him, and he took it with a crushing strength. “Nice to meet you… Wrecker” You managed to peep out despite the force of his grip.

Wrecker followed his commanding officer up the stairs afterwards, and you were about to follow after, but realised Tech was still stood firmly in his place. You looked back at him and he was still staring at you.

“You coming Tech?”

His eyes went a little wider.

“You know who I am?” He said, his voice holding a clear tone of surprise, though it was nowhere near as timid as it had been the last time you saw him.

Your cheeks flushed a little, embarrassed that he had clearly made more of an impression on you than you had on him.

“Oh, you don't remember meeting?” You asked, keeping your voice even.

“No, no, I remember” He confirmed, “I just didn't think you would remember me”

You gave him a puzzled look, a smile growing on your face, “Of course I remember you”

“Can you two wrap it up, we're leaving” Crosshair shouted from inside, and you chuckled slightly nervously, walking up the ramp.

Tech was still frozen in place for a moment. He hadn't been excited to be getting a medic, having ample training and knowledge of the subject himself, but now, he couldn't help but feel a little exhilarated that it was you that would be joining them.

The few times that the squad had been back to Kamino since graduation, Tech had found himself wandering down to the medical bay. He hadn't talked to you, he was far too nervous to do that, but he had watched you work through the little window in the door. You had almost caught him one time, and that's when he decided to stop doing it, realising how strange he was behaving.

He walked up the stairs of the Marauder, a little on edge, a little nervous, but a little more happy than he had been when they landed.

21BBY, MARAUDER

Tech was staring. At you, to be specific. Once again.

His brain worked at a klick a minute, and yet, whatever you had just said to him had him stumped. His mouth hung open a little, his eyes slightly narrowed and his brow furrowed deeply. He wasn't saying anything. For once, nothing was going on in his head. It was like his brain had frozen, unable to process any new thoughts. He was confused.

“Tech?” You said hesitantly, drawing him from his stupor.

“I'm sorry, I don't think I heard you correctly” He replied assuredly.

You hesitated a little before asking again, “I asked you if you think I should leave”

That's what he thought you'd said.

“I don’t understand your meaning” He dropped the tool from his hand and stood up, facing you and trying to read every movement you made.

You felt a little uneasy under his scrutiny, but continued nonetheless, “Like… leave the team”

Tech still couldn't understand.

“Why are you asking me this?” He asked, his brow furrowing even deeper.

“Well, I figured you would give me an honest answer” You shrugged. Tech was nothing if not upfront, and it was one of the many things you liked about him.

“No, I mean… why are you asking this at all?” He surveyed your reaction to his words, your throat constricting as you swallowed and subtly wiped you hands on your trousers.

“Uh… I suppose I don't feel that my presence is very necessary”

“I don't see how you could possibly think that” Tech replied, “You have a very useful skillset”

“Well, I know that Hunter doesn't exactly love having me around, and Crosshair even less so” You argued, “And my ‘useful skillset’ hardly gets used around here”

Tech didn't know what to say. There was something nagging at him from the depths of his consciousness, urging him to tell you to stay. He found you exceedingly interesting, and enjoyed hearing about your medical exploits from before joining their squad. He always asked under the guise of learning new information, but his brothers all understood, far more than him, that it wasn't just knowledge that kept him asking you questions.

At this point, you had been with the Bad Batch for a few months, and - as you were explaining to Tech - you had not felt very useful at all. They rarely got injured, but even when they did, they would mostly refuse your help. Particularly Hunter. Crosshair had not warmed to you at all, though Wrecker did seem to enjoy your company. Tech was kind, in his own way. He always listened to you attentively, and as both of you were reasonably light sleepers, you had often found yourselves staying up together between missions, talking about a great many things. He seemed interested to know about medical procedures, but expanding his knowledge was only making you more and more obsolete within the group.

“I'm sorry if we've made you feel unwelcome” He said, and your gaze softened a little.

“It's okay, I know none of you really wanted me here in the first place”

“That’s…” Tech tried to find the words, “I would not say that is entirely factual. Though if you would like to leave, I think you should”

You couldn’t help but feel a little disheartened by Tech’s words, but you did come to him for the truth after all, you couldn’t be mad now.

“Alright, I'll notify the medical team back on Kamino then”

You walked away from Tech, and his brain began working, screaming at him to ask you to stay. He pressed his lips into a hard line, trying to come up with something, anything that he could say to make you stay, but all of the possibilities floating around in his head were jumbled and he couldn’t make sense of anything. He shook his head, trying to focus himself, but you had already walked away, already set on leaving.

“Get away from me”

You were crouched over Crosshair’s crumpled form, who was bent over and holding the wound to his side in the co-pilot's chair of the Marauder.

“Crosshair, I'm only trying to help” You insisted, trying to tend to him.

“I don't need your kriffing help, back off” He hissed, snatching the medkit from you.

You sighed deeply, taking a step back, “You know this is the reason I'm here right? To help when things like this happen?”

“We don't need you!” He shouted, “We never wanted you here, and we certainly don't now”

“Crosshair, calm down” Hunter scolded lightly, and when you turned to him you could see the look on his face, where you knew he agreed with his brother but was holding his tongue.

“Well good for you, I'll be gone soon” You mumbled as you stormed away, your eyes welling up instinctively from someone raising their voice at you.

You felt entirely useless.

You became a medic because you wanted to help people, and you joined the GAR medic team because you wanted to help clones specifically, but here you were, surrounded by clones, and they didnt want your help. It was hard not to feel downcast about it.

You understood Crosshair's contempt to a certain level, but did he really have to be so mean?

Tech could hear your soft sobs from outside the door to the cargo hold. He knocked firmly, and heard you sniff before telling him to enter.

When he saw the rosy tint of your nose and cheeks and the tears running down them, he realised that he had no idea how to comfort you in this moment. He stared at you as you stared up at him, waiting for him to say something.

“I'm sorry” He said unsurely, and you gave him a sad smile.

“It's fine Tech”

“I don't really think it is ‘fine’. I am very unimpressed with the way my brothers have behaved towards you” He asserted.

Looking down at you, your knees tucked into your chest and biting into your bottom lip to stop it quivering, he was reminded that he really didn't want you to leave, and even further, he realised the true reason why. He finally mustered up the courage to ask you to stay.

“I know that you're not happy at the moment, being with this team. I… I wish it were different, I wish we could have made you more comfortable. I am sure that if you stayed for a little longer and I talked to my brothers that-”

“I've heard from Kamino already, they want me back” You said softly, cutting him off before he could even say it.

“Ah, I see” He paused, then turned away “I shall leave you to-”

“Tech”

He turned back to you, and you offered him a soft, genuine smile, “I appreciate it, thank you”

He just nodded to you and left, the nasty feeling of rejection gnawing at his brain.

As the Marauder touched down in the hangar on Kamino, there was the most unpleasant sensation stirring in your gut. This was the right choice, you didn't fit in here, and you wanted to actually make a difference. Despite knowing all this, you couldn't help but feel strange, and descending the ship’s stairs felt like regressing, going backwards instead of forwards.

You turned to look at the clones as you left. Each of them, apart from Crosshair, gave a nod and a goodbye and walked back inside. Aside from Tech, of course.

He followed you down the steps, and it was the look on his face that placed that feeling in your gut. It was the reluctancy to leave behind this man that you had grown so fond of over the past few months, this man who listened to you and made you feel wanted despite the rest of the squad's insistency to not.

It had only been a few months, but you realised that you had grown very close with the clone before you, and your heart ached. You realised the depth of the feelings you harboured for him, that it was something you had never felt for another.

“I'll miss you Tech, it's been nice getting to know you” You spoke honestly, realising this could be the last time you saw him.

Tech sighed almost imperceptibly, “I agree, I shall miss… learning about medical procedures from you”

You couldn't help but laugh, “Well next time you're on Kamino, swing by the medical bay and I'll be happy to answer your questions”

“Are you making fun of me?” Tech suddenly resembled the shy cadet that you had met the first time.

“No” You smiled, “I'd always be happy to talk to you”

Tech didn't know what the correct thing to say was, so he said nothing. He just stared at you, once again, his mind fighting for anything to say once more. There was nobody that could send his mind spiralling like you did, and it seemed that you didn't even try to.

You smiled despite his slightly awkward silence, and stepped forwards, raising to your toes to plant a soft kiss to his cheek, “Goodbye Tech”

Tech could feel his face burning, from the blush that overtook him, and the feeling of your lips searing into his skin, rendering him completely speechless. As you walked away, he brought a hand to his face where you had kissed him and traced the area with his finger lightly.

“Ugh, I'm going to throw up” Crosshair asserted from the doorway of the ship.

“Shhhh” Wrecker pushed him and watched Tech swoon over you with a large grin.

Tech paid them no mind. He just watched you leave, a mix of emotions overtaking him. A frown settled on his face as your figure disappeared into the facility, but the feel of your lips on his cheek brought a warm feeling to his chest.

19BBY, ANAXES

“Hey Baar'ur'ika!” You heard the unmistakable voice of Jesse call out to you as he jogged over to the medbay in the Anaxes base.

“He doesn't call me that you know” Kix asserted from beside you, and you chuckled.

“Do you want him to?” You asked earnestly, but with an amused twinkle in your eye.

“That's besides the point" He grumbled, earning another laugh from you.

“Me and Kix are being sent on a mission with the Captain” Jesse said as he came to a stop in front of you.

“We are?” Kix asked

Jesse nodded, “Some special squad is joining us apparently”

“Special?”

“Yeah, I'm not sure why though, you wanna come find out?” He grinned, gesturing his head towards the landing strip.

“Can't. I've got all these reports to sign off” You sighed, holding up your stack of flimsi.

“Alright, we'll see you later on then Baar'ur'ika” Jesse smiled, ruffling your hair.

You huffed, putting the lose strands of it back into place, “See you later”

You took up your stylus again, clicking it absentmindedly as you read over the reports.

You had been reassigned to the 501st only a few weeks after leaving clone force 99, and you fit in so much better here. It seemed that the clones of the 501st actually wanted to get along with you, and they always included you in their shenanigans, reluctantly on your end. You got along with all of them really well, but Kix and Jesse were the ones you were closest with. You worked most closely with Kix, so that was only natural, but Jesse was certainly the most friendly to you from the outset.

You came across a report with an error, and checked the next piece of flimsi, and the same error had been made. You then leafed through all of the pages and realised the error had been made on every single one of them, and you groaned loudly. It then occurred to you that maybe you were the one making the error, and so you grabbed the stack of pages, rushing out the door to try and grab Kix before he left for his mission.

Luckily when you got to the landing strip, him and Jesse were still standing there with the Captain. You rushed over to them, almost dropping a page on the way.

“Kix, can I just ask you about something” You spoke, and the huddle of clones turned to look at you.

“Ah Baar'ur'ika, you came to investigate after all” Jesse slung an arm around your shoulders with a grin.

“I didn't come to investigate, I-”

Your voice seemingly stopped working as you turned your head and locked eyes with the specific ones that had always managed to draw you in and leave you speechless. Those wonderful brown eyes that always widened when they met yours

“Tech” You couldn't hold back the smile that grew on your face.

Tech spoke your name, and Jesse stifled a laugh when he felt a shiver run up your back.

You were absolutely mesmerised by the man in front of you. It had been just over a year since you had seen him, and in that time it seemed that he had only got even more beautiful. Your heart felt as if it had been set alight, the emotions that accompanied seeing Tech returning as if you had only said goodbye to him yesterday.

“We're here too” Wrecker laughed, snapping your gaze away from the spectacled clone.

“Hey Wrecker” You grinned, and he gave you a wink in return.

“Hey Hunter, Crosshair” You addressed the last two clones.

“Hey, it's good to see you” Hunter replied, a small genuine smile directed towards you.

Crosshair didn't say anything, but you hadn't expected him to.

“You know these guys?” Jesse asked, squeezing your shoulder.

“Uh, yeah. I was with them for a little while” You replied, looking to the floor for a moment before realising why you were here. “Oh! Kix, I just need to ask about this”

Tech watched you talking with the other medic and flipping through the pieces of flimsi as everyone else fell back into their previous conversation. His eyes lingered on the arm slung around your shoulders, and the way you placed your own hand on the shoulder of the other clone. You were clearly comfortable around these clones, and Tech's jealousy fizzled away to a form of sadness as he realised that you were so much happier with these clones than you had been with them. With him.

You settled the matter with Kix, and turned towards Tech once more, stepping forward so you stood in front of him.

“How are you?” You asked, clasping your hands behind your back.

“I am well” Tech replied flatly, not giving away an inch of the emotions that swirled within him, “How about yourself?”

“I'm good yeah” You smiled, “I've been here for a few rotations”

“With the 501st?” Tech asked.

“Oh no, just on Anaxes, I've been with these guys since… well, a couple weeks after I left you”

Something about the sentence pulled at Tech's heart. These clones were so lucky. They had got to spend all of this time by your side, all this time that he had spent with you only as a memory in his head, your absence taunting him constantly.

“I- Uh- I am glad to see you are doing well, you seem… happier, than last I saw you” He observed, pulling a small laugh from you.

“Maybe a bit. I do miss having someone to rant to though” You smirked a little at him, and despite his heated cheeks, he returned the gesture.

“I don't know that I'd call it ‘ranting’, you were always very precise with your words, very… intentional” He complimented you in a way that only made sense to both of you.

You hummed in response, “Well how's this for intentional - I've missed you Tech”

Tech couldn't hold back the small contented sigh that escaped him.

“I have missed you too” He admitted, indulging in losing himself in your eyes, inspecting ever fleck of colour.

“Hey Tech! We've gotta get going” Hunter shouted over to him. Neither one if you had realised the others had moved away.

Tech scowled inwardly, turning his attention back to you, “I was… I should like to ask you about biopsy methods, I am unsure of safe practice”

“Maybe another time?” You asked hopefully.

He nodded, a small smile quirking the edges of his lips, “Another time”

In a bout of confidence and rising adrenaline, Tech found himself leaning down and pressing a short kiss to your cheek, as you had done to him last time. Your mouth hung open a little as he then immediately walked off and joined his brothers on the gunship, surprised that he had actually done such a thing.

“Bye Baar'ur'ika” Jesse called teasingly, and you were snapped from your daze.

“Bye di'kut” You called, rolling your eyes as you clutched your flimsi close to your chest.

Tech's eyes locked with yours as the doors to the gunship closed, and it made your chest ache. You could still feel the warmth of his breath, the gentle scratch of his stubble, the softness of his lips. It was all too much and not enough, and watching him leave hurt more than you thought it would.

18BBY, CORUSCANT

You sat at your makeshift desk, your head in your hand and flicking through your datapad to survey the latest news. Things certainly had become bleak since the rise of the Empire.

You heard your name called, and your head snapped up to meet the golden eyes of Senator Chuchi.

“Senator, what can I do for you?” You asked, sitting up straight.

“Please, it's Riyo, and it's more what I can do for you” She said with a small smirk lifting the edges of her lips.

“Oh” You said, your eyebrows drawing together in confusion, “What do you mean?”

“There's a new clone joining us, I believe you know him” She replied, her smirk growing.

You immediately stood from your seat, “Is it who I think it is?”

“Perhaps” The Senator shrugged coyly.

You couldn't hold back your grin, “Where is he?”

“Just in the hangar” She nodded in the direction.

“Thank you Sen- Riyo” You said quickly, rushing from behind your desk towards the hangar.

You had known that Echo was alive, but this was the first time you would actually be seeing him since before the mission to the citadel where he had been presumed dead, and boy was he a sight for sore eyes.

“Echo!” You exclaimed excitedly, drawing the attention of the clone as you ran towards him across the hangar.

The clone's eyes lit up as he took in the sight of you, and stepped forwards, taking you in a tight hug when you crashed into him.

“It's good to see you” He said with a smile as he pulled away.

“It's even better to see you” You grinned, “I was so upset I didn't get to see you after you were rescued”

“I heard” He smirked, looking over his shoulder at Rex.

You looked over at the blonde clone too, and saw that he was watching on with three other familiar clones.

“Woah” You couldn't stop yourself from saying, “I heard you were hanging around with this lot nowadays”

Once your eyes found Tech, you couldn't bring yourself to look away. He seemed to be hanging back a bit, his eyes once again a little wide behind his goggles.

“Hey!” Wrecker said excitedly, earning a small laugh from you.

“Hey Wrecker, hey Hunter” You smiled at the clones.

“Hi” The Sergeant smiled at you.

Wrecker then pushed Tech forwards, and you smirked a little as he glared at his larger brother.

“Hey Tech, how's it going?” You asked, and he brought his eyes back to you.

In a way he couldn't define, you seemed more mature than when he had last saw you. Perhaps it was the tiredness he saw in your eyes, or perhaps it was the few small scars that adorned your skin, clearly earned in battle. The thought of you sustaining injuries made his stomach lurch, so he tried not to think of it.

The way you were looking at him was so familiar. Your smile was kind and easy, gracing your features in a way that was so uniquely you. The light crinkle around your eyes and lips, the small glint in your eye, the way one side of your mouth was more contorted than the other. Tech was certainly glad to see you.

“Uh… it is going well” Tech replied unsurely after a moment, and you smirked a little bit at his answer.

It was intoxicating to be in Tech's presence once more. Everytime you were around him, things felt a little different, like there was something in the air that made everyone else look a bit more fuzzy as he was brought into focus. It didn't ever help that he was seemingly always getting so much more handsome every time you saw him.

His auburn locks were a little longer at the moment, no doubt because his biggest priority whilst on the run from the Empire was not his hair, but you weren't complaining. His hair framed his angelic face so perfectly, his features undeniably sharper and more mature, though his eyes were still as soft and gentle as they had always been, with a startling youthfulness that he couldn't seem to shake.

“It's good to see you guys, I'm glad to see you're not… with the Empire” You said a little hesitantly, then noticed the small blonde girl that was hiding behind Hunter.

He noticed you looking at her and introduced her to you.

“It's nice to meet you Omega” You smiled, kneeling down to get on her level.

“It's nice to meet you too, though I have already heard of you since Tech talks about you a lot” She said matter-of-factly.

“Is that right?” You smirked, looking up at Tech, whose cheeks were positively burning.

“I think I may have mentioned your existence a few times” He spoke flatly, but the edge of squeakiness gave him away.

The idea of Tech talking about you, or even just casually mentioning your existence in a passing comment, was enough to set your heart alight. In whatever manner it had truly been, he had at least always remembered you in some way, and that brought the smile to your face.

Hunter then said goodbye to you, and then to Echo, and retreated to the ship. Tech did the same, but instead walked towards you, stopping just in front of you. You had to crane your neck a little to look up at him in the pleasantly close quarters. Had he always been this tall?

“I-” He just looked at you for a while, and you smiled at him, waiting patiently for him to continue. “I have many questions to ask you” He finished.

You chuckled, “Maybe another time?”

Tech couldn't help but sigh, the familiar words making his heart ache, “Another time, yes”

“I think I owe you something now” You said with a small grin, trying to ease the light crease in his brow.

Tech watched your expression change cautiously, “Owe me? I don't think so”

“I mean, if you don't want it then-”

“Well, I must admit, I am curious now”

You laughed at his interjection, smiling at him fondly, “Alright, here you go then”

You placed a hand on his cheek and brought your lips to the other one, placing a lingering kiss to his cheekbone. Tech closed his eyes at the bittersweet feeling of it, and opened them to look back into yours. He placed his own hand to your cheek before the moment could end, and gently rubbed his thumb back and forth, his eyes searching yours. He took a quick glance over your shoulder and saw his brothers all watching him, waiting for him so they could leave, and he chewed the corner of his lip a little as he looked back to you.

“One of these days, I'll give you a proper kiss” He said quietly, making your heart skip a beat, “If you'd like that”

“I'd like that very much” You replied quickly, the grin on your face only growing.

Tech cracked his own small smile. “Another time then” He whispered, and looked over your features for a second longer, before placing a soft kiss to your forehead and walking away.

You watched him leave with an undeniable fondness swelling in your heart. You had felt a certain affection for Tech from the very beginning, and the thrill of the idea of him returning the feelings that you harboured for him brought forth the newfound nature of said feelings.

It went deeper than just liking him in a special way. This emotion you felt when you looked at him, or when you thought of him, was different. The way your heart stopped when he looked at you, the way your breath hitched when he spoke your name, you knew it was different. This was far more profound than a silly crush. The longevity of your affections had caused them to develop into something deeper, more serious.

Something like love.

17BBY, REBELLION BASE

“I need to talk to you”

You looked up from cleaning your workstation and saw Echo striding towards you, determination in his eyes that seemed otherwise tired and possibly even sad.

“What's the matter?” You asked, rushing over to meet him in the middle.

He opened his mouth, trying to find the words, but finding them hard to say, to admit even to himself.

“I… was just on a mission with the batch” He started.

“Oh how are they? How's Tech?” You ask, your mood lifted just a little.

Echo's heart ached, his eyebrows pinching together as his lips formed a hard line. His eyes began to well up slightly and he blinked a few times to rid himself of the tears.

“I'm so sorry” He whispered.

“Why are you sorry?” You asked cautiously.

“Tech… He-” Echo swallowed, “He didn't make it, he fell”

The words hit directly into your heart, and you could almost feel it collapse in on itself.

“Wh- What?” You whimpered out, almost hoping that you had heard him wrong, or that it was just a cruel joke of some kind.

“He… He sacrificed himself for the squad, so that they could live”

You couldn't say anything, couldn't breathe, couldn't move, couldn't think. The only thing you could do, was let the feeling of everything crashing down wash over you. It truly felt as if the hinges of your life, the certain something that seemingly held it up, had come loose.

You heard Echo say your name, but it was distant, like he was in another room. Your knees slowly gave in, and he grabbed you as you fell to the ground. He held you in his arms as you cried silently, your tears soaking through his clothes. He stroked your hair comfortingly, whispering assurances about how it was going to be fine, that everything would be alright.

“I never got to tell him, Echo” You choked out eventually, cutting through his smooth words.

“Tell him what?” He asked tenderly, knowing all too well what it was.

“That I… love him” You said, and a small sob finally escaped you.

Somehow it felt even harder to admit now that he was gone. Your love didn't feel as if it was in the past tense. It felt present, current, and that's why the sudden grief stung so much - the love was still lingering, and it didn't feel as if it was planning on leaving anytime soon. After all, it had managed to survive not seeing him for long periods of time, and to your broken heart, it felt the same.

17BBY, IMPERIAL PRISION

You surfaced slowly into consciousness, your eyes trying to open, but to no avail. You could feel your wrists caught in restraints, held above you on either side of your head. You tried to remember what had happened, but everything was fuzzy. You were… at the base. The Bad Batch were there, then… You were attacked? You were running with… Howzer? and then…

You couldn't recall anything past that point, but when your eyes finally opened you had a little idea of what could have happened. Sat opposite you with their arms crossed, was a man dressed head to toe in black armour, like the operative that Rex had captured before the attack on the base. He began talking, but it wasn't initially intelligible.

You shook your head to try and clear the brain fog a little, “Wha-”

“Tell me where the girl is” He demanded. The sound of his voice was so eerily familiar, but it was heavily modified by his helmet.

“Girl?” You questioned through your delirious state, turning your wrists in their restraints. Naturally, you knew who he was talking about, but you weren't going to give up that easily.

“Omega. I saw you talking with her, I know you know her and her brothers. Now, tell me, where would they have taken her?”

You pressed your mouth into a hard line, you could hardly deny it if he had seen you. “I won't talk”

He sighed, standing up and walking over so he stood in front of you, “I don't need to hurt you…” He said your name, and a chill ran up your spine. How could he know your name?

“That's not my name” You narrowed your eyes, looking into his visor.

“You cannot lie to me, Cyare” He spoke, and ran a hand over your cheek, “It would serve you well to tell the truth, it would be a shame to have to ruin this pretty face”

You looked over the man's appearance, for any semblance of individuality, but there was nothing.

“Who are you?” You asked.

“No one that concerns you anymore” The man chuckled, stepping back from you, “Now, tell me, what has become of the defective clones?”

You clenched your jaw in defiance, refusing to spill anything without even a little bit if incentive. You were clearly in some kind of imperial facility, but you weren't in any immediate danger, so you would stay stubborn for as long as you could.

The man spoke your name in a warning tone, his head tilted to the side, “I need you to tell me”

“I wont tell you anything” You spat back at him. He was irritatingly calm and collected, something you had not experienced from the Empire before.

He folded his hands behind his back, humming thoughtfully, “You will. Perhaps, another time”

With that, he turned and pressed the button on the door panel to leave.

You let your head hang down again, letting out a deep breath. If you weren't so tired you were sure that you'd be more panicked, but as your eyes closed and you let the exhaustion take over, you couldn't find it in yourself to be scared. Your body ached, and you needed it to rest if you wanted any chance of getting out of here.

The mysterious operative returned often over the next few days, pushing for answers but always leaving empty handed. He would always threaten violence, but had not touched you once since caressing your face in that first encounter.

He was now stood opposite you as he always was, making another empty threat about how you would be hurt if you didn't answer him.

You rolled your eyes, “Are you ever going to hold true to that promise?”

He stayed silent, and you laughed a little.

“Come on, I dare you, hurt me” You urged, jutting your chin out.

You were so tired of this, and he was obviously worn out by your defiance as well.

“I told you” He spoke quietly, “The last thing I would ever mean to do is hurt you”

Your heart stopped, and your eyes went wide as the familiar voice finally placed itself, hearing the same words that it had said all those years ago.

“It can't be, you-”

The man reached up and took off his helmet with a short hiss. He looked different, his face scarred and weary, his goggles nowhere to be seen, but it was undeniably him. The only thing that could have convinced you otherwise was the fact that his eyes didn't have the youthful sparkle they always seemed to in the past. Instead, they looked tired, completely worn down, and cold.

“Tech” You whispered, your heart beating impossibly fast in your chest.

He stepped closer, “I do not go by that name anymore”

On instinct, your eyes began to water, and a single tear ran down your cheek, “What are you doing here? You- You're with the Empire?”

He didn't reply, but he took off a glove and brought his hand to your face to wipe your tear away. You closed your eyes, and he let his hand remain on your cheek, rubbing your cheekbone lightly.

“I need you to tell me what I want to know” He spoke so softly now, and you opened your eyes and look up into his. They were still so inviting despite their unfamiliar coldness.

“Tech, why are you doing this?”

He didn't reply again, but brought his other hand to your cheek and held your face gently, his own just in front of yours, “Tell me”

“I can't” You choked out, brow furrowed as he ignored your questions.

“Please, Cyare. They will hurt you if you don't talk”

“Let them” You said firmly, tugging your face from his hands, “I won't betray your brothers”

Tech just watched you for a moment before opening his mouth again.

“So be it”

He put his helmet back on and left the room, leaving you alone with the revelation that the man you had been in love with was not only alive, but under the control of the Empire, the very thing you had dedicated your life to defeating.

The following day, when you lifted your head to see Tech enter your cell, he was now joined by an Imperial officer, and a floating droid that had a thin needle protruding from it. You understood all too well what this droid was, what it was used for, and you pulled at your restraints, a string of grunts escaping your lips.

“Resisting will do you no good” The Imperial officer chuckled, standing before you as the droid positioned itself to your left.

Tech couldn't watch. He kept his head up, appearing to be looking straight through you, but he had to close his eyes. Your screams were enough. You were resisting at every turn, and Tech just wished you would relent so that he wouldn't have to listen to the awful sounds that escaped you. The sounds that cut deep through his conditioning and hit his very soul, causing his chest to ache.

“Please, Tech. Make them stop” You cried hopelessly, and he squeezed his eyes closed even further, trying to block everything out.

To you, he looked cold, unmoving, and even after the Imperial had left with the droid as you had not let anything slip, he didn't budge at all.

After a few minutes of quiet, the only sound that was heard being your heavy breathing, he stepped forwards, taking off his helmet and letting it drop to the floor. He reached up and let you down from your restraints, catching your body as it fell down, limp with exhaustion. He knelt on the floor, his hand on the back of your head as it rested in his lap.

Your eyes fluttered open to see his face. He looked undeniably remorseful, and his eyes had a little amount of that special spark that they used to. You reached up and touched his face, causing his eyes to close with a shaky breath.

“What have they done to you Tech?” You whispered, your throat raw from shouting.

He didn't speak, but his heart clenched in his chest, every word you spoke bringing him further from the conditioning he had been subjected to to make him the way he was.

“How you could you let them do this to your brothers? To me? Do you not care about me at all?”

His eyes were now glassy when he opened them and looked down at you. He leant down and brought his forehead to yours, “I care for you more than you know”

Your tears were streaming down your face, “Then why are you doing this?”

Looking so deeply into your teary eyes, something in him finally snapped. He had a moment of intense clarity, fighting through his conditioning and realising the severity of his actions, of who he now was, who he had been forced to become.

He helped you stand before tying you back up in your restraints, much to your confusion.

You were sobbing now, your body and mind heavy with exhaustion, “Tech, please. Please stop this”

“I will come back for you, Cyare” He whispered, bringing his forehead back to yours with a hand on the back of your head, “I will get you out of here, I promise”

He stepped back, and was about to put his helmet back on, but he looked up to you once more.

“I am so very sorry”

You saw a tear slip from his eye, and he then placed his helmet on his head, leaving you alone once more.

Holding true to his promise, Tech returned that night. He unclipped your restraints, and you crumbled to your knees.

“Come on Cyar'ika, I'm going to get you out of here” He said gently, helping you to stand.

You tried to get a good footing, but your legs were too weak, and you fell into him. Without needing to be told, he picked you up, slinging an arm behind your back and the other under your knees. You rested your hands on his chest, looking up at his helmeted face and feeling unsure about his motivations. You were too tired to inquire though, so you just leaned your head against his shoulder and let him take you wherever he was going.

Tech carried you through the corridors of the prison, looking around corners and making sure to take the route where there would be the least guards. He constantly made sure you were still with him, as you kept slipping in and out of consciousness, so he'd place his fingers against your pulse point.

He slammed his hand into the door panel, and entered the elevator that would take you to the surface. The doors slid closed and he looked down at you, and behind his mask, he couldn't help but smile.

You looked so peaceful, so calm, so… beautiful.

For the first time, he let himself think of the future. He would get you out of here, and then he'd be free to think about his future. Maybe he'd re-join his brothers on Pabu, maybe… you would come with him. He hoped you could forgive him for the mistakes he'd made.

The doors opened, and Tech stepped out, pacing quickly across the landing platform to the nearest ship. Before he could make it there though, a bright light was shone on the pair of you from above.

“Trooper, put the prisoner down” A voice spoke through a loudspeaker, and he held you tightly in defiance.

He continued towards the transport, but was stopped in his place as blaster fire ripped through the air. His leg gave way as one of the shots grazed him, and he collapsed onto his knee, keeping you close to his chest so you wouldn’t hit the ground. He heard you let out a strangled gasp, and his heart sunk to his feet.

He pulled back from you, and sure enough, a blaster bolt had ripped straight into your chest.

He began panicking instantly, his breath quick and ragged, his heart stuttering and beating at an uneven pace. He let you rest in his lap, looking up to him through half lidded eyes that told him what he already knew to be true.

“No” He said assuredly, “You’re fine, you’re okay”

“Tech” You whispered.

“Everything will be fine” He bit into his bottom lip, completely in denial of what was happening.

“Tech” You said more firmly, though your voice was croaky, “It’s okay”

“It is not okay!” He exclaimed, tears spilling from his eyes that had quickly welled up.

He just watched you in disbelief, now unable to control the sobs that left his mouth. He had never cried so hard at anything in his life, but right now it felt as if everything was ending when it had only barely just begun.

“I'm so sorry Cyare, for everything” He whispered, his heart aching when you gave him a half-hearted smile.

“I know Tech, I know” You said breathlessly, the feeling of the blaster bolt to your heart ripping any strength from you.

Tech held your body close to him as the life slipped from you.

“It shouldn't have been like this, I should've protected you” He sobbed into your chest.

You pulled his head back and hooked your fingers under the edge of his helmet, taking it off his head so you could look into his eyes. You placed your hand on the side of his scarred cheek, and he leaned into it savouring your warm touch while he still could.

“It's okay Tech, I forgive you”

He didn't even think, he didn’t want to. Instead he just brought his lips to yours, the salty taste of his tears finding your tongue. The kiss was perfect, yet so bittersweet. It was something you had both waited years for, but now it would be one of the last moments you would ever share together. Tech kissed you so fervently, pouring every inch of his being into you, connecting his soul to yours, and in return you gave everything you had, even as it was slipping away.

He didn’t want it to end, and neither did you, but you knew your time was limited, and you had something you needed to say. You had thought that you had missed your chance before, and you’d be damned if you missed it now, in your final moments.

“Tech” You whispered, pulling away from him and looking into his glassy eyes, “I love you”

He let out a choked sob and brought his forehead to yours, “I love you too Cyar’ika, I always will”

His forehead rested against yours as you slipped away. He was whispering apologies, his eyes closed, unable to look into your eyes and see the light leave them. After a few moments, your hand fell from his face, and that's when he knew you were gone.

Tech held you close to him for a moment longer before his blood began boiling with rage. He laid your lifeless body against the ground, closing your eyes and making sure you could be comfortable even in death.

He stood, a flame burning inside of him that spread throughout his limbs, urging his fingers to find the pair of blasters that sat at his hip. He unholstered them just as blaster fire once more resumed. He dodged what he could, shooting the stormtroopers that closed in on him and depleting their numbers single-handedly, but his luck was eventually going to run out, and he knew that.

The first shot was to his shoulder, sending him stumbling backwards, but he fought through the searing pain and continued knocking down the soldiers. The second shot placed itself in his knee and he cried out as it gave way and he fell to his other knee, still fighting for his life. The third and fourth shots were the true nail in the coffin, both of them finding his chest and ripping him open as you had been. Even though he had armour, it was not enough to withstand two blaster bolts to the heart.

He fell forwards, his body sprawled on the floor unceremoniously. He lifted his head just a little to look towards your body. He grasped ahead of him and found purchase on your hand, still warm as if you were there comforting him through death as he had for you.

He laid down on his back as he saw his life flashing before his eyes, your hand clasped in his, and he mourned the life that could have been. Perhaps in another life, another time, things would have ended differently.

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multi-fan-dom-madness · 1 year

Text

Midnight Masquerade - Crosshair

Summary: The bottle chooses your partner, and it lands on Crosshair.

Chapter Warnings: minors DNI; vampire!Crosshair x f!reader. kinks: mind control + marking/biting. spitting, feeding, blood, consent is gained though it's a little fuzzy, praise, oral (m receiving), PiV sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it); if I missed anything, please let me know!

Word Count: 2.6k

Read the intro here! | Suggested listening

...Crosshair.

A round of wolf-whistles rises from the rest of the table (quite literally, in Hunter’s case). Your gaze snaps to Crosshair. His eyes, shining blood red in the strobing lights of the party, meet yours without hesitation. A slow, smug smirk tugs his lips over his teeth. Pointed canines gleam. Core clenching in a mix of anxiety and excitement, you swallow involuntarily. For a moment, you forget where you are, entranced by the ruby color of his eyes, vision tunneling so that all you can see is him.

The moment passes. Tech appraises both you and Crosshair. “Please do take note of any physiological differences or changes during this proce—hmph—”

Crosshair shoves his slim hand in his brother’s face, effectively shutting him up and providing leverage to climb out of the confines of the table. You rise on shaky legs. Crosshair moves to your side; he’s not as broad as his batchmates, but you still feel dwarfed by his presence, the pallid tint his skin has taken on, the sunken circles around his eyes, the faint scars on his neck that remind you what he’s transformed into. Even his clothing, a plain, high-collared black cape and simple button-down, sets your blood into a frenzy. When his hand comes to rest on the small of your back, you shudder.

Peering at you with hooded eyes, Crosshair quirks one eyebrow. “Well, doll?”

“Let’s find somewhere more...private,” you say. Your heart is in your throat, choking your words, but you’re not scared so much as you are exhilarated.

Crosshair’s grip curves around your waist and tugs you firmly against his side. The appreciative look he gives you reassures you; from the few times you’ve interacted, there’s always been an unspoken magnetism that draws you to him. His silent, stoic facade and piercing gaze haunt your dreams on occasion.

The crowd of troopers and nat-born partiers alike parts before the two of you as Crosshair guides you, towards a doorway at the back you hadn’t noticed before. In your periphery, you catch the looks some of the troopers share, the dubious expressions on their faces, but the pulse and thrum of the music drowns out any comments they mutter. All that matters is the way that Cross’s fingers dig into your side, the angry glare he levels at anyone who gets too close to you.

It makes you feel wanted. Desired. You walk with your back a little straighter.

At the back of the large building, the single doorway leads to a hallway that itself branches into tributary halls and connected rooms. Straight ahead, a set of stairs leads up to another level.

“You got a safe word?” Cross asks, voice silky and low, as the door shuts behind the two of you.

Nodding, you meet his gaze again with a daring smile, lifting your chin to expose your neck more than you normally would. His eyes flicker down from yours to trace the column of your throat, before returning to your face. In the low light, his red eyes gleam. Your breath grows shallower.

“Meiloorun,” you finally say.

“Good,” he hums. Tugging you forward once more, he leads you down a series of twisting hallways that leave you disoriented and confused. The longer you walk, the more you yearn for him to slide his hand down to your ass, or to push you against the wall and take you there, or even to just sink his fangs into you and—

“You have loud thoughts, dollface. Patience.”

Startled, you peer up at him with wide eyes. “Can you read my mind?”

Drawing you to a halt, he glances into the nearest chamber and seems to come to a decision. Pushing you gently, he guides you into the room. A light, dim and soft yellow, blooms to life from a lamp in the corner, revealing—a bed? In the center of the room, a massive bed with plush pillows awaits, and hanging along one wall are a myriad of tools, toys, and implements. Your body flushes with heat at the sight.

Crosshair slips his arm from around you. “I can hear vague impressions of what you’re thinking,” he finally answers.

“Oh.” You hesitate in the midst of the room as he shuts the door behind you. “So, uh, are you good with this?”

“I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.”

“Right,” you say, “yeah. Just asking.”

He hums, wrapping his arms around you from behind, caging you in place, as he dips his head to breathe in your scent. Nose skimming over your skin, he inhales deeply. The groan he lets out rumbles against your back. Goosebumps skitter down your skin.

“You think too much,” he grumbles, then presses a chaste, close-mouthed kiss to the spot where your neck and shoulder meet. “Let me help with that.”

“H-How?” you breathe out, nerves coming alive in reaction to him. Kriff, he’s barely touched you, and you’re already so sensitive, so open, so curious.

His hands guide you to turn around in his embrace. Snaking your arms up around his shoulders, you fiddle with the short, silvery locks at the nape of his neck. Slowly, you raise your gaze from his chest, where silver hair peeks through the unbuttoned top of his shirt, to the strong column of his throat, to his pouting mouth, to his crimson eyes. Again, peering into him, you lose awareness, just for a moment, of the room around you.

He runs his tongue over his fangs and grins, predatory and feral. “Just let go, doll. I’ll take care of the rest.”

You glance at his mouth, biting at your own lips, heart stuttering. “Kiss me first.”

Grip tightening around your body, he captures your lips in a bruising kiss. You moan, unashamed and loud, against him. His mouth is rough, demanding; his sharp teeth catch at your bottom lip, not hard enough to draw blood but enough to remind you of why you’re here. Heat pulses through you.

When he pulls back, his eyes darken, lips parted and swollen. Your chest heaves. Fingers tightening in his hair, you chase his mouth, but he just chuckles and steps out of your embrace.

“Undress,” he says, peering into your eyes. “Then wait by the bed.”

A warm tingling sensation spills down your spine as his eyes seem to glow crimson. The weight of your thoughts seems to lift, ever so slightly. With a shiver, all you can do is nod, filled with the urge to comply.

Stepping out of your shoes, you tug off your clothing as quickly as you can, discarding the offending garments haphazardly, uncaring where they go. In the chilled air of the room, your nipples pebble. The thought occurs to you to touch them, let Crosshair see you play with yourself—a thought that is immediately dashed. That hadn’t been part of the orders.

You wrench your attention back to the current moment as you position yourself by the side of the bed as told. Against the far wall, Crosshair leans, fingers absentmindedly caressing the worn grip of a flogger, an amused smile playing across his face as he watches you.

“Good,” he says, and a flush of pride skitters through you. “Kneel.”

Even across the room, the weight of his chromatic gaze presses on you, and you again succumb to the warm, floating feeling as you drop to your knees. You rest your palms on your thighs. Crosshair approaches, toys left behind on the wall, and you crane your head back to maintain eye contact. One hand, long and cool and tender, caresses your face, thumb swiping over your bottom lip.

You lick his thumb, enticing him to touch you more, feel you deeper.

“Behave.”

The command washes over you and settles into your bones. The longer you stare into his eyes, the lighter you become, until all you’re aware of is the cold press of duracrete against your knees, the feel of his skin against yours, and those red, red eyes.

“That’s it,” he praises. “Open your mouth.”

You anticipate the words before they leave his lips and your jaw is open halfway through his statement, tongue sticking over your bottom teeth. It’s like you can feel what he desires of you before he expresses it aloud; the pleased expression that curls over his face makes you happy. You’re doing so well for him.

Crosshair leans over you, still fully clothed, and while normally you’d be concerned with freeing his cock from his pants, right now all you’re worried about is making sure you follow orders. Keeping your mouth open, your eyes never leave his.

He spits in your waiting mouth. “Swallow that.”

You do as told, thighs clenching together as you become aware of another thing: the slick coating of arousal dripping down your legs.

“Crosshair,” you whine, breathless.

“Patience,” he chides again. His hands move to undo his pants; you blink and his cock is fully free, swollen and flushed and drooping in front of your face. “Remember your safe word, pretty thing?”

It takes you a moment, sifting through hazy thoughts and muddled memories, but it comes back to you. “Meiloorun.”

“Good girl.”

This time, he doesn’t even have to voice what he wants from you. Once you drop your mouth open again, he slips the flushed tip of his cock past your lips. You hollow your cheeks, sucking on his leaking head, humming in contentment at his taste. Cross watches you with hooded lids, a flush blotching his neck and face. Stars, he looks good like this. You bob your head, fighting off your gag when he touches the back of your throat.

“Kriff,” he grits out.

You repeat the motion. The only sound you’re aware of is the wet suck of your lips wrapped tight around his length, and it only makes the wetness between your thighs grow worse. Whining, you sense the order Crosshair wants to give: stay still and let me fuck your face.

So you do. Cross’s hands come to rest on your jaw, cradling your head gently, and you breathe deep and even through your nose as he pushes his hips forward. Gagging, your vision blurs with tears as he holds you on his cock—and when he releases, you sputter, coughing.

“Filthy little thing,” he says, but the undertone of his voice is laced with praise. You flutter your eyelashes up at him, thick with tears.

For a moment, the two of you remain like that, a string of spit connecting you to his dick. His chest heaves, straining against the buttons of his shirt. Your eyes flicker away from his ruby gaze long enough to soak in the sight of his bulging muscles; his fingers on your jaw angle your face back up.

“On the bed,” he murmurs.

You rise to your feet and perch your ass on the side of the bed, your slick and aching cunt at the perfect level for him to sink into without any angling. Eyes on his, you sense what he wants—what he needs. You trail two fingers through your sopping folds to gather some of your juices. Spreading your arousal over his hard length, you whimper at the velvety feel of him in your hand.

“Such a good pet,” he croons.

He grips at your hips, yanking you forward so you’re supporting yourself by your elbows, entire body hanging off the bed. His jaw tightens as he rubs his cockhead through your folds, rutting into you, the tip catching at your entrance. You both moan.

And then he’s pushing into you, or maybe he’s pulling you onto him, but either way all you can feel is his thick length spearing you, deeper than you’ve ever had another partner before. His balls rest heavy against your ass as he holds you still, his fingers likely leaving bruises where he holds your hips. Your cunt flutters around him.

Another of his thoughts begins to form, and you sense it over your connection to him. Immediately you convulse, desire and pleasure rocketing through you.

“Yes, please, Crosshair, mark me,” you beg. “Show everyone who I belong to. Fucking bite me.”

Face contorting into a snarl, he snaps his hips against yours. His cock sliding nearly all the way out of you before he impales you once again, you let your head fall back, moans clawing out of your throat with every thrust. Stars, he’s so deep, reaching parts of you that you only ever dreamed of, and it makes your entire body light up with pleasure.

He continues to fuck you as his arms slip around your body, pulling you flush to him, supporting your entire body weight.

And then his mouth is on your skin. He sucks a trail of hickeys across your chest, lavishes your nipples with licks and love bites, skims his fangs over your hot, sensitive buds. You pant. Snagging his hair in one hand, you gently guide his head up to your neck, your actions an extension of the burning desire coursing through you both.

“Please,” you whimper, “please please please feed on me.”

“Kriff, girl,” he groans into you.

There’s a split second of overwhelming pain when his fangs sink into you—but it is immediately dispersed by a rush of pleasure so blinding that you think you cum. You can’t tell. Your mind is too far gone to fully process anything but the fact that his cock is driving into that one devastating spot inside you and that his lips are latched around the double-puncture wound in your neck as he suckles from your life-force. His thumb finds your clit and rubs it in precise, tight circles. Sobbing from pleasure and overstimulation, you cum again around him, body locked up as he fucks you through it.

“That’s it, just like that,” he praises, sounding absolutely wrecked, tongue smoothing over the bite mark on your neck. “K-Kark, gonna—”

“Please!” It’s the only word you’re capable of. “Please, please.”

He lifts his head, eyes finding yours once more, as he thrusts once, twice, thrice more before stilling, cock buried as deep in your cunt as he can get. As his length throbs in your soaked pussy, you can’t help the ragged whimper that tears from your chest at the sensation, nearly tipping you over the edge yet again.

Slowly you become aware of your surroundings again. Against your back is a plush, soft surface: the bed. Crosshair’s voice, still silky and raspy, but lacking the previous hard edge, caresses your ears. “Did so good, doll. Come back down to me.”

Blinking, you loll your head to the side. Lying next to you, Crosshair gives you the barest hint of a smile, expression softer than you’ve ever seen him. His eyes have returned to their usual amber smolder, his skin devoid of the pallid, waxy hue. His fingers brush your cheek.

“I hurt you.”

He doesn’t phrase it as a question. You reach with weak fingers to poke the sore wound at the base of your neck, wincing slightly but chuckling nonetheless. “I wanted it. It felt amazing.”

Settling his hand in the center of your chest, the two of you bask in the pleasant silence, studying one another. Faintly, music reaches your ears—the party is still going, and you can return when you’re ready. Crosshair slowly recomposes his expression into the neutral scowl you’re so familiar with.

“What happened, fully?” you finally ask.

“Mind control,” he says. “Sent you into a trance. Tried to, at least. Got carried away.”

His eyes drop to your bare body and you follow his gaze. A gasp escapes you. Oh, that’s so many more hickeys and marks than you expected. You’d been lost in the heady pleasure, the cloudlike feeling of drifting and only being tethered to the real world by his cock.

The thought makes you giggle; once you start laughing, you find it hard to stop. After a moment, Crosshair joins, his low rumbling laugh echoing with yours. You’ll get back to the party eventually. For now, you just enjoy the comfy bed and good company.

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#tbb crosshair x reader #crosshair x reader #hallowkink23 #mdfm hallowkink 23 #kinktober 2023 #midnight masquerade #rhiwrites #the bad batch x reader #tbb x reader #crosshair x f!reader #crosshair x fem!reader #vampire!crosshair #monster!clone au

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mostlycompetentwriter · 1 year

Text

Star Lost

F/M Pairing: Fem! Reader x Changbin (SKZ)

Genre: Science Fiction; Star Wars AU

Word Count: 13K

Warnings: Explicit Smut, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Alcohol Consumption, and Language; Changbin as a Brooding Mandalorian

Summary: They found you, a speck among millions of stars, and they gave you a home in their ranks. But how will your ragtag family of bounty hunters fare against a former storm trooper who offers you a compelling reward in exchange for your services?

A/N: if you see any mistakes, no you don’t...

Tag List: @luminouskalopsia @straykissss @charreddonuts @pandinha-puff @mrs-grim-reaper @elkel @lamerchesan @idek-at-this-point-lol @poutypoutybin @lavenderbang @adaamazing

“Do you have the target in sight?”

The question, heavily modulated, hummed through the dusty speakers along with a fresh wave of static.

“I see him,” you replied, tapping your fingers against the screen in the hopes of deterring those annoying purple and black bars from moving like electrified waves across your line of vision.

If you did your job well, then it would be easy for the rest of your group to catch your next bounty. But that meant keeping a close watch on his movements, which was rather hard to do with outdated equipment that had seen better days. Still, your last-ditch efforts to clear the screen seemed to work, and you could see the target speaking to one of the competitors who was adjusting his helmet next to his speed cruiser.

“Chan?” you called into your headset. “Are you set at the starting line?”

“I am,” your leader returned, and your eyes were immediately drawn to a flash of blonde hair walking across the sand, trailed by a familiar Twi’lek and Togruta hot on his heels.

“Get ready,” you said, watching the three imposing figures attract a fair amount of attention from the surrounding competition. Not that you blamed them. Elegant, tall, and graceful, Hyunjin’s stunning countenance had once been attached to an incredible price tag when he had been imprisoned under the infamous Jabba the Hutt on the desert planet Tatooine.

His species, the Twi’lek, were coveted because of their colorful features, beautiful head tails, and gorgeous facial pigments. Yet, beneath Hyunjin’s speckled green skin was a powerful warrior who had spent years mastering the martial arts in order to secure his freedom.

Next to him walked Minho, a Togruta who fled his home planet Ryloth to seek a better life. Unlike Hyunjin’s two prehensile head-tails that grew from the crown of his skull, Minho had three of them, spreading over his shoulders and another emerging from the rear base of his skull. His bright orange skin almost made him blend against the backdrop of the sand, but his white and blue-tinted head-tails disrupted the camouflage and cast a unique halo around the crown of his head.

“We’re starting,” Chan’s voice broke through your thoughts, and you took a deep breath as he mounted his cruiser, switching on the ignition and looking nothing short of fearless with his blonde hair swept back by a headband and his blue eyes sharp and calculating.

Minho and Hyunjin exchanged a few words with Chan before they walked over to stand at the side of the arena, glaring at anyone who ventured too close. “If looks could kill,” you quipped, earning yourself a tight-lipped smile from Hyunjin.

“Racers, take your marks!” the drone flying overhead announced, and the arena was filled with the reverberating sound of various engines being revved as riders prepared to race for the grand prize: a mountain of gold that you had seen with your own eyes, disbelief rendering you speechless. But it wasn’t the money that you and your partners were after...your crew sought something far more valuable, and it meant that weeks of careful planning were riding on this one moment.

This is the part where you held your breath, muscles tensed as you watched the traffic light change from red to yellow and then, finally, green. Cuing the start of the race, and a huge, dusting of sand reared up in the background, spreading across the arena as the cruisers took off, speeding into the distance where they would attempt to conquer the course as quick as possible without wrecking or, worst case scenario, dying.

You knew during the planning stage that Chan’s part in this was nothing short of dangerous, but that didn’t mean you accepted it without stressing over every possible piece of the puzzle that could go wrong. Even as you watched Chan’s heat signature on the screen, tracking him across the vast expanse of sand and open dunes that populated the small dessert planet you had landed on for this mission, your mind was whirring. All you could do was keep an eye on things as the real trouble happened at the end, especially if Chan managed to win the race.

In actuality, a first-place win wasn’t necessary; the most he really had to do was finish in the top 3, and Chan was notorious for being an excellent racer. It had been a no-brainer to choose him for this part, even if the risks meant that something could easily happen to deter your entire mission, leaving you back at square one.

But it was your best plan, and that meant waiting. Long, agonizing minutes of stationary monitoring. Chewing on the ends of your fingernails as you watched Chan pass the second-place cruiser, building a lead that still didn’t offer you reprieve. What if an Ackley spotted him from a distance and decided to make him its next meal? What if his cruiser malfunctioned...although, that was highly unlikely considering the man who built it from scratch.

And just the thought of him made you shiver unexpectedly despite the heat penetrating your ship. “Focus,” you whispered as thoughts of him could certainly derail your focus if you weren’t careful.

“They’re coming in for the finish!”

Your eyes were burning from forcing yourself not to blink, laser-focused on the screen in front of you as the racers rounded the final stretch, and you could feel the tension ready to snap at a moments notice.

Riding at the front of the pack was Chan, flanked on either side by second and third place. It was tight. Too tight.

And you winced at the moment of impact, when all three cruisers collided over the finish line.

Every ounce of oxygen left your lungs, body seizing in a catatonic state when Chan lurched forward off his cruiser, flying through the air to land with an audible thud against the unforgiving track. Nothing but an unmoving heap amidst wreckage of metal parts and loose pieces.

“No!” you whispered, fingers trembling against your headset as Hyunjin and Minho ran across the arena, falling next to Chan with clear urgency in their movements.

Your heart thundered in your chest at the sight, chills running down your spine. What would your crew accomplish without your leader? Could any of you live with the guilt and regret if he didn’t make it back on the ship?

Yet, just as those intrusive thoughts entered your head, you noticed one of Chan’s hands gripping tight to Minho’s forearm. It was the first sign of life, and you let out an incomprehensible noise when Hyunjin and Minho managed to help muscle Chan into a sitting position, cleaning the dust and debris from his racing suit.

“He’s okay.” You breathed a sigh of relief as Chan stood from the wreckage, brushing aside Hyunjin and Minho.

He had done it.

Chan had won the race.

Not without a few bumps and bruises, and maybe something worse as you noticed his legs wobbling beneath him. He started for the bleachers lining the sides of the track, gritting his teeth against obvious pain, when the crackling of reverb from the overhead speakers disrupted the chaotic aftermath.

“To the victor goes the spoils,” a booming voice rang from across the track, attracting every pair of eyes in the arena to the tall, lanky figure emerging from the shaded tunnel. Even from afar you could recognize him as your target, dressed in wealth and cloaked in a gold cape that swept the ground and churned up a faint cloud of dust.

“He’s coming,” you spoke in the headset to warn Hyunjin and Minho, who held just that extra bit tighter to Chan, helping him stand prouder in spite of his obvious pain.

“Well, we certainly weren’t expecting this,” your target spoke, hands moving in the air. “An outsider from another planet. Winning against all odds.”

“Impressed?” Minho dared to venture, ignoring Hyunjin’s sharp eye.

“Indeed,” your target agreed. “But where are my manners? My name is Raphael. I’m the owner of this track.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Chan forced out between clenched teeth. “I’m Chan and these are my crew members, Hyunjin and Minho.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” Raphael smiled, something grand and well-practiced. “Are there more of you?”

“A few of us,” Chan replied vaguely in turn.

Raphael nodded, glancing between your three crew mates with obvious interest. “You’ll join me, of course?” he asked with a smile. “We must celebrate our new champion. Bring all of your friends!”

Bingo. It was the opening your team had been hoping for, and Chan ducked his head in agreement, following behind Raphael as he turned around to lead the way. “Meet Jeongin outside the stadium,” Chan murmured into the mic, speaking directly to you. “Tell the guards that you’re with us.”

You perked up in interest, surprised that Chan wanted you and Jeongin to join him. Usually, you and your team’s medic remained behind, tucked away on the ship while the others did the heavy lifting.

Unless Chan was desperate for trusted medical assistance. Or, he was keeping information from you. Either way, something bad was churning in the settling dust, the remnants of the race disappearing in the wind.

You tossed aside your headset, moving through the ship to find Jeongin in his small laboratory. He was hunched over his desk, eyes squinting from behind eyeglasses that had long ago went out of a current prescription. “Jeongin,” you said, and he offered a muted hum of acknowledgment. “Chan wants us to meet him.”

Jeongin frowned at that, but agreed nonetheless, tossing on his lab coat as you led the way off the ship, ensuring that the cloaking shield was on before you started in the direction of the dusky, dilapidated buildings that populated the infamous desert city. “What does he want with us?” Jeongin huffed, struggling to keep pace with your longer strides.

If you didn’t know any better, you might think Jeongin was allergic to fresh air, preferring the indoors and the comforts of his lab equipment and potions. “I don’t know,” you replied, and the two of you fell into terse silence as you followed the tracking beacon that Chan had attached to his suit before leaving the ship, guiding your way through the streets lined with merchants and patrons alike, hustling and moving, as you fought your way through the crowds.

Up ahead in the distance, you identified a taller building, standing out from the rest. Far more elegant, a picture of wealth, made entirely of the nicest stone masonry and supported on four tall columns. The roof was slanted in the shape of a cylinder, and the adjoining towers seemed to vanish into the clouds above.

“They’re inside?” Jeongin asked.

You nodded, braving the steps leading to the large, mahogany-colored doors where two Gamorreans stood guard, holding double-axes between their clawed hands. “Halt!” one of them called, taking a step forward.

“We’re with Bang Chan,” you said, bowing his head. “He asked us to meet him here.”

The Gamorrean grunted, turning to his friend who merely stood aside, opening the doors to reveal a long, narrow hallway, marble floors shimmering with the reflection of the flames held on wall scones. “Thanks,” you muttered, pulling Jeongin behind you with a hand on his shoulder.

Once inside, you weren’t surprised to see a tall, formally dressed man immediately come to greet you, bowing low at the waist and requesting that you follow him to the main room. “Of course,” you agreed, and there a skip in the butler’s step that had you rolling your eyes, taking in the gruesome war scenes hanging from the walls in graphic detail.

As if you needed confirmation of Raphael’s preoccupation with violence. “Right this way,” the butler directed you down another corridor, walking you to the end to open another set of doors, and your stomach settled a little at the sight of Chan, Minho, and Hyunjin.

“Ah!” Raphael clapped his hands together in delight. “You weren’t lying.”

You frowned at that, but chose not to comment, and you and Jeongin joined Chan, taking two flutes of champagne from one of the waiters making rounds through the room. “This is Y/N,” Chan said. “And Jeongin.”

“Excellent,” Raphael said. “And the girl...”

“Untouched,” Chan agreed, which you knew was a blatant lie, so why was Chan saying such things?

“Then you can stand with me,” Raphael said, and you forced yourself to move, casting Chan a confused look which was merely met with a nod.

You forced down your disgust, letting Raphael tuck your arm into his as he continued chatting away about the room’s décor. What was Chan’s goal here? To make Raphael think you were a virgin? What good would that do?

Maybe something had happened to force a change of plans. But you didn’t like it one bit, being in the dark and holding your tongue as Raphael continued to drink glass after glass of champagne. Perhaps Chan’s plan was to get him drunk enough to pass out.

“Now, what about your other guest-”

The doors opened again to interrupt Raphael, and you could feel the room’s temperature drop. Your stomach was flipping in somersaults, twisting and churning, as your Mandalorian walked closer, flanked by Han and Seungmin, the final members of your ragtag crew of hunters. “What do we have here?” Raphael laughed, seemingly delighted. “Can it really be a Mandalorian?”

“Does it surprise you?” Chan asked, tone cool and collected.

“In beskar?” Raphael hummed. “I can’t say I’m not intrigued.”

You shivered at the blatant interest in Raphael’s gaze. “Does it have a name?”

“He does,” Changbin finally spoke, voice modulated through his helmet. “But not for your ears.”

“Ah, yes, the code,” Raphael smirked, tone dripping with disrespect. You bristled at the insult, knowing firsthand just how important names were considered in Mandalorian culture. Their secrecy equated to their survival. Even within your team, Changbin’s name remained a mystery.

Well, except to you, of course, since he had willingly whispered it to you one night, breath hot against the skin of your thighs from where he had laid between them.

You blushed at the memory, shaking your head clear of any thoughts of your Mandalorian and the lust his presence spiked in your blood.

“This day just keeps getting better,” Raphael said, jostling you a bit with his over-eager motions.

It was then that you could feel Changbin’s gaze on you, even through his reflective visor. Did he know about this change in plan? Or, was he just as confused?

“How much then?” Raphael asked and Chan cocked one brow.

“How much?”

“For your Mandalorian!” Raphael said. “He’d make a fine warrior!”

“Not for sale,” came Changbin’s dead-panned response.

“Well, what about the lady?” you grimaced at his breath on your face, seeing Han clasp a tight hand on Changbin’s shoulder before he could react.

“100,” Chan replied, and you forced down your urge to flinch. “But it must be done on my ship. I don’t allow her out of my sight.”

“So, you’ll be watching?” Raphael quipped.

You rolled your eyes, stopping on Chan’s form. Was this really his plan? To pretend to sell you out to get Raphael on the ship?

“How can I trust you?” Raphael asked, and you noticed one of his guards entering the room.

“We’re friends, aren’t we?” Chan asked, and that’s when all civility ended, watching the guard lift his blaster from the corner of his eye.

He was down before you could blink, Minho aiming his blaster just right, and that’s when you knew to hide, breaking Raphael’s hold to dive under one of the refreshment tables. Jeongin fleeing next to you.

Maybe Chan had anticipated this as a last resort. If you didn’t work, coming on to Raphael, then there would be a fight. Then, they would need Jeongin if anyone was injured.

Your hands closed over your ears to drown out the sounds of blasters and screams, whispering a prayer under your breath that none of your crew would feel the stinging edge of a blaster’s rays. You hated this. The violence inflicted against the people you cherished.

But in the blink of an eye, it was over, and silence reigned. Then, you felt a familiar gloved hand wrap around your arm, and you forced your eyes open, relief washing over you at the sight of Changbin.

“We’re fine,” he said, the only two words you needed to hear for your shoulders to drop and your heart to return to an even pace.

You let Changbin help you out from under the table, swallowing hard at the carnage around you. Thankfully, you were quick to tally the ones that mattered: Chan, with a smear of blood under his eye, Minho, Hyunjin, looking put-off as always, Seungmin, and Han.

“Let me see,” you heard Jeongin speak, eyes following him as he moved in closer to examine Chan’s wound.

You felt no remorse studying Raphael’s crumpled body on the floor, leaving nothing but a sea of dead bodies surrounding you. But a tiny shiver did fall down your spine when you felt Changbin’s hand caress your own from behind - a barely-there brushing of appendages. Yet, you had never felt so lightheaded. It was his silent way of comforting you.

“Sorry,” Chan grumbled into the silence, holstering his blaster with a sigh. “He wasn’t coming in hot.” You grimaced as Jeongin applied a salve to Chan’s eye, spreading some of the blood.

“No,” Minho agreed in that assessing way he had about him, finishing a sweep of the room with calculating eyes. “Not that it matters.”

“Let’s get out of here before the rest of his guards come,” Changbin said, and you jumped a little at the sound of his voice, so close behind you, that it almost felt like a gentle hug.

The others murmured their assent, and Chan was the first to start for the big, oval-shaped window at the back of the room, using a chair to smash through the glass. It rained down on the floor, joining the bodies and blood, reflecting colorful light at different angles. “We’ll head back to Tatooine, hand over the rest of the bounties.”

There were no objections, and you let Changbin coddle you, even if you often insisted on trying to maintain a strong image in public. “You did good, kitten,” he mumbled to you. “Even if I didn’t like that slimy bastard’s hands all over you.”

You preened at the his obvious jealousy, holding your tongue to prevent yourself from saying anything that might tease him too much. Instead, you focused on following the others, keeping to the shadows of the clay-lined buildings until your ship came into focus in the foreground, growing larger and larger as you approached.

“Everyone on board,” Chan said, brushing aside Jeongin’s worried hands. “It’s fine.”

“It could get infected!”

“Just check on the others,” Chan insisted, nodding at Minho as the two of them walked onboard and immediately started up the ladder to the cockpit above, flipping switches and turning dials to bring the ship to life.

You watched Jeongin deflate, but he did move about the room, making sure everyone else was fine. “Y/N?”

“I’m okay,” you assured him, turning your head to the side to track Changbin’s movements with your gaze as he disappeared below deck. It was obvious to you where he was going, as you remembered that Han, Seungmin, and Changbin had been tasked with bringing back the remains of the cruiser before joining everyone else in Raphael’s hideout.

“You might have to finish with Chan when he falls asleep,” you whispered, pleased at Jeongin’s smile.

Satisfied that the others were safe, and Jeongin in better spirits, you took a familiar path to your room, deciding to wash up before searching for Changbin later, deciding he needed an appropriate reward for always looking out for you.

It had only been a few hours since you made the jump to hyper speed, and you observed the flashing stars from your window for a while before deciding to find Changbin. Your first instinct was to check the lower deck, as you knew Changbin’s mind was a machine that often worked itself up in battle only to take far too long to return to normal again.

Of course, you weren’t the slightest bit surprised, when all was said and done, to find him tending to the remnants of Chan’s cruiser on the floor beneath the main deck. In the room where you kept weapons and other machines. In fact, you found yourself smiling at his predictability despite his claims otherwise.

“What are you doing?” you asked to break the silence, coming into the room before closing the door behind you.

Immediately, a familiar black visor was searing your gaze. “The better question is...why are you awake?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” you lied, tip-toeing closer to where he stood, still clad in his beskar armor, arms folded over his chest.

“Really?” the modulated voice purred, and you were delighted by the sound. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

You shivered at the prospect. “Maybe...”

He grunted, dropping his helmet back down to look at the sad remains of the cruiser. “Chan promised he would be careful.”

You snorted at the comment. “When is he ever?”

He didn’t respond right away, walking along the melted edges of the cruiser as if looking for potential. Even though you only saw a pile of junk, you knew that he was a master when it came to engineering.

An intellect who also happened to be a highly skilled warrior, trained in battle under the guidance of an ancient civilization. But more than that, he was your Mandalorian, and you found him irresistible.

From under the fluorescent lights of the workshop, you admired his powerful presence. Even clad in beskar, from his shiny gray helmet to his black chest plate, Changbin was a sight to behold. You shivered when your eyes landed on his fingers flexed inside his gloves, knowing firsthand just how they felt curled inside of you.

For a moment, silence persisted between you both, and you thought that you might just watch Changbin work on the cruiser. But then he started for the big, worn leather chair tucked away at the workbench in the furthest corner of the room, spreading his legs apart. “Come here,” he husked, crooking a finger in your direction.

You swallowed hard, feeling yourself grow wet at the mere sound of his commanding tone. You were helpless to obey, forcing your legs to work as you managed the short walk to stand in between Changbin’s legs wrapped loose in leather pants. His head fell to the side, looking at you from that annoying visor that kept his gaze from locking on your own. You could only hope that he didn’t notice the way you were trembling like a delicate leaf in a windstorm.

“Kitten,” Changbin said, and you nearly gasped at the seductive sound of his nickname for you. “Turn off the lights.”

You nodded so hard you thought you might get whiplash, nearly tripping over yourself in your haste to flip the light switch, bathing the workshop in a dark blanket of black.

A deep exhale filtered through your lips, heart thundering against your chest, as you used your hands to help guide your way back over to Changbin. Once you stood in front of him again, trapped between the reassuring weight of his legs, you heard the familiar hiss of air that released whenever he removed his helmet.

According to Mandalorian tradition, a Mandalorian could not reveal their identities to anyone. They wore their protective beskar, including the helmet, to hide themselves from the world.

Not once, in the years that you had known Changbin, had he ever revealed himself to you. Even in intimate moments like this, you could only touch him when there was darkness to keep himself hidden.

“Kitten,” Changbin growled, and you realized you had been tuning him out. “Sit.”

Like a well-trained animal, you straddled his thighs, perching yourself on his lap as his hands flew to grip your waist.

“Pretty thing,” Changbin murmured in a tone much softer than you had anticipated. One that slowed your heart rather than speeding it up.

“Kiss me,” you whispered, delighted when he was quick to acquiesce, clearly in no mood for teasing. Instead of his usual, teasing pecks, these kisses were deep and sensual, capable of warming you all the way down to the tips of your toes.

You sighed into the kiss, feeling that his breath was hot against your lips, and you couldn’t get enough of his taste. Of the rough sensation of the five o’clock shadow that dusted his face and chin. Fingers moving against the texture like it was raised braille that you could read and learn. Memorize to recall later when you might touch yourself in bed to thoughts of him.

“Eager,” Changbin grunted when you took his lower lip between your teeth to give it a nip. “Asking for trouble.”

Your hands moved to his shoulders, fingers wrapping in the curls that grew from around his ears. “Can you blame me?” you grinned, letting out a little whine when his hips jerked up from under your own, grinding himself perfectly against the tight seam of your shorts.

“What do you want?” Changbin asked, grip tightening and letting you know that he would give you what you wanted, but under his full discretion.

“I want to cum,” you whispered, gasping when one of his hands moved to grip a handful of your ass, squeezing with a strong hold.

“Then you’ll do it right here,” he said, and you understood his intention immediately, feeling his thigh clench under you. “Ride me.”

You nodded fiercely, foreheads meeting in the hot middle, sharing precious oxygen between your hungry lips as you started to move yourself against him, friction building as the burning sensation of his leather pants rubbed against the loose shorts that barely kept you hidden.

“Move like this, kitten,” Changbin instructed, and you nearly choked around a hoarse moan when he started rocking you back and forth against his thigh, grip impossibly strong. You could sense yourself growing even wetter, a familiar tightening building in your core, demanding release.

Your hands flew to his shoulders, nails digging into his armor to keep yourself anchored. At this point, you were desperate, hips grinding against his muscled thigh with as much strength as you could muster, chasing that delicious release as he simply looked on with a growl, cologne thick in the air between you.

“That’s it,” he encouraged you, both hands landing on your ass to move you even closer. You bent your head to hide yourself in his shoulder, shivering each time the tight bulge of his cock knocked against your sensitive pussy, giving your clit just enough pressure to push you right over the edge.

“Pretty,” Changbin declared, still perfectly put-together as if he hadn’t just brought you to an earth-shattering orgasm while still rock-hard in his leather pants.

“Changbin,” you trembled, giving a few weak grinds to ride out the rest of your high, breathing hard with sweat dripping down the back of your neck.

“My turn,” Changbin grunted, and there was no room to collect yourself before he was grabbing you again, parting his legs to give you enough room to slink down between his thighs.

You felt firm hands at your shoulders, pushing you the rest of the way into the floor. Then, there was the familiar sound of his zipper, the shuffling of fabric, before the wet tip of his cock prodded against your lips. “Suck,” Changbin growled, and you were helpless to disobey.

You took Changbin’s dick in one hand, testing the dry tug before thumbing at the slit. Changbin tensed, letting out a low groan which only served to give you more confidence, knowing exactly what he liked.

Propping yourself up on his knees, you gave a teasing lick to the tip of Changbin’s cock, finding that you didn’t mind the slight salty taste. It was different, but not in such a way that made you want to take things slower. You licked along the underside, pleasantly surprised to feel the vein pulsing against your tongue.

Hungrier now, you took the first few inches into your mouth, testing the weight and the stretch of your lips. Once again you found it wasn’t that bad - familiar, but not bad. The sounds that were spilling from Changbin’s pretty mouth definitely fed your arousal as you started bobbing your head.

Changbin’s fingers found your hair but your Mandalorian didn’t attempt to pull, unlike how you had yanked on Changbin’s. Your found yourself wanting Changbin to pull on your hair, but you figured that was something for another day. You could feel spit pooling in your mouth and starting to drip out of the corners of your mouth and down Changbin’s shaft. It was getting messy, but that only made it better.

You knew as soon as the salty taste started to get more intense that Changbin was getting close. Pride filled your chest knowing that you were the one to make someone as lovely as Changbin fall apart. You pulled off, using your hand to continue jerking Changbin off as you pressed kisses to the inside of his bare thigh. You lost against your urges and began sucking marks into the skin there, reveling in how he twitched and moaned at the sensations.

“Kitten, I’m close.” Changbin groaned, and it spurred you into moving your hand faster. You hovered over Changbin’s cock, preparing to drip some spit down to make the slide slicker only to find hot cum splashing you in the face. It hit your cheek, making you close one eye as you worked Changbin through his orgasm.

“Oh...” you breathed, surprised but equally as pleased. You wiped some of the cum off your cheek as you listened to just how disheveled and wrecked Changbin sounded, all because of your ministrations.

Afterward, with your head against the inside of his leg, you were struggling to catch your breath while one of Changbin’s gloved hands gently brushed through your hair.

Tatooine had a formidable reputation, and it was for this reason that you stuck to Changbin like glue when you landed on the desert planet, waiting off to the side as the others unloaded the bounties you had collected, encased in carbonite for the trip.

There was only one lone Aqualish mercenary that survived outside of the carbonite freezing as requested by the one who put the bounty on his head. You watched through narrowed eyes as Chan handed him over to Changbin who wrestled the frightened Aqualish to stand next to him, hands bound behind his back.

“Don’t move,” Changbin growled, a sound that likely terrified the Aqualish but only served to dampen your panties.

“Alright, let’s go,” Chan said, once the last of the bounty had been removed from the ship and handed over to the two Duros who had been sent by the head of the bounty hunters guild to collect your bodies.

This wasn’t your first time being apart of the exchange, and you knew that the next step was to meet Mr. Park inside the cantina to collect payment and personally hand over your Aqualish.

“Stay close,” Changbin muttered to you, and your hands flew to the edges of his whispering, black cloak, head bowed low as you followed the rest of your crew from behind, drawing plenty of attention from the other street goers who had been shopping in the local market.

As it should, perhaps, considering the strange, eclectic mix of hardened, battle-ready men who Chan had recruited and offered a place next to his side. Making a great deal of money while being able to do the one thing all of them were exceptionally talented at. It was a good sign, you supposed, that your reputation preceded you, even if it was hard to endure the harsh stares.

At least the trip wasn’t far from the landing pad, and you were grateful when you could see the familiar sight of the cantina up ahead, standing out as the largest brick and mortar building with a steady influx of patrons walking in and out the double doors.

“Bang Chan!” a masculine voice purred from the crowd, and you weren’t surprised to see Mr. Park, head of the bounty hunter’s guild, approaching with his arms wide open. Dressed to the nines in his best robe and finest silks. A sign of his formidable wealth, accumulated at the behest of those unfortunate enough to garner a bounty on their heads.

“Park,” Chan grumbled, reluctantly accepting the embrace. Not that you blamed him. Park was as scummy as they came.

Who knew where those hands had been.

“No Raphael?” Park hummed, surveying the trail of bounties following the Duros behind the Cantina.

“He wasn’t coming quietly,” Hyunjin remarked in that cold tone that spoke volumes.

“Left him dead in his office,” Minho added with a smile that could scare even the roughest group of galactic starfighters.

“Well,” Park cleared his throat, forcing a smile. “Good to see everyone is in high spirits.”

Jisung rolled his eyes, stepping aside as Park closed the distance between you and Changbin. “You know, Mando, we could really use someone of your skill around here. Especially when the rowdier hunters come in.”

You tried not to look at Changbin, standing next to the Aqualish like he was perfectly at ease. He had the benefit of hiding his wandering gaze behind cold steel, but you did not have the same luxuries. And it would not look professional.

“I’m fine with my team,” came his modulated response, to which Mr. Park merely sighed and brushed it aside.

“Very well, but you know where to find me.”

Chan rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed. “We’ll need lodging tonight, then we can talk about new jobs in the morning.”

“I’ll take care of it right away!” Park said, clapping his hands together and giving a loud whistle. “I do have something for you, Mr. Bang, that I think your crew will like very much! And there’s a big price tag attached.”

“Great,” Chan sighed, crossing his arms and looking entirely impatient as two of Park’s men escaped from the cantina, holding an array of golden keys.

“You each have a room waiting,” Park said, and you refused to meet his gaze as you accepted the cold metal between your fingertips. “I’d love for any of you to join me tonight for dinner! Until then, I’ve opened a tab for you at the bar, free of charge!”

That was all Minho and Hyunjin needed to hear, tucking away their keys as they started for the cantina entrance. Park chuckled at their hasty escape, tossing a nonchalant arm around Chan’s shoulders, ignoring the glare from the man in question. “Join me in my quarters, Chan. I have something to discuss with you.”

You watched as Chan’s form was swallowed by the snooping crowd of onlookers, sucking in a sharp breath when a Duro suddenly appeared at your side. “We can take the Aqualish.”

Changbin grunted his assent, roughly forcing the Aqualish in the Duro’s direction. “See to it then,” Changbin said, and the Duro offered his acquiescence, keeping a firm hold on your last prisoner.

“I’m heading further into the city for something better than bar food and sleazy strippers,” Jisung suddenly announced once they were out of earshot. “Anyone interested in tagging along?”

Seungmin and Jeongin agreed, and Jisung arched a brow in your direction. “I’ll just rest,” you said, and Changbin must’ve done something to brush Jisung off, leaving you both alone once they had flagged down a cruiser to speed along the busy streets of Tatooine.

“Thanks,” you said to him to fill the tense quiet. “For letting me stay close to you.”

Changbin nodded, tilting his head to the side as if considering you. You held your breath when he drew closer, leaning down to brush the bottom of his helmet against the top of your head. “You know my room number,” Changbin whispered to you as if you were locked together in your own little world.

His proximity cleared all rational thought from your head, words failing you as you managed a nod, letting out the breath you didn’t know you were holding as you watched him disappear into the cantina.

Later that night, lying spread out under his weight, you were glad that you had taken the opportunity to tend to your personal affairs before meeting Changbin.

There were very few thoughts left in your head after being drug into his bed, fingers tangled in his thick locks, keeping him tucked against your neck to decorate dark bruises on your skin as he fucked you with rough thrusts that had your cunt screaming for reprieve.

In the darkened room, breaths knocked from your lungs at every stroke of his cock, you wondered if he would even grow tired. All the energy had been sapped from your limbs, but Changbin was still moving like he planned to stay inside of you all night, using you while you slept, a limp doll to warm his cock and keep him in a tight vice.

Shit, the man knew what he was doing, turning your insides into mush and bringing you on the verge of your second orgasm of the night, even as Changbin showed no signs of stopping anytime soon.

The thing was, Changbin could last, keeping you pliant under him for hours as he had his way with you, growling out curses when you clenched around him just right, cock drilling between your walls to shape you just for him.

He always fucked you like he would never get a chance to have another moment like this again. As if it was the last time. Even though you had fucked enough at this point to have practically memorized one another’s bodies, well-versed in your signs and the physical language that expressed when it was on the verge of too much.

It didn’t matter that you had never seen Changbin before, always hidden away in the dark. You felt like you knew him, even without mapping out his features with your eyes. Instead, you relied on touch to understand him, feeling across the defined muscles in his arms and chest, the perfect angular set to his jaw, and the sharp edge of his nose when it brushed against your clit, lips wrapped around the sensitive bud.

“So tight,” Changbin whispered, tongue tracing the line of your collarbone. “Feel so good around me.”

“Please,” you begged, even without knowing what you really wanted from him, stuck between too much and not enough as his fingers dug into your waist, squeezing tight.

“What are you asking me for?” Changbin grunted. You could only shake your head, even if he couldn’t see, unable to manage words when his rough grinding prevented you from speaking.

You could feel the strength in his powerful thighs, encasing you in a strong grip on either side. The smooth, but rough, sensation of his skin, hairs coarse and scars raised like braille. Your hands gripped his biceps, squeezing tight to the muscles working there, a constant reminder that he could break you if he wanted to do so.

And maybe there were times when you wanted him to do just that. To turn you around onto your stomach, one hand clasped tight over your mouth to prevent your screams, and the other arm anchoring both of yours back for him to hold. He’d mount you just like that, guide his cock home without preparing you on his fingers first. You dreamed about that often, of him just taking and taking, even if you were grateful that he often spent his leisurely time opening you up in preparation for the thick erection between his legs.

Changbin could be rough, but it was usually only when he was close to cumming, when that little break in his rhythm meant a total loss of control. When all that mattered was reaching that sweet, sensual high. Thoughts of your well-being briefly forgotten as he chased after what he wanted.

In a fight, Changbin was never careful. The same fingers that worked you open and played gentle music on your clit, could slice a man in half or break a neck in one harsh twist. The same voice that lulled you into a submissive headspace could also growl threats and curses and sully a man’s name. The same muscles that had broken a man’s spine kept you perfectly still under him, in whatever position he wanted, while you cried and begged for him.

“Are you close?” Changbin growled, nipping at your ear to get your attention back on him.

To hold you in the present moment, stomach clenched in preparation for another orgasm, heat building in your abdomen. Each seductive thrust fed the flames licking under your skin, and you whined when he leaned down for a long, explorative kiss, licking into your mouth and tasting your tongue against his own.

“Close,” you gasped, pleasure dancing through every nerve when he sat up on his heels, hands grabbing your thighs for more leverage.

“Come on my cock, kitten,” Changbin hissed into your ear, breath hot against your skin.

You were helpless to obey, mouth parting around a wordless scream, tears falling at their own volition when his fingers pressed rough circles on your clit, drawing out your orgasm with wave after wave of intense pleasure.

He was still moving when you were done, failing to push him away as he pinned your arms to your sides, slamming his hips down harder to force you back into submission.

“You can take it, kitten,” Changbin reminded you, even as you shook your head, even as he started to move a little faster, holding his head back with a groan.

“Please,” you whimpered again, and then Changbin was back on top of you, forehead meeting your own.

“Can I?” Changbin asked, being so careful with you, and you nearly cried at his thoughtfulness.

“Yes,” you practically screamed, and then Changbin was taking hold at the backs of your knees, grip so tight you knew it would leave bruises, to fuck himself harder, jostling you up the mattress with the force of his thrusts.

It was rough and barbaric, and you were burning with overstimulation, but then his hips jostled in place, slowing down to a stop and you could feel his warm cum as it started to leak from the place where you were connected.

“So good,” Changbin said, holding himself above you on his arms, skin shining with a sheen of sweat.

You were both breathing hard, matching inhales when he pulled free, leaving behind a mess you would regret later.

Your heart fluttered inside your chest, eyelids growing heavy when he moved to lay next to you, one arm wrapping around your waist to pull you against his side. It was too hot in that position, but when you tried to pull away, his grip only became stronger.

“Stay,” Changbin said, surprising you with its earnestness.

“But-”

“No arguments,” Changbin interrupted, and you were taken aback by the sweet way he held you closer, keeping you resting against his side, wrapped in strong arms.

“When we wake up...”

“Don’t worry,” he said, as if sensing your fears. What if you saw him in the daytime, with the sun coming up and the room lit with a faint flow? “I’ll get up first.”

You swallowed hard, nodding your head because it was hard to tell him no, especially when you craved his presence like nothing else.

The next morning, Changbin was gone, and you got dressed before heading downstairs to the cantina to meet with everyone.

The first face you recognized was Minho’s, standing against the counter connected to the bar, eyeing Chan and Mr. Park who stood talking together from across the room. You were curious, sliding next to Minho under the guise of ordering a drink. “How long have they been down here?” you asked Minho, raising your hand to signal the bartender.

“Too long,” Minho replied, and you huffed in frustration when the bartender ignored you in favor of a separate group wearing what appeared to be the finest silk money could afford.

“Figures,” you muttered in reference to both Chan and the patrons.

“He’s waiting for the others,” Minho remarked. “Supposedly.”

“Chan indulges him,” you said. “He takes advantage of his patience.”

“One day Chan will snap,” Minho hummed, and you nodded your agreement, glancing around the room with vague interest.

“Here,” Minho said, dragging your attention back to the bar, eyes falling to where Minho was pushing what appeared to be a market pastry in your direction. “Mando left this here for you.”

Your cheeks warmed at the mention of Changbin, reaching down to carefully unravel the food, stomach growling at the idea of breakfast. Your first bite almost drew out a moan, eyes closing to savor the taste.

“Speaking of people who are too indulgent,” Minho said, pointedly looking between your food and a spot over your shoulder.

You swallowed around your bite, glancing back to see Changbin entering the Cantina with Hyunjin and Han behind him. “He’s just looking out for me,” you muttered.

“Is that all?” Minho smirked, but you chose to ignore his teasing, finishing your food as the boys approached where you stood.

“Let’s get this show on the road,” Han proclaimed, voice carrying throughout the cantina. Enough so that Chan aimed a glare in your direction before returning his attention to Park.

But Han didn’t care, flagging down the bartender with ease, to which you scowled. He always made things look simple, and it was this thought that distracted you from the Mandalorian who had started to move even closer, pitching his voice for your ears only.

“Sleep well?” the modulated voice husked from next to you.

“I did,” you agreed, trying to hide a smile, thoughts of Han disappearing in an instant. “Tuckered myself out last night.”

“What did you get up to?” Changbin asked, and you could hear the amusement in his tone, working your brain for a good quip, but the sudden appearance of Chan and Mr. Park sent a wave of silence over your group.

“Seungmin and Jeongin are handling some supplies,” Chan said. “Mr. Park will escort the rest of us for a private interview.”

“Thank you, Mr. Bang! I have someone who really wants to meet you,” Park explained. “In the other room.”

“Sounds riveting,” Hyunjin sighed.

Yet, no one protested as Mr. Park led the way to a winding staircase jutting out from the wall, leading upstairs to the second level you seldom noticed. It was quieter up there, the cantina’s music muted, and there was a clear tension in the air as you walked to the end of the hall, pausing outside of a door.

“You have my word that this individual will bring you no harm,” Mr. Park said in an ominous tone that had you frowning.

Why did he feel the need to give such a promise?

Your question was answered in the very next moment, when Mr. Park opened the door to reveal a slightly darkened room. There was a long, wooden table occupying the space, and at the very end, reclined in a metal chair, sat a stormtrooper, helmet placed in front of him as he offered a tentative smile at your group.

You could hear Chan’s sharp inhale, and the firm grip of Changbin as he took your arm in his hand. “What the fuck?” Han cursed, breaking the silence and any of Minho’s restraint as he reached for the blaster holstered at his side.

“Well, this is a sight for sore eyes,” the stormtrooper chuckled, even as you could feel the tension in Changbin, and detect the noticeable strain in the others.

“What is this?” Chan demanded, turning on Park who simply held up his hands in a faux gesture of surrender.

“You know I’d never lead you astray, Bang! The guy is legit. I had my best men look into him.”

“A stormtrooper?” Hyunjin scoffed.

“All I’m asking is for you to hear him out!” Park insisted, wincing when Minho brought the blaster into sight. “Seriously! He has no allegiance to the Empire. Plus, he’s willing to pay good if you finish a job for him!”

“Bang,” Minho growled, shifting between his feet. He said nothing else, but that single syllable spoke a coherent warning.

Chan scowled, gaze lowering as if battling with his own thoughts - urges to fight and protect conflicting with an inherent curiosity pertaining to whatever business an ex-stormtrooper could require. “Sit,” Chan eventually barked, a clear order that he wasn’t in a joking mood.

“Fucking hell,” Minho sighed, re-holstering his blaster as he shoved around Chan, taking the seat closest to the stormtrooper as if determined that he would be the first line of defense.

Chan sat across from him, on the stormtrooper’s other side, and the rest of your crew slowly fell into place, taking the remaining seats. It left you perched on the end, practically shoved against Changbin as he kept a protective arm around your shoulders.

“Talk,” Chan demanded next, startling the stormtrooper who seemed chastened by the reaction he had just witnessed.

“I have a job, and Park said you were the best of the best,” he started. “I guess I should start from the beginning. You see, my old captain bailed when the Empire fell,” the stormtrooper explained. “Not that I expected him to stick around, but he always had eyes for my sister. Used her against me in the beginning when I was recruited.”

He paused here, taking in the room. “My name is Jackson, and I’m asking for you to look past my uniform. To look past an organization I no longer serve, and one I never believed in. I was recruited young, brainwashed into following orders that I didn’t care to follow. Not that you care about that part. The real reason I’m here is because of my sister. She was kidnapped by my old captain, and I’m determined to get her back.”

You exhaled slowly at his story, searching the expressions of your crew to try and decipher their reactions. “She doesn’t deserve it,” Jackson insisted. “To keep suffering because of me.”

“So, you want us to come with you to save your sister...” Chan asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Help me get her back,” Jackson said in a pleading tone. “And I’ll make it worth your while.”

Chan nodded, sitting back in his chair, gaze flitting to Minho who arched one brow. “This could be dangerous for us. We’d have to consider the logistics. Do you even have any idea where this guy is?”

“I’ve tracked him to the edge of the Andromeda galaxy,” Jackson explained, pulling a tracker from his suit pocket to place it down on the table. “All we need to do is board his ship and get rid of his men.”

Hyunjin snorted at the proposal. “You make it sound too easy. Like a Captain of the Empire wouldn’t have security in place to protect him.”

“They’re not loyal,” Jackson said in a firm tone. “They won’t stick around for him. I’ll give you any information you’ll need, I’ve done my fair share of research.”

“Have you?” Hyunjin sneered, but Chan held up a hand in his direction.

“We’ll hear all that you have. If you can answer our questions, and give us time to consider the schematics, we’ll let you know what we decide.”

“That’s all I’m asking for!” Jackson said, a smile contorting his lips. “Just a chance, and I’ll be sure to make it worth your while.”

Chan simply nodded, exchanging a look with Minho, and you moved even closer to Changbin, worried about the dangers that could be waiting on the other side of the galaxy...worried about the safety of your family and whether or not you could take on the wrath of the Empire.

An Empire in decline.

A desperate Empire.

One that had nothing left to lose...

The Stormtrooper had everything mapped out to perfection. It was almost too perfect, in your unconsidered opinion, voicing your concerns aloud to Chan who simply sighed. “He checks out,” Chan had told you. “And he’s paying good money for the job.”

“He’s a stormtrooper!”

“From a fallen Empire,” Chan said, and that was all you needed to hear to roll your eyes and walk away, knowing that he had already made up his mind.

“Chan finds the best of the best,” Changbin tried to reassure you later that night as you helped him load the ship. “His sources are always right.”

“Does it matter when it involves an stormtrooper?”

“Of course it matters,” Changbin replied. “But Chan is smart. You know this. He’d never put any of our lives in unnecessary risk.”

You swallowed down your complaints, keeping silent for the rest of your time together, ignoring the simmering tension in the air - something thick and palpable. Barely able to hold back when your instincts remained on high alert.

There was nothing you could do to change the outcome, so you kept to yourself for the rest of the day, assisting when you were asked to do something. Helping Minho on the ship, or working to ensure that the ship’s weapon system was calibrated correctly. It was dull and unexciting work, made all the worse by the nagging worry constantly diluting your thoughts.

You barely slept that night, in your own room, despite Changbin’s request for you to join him. He would only distract you from your thoughts, and you needed the time alone to work through the heavy burden weighing down on you - the never-ending dread that filled the pit of your stomach when you thought about something bad happening to your crew.

They were all you had. Out of all the lost stars in the galaxy, they chose you. And you felt the crushing hand around your windpipe closing its unforgiving fist thinking about life without them.

But Chan’s mind was made up, and there was no stopping this mission. Whatever he had found out about the stormtrooper - his past, his misgivings - weren’t enough to stop you from moving forward. Changbin had been right about Chan’s sources - they had never been wrong before.

Even if there was always a first time for everything.

“Are you mad at me?” Changbin asked when you met the rest of your crew outside the ship the following morning, glaring daggers at the stormtrooper who spoke with both Park and Chan.

“Not you,” you replied, crossing your arms over your chest and ignoring his teasing chuckle.

“Relax,” he purred, leaning in close enough to distract your gaze. “I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

“I know,” you grumbled, letting him take one of your hands before leading you both onto the ship.

Immediately, you headed to the cockpit to check on the ship’s main controls, ensuring that nothing needed to be re-calibrated. Han always called it overkill, since you checked it at least a dozen times before taking off, but you could never be too careful. The ship was an older model that had seen its fair share of gunfire.

“Good to go?” Minho asked when he joined you later on, sitting down in the pilot’s chair.

“Yeah,” you agreed, holding your breath when he started up the ship, guiding the front toward the skyline.

You closed your eyes for this part as the jump to hyperspace always made you feel nauseous. Minho chuckled at the action, but you ignored him, waiting with bated breath until you could feel the ship leaving the cold prism of lightspeed, settling into something calmer.

When you looked up again, you saw nothing but a familiar sea of stars that helped to settle your stomach. “The others decided to play cards downstairs if you want to join them,” Minho suggested, and you nodded, leaving him to mind the controls while you climbed the ladder down the main floor.

You let yourself be guided toward the intermingling sound of voices, exhaling slightly when you noticed Chan and Jackson were not among the ones seated at the little table tucked away at the side of your kitchenette. “Y/N!” Han chirped in greeting, and Jeongin moved over to make an obvious space for you.

“Thought I’d watch,” you said, making yourself comfortable. “Got a keep an eye out for cheaters!”

“Hey!” Han protested, but it was enough to get Seungmmin going, starting one of his all too-common rants about Han’s less than ideal playing habits.

You laughed at their bickering, feeling your shoulders relax at the familiar banter. Until a set of heavy footsteps had you perking up, watching Han’s gaze fall to something over your shoulder.

“Buying in, Mando?” Han grinned, and you could feel him moving in closer, presence hot as he leaned over to address Han.

“100 credits.”

Hyunjin let out a low whistle, cards held up to hide the lower part of his face. “Do you think you’re good enough?”

Changbin chuckled, lowering himself next to you on the bench, and you were hyper-aware of the way your thighs touched.

“Deal me in,” he rasped as a response.

“This is a rare treat,” Han remarked, but he nodded at Seungmin who shuffled the deck of cards without a word of protest.

“You go first,” Han offered as if he was doing Changbin a favor.

Changbin looked down at his cards before pushing a stack of chips to the center of the table. “Already?” Hyunjin chuckled, and there was a calm expression on his face as he pushed his own chips to the middle. “I’ll call.”

“Fold,” Han said, placing his cards facedown in front of him. “You can never tell with Mando.”

But you could, even without seeing the handsome face you could only dream about at night laying next to him. You could tell his signs, subtle as they were. The way a muscle jumped in his thigh or the deeper breath released from his modulated helmet.

Mando was nervous, or at least, less confident about his moves. Unfortunately for him, Hyunjin wasn’t accepting his bluff, calling him every time Seungmin dealt another card.

“Show your hands.”

Hyunjin smirked, revealing a full house. Mando chuckled from next to you, tossing down his own lackluster hand. “Thought so,” Hyunjin smiled, raking in all the chips toward himself.

“Ah, you can’t bluff with Hyunjin,” Han tsked, ignoring the way Changbin had leaned in closer to you.

“We might have some time before we land.”

You swallowed at his heavy implication, ready to grab his hand and lead you both to the back of the ship, when Chan suddenly appeared with Jackson, eyebrows pulled taught together.

“We’re landing soon,” Chan warned, and you felt the light-hearted air grow heavy with something dangerously palpable, knowing you were about to embark on your most dangerous mission yet.

The galactic cruiser was just as you remembered, bringing back memories of the before times when the Empire’s power was solidified. You could feel the palpable concern in your crew, and the anger in Jackson as he glared at an unidentifiable spot through the glass.

You trusted most of the men on your ship with your entire life, and so far, Jackson had not done anything to earn your ire. Maybe you were simply put-out by the inherent dangers of this mission and blamed him for dragging you all into such a precarious situation.

Then again, Chan had agreed. And he had done so wittingly. Without protest or second thought.

You studied your leader, beckoning everyone closer as your ship halted at a safe and undetectable distance from the cruiser. Soon, Chan would have Minho land the ship beneath the cruiser’s hull where security wouldn’t be able to pick up on your signal. From there, you would all disembark through a security door and carry out the mission at hand.

“Let’s remember what we’ve discussed,” Chan said, and he nodded at Minho who started in the direction of the helm.

From behind you, Changbin stepped closer, listening as Chan continued speaking, and you resisted the urge to drown him out and lean back into Chanbin’s steady weight.

Unfortunately, you weren’t able to maintain your façade for long, and your heart dropped to your stomach at a jolt from the ship, signaling that power had been cut. Minho returned shortly thereafter, and your fingers found the worn holes in Changbin’s cape.

“Are we ready?” Chan asked, and you could hear the shared affirmations from your group, even above the thundering race of your pulse.

You swallowed hard as Chan organized everyone into groups, pacing back and forth as your crew stood in formation. “Keep to your assignments,” he ordered. “We must remain invisible.”

You trembled at the short, perfunctory tone behind his words, wondering if everyone else held the same level of unease. It would be all too easy for this mission to go awry, even with the most meticulous of planning, and there was nobody who prepared more for a potential fight than Chan.

It was with bated breath that you watched Chan, Han, and Seungmin move out with the first group, turning around to face Changbin and Felix who had been assigned together with you. You sighed, trying to hold your head high as Changbin finished a muted conversation with Felix before turning to look at you.

“Come with me.”

You followed him at once, re-entering the cargo area of the ship as the others moved about, getting ready for what was to come. “I don’t know what you have planned...” you started when you were safely tucked away with Changbin out of sight, taking the loose leather belt from him that he was struggling to secure around himself.

“Stay on the ship.”

You frowned at Changbin’s words, standing in such close proximity as you helped him adjust his belt, weapons clipped in order.

“Did Chan say that?”

“I’m saying that.”

His sharp words only deepened the scowl you likely wore, your displeasure reading clear and open. “I could be useful if the droids fail...”

“Stay.”

His tone had deepened, gloved hand flying out to grip your chin. “Changbin-”

“Chan gave me the directive to lead my group,” he reminded your sullen form. “I choose to leave you on the ship. Just in case.”

“Fine,” you lied through clenched teeth, determined to do anything you could to help. Even if your help wasn’t wanted.

Changbin hummed at your agreement, and you helped him secure his weapons, standing aside as he started around you. He had always been stubborn and overprotective, but you were short-handed as it was, and there was no reason you couldn’t handle yourself.

But you still waited until Changbin and Felix, the last of the crew, had vanished into the darkened security entrance before hurrying behind them.

You had managed to snag a blaster without Changbin’s notice, and you held it tight to your chest once you dipped through the security door and landed feet first inside the enemy ship, peeking around the corner before taking off for the security room. With the blaster in stun mode, you easily took out the two guards who had been stationed inside, wincing when their heads clunked down against the machinery.

“You can do this, Y/N,” you assured yourself as you surveyed your surroundings, grunting with the exertion of pushing one of the guards to the side, giving you complete access to the security cameras. “I knew it,” you huffed, coming to the rapid realization that the droids had failed to disarm every camera on board - a job which you easily accomplished, making sure that there were no eyes on your men...

“Hey!”

The unexpected sound of an unfamiliar voice had your fingers freezing above the controls.

“Turn around at once, solider!”

You let out a deep breath, doing as the voice commanded, coming face to face with the barrel of a blaster held between two gloved hands. The man in front of you was clearly no stranger to battle, and his uniform marked him as an enemy of the Republic.

“What is your name and identification number?” he asked, scanning over your form and likely wondering if you could be trusted.

You tried to make yourself as small as possible, putting on your best pout. “I was asked to come down,” you lied, palms clammy from holding the blaster behind your back. “There are intruders-”

“I know,” the guard growled over your words. “But that’s not what I asked you.”

“My identification number is not with me,” you said, and this only irritated the guard more.

“You aren’t supposed to be here without proper identification,” the guard said, raising his blaster a little higher as his eyes raked over you - likely wondering whether or not to believe your half-assed story.

“I can bring you my identification-”

“Silence!” he shouted above you, and this time, your eyes had to cross from the close proximity of the blaster as he stepped even closer, invading your space with a snarl. “You’re one of them, aren’t you?”

You held your tongue, unable to utter a single syllable in the presence of death. You tried not to shake, swallowing hard and searching your mind for something to say, when a shadow crossed your field of vision, and the blaster fell to the floor in front of you.

“Hey!” the guard shouted, and you fell back against the controls, eyes widening when you recognized your Mandalorian in the room, fighting hand to hand with the nasty guard who had threatened you.

You winced when the guard rammed Changbin against the wall, causing him to drop his own blaster. It fell close to your feet, glinting dangerously in the flickering lights of the room.

“The gun, Y/N,” you heard Changbin growl, grunting with the force of taking an elbow to the chest.

It was like you were disembodied, reaching down to wrap your fingers around the cool handle of the blaster. Even while the struggle continued in the background, the sounds of violence echoing in your ears.

“Shoot him!”

The words did little to penetrate the haze surrounding you. But you winced as the guard managed to land another swift blow to Changbin, bringing him down to one knee.

Changbin. In danger!

Your hands trembled, faced with a task you had never accomplished before. You remembered a time, from long ago, standing in an empty shooting range with Changbin. His hands had been warm and firm on your waist, guiding your hands and arms in place. “Hold it like this,” he had instructed you, keeping things steady when you shot for the very first time, a proud smile stretching across your lips...

“You can do this,” he had whispered then, and you savored the sweet words and his tickling breath on the back of your neck.

“Y/N!”

You blinked rapidly to draw yourself back into the room because Changbin in the present was on the ground, struggling against another man’s hands wrapped around his throat, squeezing the air from his lungs.

Focus.

There was a heavy weight sitting on your chest, keeping you from breathing, as you did your best to aim at the guard in front of you before finally allowing your fingers to click the trigger in place.

You heard the defeating sound of the killing blast, having been switched out of stun mode. A sharp breath left your lips as your trembling legs brought you forward to the two bodies on the ground. You stood over your Mandalorian, lowering the blaster with trembling hands.

“Binnie-” you croaked, heart heavy with dread.

“It’s okay, Y/N,” he said, grunting as he struggled to sit up.

“Were you hit-”

“I’m fine,” he interrupted, as if he could possibly dismiss your concerns.

But it didn’t look like he was fine, struggling to even move to a sitting position, and there was blood.

So much blood

Everywhere.

You were hyperventilating, completely on the verge of passing out, barely able to focus on your Mandalorian. “I-I hurt you...”

Your heart thudded to a stop, breath caught in your throat when Changbin reached up, grabbing his helmet and slowly raising it above his head.

“Changbin,” you whispered, suddenly unable to focus on anything else but the unexpected sight in front of you: Changbin revealing himself without an ounce of hesitation.

Your eyes widened, growing perceptibly wider, greedily drinking in the face that you could only dream of at night curled against him. In the bleakness of the dark, encased in shadows to hide him from your curious gaze.

“It’s alright, kitten,” he whispered in an unexpectedly deep tone. “It only grazed me. Come here.”

You did as he directed, falling into his arms. Even with your eyes still glued to his handsome countenance, tracing the beginnings of a five o’clock shadow with the tips of your fingers.

Strong nose. Angular jawline. Eyes as black as the deepest parts of space.

You couldn’t stop staring, drinking it in like a Bantha finding water for the first time in days after treading across the desert plains of Tatooine. Unable to keep yourself under control, and unable to stop the impulses telling you to touch everything that your eyes had just been gifted.

He had broken his code. Removed his helmet for you all in the hopes of calming you down.

“I’m sorry,” you sobbed into your shoulder. “I lied to you. I disobeyed and left the ship. The guild-”

“None of that matters,” Changbin said, fisting your hair to pull your gaze to his, leaning down to press a careful kiss to your lips. “I love you, Y/N.”

“You can’t call yourself a Mandalorian anymore.”

“Maybe I’m not,” Changbin said, choosing his words carefully. “Not anymore.”

“Binnie-”

“I’m a bounty hunter,” he interrupted, thumbing his way across your lips. “A friend. A fighter.” His tone dipped into something warm and honeyed. “A lover.”

“Changbin-”

He cut you off with an unexpected kiss, locking you both together with a hand on the back of your head.

“We’re okay, kitten,” he whispered when you parted for air, the words wrapping you in a warm caress. “Everything will be just fine.”

You weren’t so sure about his bold declaration, but it was hard to argue with Changbin when he had presented himself in such earnestness, giving you all of him in every way that he could.

“Let’s get back to the others,” he suggested, helping you stand and keeping a strong arm holding you to him, guiding you both from the security room and toward the light.

It was done, or so you tried to tell yourself. Keeping your arms wrapped across your torso, shivering from the events that took place in the security room. Changbin kept a protective arm around your waist, leading you back to the ship, which at least offered you some consolation that everything had went well before he had been forced to come save you...

Your shoulders dropped when you laid eyes on your crew, counting everyone as present, including Jackson. The collective sounds of your footsteps on the tiled floors halted all conversations, and that’s when every eye in the room flew to you and Changbin.

You cringed at the collective shock in your group at the sight of a helmet-less Changbin. Eight pairs of eyes watching you both, silence growing thick. You held tighter to Changbin’s arm, breathing out in a soft exhale.

“You’re better-looking than I imagined,” Han eventually remarked, which, at the very least, seemed to ease some of the tension.

Changbin snorted. “Thanks.”

“You good?” Chan asked, studying Changbin with an uncertain gaze, seemingly unsure about where to look.

“Everything is fine,” Changbin reassured him, reaching out to clasp his shoulder. “I promise. No damage has been done.”

Chan nodded. “We were worried when you didn’t come back on time. But we figured everything was fine since we were able to finish our jobs.” He took a step to the side, allowing you to see the frightened figure huddled behind Chan, plastered against Jackson’s side with a timid gaze.

“You found her,” Changbin agreed.

“Thanks to all of you,” Jackson added, offering a warm smile.

“Yeah, yeah,” Minho suddenly spoke up, taking a step forward. “Let’s just get out of here before we push our luck.”

Your other crew mates muttered their agreements, and you were relieved to let Changbin practically drag you back on the ship, still keeping you supported in your state of shock. You could feel the effects wearing off, the total freezing up that you had experienced when under the threat of death, but there was still a haziness keeping you from feeling secure on your own feet.

“Come on, kitten,” Changbin encouraged you, leaving the others to tend to the ship.

They were smart enough not to question you, letting Changbin takeover like he had so often done before. Taking you down below the main deck to your little room, helping you sit down on the edge of the bed before he knelt down to remove your shoes.

You shivered at the cold on your bare feet, hearing him chuckle when he glanced back up. “You keep staring.”

Your gaze averted at once, feeling yourself flush. “I’m sorry-”

“Don’t apologize,” he murmured, reaching out to guide your chin back to facing him. “It’s only natural.”

“Yeah,” you whispered back, swallowing hard when he returned to his full height, removing his shirt and pants before asking you to move over and make some more room.

He was an overpowering warmth next to you, gathering you into his arms and raking gentle fingers through your hair. “It’s not your fault,” he said, eventually, when your eyelids had started to close. “I can’t blame you for wanting to help. Shoulda taken you with me to start with.”

“I disobeyed-”

“Stubborn for good reason,” he interrupted, planting a chaste kiss to your lips. “Don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise.”

You opened your eyes wider, meeting his honest brown orbs in the middle. “It’s surreal...to see you like this.”

He smiled. “A good thing?”

“A selfish part of me thinks so...”

“Not selfish either,” he argued, leaning close to connect your foreheads. “Wanted to show you everything for a while now. Planned on it, actually..”

You let out a little noise, shocked that Changbin would even plan something like this after living his life loyal to the Mandalorian code...

“Don’t think too hard about it,” he chuckled, nosing his way across the bridge of your jaw. “Get some rest. There will be plenty of time to talk.”

You gave a sleepy nod in response, more than eager to succumb to the sleep you needed.

You had never been so glad to lay eyes on the sea of red that defined Tatooine, leaving the ship feeling more rested than you had in years.

The rest of your crew loitered around outside, exchanging your final goodbyes with Jackson and his sister, who finally seemed more at ease far away from that horrible ship, even letting a small smile soften her features.

“Always call on us, yeah?” Chan said, and you rolled your eyes at his dramatics.

Jackson reached out, clasping his forearm to Chan’s. “Thank you. For everything.”

Chan dipped his head, a sign of respect. “You have friends in us.”

“It’s hard to find reliable help like that these days,” Jackson remarked. “Even rarer to call someone a friend.”

Chan smiled, accepting the gesture, and you moved in a little closer to Changbin as your crew offered your last farewells. Whatever your next adventure might become, it would certainly be difficult to forget the events of the past few days. Befriending enemies and becoming allies to forgotten causes. Revealing identities that had always been meant to remain a secret...

With one last salute, Jackson wrapped an arm around the delicate shoulders of his sister, leading her further toward the booming marketplace. You watched as Jackson was swallowed by the familiar crowd of patrons before turning to look at Changbin, lips cracking into a grin because you would never get enough of looking at him. His gaze met yours, as if drawn together, and the black of his irises seemed to glow in the fading sunlight.

“Let’s get back to it,” Chan announced, ushering everyone back in the direction of the ship.

Changbin took your hand, holding on tight as you made your way up the ramp. “Y/N, you want to takeover controls?” Minho asked, and you knew that your face betrayed your excitement.

It was rare for Minho to give up controls to you, even if you were properly trained. He was either in a really good mood or exhausted from your adventures. Likely a combination of both.

But you wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. “Sure!”

Changbin chuckled at your enthusiasm, and Minho dismissed you with a wave, following Jisung and Hyunjin down below the deck. “You ready?”

His breath tickled the back of your neck, and you couldn’t fight off a shiver. “Always.”

You hummed in agreement, and you climbed the ladder first, working to get everything functional, nodding at the rumble of the engine. Navigating to the edges of space took time and control, and you carefully lifted the ship from the ground, guiding it up toward the sky.

Once you had breached the atmosphere, and the infiniteness of black onyx beckoned you to make the jump to hyper space, you relaxed on the controls, turning it over to autopilot mode. “Good to go?” Changbin asked, joining you in the cockpit.

You urged him to sit down in the captain’s chair, allowing both legs to separate, straddling his lap as he switched the controls to lower the lights, finding yourself lost in his eyes and his sharply defined features. After so long of being deprived of this very moment, you could only be greedy in drinking all of it in for as long as you could.

As if on instinct, you reached out to trace the swell of his lip, feeling your heart skipping several beats, determined to spend the rest of your life learning every curve and line, to show him that you appreciated every ounce of what you had once been denied.

“Kitten,” Changbin purred, and you gasped when his fingers dug into the hourglass shape of your waist.

“I don’t think anyone will be bothering us anytime soon,” you whispered against his lips, feeling his responding laugh before allowing your lips to fit perfectly together: a match literally made in the Heavens.

#changbin smut #changbin fanfic #changbin oneshot #changbin imagines #stray kids fanfic #changbin x reader #changbin x you #changbin x y/n #stray kids smut

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danger-xylophones · 1 year

Text

Nice To Meet You (Captain Rex x gn! reader)

warnings: poor rex has a crush, gender neutral use of the word sir

masterlist | clones

"Mace Windu was a good master," the words were spoken in a quiet voice so as not to let them carry down the echoey hallways of the starcruiser, "if not a little uptight at times." Chuckling at the thought you glanced at the young padawan keeping pace with you. "Although to be honest with you, I think I prefer his teaching methods to those of your master, young Ahsoka."

The togruta girl spared a fond eye-roll at the mention of the infamous Skywalker. "Everyone says that, I don't see what's wrong with them though."

You couldn't help but smile at the 15 year-old's brazen naivete. "That is because you are used to them. He is a most unpredictable teacher."

"But his lessons are fun." Ahsoka countered. "I bet Windu made you study old archives all day."

At that you had to stifle your own eye-roll. She wasn't far off. "Windu prioritized having both a theoretical and a practical understanding of the way of things." You shrugged, "So yes, I had to read the odd archive here and there." Ahsoka grinned, smug and proud of herself for getting you to admit the small truth. "Regardless, I do not envy you, padawan."

"Skyguy's not that bad." She huffed. "A little irritating maybe but-" as she spoke you rounded a corner and something in the back of your mind told you to look up.

Just in time.

You brought your hand up as well and your palm met cool plastoid before your eyes landed on the surprised face of a blonde clone. Blue decorated his armor signalling his position within the 501st but what caught your eye was the pauldron resting on his shoulder.

"Pardon me, sir." The clone sputtered a little before spitting out his apology. "I wasn't watching where I was going." He momentarily lifted his hand to indicate the datapad he'd been examining.

"It's alright, trooper." You lowered your hand, finding it odd that the skin of your palm prickled with electricity. "Neither was I."

"Rex!" Ahsoka's voice was like a stone through glass, shattering the small spell you found yourself in as you held the clone man's brown gaze. "Have you two met yet?"

"No, I don't believe so." You began, straightening up. You introduced yourself, inclining your head to the blonde man in a formal bow. "I am the former padawan of Master Windu and currently the commander of the 194th Attack Battalion." You looked up to meet his deep brown eyes which were watching you keenly. "A pleasure to meet you,..." Gently, you slightly extended your hand away from your chest to indicate towards him.

"Uh...Rex," He started, eyes darting from your hand to your face, "Captain Rex, sir, of the 501st." Awkwardly fisting his datapad under his arm, he extended his now free right hand out to you. "Pleasure to meet you, um, sir."

Pitying the man, you took his hand in a gentle shake. "Rex." You repeated to yourself. "I shall endeavor to remember it." You offered a small smile, one that barely revealed your teeth in an attempt to put him at ease.

He balked, "please, sir, it's no trouble if you don't. There's a lot of us on this ship."

"That's no reason not to remember your name. You're people all the same." You felt him squeeze your hand which brought your attention to the fact you were both still holding to each other. "Ah, my apologies," you retracted your hand. "I tend to forget myself when amidst pleasant company."

"No apologies necessary, sir." He near mumbled and you watched him slowly pull his hand back too. His face was passive but something like confusion prickled in the back of your mind. Or rather, in his.

"Hmm," you hummed, electing not to comment on the inner turmoil you detected coming from him, "you are incredibly kind, Captain. No doubt you are an effective leader."

At that, Rex ducked his head but you detected the faintest rosy tint amidst the warm browns of his skin along his neck. A soft chuckle slipped from him, no doubt embarrassed by your compliment. "Thank you, sir, I'd like to think I'm one."

You hummed once again and set an appraising glance over the man before returning your focus to the young togruta at your side who had been strangely quiet. "Well, we've taken enough of your time. Ahsoka," your turned your head just in time to meet her eyes, "would you mind showing me the rest of the ship?"

"Oh," she blinked, glancing at Rex before looking back to you, "sure thing." And without waiting another moment she began leading the way down the hallway Rex had just come from. "See you later, Rex!" She bid goodbye.

"See you later, commander." Rex bowed his head to her. His embarrassed grin had shifted into something affectionate. And that affection still lingered in his eyes when he turned to you next. "General, it was nice to meet you."

"Likewise, Captain. I hope to see more of you while I am aiding Skywalker." You bowed your head to him and began following after Ahsoka.

Behind you, you heard Rex speak as if to himself, "I hope so too."

#captain rex #captain rex x reader #star wars #star wars x reader #ahsoka

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eriexplosion · 8 months

Text

Escaping Mount Tantiss

So having sorted through the trailer, I think I've pieced together at least one grouping of the shots. About midway through the trailer (around 1:03) we get some shots of troopers getting into battle stations.

Taking a look at it this is clearly the defenses for Mount Tantiss. On a wider shot from earlier seasons you can see the turrets lining the entire perimeter.

We get a shot of the ship they're shooting at around 1:07 (and I don't think this is editing trickery, we see the turrets firing green shots and that's what hits the escaping ship) and it pretty clearly matches the ship we see Omega and Crosshair walking away from earlier in the trailer, around 0:28

Now I don't think that the blast that we see hit the ship is what ultimately takes it down, because when we see Omega struggling to pilot around 1:23, in what looks like a similar cockpit, it's daytime versus the night time escape.

So after being shot they may have been able to make it a ways away, however I doubt that it would be off planet, meaning that they are probably still on Weyland when they crashed. And as @heyclickadee pointed out in a post, the crash shot has a lot of those very distinctive diagonal rocks, both in the foreground and the background, which match the background of this shot from around 1:00.

My guess is this happens in episode three, Shadows of Tantiss or the very end of Paths Unknown, leading into most of their attempts to evade recapture being in episode three - after escaping and crashing elsewhere on Weyland, they're still in danger and likely to be found at any moment, thus still in the shadow of Mt Tantiss. (It's very possible that ultimately, Crosshair escapes here while Omega is recaptured, allowing him to return before her?)

Two small additions, first there's a sequence of a ship spiraling out immediately after the shot of their ship getting blasted, but I don't believe it's actually the same ship, however it's hard to tell as it's from a completely different angle. It is spiraling down at night though, which leads me to believe it's not when we get the Omega piloting shot at the very least.

And secondly, if you'll excuse the purple tint, while fading in from the shot of the Teth Monastery, if you look, there is also a very easy to miss little Creechur accompanying Omega and Crosshair.

It's either a droid or some sort of quadruped but it looks organic from what I can see of it. Which makes me wonder if they might be accompanied by this beastie from later in the trailer.

#the bad batch #the bad batch spoilers #tbb spoilers

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snaggie-t00th · 2 months

Text

HALLO :D

i do apologize that i didn't have a snippet out like i wanted but, compromise, here's the whole damn thing. i also switched some stuff around in ch2 for continuity reasons :3

i got very very busy with prepping for an art faire (if anyone knows where to get cheap high quality prints let a mf know PLSSS) and i was muy busy. but we're back. and echo's a sweet dork.

mando'a translations!

ke'pare - wait/hold on

ge'tal - red

vor'e - thanks

udesii - chill out/its okay

gender neutral pronouns, no y/n usage, only main descriptor im sticking to about the reader is that you're ginger. cus i am. sorry nerds.

-immediately follows the events of the preceding chapter-

You were fighting back a smile. You had no idea that some of the clones knew Mando’a, let alone that the Mandolorian-adoptee turned clone-donor Jango Fett was taught during his short time on your home planet. You wondered if it was something the Kaminoans decided or if they all went about teaching themselves in Jango’s honor. The idea of a bunch of clone soldiers sitting around a Mando’a children’s dictionary makes the smile stitching onto your face that much harder to fight.

“I’m sorry about Tech. He can be, ah, a lot.” Echo grimaced while swiveling around the copilot’s seat, presenting it to you.

You obliged, and sat down. “Oh he’s fine. There’s plenty of topics I could infodump about, just as annoyingly. I just have a bad habit of my thoughts becoming verbal.” You shook your head, soft auburn tresses flicking about. The lights from the cockpit glinted around the natural highlights of your hair, and it didn’t escape Echo’s gaze.

The man cleared his throat. “Still, I appreciate you being so accommodating of my brothers. Nat-borns don’t seem to get it, you know?”

You furrowed your brow and cocked your head slightly to the left, looking him in the eyes. While he didn’t physically shudder, you could see the slight panic pulse in his iris when you met his gaze.

“Where do you think clones get their camaraderie and brotherhood from?”

Echo shrugged. “Kaminoans, I presume?”

You barked a laugh. “Well, yes. Ke’pare, what did they tell you guys about Mandalore?”

“Not much. Jango was around for the first few years, but I rarely saw him. He didn’t seem to hold much emotion for the regs. He seemed to like the higher ups, but I didn’t become an ARC Trooper until I was shipped off that wet rock.” Echo finally slumped into his chair opposing you. As he spoke, he slowly relaxed into his seat, his hinges quietly scraping together as he moved. Once again his amber eyes met yours, a new twinkle seeming to arrive.

“You know more than you let on, ge’tal.” Echo said, narrowing his gaze.

He seemed to be sizing you up. Trying to parse out his next line of questioning. Truthfully, you were better at it than him. While his observation skills have been battle-tested, the ease in which you peppered questions at him showed years of practice he was simply unable to acquire. Outside of the occasional conversation at 79’s or a senator he was required to escort, Echo’s entire social sphere only extends to his brothers. You made him nervous. In a very good way.

You blushed at the newly acquired nickname. “I prefer to call it ‘not showing my full hand’, but I’ll slide a few cards your way since you seem cute.”

The back of Echo’s neck started to bloom a soft red. He rubbed a palm on his knee, mindlessly self soothing. “Seem? What, the gray skin and hollow cheeks not working their magic?” He joked, gesturing to each feature respectively with a pointed index finger.

“You seem to deflect compliments because you can’t believe them, so I was starting small.” You extended your own index finger and poked at his shoulder, annunciating the seem.

The now-scarlet tint of Echo’s neck began to creep towards his face. Eyes darting towards the floor, he opened his mouth to speak, but closed it. He pressed his lips together for a moment. The only thing he got out was a weak “Vor’e.”

“Udesii. I came here, didn’t I?” Your face softened. Echo’s almost immediate vulnerability around you made your knees feel like jelly, and you were sending a silent prayer somewhere that you were both sitting down. “You’re not gonna scare me off, but you can’t immediately go cracking jokes just ‘cus I said you’re handsome.” You continued. Soft, yet firm. You weren’t allowing Echo to talk poorly of himself, even in jest.

Echo nodded, meeting your gaze once more. He looked off for a moment, seemingly in thought, before returning your gaze and asking softly: “How do you always know what to say?”

You let out one quick heh. “Since I found someone to give the words to.” You reply cheekily.

Echo smiled once more and dipped his head. “Walked into that one huh?”

You both smiled, and a comfortable silence began to envelope the two of you. Both of you were looking out on the horizon. The sky was a deep pink and purple haze, stippled with the indigo hues of the impending twilight. Echo was scanning the distance, as if anything alive would be out there, let alone a threat. You were content watching the 2 ½ clouds in the sky move millimeters at a time, but something told you to look at your companion. Gazing at him, your eyes slowly roved up his face. His jaw was set in a defined line, lightly gritted in concentration. His cheeks were hollow, but his cheekbones sat quite prominently, catching the light. This, juxtaposed with his deep set eyes, allowed the light to dance right at the forefront of his face. As if a candle was eye level with him, across the room.

“See anything cool?” You finally speak, hoping Echo didn’t catch you staring.

“Nah, perimeter check. I’m sure all I’ll see is bones and dirt but, old habits die hard.” He replied, not looking away. After a beat, he nodded, and seemingly relaxed the scrutinous gaze he had moments ago.

“Huh. So, what makes your squad different from the other clones, other than haircuts, tattoos, and builds?” You change the subject.

“Being experimental meant the Kaminoans could enhance certain characteristics. Wrecker’s strength, Tech’s smarts, Crosshair’s accuracy, and Hunter’s senses.” Echo spun his chair to face you and threw one leg over the other.

“Huh.” You think for a moment before replying. “So you think Hunter heard us approach?”

Echo nodded. “And I’m willing to bet he’s going to call me a serf for the next 3 rotations.”

You barked out a laugh before realizing his implication. A hand shot over your mouth and your eyes grew wide.

The man laughed. “Just be glad he’s not close enough to hear your heartbeat.”

“What CAN’T he hear?” You said, mildly exasperated. “How do you get any privacy?”

“He’s got noise canceling headphones but that’s mainly for his own sanity. Wrecker got them for him after his snoring kept him up for 3 days in a row.” You laughed at that, and Echo felt a twinge of pride before continuing. “He showed up in the cockpit one morning with his bandana over his nose and Omega had to ask him about his new fashion choices.”

You let out a series of giggles at that, holding your stomach slightly as you lean forward into it. If your eyes weren’t scrunched shut, you would’ve seen Echo’s face bloom in 4 different shades of pink. Every single part of him was committing this to memory. The way your eyes crinkled at the sides. The way your cheeks almost wanted to push your eyes out of their sockets. He never wanted this to end, the sounds of your joy echoing across the hold of the Marauder.

——————

Hours had passed, the sun well below the horizon by this hour. The sky was peppered with numerous constellations and star systems, the names of which always seeming to escape you. The deep blue sea of sky felt more vast than ever in your little perch aboard the Marauder.

You and Echo went back and forth, sharing tidbits from your respective lives up until this point. You learned about the Rishi Moon incident that gave Echo his ARC status, he learned about the Siege that gave way to your arrival here. He told you about the Domino Squad, you told him about your own clan’s untimely demise. Hours of stories shared back and forth, as if you were both once stationed on the same battlefield and then whisked away, only to be brought back together once more after all these years. But there was no mutual history to draw upon this familiarity from. The two of you just fell into a steady rhythm. One that you’d individually practiced and honed for years, like a song that was never intended for a duet, only for the two to sound identical.

“...And that’s where I learned Keldabe Handshakes are applicable as a neutralizing tactic across species.” You finished, explaining the first and only time a Shriek-Hawk has successfully taken you off guard.

“Charming.” A voice hissed, and then a pair of boots dropped to the ground with a soft thunk. “Echo, shouldn't you be putting your toys away? It’s late.” Crosshair slunked into the cockpit, seemingly from the shadows. You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “I must be a pretty expensive toy to trade for speeder brakes.”

“I can’t say I’m surprised you’ve never been with someone and lost track of time, Cross. That does tend to require social skills and, y’know, liking people?” Echo crossed his arms and stared his brother down.

“Well unless they’re taking your bunk, you should tell Tech someone’s joining him in the cockpit tonight. It’s too late to take them back now.” Crosshair seemed to spit the last part of the sentence, annoyed that someone else is in his space and bothering his brothers. While you understood hesitancy, you felt as if he reveled in his current position rather than proceeding with caution.

Echo turned to you and looked into your eyes softly. “It’s up to you.”

“I’m already cramping an already small ship. I can kick it up here with Tech for the night.” You said, smiling. While you very badly wanted to just crawl into Echo’s bunk with him, you weren’t doing that the first day. Plus, you don’t know how Echo feels about his personal space, or his sleeping positions, or if he prefers one side of the b—

“How touching.” Crosshair cut off your thoughts with the remark. He spun on his heel, and disappeared just as quickly as he appeared. Echo sneered at the doorway.

“Are you sure? I don’t mind sleeping up here. Like I said, Tech can be a lot sometimes.” Echo looked back at you, eyes full of worry.

“Tell you what, I’ll come get you if he’s being too much and we can switch, okay?” You compromise, getting the understanding that Echo’s going to worry either way.

“Deal.” Echo said firmly with a nod, and stands up. “For as much of a dick as he is, Crosshair’s right, it is rather late.” You nod and shrug slightly in agreement.

Echo turns to you and leans down. “Try and get some rest.” He gives you a quick peck on the cheek before turning on his heel and borderline speeding out of the room.

When the door shuts automatically, you ghost your hand along your cheek, and an uncontrollable smile breaks across your face.

I think he likes me.

#star wars #the clone wars #clone force 99 #bad batch #tbb fandom #the bad batch #501st legion #star wars fandom #clone trooper echo #clone trooper crosshair #echo x self insert #echo x you #echo x reader #echo bad batch #is there an echo in here?#arc trooper echo #tbb echo

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rare-clone-fic-exchange · 10 months

Text

Begin Again (Sergeant Soot x Reader)

Gifting to: Kassy aka @moonlightwarriorqueen <3

Summary: Reader is a youngling-care professional who cares very deeply about their little ones and isn’t afraid to protect them. Sgt. Soot makes a mistake, but he gets a chance to make it right.

Pairing: GN!reader x Sergeant Soot

Rating: G

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: n/a

Author’s Note: Sergeant Soot is a trooper stationed with Commander Grey’s Battalion, assigned to Jedi Generals Depa Billaba and Caleb Dume. He appears in the Kanan comic series! He has one or two lines, so I basically reverse-engineered him into an OC based on his sense of humour, matter-of-factness, and observational skills. Reader is based on a special friend who definitely shares some (protectiveness, fierceness, caring heart), but not all (lack of awareness about clone culture and lives) of the same qualities!

Read while listening to: Someone New by Hozier

~ Sergeant Soot's POV ~

A cacophony of sharp and squealing giggles pierced through the train as the doors slid open.

Through the HUD of his bucket, Soot — ever the alert sergeant — found himself assessing the source: four boisterous younglings of various species, with a humanoid chaperone in tow boarding the car.

“You’re a bantha bum!” taunted the Nautolan youngling to the humanoid youngling.

“Well, y-you’re a hairy bantha bum!” a small Twi’lek retorted.

“Oh yeah?! You’re all the hairiest bantha bums!” interjected the Rodian youngling.

“Shhh! Come, all of you, hush and sit!” Their chaperone insisted as they herded them into the car. They didn’t resemble the humanoid child, Soot thought. They also wore modest, but polished robes. Not their parent, but perhaps not a teacher either.

Breathless laughter and shrieks persisted as the group settled on seats across from where Soot and Big-Mouth stood. Both in full kit, fresh into their 48 hours of shore leave on Coruscant, Soot nudged a sharp elbow at his brother.

“Get a load of this,” Soot whispered.

Big-Mouth responded with an amused huff, “Aiwha-bait would never stand for it, eh?”

“Righto, vod.” The brothers chuckled softly amongst themselves.

Soot wondered at the tenacity of a person who could wrangle such a chaotic crew. He reminisced on exasperated trainers, watchful long-necks, and an “adolescence” (if you could call it that) as a very cautious cadet. As genetically-enhanced assets for the Republic, Soot knew there were different developmental expectations for him and his brothers, but it never seemed quite so clear until a moment like this.

The Nautolan whispered in the ear of the Rodian beside them, both giggling until their colourful cheeks flushed deeper with pigment. The two of them seemed to be conspiring, Soot estimated.

“Hey! Mister!” The Rodian hollered.

“Knapp…” The chaperone started.

“Where’s your blasters?!” The Nautolan piped up.

“Eysu!” The chaperone scolded, “Inside voice, please! And let’s all leave the soldiers alone.”

Soot chuckled, then rotated to expose the hip holster where his pistol rested. “You mean, this?”

“Wizard!” said Knapp and Eysu, simultaneously.

The chaperone’s worried brow deepened. “Sir, I would appreciate if you didn’t display weapons to my younglings. They are in my charge.”

Big-Mouth chimed in, “It’s a big and dangerous city. All the more reason to know how to protect yourself, I say.”

“I doubt my employers would agree with that sentiment.” The chaperone insisted.

“Sorry ’bout that,” Soot apologized. His remorse didn’t seem to appease them. The dull hum of the train only grew louder as the younglings quieted in response to the displeasure of their chaperone.

The chaperone dropped their glance, attending towards the younglings. Soot straightened up, turning the view of his helmet away. Undetectably, Soot continued to watch them from behind the tint of his visor.

Should I say something more?

“Alright everyone, this is where we get off.” The chaperone prepared the younglings to depart. With a curt nod to the two clones, they and the others exited the car.

Ah, kriff.

~ Reader's POV ~

“Come on, please!”

“Being around more clones is the last thing I need after the day I had.” you protested.

“Don’t be a scughole, they may look the same, but they do have different personalities y’know.”

After your unfortunate run-in earlier that day on the train, your younglings had continued to pester you with endless questions about soldiers, blasters, and what the second clone had meant by Coruscant being “dangerous.” It took every shred of your trained patience to maintain a pleasant demeanour until their parents or parents’ aides retrieved them. And now Ni’la was insistent on bringing you to the single most clone-populated establishment in the upper levels.

“I know that, Ni.” You rolled your eyes with disdain, “They’re different, sure, but I haven’t come across one yet who’s taken more interest in me than the size of their blaster or a retelling of their latest mission.”

“Maybeee you just haven’t met the right one yet!” Ni’la sassed. She was dressed in her best and had convinced you to get ready too — without telling you where she planned on heading tonight. Now, the two of you were a block away from the thumping, glaring, buzzy corner where 79’s lived.

“Oh, and you have?” you asked.

“No, but I’m ready to keep looking! C’mon, it’s looking so fun tonight!” She couldn’t contain her apparent excitement, as she sped ahead towards the entrance.

------

Ni’la had gotten her wish, a few times over, as you watched her enchant several clones on the dance floor. Her blue lekku move gracefully with the rest of her body as she swayed to the beat. Fatigued by the day, you had passed on her attempts to drag you with her, choosing instead to nurse your Pink Nebula in an adjacent booth.

You watched as a fourth clone approached Ni’la, evaluating for a second before he changed his trajectory and started heading towards you.

Oh great, you thought, here we go again.

Your trusted stone-faced “leave me the kriff alone” expression did little to deter the man. He was half-armoured like most of his brothers in the bar, but his dark hair was buzzed, short and much closer to the scalp than the typical cut many clones had.

With a beer in his hand, he strode up to the edge of your table.

Using his free hand to rub his buzzed head bashfully, he motioned with the beer towards Ni’la and his brothers on the dance floor. “Your friend’s got quite the fan club.”

“How’d you know she’s my friend?”

“You’re sitting alone, watching but not looking very interested in the pretty twi’lek or the guys she’s with, lookin’ less than interested in anyone and anything else here either.”

You gave a nod of approval for his skills of deduction.

“So why aren’t you up there with her?”

“Been a long day,” you started, taking another long sip.

“Care to enlighten me?” He motioned to the empty space in the booth beside you.

You did the math quickly: Ni’la would probably be occupied by one or more of his lucky brothers for the rest of the evening. Being alone was good and fine, but this was a rare occasion where your conversation partner seemed genuinely interested in you. So, why not?

“Just work. An extra… complicated day, I guess.”

He slid into the empty seat next to you. “What d’you do?”

You hesitated, considering that you didn’t need to revert to your usual level of discretion, seeing as he likely understood the value of informational sensitivity.

“I provide care for the younglings of Senate representatives.” You held your breath, never having revealed the true extent of your employment in such a casual setting before.

“Do you like it?”

You continued, both impressed and appreciative of his genuine curiosity: “Parts of it. I love my little ones; I love getting to help them learn and play and become who they want to be.”

“But…?” He held your gaze with his warm and assuring brown eyes.

“But being employed by the Galactic Senate has its complications. I’m sure you can relate.”

He nodded, pausing for a moment. This was usually about the time when soldiers you had met started revelling in their tales of glory. That he hadn’t taken the invitation to start talking about himself made him seem different; he was giving thought to your words, your life.

“How do you deal with that?”

“It’s been hard, and I’ve had to take my time. But when the frustrating bits of politics or real life trickles in, I try to keep my focus on the younglings and draw from how joyful and resilient they are. You know how they can be.” You gestured vaguely.

His face scrunched a bit at that.

“Honestly… We clones have a pretty minor frame of reference.”

“Oh?”

“As soldiers, we have an… interesting upbringing, to put it lightly.”

You’d never given much consideration to the intricacies of clones’ lives before their service.

“But you’ve never interacted with younglings in any capacity?” you asked.

“My battalion’s Jedi general is quite young, but he’s also probably not what you would consider a regular youngling,” he joked.

“No, I wouldn’t,” you huffed.

He smiled, pausing and fiddling with the bottle in his hand.

“So, youngling expert… What would you say to a real clueless dolt who shows off weapons to younglings?” he looked at you expectantly.

Your eyes widened as your brain processed the connection. Him. He was the same clone from the train. You gaped at him for just a moment more.

“… I would say that you’re very lucky that the younglings had such a short train journey. Their chaperone can get pretty nasty when they’re in protective mode.”

“Guess I’m also lucky a certain twi’lek decided to bring their chaperone to the clone bar tonight so I can properly apologize.” He rubbed his head again, “I’m sorry for that.”

“I appreciate it,” you replied, finding it hard to resist a small smile.

“Really, I am. Didn’t realize what a headache it would be for you.”

“It’s over now.” You shrugged, hands toying with your now-empty glass. “And now I know you really didn’t know better.”

“Well, alright then.” His brown eyes continued to hold contact with yours, his attention focused as if you were the single most important thing in the galaxy. You found yourself almost paralyzed by the tenderness promised by his gaze.

Ni’la’s musical giggles broke through the concentration of the moment. It had been a good night out for everyone, apparently. When she realized she had your attention again, she motioned to signal she’d be leaving with her chosen soldier. Her giggle climbed an octave, if possible, as the man swept her up bridal-style and headed out.

The pair of you at the booth scoffed in unison, humoured by your lively friends.

“Are you hungry at all?” he asked. “Wanna get out of here and grab something to eat?”

“As long as you keep that blaster holstered.” You flashed him a sly smile.

He chuckled, “Oh, I’ve definitely learned my lesson.”

#rare clone fic exchange #rare clone fic submission #reader insert #x reader #clone wars fanfiction #clone wars #sergeant soot x reader #clone sergeant soot #clone sergeant soot x reader

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somestorythoughts · 1 year

Text

Eldritch Clone Troopers Again

I’m gonna revisit the Clones-Become-Something-Other idea but this time it’s not because of the Jedi.

The galaxy is, to put it bluntly, really fucking big. There’s a lot of weird not-understood-by-any-or-many stuff in it. And sure, the Force is all-encompassing and omnipresent, but that doesn’t mean everyone understands it the same. That doesn’t mean it’s the same everywhere.

Imagine if, by the end of the war, there’s at least 5 different kinds of Other/Eldritch SOMETHING going on with the troopers because they just keep running into the batshit weird stuff.

What doesn’t kill you changes you and all that.

And the changes spread somehow. Spread like a song, from veteran to shiny, from battalion to battalion. The shinies change to match their brothers, brothers who do not find something to change them find themselves matching their brothers. Like a disease some say, because they’re scared and they don’t know what’s happening and change can be terrifying and it’s up to their brothers to say it’s alright, we’ve got you, metamorphosis isn’t easy but it will pass. The changes spread like a song and when they hit other battalions that have their own song they don’t go further there, because they’ve already got their favorite tune and it’s not about to change, so they compare songs and cheer or tease about each other’s lyrics and melodies, and maybe trade tips, but they don’t trade songs.

No one knows who changes first.

Maybe it’s the Wolfpack, and oh they will never hear the end of the jokes, jokes that must be either run with or hated, because a hurricane brought on land forced them to shelter in an abandoned temple for long enough to be noticed. Those people were shapeshifters once, skin changers and berserkers, and their deities (deities are not representations of the Force but they’re the next best thing, beings made of the Force without being the Force made Flesh, and thus not bound to mortality, though they are not everlasting) remember and miss the days when they had worshipers who took the forms of animals and sang in chorus.

Each member of the Wolfpack can take the shape of a canine. Give it some time, and it seems like every canine in the galaxy is represented somewhere by a clone trooper. There’s bleedover between their two skins now, eyes that are not a human’s but not their creature’s either and thus don’t fit into either face, teeth too sharp and too many for a human and paws with just enough fingers to grasp. These troopers have a taste for raw meat now, for the hunt, and sometimes they laugh and chase their brothers around Coruscant and sometimes they hunt droids and generals, and sometimes they bring down creatures three times their size and feast. They howl and bark and cry together, a sound that shouldn’t harmonize but somehow does, and together they sing.

The 501st and the 212th will never agree who’s fault this was or who gets the credit, depending on who’s talking. It surprises no one that they change together, it would have been more of a shock if they’d each become something separately. They can’t agree on what it was that changed them either. They agree only on the planet. Maybe it was something in the water, which was drinkable but ran golden in every light, maybe it was the ruins, whose stones made their jedi wobble without knowing why, maybe it was the planet itself. The planet that was awake, and watching, and listening. The planet that felt the beat of the troopers’ feet when they danced and tasted the blood they shed and who knows the logic of a planet?

They’re growing now, these troopers. Growing thorns in place of nails and flowers in place of eyes, and their blood flows thick like sap. There’s green on their lips now, chlorophyll that tolerates the rations but practically purrs in the sunlight, and whenever there’s the slightest chance the troopers strip down as much as they dare and soak in the sunlight, relish in the heat and light on their green-tinted skin and the ferns that curl along their scalps, the petals growing around their wrists and the algea growing between their toes that relishes the cool of water. They love to dance in the sunlight and their footsteps sign their names where they step, leaving new leaves and budding flowers in their wake.

The 327th plays host for one month to a flock of something that isn’t a phoenix or a firebird, but those are the only words they can think to apply. No one knows how they got on the ship. But their general says they’re peaceful and friendly besides, and radiating light in the force like a star (and aren’t they made of fire in the same way, they are not candleflame or forest fire or lava but starfire) and they make the cold of space warm, so the men grow to relax around them and are sad to see them go. They don’t take all of their warmth with them.

Spill their blood and it’s scalding hot, searing rock and metal and burning holes through fabric, raising blisters on the skin of anyone who doesn’t match their boiling heat. They could shower in icy water and fill the room with steam, indeed water sizzles when it lands. One trooper, with too much time and the right material, finds out that yes he can fry an egg on his hand and that’s a funny story but it’s also the least of what they can do, because these men can dance in a forest ablaze and fear neither heat nor smoke, can walk over lava and stare into suns, the suns that their eyes resemble because they’ve turned into stars. These troopers burn and shine and to compare them to distinct lights is much less of a metaphor than it was before.

Coruscant latches her teeth into the Coruscant Guard and there’s nothing they can do about it. That planet is a different kind of war than their brothers are facing but they’ve got casualty lists nonetheless and it takes no less persistence and skill and luck to survive it. There’s darkness in the city, pushing at the light of the Temple, and there’s light in the Guard but it’s the darkness that seeps into their blood, pulsing through them with each beat of their heart and each inhale.

It’s hard to look at the Guard now. They’ve become creatures of blood and shadow, muscle and bone, and death is just a word now because they know their bodies like no one else and they can simply knit themselves back together. The shades in place of their skin cover but do not hide the flesh beneath, the roll of organs, and where their eyes should be are pits or flickering streetlights or something moving that can only be glimpsed. Their minds seep along each other like oil on water, touching without merging, and it doesn’t make them safe it doesn’t fix the problem, but it keeps them from ever being alone, keeps any more of them from dying at the hands of those they protect, and that’s no small thing. The Guard tends not to speak much, but they tap constantly, tap and drum their words and tunes and the constant pulse of their shared heartbeat, their shared blood.

The SCUBA troops are the ones that bring the ocean into play. They catch the notice of an old god-goddess-divinity in a deep ocean, someone that isn’t really awake but instead the divine equivalent of half-asleep and half-dreaming and, much like a human just awake enough to not properly be asleep, makes a vague change to their dream without thinking about it.

These troopers don’t walk so much as flow; somehow they always look like they’re moving through water. Gills carve through their skin and salt water feels like coming home but fresh water is almost as good and aside from their gills only a few of them become like fish, only a few find their fingers webbed or learn they can grow tentacles at will, but all of them can swim through any water like they were made for it, can see through it clear as day, can laugh and dance on a ship in a thunderstorm without fear. And oh their dreams, they find their brothers in their dreams, bring them out of the choppy dark of nightmares and into the soothing calm of sweet dreams, they dream of things that are long gone and things that might be and things that could have been but never were, things that are known and things that cannot be understood.

Slowly, they grow to see the changes in their other brothers, their family, and it’s always a shock but it’s a good kind, oh you’ve changed to tell me how, how do you find it, it’s like unexpectedly meeting an old friend you haven’t seen in years but in minutes you’re sharing everything that’s happened since you met. And these changes, they don’t make the troopers force users but they give them a bit of awareness, enough to see who’s changed, to see the fingerprints of the force in the galaxy.

Some of them return to Coruscant and the Guard’s constant armor is as almost as much to keep them in the “proper” shape as it is to protect them and they above all know how to hide, so it takes sometime to see those fingerprints of change on them but they do and oh you’ve changed too what on earth did you run into to make that happen you’re supposed to be safe from the craziness here and one of the Guards laughs. It sounds like choking and cracking bones and hysteria.

Palpatine dies within a week. The war ends soon after.

When the clones rejoice, there are those who can change their skin and those with flowers for eyes, those burning with plasma and those who bleed uninjured and those who could walk the depths, all side by side and celebrating together as family does. Some of them are singing songs with harmonies that can’t be matched, some are dancing in a way that leaves clover behind them, some are shining in effusive joy, some are drumming out their pulse in accompaniment to the singing, and some are dreaming this for the little brothers awaiting them on Kamino. See your brothers in joy, see what you can become, we’ll be there to get you soon.

#so yeah #the thing with the corries is inspired by Corrie Red on ao3 which I recommend #Eldritch clone troopers #eldritch #Clone Troopers #clone wars #star wars

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carolinetano7567 · 1 year

Text

His little Light.

Ugh! I’ve worked on this for THREE DAYS 👻 anyways, enjoy!!!

Warnings: brief mentions of Hunter’s depression without Omega. A wee bit of violence. ANGSTTTTT

Word count: 1,673

Hemlock was a dead man.

Of that, Hunter was certain.

With keen eye, and steely nerve he had shot his way back into Mount Tantiss. At this point…there was no pain Hunter wouldn’t endure; no person he wouldn’t kill to get his Omega back. Without her, life had lost its meaning all together. It was dark. It was colorless. He felt only hate and grief. He could find no comfort in his companions. All the alcohol in the world couldn’t numb him to the pain. The thought of getting Omega back was the only thing that kept him alive.

As he dashed through grey corridors, his blood boiled and his heart pounded. She was alive. He knew she was. His eyes darted about like a wild animal’s as he heard the echoing footsteps of someone coming his way. ��More troopers, no doubt.” He scoffed. He whipped around, his blaster growing hot in his hand, and shot down three troopers with sickening speed. Sweat made his helmet feel humid and damp over his head, but he didn’t care. He took off running again, and knew exactly where he was going. Hemlock’s facility was heavily guarded by highly trained Commandos…ten at least. Hunter drew his knife.

“Intruder spotted! Shoot him!” The leader of the troops commanded. The nerve of them to think of killing him before he laid eyes on Omega. He gritted his teeth, and plunged into their thin ranks in a mad frenzy: stabbing, shooting, and tearing to pieces anyone who lay between him, and his daughter. Adrenaline pumped through his veins as he beheld the slaughtered troopers fallen around him. His vision was tinted red, and every muscle twitched. He swiped up the identification card of one of the dead Commandos, and used it to permit his entry into Hemlock’s lab. As the door slid open, Hemlock’s back was turned to Hunter, and he was bent methodically over a table of sorts. Hunter sucked in a deep breath to steady himself.

“Where. Is. She.” Hunter demanded in a threatening voice. Hemlock said nothing. Hunter cocked his pistol. “WHERE IS SHE.” He roared.

Hemlock’s head lifted, and he chuckled airily. “You’re about five minutes later than I expected.” He hummed. “Lose track of time, Hunter?” He turned around, and his eyes gleamed like a scheming devil’s. Omega was in this lab somewhere, Hunter knew it by the way Hemlock’s eyes glinted in the light. But for the time being, he was so furious he could not so much as tear his eyes away from Hemlock. “You have her here.” Hunter’s nostrils flared. “WHERE IS OMEGA.” He barked. Hemlock smirked. “I did find it highly…intriguing the amount of times she said you’d come.” “If you hurt a hair on her head, I’ll make you wish you’d never been borne.” Hunter threatened.

“Yes she mention that.” Hemlock folded his hands behind his back, and tilted his head to the side. “But why doesn’t she call you ‘father’, Hunter? She clearly views you as a paternal figure. So why does she not refer to you that way?” His tone was dangerously calm as he approached Hunter, but Hunter’s breath hitched in surprise. He hadn’t given that much thought. He had always been “Hunter” to Omega, and he was fine with that.

“That’s none of your business.” Hunter spat, and his grip around his out-held blaster grew tighter. “Oh, but it is.” Hemlock contradicted. “You see…I am a scientist. I observe; I study. Perhaps there is a reason Omega refrains from calling you ‘father.’” He was so close, it took everything Hunter had not to shoot him.

“And what would that be?” Hunter managed through gritted teeth. He scowled at Hemlock, and the doctor chuckled again.

“Perhaps, Hunter, she feels she cannot call you ‘father’ because you have failed her as a father figure. Time and time again she’s been tossed into battles, shot at, run off planets that seemed safe…what father would force his child to live a life of instability such as that, Hunter?”

Hunter stiffened, and his ears started ringing.

“Furthermore,” Hemlock continued, looming like a shadow by Hunter’s left side. He leaned in closely to the side of Hunter’s helmet. “What child would love a father who made them live such a life?” He whispered, and Hunter’s heart skipped a beat. He was right. Omega had lived as a soldier, not a child. Hunter had taught her evasive maneuvers, how to shoot, and how to problem solve. She was a Bad Batcher. She belonged with them…didn’t she?

“You forget, Hunter,” Hemlock continued. “Omega was ours that you stole. With us, her life would have been calm, quiet, and consistent. Now look where she has gotten because you thought you could play pretend for her. She is not here because of the Empire, Hunter.” Hemlock narrowed his eyes, and glared at him.

“She is here…because of you and your failings” The last word hung dreadfully in the air like a powerful, silencing toxin.

Tears came to Hunter’s eyes and he breathed heavily. He had failed Omega…in so many ways. She relied in him for safety, and protection and he had let her he captured. He had promised she would never end up an experiment; yet she was here with Hemlock. She had no lasting peace, no guaranteed stability. She wasn’t even really Hunter’s child. Hunter lowered his blaster as Hemlock’s word s pierced his bones to the marrow. And he recalled a symphony of other sounds, doubts, and voices that had penetrated him in that moment as glimpses of memory.

Don’t keep pretending to be something you’re not.

Who knew clones are so paternal?

Easy, she’s not a soldier.

I don’t want to end up an experiment in a tube.

But…I want to stay with you!

Hunter fell to his knees and his blaster clattered to the ground. The despair was crushing. It ripped through his chest, and forced the breath out of his lungs.

And then he remembered her face.

Omega’s sweet, caring face that had filled his life with so much light. His little girl…his little girl.

“You’re right,” Hunter mumbled, his head still hung. Hemlock smirked. “I’ve failed Omega—and I will continue to fail her.” He rose shakily, and his voice elevated with every word. “But that doesn’t matter!” Hunter boomed, his confidence growing. “And take note of this. Despite my failings, I can give Omega something that you, or the Kaminoans never could!”

Hemlock folded his hands. “And what would that be?” He asked menacingly.

“Love.” Hunter enforced.

“Fascinating.” Hemlock whispered. Hunter ran at Hemlock, and gripped his throat with one hand, while aiming his blaster at him with the other.

“If you kill me…someone else will just rise up and take my place. Omega will always be sought after.” Hemlock chuckled.

“I’ll send them to hell to give you my regards.” Hunter spat, and quickly ended the doctor’s life.

The body fell to the floor, and Hunter loomed over it, feeling a sense of power. He was gone. He would never hurt Omega again…or anyone else. Steadying his breathing, he looked quickly around the room.

“Omega!” He called. Panic began to well up inside him. He stopped to listen, and heard faint breathing coming from the far end of the room. He felt like his breath was knocked out of him. She was laying in a medical chair, bound to it, and hooked up to all kinds of machines. She was barely breathing. His Omega…his child. His hands shook so much that he dropped his blaster next to Hemlock’s lifeless body.

“…Omega.” He breathed. He sprinted to where she was, and looked her over and over again. Was she hooked up those machines for testing, or were they keeping her alive? Was she conscious? His trembling hand instinctively reached out, and his gloved fingertips brushed against her cheek. He glanced at the datapad containing her vitals, and he wanted to throw up as his eyes scanned the list of tests that had been run on her little body.

He leaned over her, gazing into her face he had so longed to see. He tore off his helmet and cast it aside. “Omega,” His chest heaved. He cupped the side over her face in his hand. “It’s Hunter. I’m here.” Omega stirred, and her expression was full of dread and fear. “No, please…” She mumbled. “You said we were done for today…” She still had not opened her eyes, but started to sob. Every sharp intake of her breath was like a knife in Hunter’s heart being twisted.

He gently took her face in both of his hands. “Omega…” He breathed. “It’s me.” Her eyes fluttered open as tears trickled down her hunger-gnarled face.

“Hunter?” She cried. Her chest heaved and her body shook as she sobbed. “You came for me!” Hunter fumbled with her restraints, hastily undoing them, and hoisting her into his arms.

“Hunter! Hunter don’t let them take me back! Don’t let them take me back!” Omega wept. She had her arms tightly wrung around his neck, and Hunter’s eyes filled with tears as he pressed her tighter against him. She was safe at last. “I won’t, Omega.” Hunter croaked. He held his hand around the back of her head, and he felt her little tears on his neck. “I won’t.”

“I knew you’d come, Dad.” She shakily heaved. Hunter leaned his head against hers, and his tears slowly began to fall. “I always will, Kid.” He let a sob break from his chest and he fell to his knees with Omega wrapped in his embrace. “I always will.” Hunter squeezed his eyes shut as he ran his fingers through his little girl’s hair. She was so thin. “Come on.” Hunter looked up at the computer, and then down at Omega. He wiped a tear from her face with his thumb, and she grinned. “We’re gonna get you unhooked, and bring you home.”

#hunter tbb #sergeant hunter #Omega #Doctor Hemlock #Tbb fanfiction #do it Dave #I dare you

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sleepingsun501 · 1 year

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Chapter 3: The Prices of Service

Characters: Commander Fox, Commander Thorn, OC Keeda Ionza, OC June Makano

Summary: If he was not here to protect them, his position would likely go to Thorn or Thire, and that was something he would never wish on his vode. Fox had decided long ago that if his suffering spared his brothers, he would endure it.

Rating: Explicit 18+, no smut

Warnings: Clone trooper dehumanization, residual anxiety

Word Count: 4.4k

Ao3 link

A/N: CHAPTER 3 UPDATED: 06/20/2023. Hello and welcome to the updated Chapter 3 of Sweet True Lies!! Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy it!!

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The Prices of Service

Keeda gasped as she jerked herself awake, looking around and briefly wondering where she was. You’re in your old room. Relax. You’re okay. she told herself as she got her bearings.

An annoyed meow came from the black-striped lump of tan fur next to her feet as she reached over and grabbed the remote on her nightstand, reducing the dark opaque tint of her windows to let in the morning light. “Sorry, Chuffs,” she apologized to her mother’s tooka cat.

She squeezed her eyes shut against the harsh light bouncing off Coruscant's surface and nestled herself back into her cloudy pillows, not quite ready to leave the warmth of her large bed.

A pair of large pointy ears twitched as Chuffs stood up briefly and stretched languidly as the light reached her, giving Keeda a curious look before settling back down in her warm spot with a purr.

Scrunching her fingers through her tangled hair as she took in the morning, Keeda’s thoughts wandered back to the dream she had been having. It had not been unpleasant—quite the opposite: Someone’s strong arms had pulled her close with whispers of reassurance and safety, enveloping her with so much warmth she could have melted into them.

She mused over it for a moment, twisting a bit to look at her upper arm and wondering why she had such a comforting dream after such a tumultuous night. As she prodded the bruise-free skin to check for any residual soreness, she figured a nightmare would have been more fitting, but none had come.

“Good morning, Mistress Keeda,” N2’s soft, high-pitched, mechanical voice said as he shuffled into her room. He was holding a breakfast tray laden with what looked like muffins, scrambled nuna eggs, sliced shuura fruit, and her favorite tea.

Keeda stretched and yawned before sitting up, realizing absently that she had slept much further into the morning than she normally did. Just a few years prior, after inheriting the leading share of ownership of her father’s galaxy-wide shipping company, Interplanetary Cargo Carriers, she had begun rising with the sun each day.

She typically carried out most of her meetings and flimsiwork in the waking hours to leave the rest of her day open, and she had thrown herself into assisting her mother with running the charity in her spare time.

The routine had become a bit monotonous over the years as Terreg Ionza had so skillfully built and structured the company that his daughter barely had to touch it, leaving Keeda the financial freedom others could only dream of.

Still, she heeded her father’s advice and checked in with her business teams, other shareholders, and financial advisors almost daily, and the company continued to flourish even through the outbreak of the Clone Wars.

Today, however, already felt off-kilter due to the abrupt change in pace.

“Morning, N2. What’s all this?” she asked, untangling herself from the velvety blankets and trying not to disturb Chuffs a second time.

“Oh, Mistress Sareel was insistent that you have something to eat before you leave,” N2 replied.

She rubbed her eyes groggily as N2 set the meal down on the marble night table. Her stomach rumbled loudly as the scent of the fresh, berry-laden muffins and fluffy eggs finally registered, remembering how little she had eaten the night before.

Sipping the milky, steaming tea and nibbling a muffin, Keeda skimmed the news on her comm and answered a few messages from her business teams as she did every morning. Articles recounting the Republic Navy’s latest victories and defeats rerouting trade and travel hyperspace lanes littered the screen, and it had become a new weekly normal for her to approve or reject what shipping lanes the ICC would utilize among her usual tasks.

But as hard as she tried to focus, she found her mind wandering back to her dream. It was fading quickly as she fully woke, but the sense of security of those imaginary arms around her had greatly lessened her residual anxiety. Not wanting to give that anxiety any opportunity to return, she tried to burn the dream into her brain.

“Is there anything you require before I begin the household chores, Mistress Keeda?” N2 asked, carrying her hamper from her bathroom.

“No, thank you, N2. You have done plenty for me already,” Keeda replied, giving the droid a smile. She knew N2 could not feel emotions—he was simply programmed to respond—but she had always been polite to him nonetheless.

As she tucked into her breakfast, she remembered her mother’s request to check on the floral arrangements for the gala and sent a quick text comm to June, telling her she would be stopping by.

In a last-second decision, she also took the opportunity to inform June of the details of the previous evening. She was well aware that June never answered personal calls while working, and therefore would not call herself, but Keeda received several long texts full of enraged expletives and exclamations within just a few minutes.

June had always been hotheaded, so Keeda took her time in eating and dressing, figuring her best friend would have vented out a lot of that initial steam by the time she arrived if she did not rush. Instead, she savored the morning, and her delicious breakfast, for once and turned her thoughts toward preparing for the gala.

Nothing about the Clone Wars had slowed down the charity foundation’s work, but it had physically condensed it to Core and Mid-Rim worlds, much like the ICC had, as new battle maps were drawn every day in every sector of the galaxy. The charity had also been forced to cut its ties with Separatist worlds, though Keeda knew some of the medical outposts on those worlds had continued to function without proper funds, manned now only by the very people they had been constructed to help.

With the organization now officially partnering with the GAR, however, the work could continue on Loyalist worlds outside of the Core and Mid-Rim. Keeda had already received the information about the battalion she would be attached to for the foreseeable future, and she sincerely hoped the clones would accept working with her in the field. Deep down, she had been a little worried they would always see her as an outsider.

An hour later found her stepping out of a taxi and onto a wide, sunny pedestrian walkway in a neighboring district. The air was still chilly, but the sun managed to take the bite of the wind away as Coruscant hummed with life around her. Citizens of all species bustled about and children laughed as if there were no war at all to speak of, and she joined the flow of the crowd.

How privileged we are just to see the sun on this planet when others go their whole lives in the lower levels. You were born into that privilege, my dearest. Use it to help others. Terreg’s words echoed through Keeda’s mind deeply as she walked, listening to the dull thudding of her boots on the duracrete join the symphony of footsteps.

In a matter of minutes, a long, tall greenhouse stretched down the length of the block before her, made entirely of glass walls and windows—just one of ten identical buildings laid out parallel to each other. A much smaller, older structure sat at the end of the first building, with a glowing sign projected onto the ancient-looking brick that read ‘Makano Greenhouses,’ and she made her way to the door.

The air inside the main shop was warm and damp, and it was like stepping into an entirely different world. The fresh scents of thousands of varieties of flowers, vegetables, fruits, and shrubbery the Makano family had grown for nearly two centuries in their greenhouses all wafted to greet her like a warm embrace, spiriting her away from the ecological barrenness of Coruscant. She suspected the shuura fruit she had eaten for breakfast had come from these greenhouses.

Inhaling the perfumy fragrances deeply, Keeda pressed the service button on the front desk, taking the time to admire all the glittering vases, fruit baskets, and pre-arranged flower displays already up for sale.

“Be there in a second, Keeds,” a light feminine voice said, echoing through a speaker.

June Makano was the latest generational owner of her family’s greenhouses and Keeda’s best friend from their time at university.

Although the greenhouses were an incredibly lucrative business over the centuries—being one of the last few remaining places on-world providing food and décor to Coruscant’s upper classes—the Makano family had used them as a cover for less legitimate business for just as long.

True to her word, a few moments later, a delicately curvy young woman with bright ginger hair and equally bright hazel eyes came jogging in through the shop’s back door.

“Fucking hell, girl,” she greeted in typical June fashion, wiping her hands on a rag and pulling her friend into a tight hug.

“Hey, June,” Keeda replied. She hugged her back, glad to see her initial, explosive temper had cooled already.

“You nearly gave me a heart attack this morning with your message. How’re you holding up?”

“I’m coping, could’ve been worse,” she added dismissively. However, her remaining unease must have still been shining through her expression because June cocked a disbelieving, fiery eyebrow at her.

The two had become like sisters over the years, and it still baffled Keeda to no end how the redhead was always able to know exactly how she felt, reading people like open books.

As if on cue, the way June pursed her lips was another classic indicator that she knew Keeda was still not all right, but Keeda ignored it and annoyedly huffed out a tired breath, leaning against the counter.

“Okay, I’m not gonna make you talk about it,” June said quietly and rubbing her friend’s arm affectionately, “but you know I’m here if you need to. You know I can still get Naiyo to deal with him, too, right?”

Keeda chuckled dryly and rolled her eyes. Naiyo Makano was the last person she wanted to be involved in her dating life again. “No, thanks. I don’t want your rum-running twin brother and his gangsters getting themselves into any more trouble on my account.”

“He still cares about you, but I get it. The offer always stands, though. Now, come on, let me show you the flowers for tomorrow,” June said in a singsong voice, effectively dropping the subject.

June led her through the back door and past the greenhouses to an enormous workshop. It looked equally as ancient as the main shop with all its exposed brick and dark steel rafters, and the sunlight streaming through the high windows glittered off little dust motes in the air.

Specialized droids hovered about, arranging several varieties of colorful flowers into garlands, bouquets, and centerpieces for the gala. Keeda recognized some of the larger flower varieties, but there were also unfamiliar, tiny, shining white blossoms on wiry vines mixed into the arrangements.

“Let your mum know everything will be delivered this afternoon, and I’ll be there personally tonight to make sure they’re set up properly,” June said, taking an extra bundle of the blossoms and handing them to Keeda. “These would look really pretty in your hair tomorrow.”

“What are these?” she asked curiously. The little shimmering flowers gave off a delicate, but musky-sweet scent, unlike anything she had smelled before. They were also surprisingly resilient as she touched them, despite being so small.

“They’re a variety of peace blossoms from Naboo,” June explained, lifting the end of a garland into a transport crate. “Your mum asked for those particularly, so I had to use the hydroponic systems and pure light to get them to grow faster. She said it was to represent a quick end to the war with the help of all the relief volunteers.”

“Trust my mum to weave poetic symbolism into everything,” Keeda mumbled, tilting the little flowers in her palm. Their sheen reflected a faint bluish-green hue beneath the milky petals as she heard June pause her work. From the tone of her sigh, Keeda could tell she was worried. “You still don’t think I should have volunteered?”

June looked away as she shook her shoulder-length orange hair out of its clip to readjust it. “I just don’t want you to get hurt or anything. Just because you’re only going on relief missions doesn’t mean it’s safe, Keeds. You could be attacked at any time.”

“Now you really sound like my mum,” Keeda muttered sardonically. She knew June meant well, but even she knew Keeda had been screaming internally for months from being cooped up on Coruscant. “I’ll be with the troops the whole time. They’ll keep any droids out of my way, and I’m a decent shot myself.”

June gave her a reproachful look, but she clipped her hair back up and shrugged. “Just… be careful. You’re my best friend.”

“I know and I will be careful. But you know exactly how badly I need to get off this kriffing planet. I need some fresh air, quite literally a different atmosphere. It’s beautiful here, in its own way, and it’ll always be home, but I need some change.”

Keeda stepped a bit closer and lowered her voice a notch, shaking her head, “And you were right before, June. I’m not entirely fine, especially after last night. Getting away right now is the best thing I can do.”

She could tell June was holding back her tears from the way she looked around rapidly and started chewing on her plump, pink bottom lip. Keeda pulled her into a more solid hug, aware that it may be the last chance she got before she shipped out the morning after the gala. “I promise, I’ll be fine. When I get back, I’ll tell you all about it over caf at that greasy little diner you like so much.”

June chuckled, letting a tear escape as she embraced her tightly. “Hey, don’t shit on Dex’s. He’s got the best nerfburgers ever, just admit it.”

Fox sighed heavily as he picked up another datapad full of reports ready for his review and signature. It had been an unusually eventful day, starting normally with a meeting with the chancellor, but ending with him scrambling to rescind orders that he did not recall giving.

He had, had memory blackouts before, but never once had he ever told anyone about them. His fear of being sent back to Kamino and being reconditioned was less for himself and more for the men he commanded. If he was not here to protect them, his position would likely go to Thorn or Thire, and that was something he would never wish on his vode. Fox had decided long ago that if his suffering spared his brothers, he would endure it.

He lifted his helmet off, cutting the loud metal music he had been working to, and rubbed his fingertips over his eyes until he could see spots behind his eyelids. As he gulped down the last swallow of cold caf in his mug, he willed away the mental strain the day had so brutally taken out on him.

Today, the orders had been to raid a known criminal den, a mid-level dive lounge, to seek out suspected Separatist sympathizers. It was something the Corries had done before, and they had a very high success rate, but those raids were always carried out in the earliest hours of the morning, and today’s orders had come at midday.

Tactically, Fox knew better. He knew to wait till the late evening and early hours to strike when people were tired and had likely been imbibing, but when he rewatched the footage from his own helmet, he could hear his voice commanding that the raid be carried out immediately.

The next thing he remembered feeling was like he was waking up, coming out of a dense black fog just in time to realize what was going on around him. He had scrambled to recall his troopers before it was too late, his heart pounding its way through his ribs but retaining his stoic demeanor—a quickly learned skill in his position. Only after his men had successfully returned to base without engaging any hostiles, did Fox allow himself room to breathe, and the heated reprimand he endured from the chancellor’s vice chair, Mas Amedda, was let in one ear and out the other.

Skillfully lying his way out of it, another rapidly learned skill, he had stated that new evidence had suddenly come to light that needed to be reviewed before a raid could be carried out more effectively. However, to appease the seething, sycophantic Chagrian politician, Fox ordered that two of the serving droids at the dive bar be captured and reprogrammed to discreetly report on any Separatist-sympathetic activity for the next several weeks.

Amedda constantly meddled in military affairs, and it only served to make Fox’s job harder. It had taken an intervention by the chancellor himself calmly agreeing with Fox about the strategy for Amedda to back off.

Slipping his helmet back on and starting up his music again, Fox skimmed over the datapad. The harsh but melodic music was soothing him in a way he could not fully explain as he read through the infuriating reports. The reports he was signing off on now were not related to his direct orders. These had come in from the covert bases in deeper levels of the planet regarding a series of gang-related skirmishes.

A total of 52 brothers had been lost in the past two weeks due to increased gang warfare, and Fox’s dark eyes read each number carefully. Some of their names he knew, some he did not, but in the reports, their chosen names were never given; only their designation numbers were listed under a column that read ‘destruction of Republic property, KIA.’

It made Fox want to slam his fist through the datapad. He and his brothers were human, but still regarded as property. Slaves… resources… boys bred for war. echoed in his mind—sentiments he had heard from nat-born politicians and civilians in general on more than one occasion.

He had grown used to it, being treated as nothing more than a security measure or as a suit of armor decorating a dark corner waiting to be called to action, but it never stopped his anger from burning across his skin when he saw his brothers’ numbers lined up for him to acknowledge. He was responsible for them and each number felt like a sting of failure, no matter how many times Wolffe, Cody, or even Thorn told him he could not blame himself.

Thorn shifted from the cot he had been straddling, a stack of flimsi sheets and datapads of his own scattered in front of him. “I’m just about done,” he announced.

Fox barely heard him over the music, but he acknowledged his vod with a short hum, continuing to scribble his signature—his own designation number preceded by his rank—across the screen where necessary.

Thorn huffed, scratching a hand through his dark blonde curls, and rose to snatch the last datapad off Fox’s desk. The helmeted commander did not even try to stop him, knowing he was only trying to help. “Are you putting in another requisition order to Kamino?” Thorn asked, reading over the information.

“I have to,” Fox said, turning the screeching music down. “We’ve lost a platoon’s worth of brothers in two weeks because rival gangs have ramped up their attempts to claim territory. They’re too powerful to root out at the source without authorization from the district courts, and we don’t have that kind of jurisdiction.”

“Bureaucratic bullshit,” Thorn muttered.

“Exactly. If our main concern wasn’t all these fucking senators and the security of the upper levels, I’d be down there crushing them under my heels myself.”

Thorn forged Fox’s signature a few times and stacked the datapad with the others. “I need a drink. You up for 79s?”

Fox rolled his eyes. As if alcohol is going to help these memory blackouts. He set his helmet on his desk and kneaded the knots in his stiff neck, tossing his finished datapad on the pile. Leaning back in his creaking chair and stretching, he internally debated whether or not he wanted to go drinking.

Seeing his brother’s reluctance, Thorn pressed, “Come on, when did you last take a night off? There might be some cute girls there, and I bet any of them would love to help a marshal commander unwind.”

He thought about shooting Thorn a dark scowl, but Fox had to admit it had been a while since he had engaged in anything truly pleasurable, and he still could not get the image of that beautiful young woman out of his mind. He had begun imagining what she might look like if she smiled, and it made him feel lighter in an unfamiliar but captivating way. It was doubtful he would ever see her again, though, and blowing off some steam with someone new might just get those green eyes out of his stormy head.

Sighing as Thorn gave him a mockingly pitiful look, Fox relented, “All right, go round up the boys. I’ll be down in a minute.

He chuckled as he watched Thorn do a little happy skip out of his office before opening up the bottom drawer of his desk and digging for the box of bio-sheaths he always kept on hand. Even if he did not end up needing one, chances were that another brother would.

79’s was crawling with all sorts of beings. The majority were clones, but any nat-borns who wanted to patronize the infamous clone bar were welcome—assuming they did not cause trouble.

The Corries always caught the attention of the patrons whenever they arrived, and news of their presence swept through the vast establishment like wildfire. A radius of skepticism and caution always seemed to follow them for the first hour or so, garnering timid glances and hushed murmurs. Most people assumed they showed up because there was trouble, but as Fox and his men had removed their helmets, joking with each other and ordering a round of drinks, the atmosphere relaxed again.

One by one, each of them broke away from the group, finding brothers from other battalions to catch up with or seduced by potential partners. However, try as Thorn might, he could not convince Fox to do any more than lean over the railing of the third level overlooking the dance floor.

“I didn’t bring you here just to watch you know,” he called over the blaring music, growing more irritated that Fox’s version of a night off included nothing more than sipping bourbon as slowly as possible. “Loosen up, Vod.”

Fox let his drink sit and mellow on his tongue before answering, focusing on the sweeter notes in the cool alcohol. “I’m not stopping you from having fun. You’re the one choosing to stand here.” Fox grumbled back over the music.

Thorn rolled his eyes exaggeratedly. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Yeah. I do.”

“You sure you don’t want to have a little fun? That girl over there has been looking at you for a few minutes now.”

Fox followed Thorn’s eyes over his shoulder to a standing table with a group of scantily clad young women giggling around it. Sure enough, a few of them were smiling in their direction.

“I’m good.”

“Would this have anything to do with a certain girl you helped the other night?”

Fox rolled his eyes but sighed and took a deeper drink from his glass, swirling what was left of his ice into the deeply fragrant alcohol. No matter how hard he tried, and even after her assailant had been dealt with, he could not stop that mystery woman from invading his thoughts.

His mind grew pleasantly quiet once more as he stopped trying to distract himself and let the thought of her in. The pulsing lights and pounding music blaring through the club were barely noticeable to him after a few minutes, and it only got easier with every sip of his drink.

Thorn nudged him and he pulled himself out of his trance, looking at his brother in confusion. “What?”

Thorn nodded past him, and Fox turned to see a gorgeous Zeltron woman standing beside and smiling at him.

“Forgive me,” Fox apologized. “I didn’t see you.”

“It’s okay. I just asked if you’d like to dance?” she asked again, hopefully twirling a strand of her dark purple hair around a crimson-skinned finger.

Fox felt the heat rise in his neck. She was stunning and curvaceous, but the usual urge to take a willing partner for a spin on the crowded dance floor below was strangely absent. Although he had to admit she was certainly attractive, and he would not have turned her down in the past, she just was not who he wanted.

Giving her a kind smile in return, Fox politely declined and offered up Thorn instead. His vod lit up like a firecracker and he eagerly extended his hand. Fox knew, at the very least, it would keep his brother from bitching at him about being a downer.

Just before Thorn was pulled away by his new partner, Fox dug into a pouch on his belt and subtly slipped him the bio-sheath. “Just in case,” he mouthed.

Thorn gave him a grateful nod as he realized Fox was not planning on staying. Bumping vambraces with him, he turned to follow his eager new date down to the congested main floor of the club.

Fox sighed deeply and downed the rest of his bourbon in one hearty swig, letting it mellow against his tongue before swallowing. He could hear Mari’s distant voice in his head now, kicking him and telling him he was crazy for not accepting the Zeltron woman’s offer. He chuckled to himself as he remembered their situations being reversed when she and Rex had first gotten together.

The crisp air was invigorating as he stepped back into the night and swung over the seat of his speeder bike. He was somehow more alert now, even despite the single drink he had consumed. However, he knew his outrageous metabolism would burn it off quickly, and with sex oddly being very far from his mind, there was only one other method he knew would help him sleep—a brutally exhausting workout. Revving the speeder into gear, he set off back to the base.

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mwolf0epsilon · 11 months

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The Umbaran Pathogen - Day 31: PTSD/Crying

Summary: The war is coming to an end, and the vode's lives are ready to truly begin. It's not going to be easy for some of them to climb back out of rock bottom, however. Still, better to have hope than to give in to despair.

Warning: Mentions of a violent death via shotgun to the face (Palpatine never saw it coming) & a brief mention of an attempted suicide (I'm sure you can guess who tried).

Twitch belongs to @gaeasun

Here's what Tup and Dogma currently look like!

Prev / END

[In which the events on Umbara are worsened by an unknown pathogen taking hold of both the 501st and 212th. These series of drabbles will follow a non-linear timeline based on the AI-less Whumptober prompt list for 2023.]

THIS STORY IS ALSO ON AO3

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"Hardcase, be more careful!"

"I AM being careful!"

A lot had changed in a month, but honestly that hadn't really come as much of a surprise. After departing from Umbara, both the troopers of the 501st and 212th had been prepared for things to never quite be the same ever again. Had all anticipating that their surrender, would bring with it both terrible consequences and many alterations in the order of things.

That said, they hadn't really foreseen something quite like the spectacle that had gone down between the Senate and the Coruscant Guard...

Now, If anyone asked Kix for his humble opinion on the matter (which, much to his chagrin, people rarely did), it honestly felt like what transpired had been something that had been a long time in the making. And, the more he thought about it (the more he really dug through his brain), the less certain aspects of GAR to Guard relations felt like mere happenstance...

Not one singular clone trusted a politician as far as they could throw them. Were fully aware that natborns in positions of power were often wont to abuse said power with reckless abandon, unless they were simply just made different (like senator Organa for example, a man so surrounded by wealth and yet so humble and kind, that it left you scratching your head).

Yet, many a time while on leave, there had been some rather bizarre exchanges between frontline and homefront troopers. Accusations of luxurious pampered lives that boggled the mind. Ideas that came from seemingly nowhere and that caused strife between the GAR soldiers and the Guardsmen.

Transgressions that had caused a rift between vode...

No one had ever really stopped to think about who had started those baseless rumors. No one really felt the need to, because shore leave on Triple Zero was rather finite, and at the end of the day it was better to just party until you didn't have time to party at all. Live a little.

Now that the proverbial rose-tinted glasses had been lifted off their faces however, they were suddenly more than a little aware that it had not been a vod who'd started the dispute between the GAR and Guard. No. The real culprit behind that had been the Sith Lord that Commander Fox had brutally murdered during a Senate Meeting.

Caught the bastard by surprise with a sawed-off shotgun that he'd confiscated during a drug bust. The footage was both shocking and quite glorious to behold, especially considering Palpatine's brain matter had splattered every single prissy senator that had been arguing over this or that at the time. Their pods in range of the gory splash-zone.

Unsurprisingly, Commander Fox had been apprehended and taken to prison. His own men had come to take him away, simply requesting that he give up his weapon and present them with his hands, so that he could be cuffed and leisurely strolled past all the shocked and hysterical natborns with almost smug satisfaction.

The Guard had been in no uproar about the death of the head of state. If anything, they rejoiced over it. Even if they had to keep up appearances and drop their commanding officer in prison, until someone came in to look for a motive for his rather unexpected act of treason.

The piles upon piles of damning evidence, as well as some kind of mystical shift in the Force itself (or whatever), had certainly been enough to more than justify the Marshal Commander's actions. Not enough to get him out of prison immediately, but enough to substantially reduce his sentence by a crap ton of years.

All things considered, 3 months for murdering the Chancellor wasn't too bad. Commander Fox even seemed to snort at the humor of it all. Had graciously accepted his first ever vacation with a gleeful grin.

Things were honestly better now.

With Palpatine revealed as the Sith Lord that had been playing both sides of the war, General Kenobi expressing the absolute importance of strengthening mental health care among the Jedi and troopers, and General Skywalker finally relenting and accepting a trip to the Mind Healers after he and General Kenobi had a heart to heart, the lives of many had definitely improved.

They had a new Chancellor that strongly believed in a more diplomatic approach, rather than prioritizing securing power for himself, so the war was nearly completely wrapped up. Many members of the Senate and CorSec were undergoing sackings and sanctions, after an extensive investigation revealed corruption, abuse and even quite a fair share of illegal endeavors. The GAR and Guard were being permitted a deliciously extensive shore leave so that they might all recuperate properly. And General Ti and the Alpha Class were currently working on moving every single trooper, cadet and tubie off Kamino into various Jedi Corporation locations, after they'd won a very tense legal battle that would ensure the freedom of all vode.

Life was impossibly good.

"Kix, tell him to stop!"

"Hey, don't drag Kix into this!"

"Then stop trying to stride like you're not as wobbly on your legs as a newborn fathier!!!"

Rolling his eyes, the medic smiled fondly as he watched Dogma try to keep up with Hardcase, who'd recently been allowed to move around without the aid of a hoverchair. Provided he used crutches.

Hardcase being Hardcase, had taken to over-swinging to take bigger and faster strides than what he should. His balance still not quite what it used to be, but his confidence remaining virtually untouched by his harrowing experiences. And that caused the mutated sergeant a fair bit of anxiety, considering he was currently taking a few modules to properly help around the medbay (seeing as he spent so much time in there anyway to keep an eye on Tup, they'd decided he'd make a fine reserve medic).

"Casey, stop scaring our kih'vod..." He chastised lightly, doing nothing to really stop his batcher. When Hardcase was full of energy, it was often better to let him get it out of his system, than to try to force him to sit still.

"I'm not trying to! I'm just glad to be able to run around again!" Hardcase whined, giving the medic a mighty pout unbecoming of a decorated soldier. "The hoverchair was nice and all, but my skin felt like I was on fire just having to sit all day..."

"Your skin felt like it was on fire because you're covered head to toe in burn scars." Dogma huffed, rolling his head to the side to show that he was actually rolling his eyes.

He'd begun to use more obvious body language to compensate for some of his physical alterations. A suggestion Twitch had made once it came to light how difficult it had been for him to approach other vode. Especially after what had happened on Umbara.

"Badass burn scars you mean." Hardcase grinned.

"You're smiling right now, but once you have to put on your cream, and start complaining that you're constantly cold, it won't feel nearly as badass..." Dogma grumbled and stamped his foot, his gaster and wings briefly twitching as a result of the sudden movement. "Although, that said, at least the sweaters and loose pants work on you... We still haven't found a material that won't pinch on Echo's cybernetics, and that won't irritate him because of the texture..."

"I still think they should use the same stuff they got for our buggy vode's clothing." Hardcase pointed out, motioning towards Dogma's heavily modified clothes. "Least then the join issues would be sorted."

Another thing that had recently happened had been Echo's discovery and rescue. The details were a little vague, but those who asked were told that a whistleblower had sent some rather incriminating footage of one of the Techno Union's projects. A project pertaining the conversion of a POW into some kind of algorithmic weapon.

To put a long story short, Echo was back. Changed, traumatized and not exactly in one piece. But back. Fives had been nothing if not a wreck of emotions since, and was now helping his twin through a much more steeper hill of recovery while he himself tried to process his own feelings over the matter.

The PTSD that Echo suffered alone, would be a massive challenge to overcome. But it was one he wouldn't be forced to endure on his own.

And Kix was honestly grateful for the medbay to be so full of movement that did not involve recent injuries. Fives, Echo, Hardcase and Dogma's semi-permanent company, gave him something to focus on and work with instead of stewing away in negative thoughts. Especially about things he was nowhere near qualified enough to handle, but that both he and his fellow medics were working around the clock to educate themselves on and further improve treatment plans...

The shrill beep of his comm startled Kix out of his thoughts.

Looking down at his comm unit, he hummed in slight surprise as he read the name of the contact. Twitch was calling him. He wondered what the younger medic needed that he'd call him through comms instead of coming to get him instead.

That was a little unusual.

"Kix here, what's--"

"There's a situation!"

Almost immediately his good humor plummeted. Things had slowed down considerably in terms of medical duties, yes. But that didn't mean they didn't get the occasional incident. And if Twitch was calling him sounding this stressed, then something bad had definitely happened while he'd been accompanying Hardcase and Dogma to the mess hall.

"How bad?" he spared no time with formalities. He had to know what he was going to walk in on.

"It's Tup!" Twitch cried out. "He's woken up! But something's wrong Kix, he went crazy and bolted!"

"Tup?!" Mentally cursing Dogma's improved hearing, Kix barely had the time to rush over to Hardcase to grab a hold of his brother before the mutated sargeant darted off, knocking him slightly off balance.

"Dogma's on his way, I'll be there once I drop 'Case off."

"I'll comm the Captain. He's probably already on his way from visiting Commander Fox." Twitch gulped. "I'll... I'll comm Pitch and Sponge too. To warn them! They're still very skittish around Dogma. Seeing Tup back on his feet without prior warning might freak them out!"

"You do that. Kix out."

Dogma's heart was racing as he tried to track down his wayward brother. Cursing himself in at least three different languages as he sprinted down the hall on all six legs, for having been gone from the medbay as long as he had.

He'd stood vigil by Tup's bedside from the moment he'd been told his brother was in a coma. Watched over him day after day while awaiting patiently for the moment he might finally come out of it. To think Tup had indeed woken up, and that he hadn't been there when he'd needed him most...

It made him feel awful.

And selfish too, since he'd recently been spending time around the other vode. Focusing on bonding with them rather than sitting with his slumbering twin.

He still spent the great majority of his time in the medbay, of course. Was even making himself useful and learning to be a proper medic too! But a part of him had still longed for the companionship that Tup had temporarily been unable to provide him.

After all he hadn't been much for conversation in the past month...

Still, guilt-ridden or not over this slight mishap, Dogma didn't have the time to continuously kick himself over what he could have done better. He had to find Tup before he either hurt himself or scared someone half to death.

To tell the truth, he had no idea where the other might have gone. They were twins, sure, and they did know each other better than the back of their own hands. But that didn't mean they were mind readers. In fact, they were very different from each other and had very different ideas of what was or wasn't a fun time, and which places were the best for them to hide in when they were overwhelmed.

But, even if they didn't spend a day or two together, they always found their way back to one another. Full of tales to tell and chatter to fill the void as they relaxed.

Dogma's fingers deftly untangling his brother's long locks, and braiding them into interesting configurations. Tup's soothingly soft voice calming him as he recounted what he'd gotten up to in his absence.

No matter where Tup had gone, even if it were somewhere unexpected, Dogma would inevitably find him.

Luckily he did have something to work with that he hadn't had before, when he'd been fully human. An astonishingly acute sense of smell and a scent trail that he could follow so long as it was nice and fresh. And, given the fact Tup had only just woken up and come through, the trail was indeed very fresh.

It just bothered him where exactly on base it was leading him to...

There was no way in sith-hells that his brother would have stumbled into the firing range on accident. Especially if one were to take into consideration Dogma's own reaction to waking up after his parasite had been removed.

He just hoped the weapons lockers had all been tightly padlocked.

"Tup...?" pausing at the door that led to his destination, Dogma grimaced as he noted something quite jarring.

In his haste he hadn't really noticed it before, but there were scratches all over the duracrete and walls. Scratches that looked suspiciously like uneven numbered claw marks. And both the door to the firing range and the keypad were in pretty bad shape. Like something had tried to bash the former down before simply destroying the keypad.

When that hadn't worked, whatever (or rather, whoever) had attacked the door had simply smashed through the wall like it wasn't made of dense sturdy building materials. Although, given the nature of their alterations, to them it really wasn't that big of a deal anymore.

Dogma braced himself for the worst before climbing through the hole in the wall. And, fortunately, he hadn't walked into a bloodbath. Although the situation was still not ideal. If anything, it was heartbreaking to see his twin in the state he was in.

"Oh Tup..." Dogma's antennae drooped, expression pinched as he approached his brother.

The other was curled up on the floor, long tail coiled tightly around himself as he tried to look as small as possible. All around him were several blasters that had been smashed to pieces. Likely because his pincers were simply too strong to hold a weapon with so many delicate parts anymore. The few destroyed vibroblades that he'd also tried to take a hold of, hadn't fared any better...

It was lucky that, in his state of despair, Tup hadn't thought to use his own in-built weapons against himself. Otherwise Dogma really might have just been walking in on a cooling corpse.

"Tup..." Kneeling down before his weeping brother, Dogma tried to reach for his face to dry some of his tears like he used to do when they were cadets. Only to be pushed away in response to the attempted contact. "Tup please..."

"N̸O̸!̵" Coiling himself even more tightly (if that was even possible) the long-haired mutant wailed pitifully. His tail beginning to thrash erratically as he tried to will himself into invisibility.

And wouldn't that be a useful ability right now?

"Tup it's ok..."

"N̵O̸ ̴I̶T̶'̵S̷ ̵N̷O̸T̶!̵ ̶I̸'̴M̵ ̵A̵ ̶M̴O̵N̵S̶T̴E̷R̸!̸" Tup screeched, his clumsy limbs fumbling slightly as he tried to push himself away from Dogma. Away from any efforts to comfort him. "I̶T̷'̵S̴ ̸N̶O̴T̷ ̴S̶A̶F̴E̷ ̶T̶O̴ ̷B̵E̶ ̶A̵R̸O̷U̷N̷D̶ ̸M̸E̴!̷"

"You're not a..." Dogma shook his head, trying to keep his face neutral in spite of Tup's words. "It's out. You're not dangerous anymore... The parasite's out."

"U̸R̶G̶H̵!̶ ̸Y̴O̸U̵ ̶D̸O̶N̵'̶T̶ ̶G̵E̴T̵ ̶I̴T̵ ̵D̴O̶ ̴Y̶O̸U̸?̶!̴" Tup looked up. His face wasn't blotchy like it used to get when he cried. The scales on his face didn't change color like regular skin, and the mandibles at the side of his mouth and fang-like scale plating made it difficult to read his expressions. The way his brow was furrowed and his eyes shone with pure anguish was all Tup however. Very familiar to him. "A̷l̵l̵ ̷o̵f̶ ̸t̶h̷a̸t̶.̷.̵.̸ ̴A̶l̶l̷ ̸o̷f̸ ̴t̴h̶o̵s̵e̶ ̵t̶h̵i̶n̸g̷s̷ ̵I̵ ̸d̵i̷d̶ ̷t̴o̶ ̸y̷o̴u̶,̶ ̷t̸o̷ ̶e̸v̵e̶r̷y̵o̸n̴e̵.̸.̶.̴ ̵I̸T̴ ̴W̵A̵S̶ ̴A̷L̷L̸ ̷M̶Y̴ ̶F̸A̸U̵L̷T̸!̴!̵!̶"

"It wasn't."

"I̵T̸ ̵W̷A̶S̷!̶ ̵I̵ ̷L̴E̶T̴ ̵T̵H̴A̶T̷ ̴T̴H̷I̵N̷G̸ ̴U̴S̷E̵ ̴M̷E̷!̴!̴!̵" Tup roared, jumping up into a proper standing position and using his height to tower over Dogma with ease. "̷I̷T̴ ̶F̶E̶L̴T̴ ̶G̷O̴O̴D̸!̴ ̴H̴A̴V̷I̷N̶G̸ ̵A̶L̵L̶ ̴O̶F̷ ̷Y̸O̸U̵ ̴U̵N̶D̵E̷R̸ ̷M̵Y̴ ̶C̶O̶N̵T̸R̷O̴L̶!̶ ̸A̸S̶ ̸M̶Y̸ ̶S̶E̶R̸V̷A̵N̶T̷S̷,̵ ̴M̸Y̴ ̵P̴L̷A̸Y̴ ̸T̸H̸I̴N̸G̴S̷.̵.̶.̸ ̶I̴T̴ ̴F̵E̷L̵T̶ ̴S̵O̶ ̷K̶A̸R̷K̵I̸N̵G̸ ̷G̷O̵O̶D̶!̵ ̵I̶ ̶W̶A̸N̶T̸E̶D̷ ̸I̷T̷!̷ ̷I̸ ̵W̷A̵N̸T̴E̵D̷ ̸M̴O̶R̶E̵!̵"

"No it wasn't!" Dogma stood up as well, refusing to be intimidated even if his heart was starting to race once more.

The fear, sorrow and anger he could smell coming off of his twin in waves, making it so hard for him to concentrate on his own actual emotions.

Despite no longer being under the parasites's control, Dogma's body was still wired to respond to Tup's emotional responses. Karking pheromones...

"I̵T̸ ̷W̶A̶S̵!̴!̶!̷!" Tup reared up suddenly like a startled fathier. Standing on his two back legs and kicking the front ones slightly. Dogma backed away immediately, afraid the other might hit him accidentally on the way back down. With how upset Tup was, lashing out was not out of the question. "A̴L̷L̶ ̷T̷H̴A̵T̷ ̵T̸H̶I̵N̸G̵ ̵D̶I̵D̵ ̸W̸A̷S̸ ̴B̵R̶I̵N̸G̵ ̸I̶T̴ ̷O̵U̷T̸ ̵O̵F̷ ̷M̶E̸!̵ ̷A̴L̶L̴ ̷T̷H̸E̶ ̵B̷A̸D̵ ̷T̶H̶I̴N̵G̶S̷!̶!̷!̴"

Oh, that certainly wouldn't fly. No one was allowed to slander his brother. Not even the stubborn idiot himself.

"STOP LYING TO YOURSELF JUST BECAUSE YOU FEEL GUILTY OVER SOMETHING YOU HAD NO CONTROL OVER! I KNOW IT WASN'T ALL YOU BECAUSE I KNOW YOU TUP! BETTER THAN YOU KNOW YOURSELF, APPARENTLY!!!" Dogma roared back, letting his temper rule him for once if it meant his much more vocal vod might actually listen. "I don't know if you remember this, but I was also under that stupid thing's control! I tried to fight it, I knew what it was trying to make me do was wrong, but it felt... It felt good to give in. I didn't want to do any of the things it made me do, but I still did them... Because it made me feel amazing!"

Tup stood there, tense and shaking. Staring at him with fury and something else. Something he couldn't quite discern since it was just so many emotions in one. Since he didn't say anything else however, Dogma carried on.

"I didn't want to ambush and capture any of our vode. I didn't want to infect anyone else. I didn't want to hurt or kill the medics. I certainly didn't want to eat them!" Dogma paced, his wings twitching uncontrollably while he clenched and unclenched his fists repeatedly. Tried to do something with them, otherwise he might try to gnaw on his wrists to feel something other than the whirlwind of emotions that were threatening to choke him out before he knocked some sense into Tup's thick skull. "I didn't want to hurt anyone... What I did want, was to make you happy. Because your happiness meant a lot to me... I wanted to be useful. And to protect everyone... Because Umbara was awful, and Krell was awful, and feeling sick and out of my depth was awful! And that thing it... It twisted it all up! It made me obey you without question, and rewarded me for making you 'happy'. It felt so good Tup... Making you happy felt so good, even if deep down we both knew what was happening was beyond our control... And that... And that we would live to regret it..."

Tup's expression shifted. The anger slowly melting away.

"I'm... I'm not good at this. I'm not good at explaining what happened back there, or how I feel about it, or even how you should feel about it but..." Dogma sighed. "It wasn't all you. The parasite used something you wanted against you... It tried to make you into a monster. But you're not. None of us are... Even if... Even if it's hard to believe after we did what we did..."

Tup continued to shake before he dropped back down onto the floor, trying to hide his face behind his pincers as he crumpled into a sobbing mess. Dogma wasted no time in sitting back down next to his twin. Ready to comfort him if he were allowed.

He was infinitely relieved when the other mutant didn't pull away, instead wrapping his tail around them both. Letting him in.

"I just wanted to protect everyone..." Tup cried as he buried his face into Dogma's shoulder. Tiny and vulnerable despite having become so much bigger and so heavily armored in this new form of his. "We were all dying... I just wanted to help!"

"I know..."

"I never wanted this! I just wanted everything to be ok!"

"It's ok now...I've got you."

"I̷'̶M̴ ̶S̷O̴ ̷S̴O̶R̷R̵Y̵!̸!̷!̸"

Dogma let his brother continue to cry. To let all of the things that had bottled up to near exploding point, rush out uninhibited. There was no one to judge him.

Really, he understood what Tup was feeling even if it was hard to put to words. He'd been just as horrified over his own actions once the parasite's spell had been broken. Still woke up crying sometimes, when he dreamt about the ambush. Still felt the guilt clawing away at his psyche whenever Coric, Pitch or Sponge flinched at the sight of him.

It would get better one day.

But for now Tup would just need to cry it out until he was done crying. And diligent that he'd always been when it came to offering his twin some solace, Dogma was there to dry his eyes. Just as he hoped he'd always be, now that the war was slowly coming to a halt It's what good brothers did.

#Eps Writes #star wars #the clone wars #whumptober #Umbaran Pathogen AU #clone trooper dogma #clone trooper tup #clone trooper hardcase #clone medic kix #clone ocs #clone medic twitch

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sp4ceboo · 11 months

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His Song Has Been Written: Din Djarin x Reader

A/N: ok so paz is gone now and I NEEDED TO WRITE A TRIBUTE CHAPTER TO HIM - this follows the plot for episode seven season 3 but i tweaked some stuff

tw: SPOILERS FOR MANDO EP 7 SEASON 3, swearing, pain, death, violence, they really gave us ragnar just to orphan him, not proof read one bit, sad asf,

Translations: vod = brother/sister, vod'ika = little brother/sister, di'kut = idiot,

wc: 1930

You realise now, how fucking blind you were.

There was no reason for the Stormtroopers wearing beskar to retreat; they were overpowering you, killing at least a quarter of your group. They'd cut and run, anyway, and you'd been too blinded with rage that these people, these Imperials, had been squatting in your home planet all this time, spreading rumours that its atmosphere was unbreathable and the land was poisoned, to realise. The fires of the Great Forge had been extinguished, and the air was cold and empty, barren and lacking the clang of hammers, but kindled at the sight of it was a deep rage towards the Imperials; Imperials that you now chased blindly through the caverns of the once shining Mandalore, right into their trap.

Now, you stand, between one of the Nite Owls and Paz Vizsla, surrounded by dirty, Imperial walls, built in the rock of your planet, as if they own it. As if they own the beskar they use, as if they own the metal that your people are built around, lurking in the shadows of your rightful home as you and the other children of the Watch fled from Concordia, if only to preserve the Creed. You're certain Gideon's behind this - you've clashed with him many times while you travelled with Din, protecting the child you now come to think of as your son.

You grit your teeth, widening your stance as you shoot at the Stormtroopers, Paz to your right, gunning them down with his heavy infantry gun. Somewhere to your left, Din fights too, and although you can't currently see Grogu in IG-12, you know Din must have an eye on him, because the way he stays in a certain radius of you informs you that he's acting as a sort of beskar shield around your son.

'Watch out, vod'ika,' Paz calls.

The sound of more jetpacks sound ahead, and you feel him grab the back of your shirt, tugging you backwards as a new wave of troops enter the hangar. Glancing at him over your shoulder, you retreat with him as he returns his hand back to his blaster, the deeper, rhythmic sound of his infantry gun almost comforting over the high whine of the Imperial blaster bolts and the familiar resonance of your own shots. Scanning the battle for Din, you catch him at the head of the retreat, his armour shining under the harsh lights, his back to you. A quick look behind you confirms that the third, smallest but probably oldest member of your clan is sheltered by a group of Nite Owls and members of your tribe, his eyes squinted against the light of the blasters.

'Din,' you yell, shooting a few of the troopers around him. 'Fall back!'

He turns his head; the red light of blasters reflects off his armour, like smears of crimson blood. Another jetpack sounds, and you yell Din's name again, dread settling in the pit of your stomach, heavy as a rotting corpse coming to rest on the murky sea floor. You balk at the sight of a man, clad in all black, a cape on his shoulders and a mockery of a Mandalorian helmet on his head; the cheeks are stained vermillion, the visor tinted in the same colour, Zabrak like horns rising from the top - there's no doubt who that is. Rage seethes within you: you knew it was him, you knew it was Gideon. Raising your blaster, you lurch forward, ready to protect your riduur, ready to -

The blast door slams shut, a few inches from your face.

Shock filters through your system, and your momentum carries you forward, slamming you right into the blast door, your helmet smashing into the glass window built into it. Curses leaves your lips, and you ram your fist into the metal, fear sending frigid chills down your spine; Din's out there, alone, with Gideon and about twenty Stormtroopers, all wearing beskar sacred to your people - the irony of it is almost as cutting as the self satisfied smirk on Gideon's face once he removes his helmet. You see the way Din's chest heaves, the way he clenches his fists, lifting his chin: he knows he's fucked, but he's ready to fight anyway.

The troopers on his right lunge for him, and he cuts them down, spinning to take on the next batch as they pile up before him. The smile on Moff Gideon's face grows wider and wider. You slam your fists against the blast doors, blood red oozing into your vision as rage warms your bones and burns away at your fear until all you want to do is cram the Imperial's face into molten beskar. Paz grabs your wrists, pulling you back from the blast doors and holding you firmly in his grasp, his arms tight around you, unescapable, and you growl, struggling, but he doesn't let go, his voice low in your ear.

'Don't - don't do this to yourself, vod'ika,' he says, his own anger prevalent in his voice. 'You're hurting yourself. I'd rather you break your knuckles across Gideon's face than against Imperial metal.'

You sigh, falling limp in Paz's arms. 'Okay. Let me - let me go, vod, I - I'm fine.'

'We'll think of something,' he assures you. 'We always do.'

Paz embraces you tightly, and you gladly wrap your arms around his waist, your fingertips barely touching from around his broad back. He knows you need this, he knows that you need something to anchor you, to calm you before you can think of a rescue plan. You've known him and Din as long as you can remember, and while Din became your riduur, Paz became your closest friend; he's as close as a brother, someone who would listen to your lovesick rants about his vod, someone who never failed to make you smile with his bold quips and bolder laugh. Peering up from his shoulder, you glance through the window in the blast door, and your heart drops. Gideon smiles on, smug as ever, as the troopers shove Din to his knees, and he continues to struggle, taking another down in a last attempt to break free.

'No,' you whisper, tearing yourself from Paz's grip. 'No!'

'Vod'ika,' Paz says measuredly, laying a hand on your shoulder. 'He's - ' You shrug him off, an idea forming in your mind. 'That's my riduur there,' you growl, voice low and wrathful. 'That's my fucking riduur. I know what to do, vod. Don't try and stop me.'

Amused, he huffs. 'That's my vod'ika.'

You turn to Bo-Katan, and you swear that the strength of your glare melts the beskar straight off her face. 'If you don't use that fucking Darksaber to get through the bloody door, I'll challenge you for it. Right now.'

She cocks her head; maybe she's surprised by the venom in your voice, or maybe she senses the undercurrent of desperation, but she obliges your words, cutting through the blast door. Darkly, Paz chuckles, cracking his knuckles, ready to fight again as the troopers turn their attention back to you, some of them jumping a little as if they forgot that there's a small army of wrathful Mandalorians behind the blast doors, their honours smarting from the sight of Imperials in their home world. Glancing at Paz, you give him a nod - he knows what to do, he's seen your stupid manoeuvres during the hunts you've been on together. He returns the gesture, and once you turn back, Bo-Katan has a hole through the blast door.

'Ready, vod?' You ask, checking the whistling birds on your vambrace. 'As always,' he answers.

You don't hesitate. You know he's got you covered, so you just dive straight through the hole, activating your whistling birds in a heart beat as Paz sticks the barrel of his blaster out, taking out any remaining troopers as you advance. Vaguely, you're aware of Gideon pressing a few buttons on his vambrace and shooting upwards, borne by his jetpack; you're aware of Paz slipping through the hole behind you, but you're not here for them. You're here for your riduur.

'Din,' you gasp, skidding to a halt in front of him.

'Cyar'ika,' he greets, and you hear the gratitude in his voice as he clutches you tightly to his body. 'He's calling for back up. We have to go.'

You turn your head to Paz. 'Vod?'

'Behind you,' he replies.

Bundling Din through the opening in the blast doors, you turn to follow him, but something tells you to glance back. Your heart drops. Paz stands there, his infantry gun ready, and you recognise the determined set of his shoulders with a settling feeling of dread drifting over you; you grab his arm, tugging him backwards, but he's stubborn as always, shaking you off and jerking his head towards the others.

'Go.'

You snarl. 'Not without you, vod.'

'You won't make it unless someone delays them,' he answers, tilting his head up at the sound of more jetpacks. 'They're almost here.'

'Who fucking cares,' you snap. 'I'll stay with you, then. We can hold them off.'

'Din waits for you, vod'ika. Go to him.'

'And leave you? My vod? Nice try.'

'He's my vod too,' he replies, voice level. 'I do this for both of you. Better me than you two, for your kid's sake.'

'And what of Ragnar?' You ask, desperation leaking into your voice.

'Tell him I love him.'

'Vod,' Din calls. 'Get back here, di'kut. What do you think you're doing?'

Suddenly, Paz grabs you, and you yelp in surprise as he physically shoves you through the opening in the blast door and into Din's arms. He stands in front of the hole, blocking it with his legs and body, and you grunt in frustration, knowing that he's won but not ready to let him go; you know he's right, you know he's doing this because he loves you and your riduur, but it still fucking hurts. It still hurts as he begins to fire at the first Stormtroopers coming into land, it still hurts as Bo-Katan begins to usher the other Mandalorians back, it still hurts as your riduur's arms tighten around you, holding you back.

'If you love me, don't let them go,' Paz yells at Din. 'I love you, my vod. I love you, my vod'ika.'

He hurls himself into the midst of the Stormtroopers, and as he does, he takes a bleeding piece of your heart with him. You hear Din's shuddering breath, feel the way his grip strengthens around you, and you swallow thickly, eyes smarting - it's like digging shards of glass into your heart to take your riduur's hand and run, but you do anyway, tears streaking down your face from under your helmet.

His song's been written, you tell yourself. His song has been written.

You find that you're saying it out loud, and maybe Din is saying it along with you, his fingers clenching around your own as the two of you run, away from your vod, a brave man who fights with deadly strength and honour, a loving father who protected his son with his life, and a brother, in spirit if not in blood. Grief blends with the burning hatred in your heart; you curse Gideon for orphaning Ragnar, for taking away your friend and your brother, for spilling yet another Mandalorian's blood.

Once you stop running, you vow with Din that you'll avenge him. His death will not be in vain.

Paz Vizsla's song has been written.

But yours has not.

#paz vizsla #star wars #the mandalorian #sad #angst #mando x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian fanfic #grogu #baby ypda #mandalorian x y/n #mandalorian x you #din x you #din x y/n #din x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x y/n

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splatsvilles-fashionista · 1 year

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Splatoon 3 Fashion Challenge - Week 29:

AUGH I'm super late with this one

So the theme of the next Splatfest, which is the last 'fest of Sizzle season, was announced this week, and it's a rethread of the Money vs Love Splatfest, which has been a theme in both Splatoon 1 and 2. Love took the win both times back then, and while Fame has been thrown into the mix this time, Love still looks poised to win once again if the twitter polls I've seen is anything to go by. As such, we are throwing Money a bone with this week's theme:

Rich Stitches!

For this challenge, you can only use gear that costs 10000 cash or more to buy from the vendors. This means that the full list is as follows:

Headwear:

Howdy Hat

Tentaclinger Earring

18k Aviators

Party Hard Hat

Retro BlueFocals

Annaki Beret

Triple-Deck Specs

Ink-Black Flap Cap

Hipster Horn-Rims

SV925 Circle Shades

Glassless Glasses

Sea-Me-Nots

Gas Mask

Cap'n Cap

Ink-Tinted Goggles

MTB Helmet

Chaos Helm

Face Visor

Moto Shades

Jellyvader Cap

Glam Clam Specs

Paintball Mask

Clothes:

White inky Rider

Dark Bomber Jacket

Patchwork Bomber

Black Inky Rider

Arctic Monster Parka

Annaki Anchored Coat

Barazushi Tuff Duffel

Negastive Longcuff Sweater

Distressed Vest

Varsity Jacket

Airfhow & Hustle Jacket

Olive Ski Jacket

Blue Sailor Suit

Mountain Vest

Forest Vest

Indigo Boss Hauri

Trooper Top

Baseball Jersey

Dark Urban Vest

Shoes:

Red & White Squidkid V

Blu-Shift Moto Boots

Ink-Black Clam 600s

Hunting Boots

White Clam 600s

Red & Black Squidkid IV

Blue & Black Squidkid IV

Red Work Boots

Red Hammerthreads

Blue Moto Boots

Wasabi Tabi

White Lo-Vert Hi-Tops

Desert Chukkas

Arrow Pull-Ons

A somewhat more limited wardrobe than usual, but I am certain you can manage. Now get out there and dress like a rich kid!

Rules:

Put together an outfit of any kind follows the specified theme. Please give it a name as well!

Send it to me via ask or submission, please don’t add it to a reblog, that makes it very easy to miss! Also, please make it clear that it is a submission for the challenge and not just a regular submission.

Only one outfit per person! You can submit multiple photos of that single outfit, though.

Please include the gear you picked in the submission. It makes my life just a touch easier!

The outfit should be submitted before Tuesday morning, as I will pick my favourite submissions to feature on Tuesday evening.

#splatoon 3 #fashion challenge

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wanderinginksplot · 2 years

Text

Gar Cyare Chapter Eight

Continuation of my ongoing Alpha-17/fem!reader series.

Word Count: 4,900

Warnings: mentions of conspiracy, descriptions of a training session, mentions of surveillance, some minor language.

Previous | Next | Masterlist

---

Jahaatir (To Deceive)

The room was so bright.

It was fairly uncommon for you to work in your office anymore. You had been watching Alpha train the future ARCs, and it was rare for you to work without the sound of shouts or fighting or blaster fire in the background. And the prospect of working with windows and natural light in the background? Almost completely unfamiliar by this point.

But Alpha had asked you not to attend ARC training that morning. Something about high-security clearance training. Even when you had reminded him that you had the clearance, he had insisted. Apparently, it couldn’t be written down, even in a report, and watching the training was enough to make you a target after you left Kamino… and it was supposed to be rather disturbing besides.

Reluctantly, you had agreed, and now you found yourself back in your office once more.

Abruptly tired of the brightness, you darkened the office with the automated tint controls the Kaminoans had installed in every exterior room. Even Kamino’s cloud cover was uncomfortably bright just then, which was a bad sign. That much artificial light couldn’t be good for your eyes, and you didn’t spend nearly as much time in the training area as Alpha did. Maybe you should petition for Alpha to train the ARCs in a different spot for a while. Surely he couldn’t object to a change that lasted a day or two?

You blinked, realizing that you had been staring blankly at your report. In the back of your mind, you had been running the same calculation over and over all day. You didn’t like the results you were getting from it, but they weren’t changing.

You were finishing your work on the report.

Counter-intuitive as it may be, now that the Senate had given you a longer deadline, you were working faster. Without the constant stress about potentially missing deadlines, you were able to plot out the best ways to record information. Yes, you still had to finish large sections of the report - the ARC training section came to mind, as did the section about the troopers during their formation and the ‘decanting’ process - but the rest of it was nearly complete.

At your absolute best guess, if you were to complete an average amount of work every day, you would finish the report in as little as six weeks. When the report was sent to the Senate, you would stay on Kamino while the preliminary reading was done in case there were any questions that needed to be followed up on. That never took very long.

In under two months, you could be leaving Kamino for good.

It was incredibly frustrating to you. After so much work and struggle and fear and pain, your life on Kamino had finally turned into one that you enjoyed, and now it was going to end. You could stretch things out for another month or two, but it would be a struggle to keep working on it beyond that.

You fiddled discontentedly with the datapad. The screen displayed the full outline for your report. You had added several more sections - including the ARC training segment - that had been approved by Jaiss to be included in the final report. There were several options for further expansions, but your last communication with your supervisor had included her tactfully mentioning that the Senate needed to access the report sooner rather than later. Jaiss had gone so far as to suggest that you finish the report as it was and submit an outline for a second report at the same time. If the Senate chose, they could have you stay on Kamino and write the second report on an even more extended timeline.

It wasn’t a bad idea, but you weren’t willing to leave it up to chance. With everything that had happened while you wrote the first report, there was a strong chance that the Senate wouldn’t want to risk having another full report commissioned. Brid hadn’t been an incredibly high-level Senate worker, but she had several powerful friends. Even with her fall from grace, she could have the influence to make sure you didn’t get the funding for a second report.

Before you could fall too deeply into a pit of depression or frantic bargaining, there was a light knock on the door of your office.

Normally, you would just call for someone to come in. Even without the original group of ARCs on Kamino, there were still plenty of people who might drop by your office. The kids, Limit, Alpha… but none of them would knock, with the possible exception of Limit. No, this was someone else, so you stood to answer the door personally.

When the door slid open, you took half a step back in surprise. Hoping to play it off like you were being polite, you nodded and gave a vague gesture to the interior of your office. “General Ti. Please come in.”

“Thank you,” the general said politely, sweeping into the room. With her floor-length robes and the colorful montrals that extended up from the top of her head, Shaak Ti was an imposing figure. However, she was one of the most graceful, elegant, and well-mannered people you had ever met. Somehow, she managed not to be intimidating, but there you still had a healthy amount of respect for her.

She sat down in one of the chairs you had positioned on the other side of the desk from your own seat, waiting patiently while you followed at a distance. When you were sitting behind your desk once more, you took a deep breath. “What may I do for you, General Ti?”

The Jedi Master tilted her head at you, the motion making her blue- and white-striped lekku sway. A smile curved her lips, her facial markings giving them a pale cast against the rest of her skin. When she spoke, her voice was soft and musical. “Did you know the captain often speaks of you?”

You blinked stupidly for a moment, trying to remember if you knew a captain. Then it struck you that she was talking about Alpha and you felt ridiculous. “Oh, I- no. No, I didn’t know that.” You collected yourself, straightening a datapad on the surface of your desk. “I would ask if he had anything positive to say, but I would like to believe that I know him well enough to make an informed guess otherwise.”

General Ti laughed. “Yes, that would be an accurate statement for most people, but I am sure it is no secret that Captain Alpha-17 has quite a soft spot where you are concerned.”

Trying to hide emotions from a Jedi was a fool’s errand, you knew that. Stars, it was common enough wisdom that variations of it were found in proverbs across the galaxy. Still, you found yourself helplessly struggling to hide your reaction as you tried to formulate a response. “He has been… very generous… in helping me find my place on Kamino.”

There was a moment in which you were sure she was going to call your bluff, but her eyes merely sparkled with laughter as she nodded. In a tone that managed to give the impression of sharing an inside joke, she said, “Do not forget to appreciate your own efforts. There are not many who would look past the roughness of his exterior and take the time to find the good man who lies within him.”

“Then that is their loss,” you told her firmly. “I’ve never met anyone as selfless and kind as Alpha. He surprises me every day.”

“You care for him.”

It was a dangerous statement. The general could use your sentiment to destroy your position here, to ruin Alpha’s life entirely. If you were smart, you would deny it with every ounce of effort you could muster.

But you didn’t.

“Deeply,” you admitted recklessly. You would have liked to say that she forced the truth from you, used some arcane Jedi trick that gave you no alternative. But she didn’t. You had the option to lie. She would have known it was a lie - of course she would have - but she couldn’t have known what the truth was, not to a certainty.

Still, you couldn’t bring yourself to regret the choice you had made. This was too important to lie about.

General Ti watched you, her dark eyes serious and insightful. At last, she inclined her head. “Perfect.”

“I’m… sorry?” you asked.

“I did not know much of you before recently,” General Ti told you conversationally. “I knew you were an administrator sent by the Republic’s Senate to create a report on Kamino. I knew you were tricked into allowing the Separatists past Kamino’s security forces and then spent the months afterward attempting to right your wrongs. I knew you were popular among the ARC troopers, the young cadets, and several key members of Kamino’s staff. But I knew nothing of you personally.”

You nodded slowly. Those were all fair assessments, though the almost casual mention of the Separatist attack nearly took your breath away. “You’re acting like that’s all in the past. What do you know about me now?”

The general folded her hands in her lap, her Jedi robe creased into flattering lines despite its simplicity. “Simply, I now know that you are someone who cares.”

“That- doesn’t seem like much,” you said, voice cautious.

“It is enough,” she countered. “I watched you attend a graduation ceremony for the ARC troopers. I saw your tears and sensed your mingled pride and sadness - they were the feelings of a friend, perhaps even a sister. You do not see them as tools or products. You see them as they are.”

“Yes.”

It was a simple statement, likely too simple to appease a Jedi, but it was all you could think of to give as your reply. The men were important to you, especially the ARCs. They had started as a curiosity, a group to be watched simply because they were so renowned. Then they became friends as you started to spend more time with them. Stars, Drift had been the one to find you after Brid had convinced you to leave Kamino.

And then, of course, there was the attack. Alpha had been the one you would most closely identify as your rescuer, but the ARCs had certainly done everything they could to keep you safe. That had taken them from friends to something more, something closer. But when they had stepped in to keep you safe and comfortable when their commanding officer - their brother - had pushed you away? Well, they had won your life-long loyalty for that. Even if you had still been under the mistaken impression that they were lesser life-forms, how could that opinion not change when they had done so much for you?

“I would do anything for them,” you added impulsively, immediately abandoning your resolution to be as quiet and distinguished as the general herself. The emotion in you was too strong for anything less.

“Good,” General Ti repeated. “I came here to request your assistance on a matter that has recently been brought to my attention. I will not pressure you to help me, but I will admit that there is a chance this will impact troopers of all ages here on Kamino.”

“I’ll help,” you agreed, the reply both instant and instinctive.

It wasn’t often that one got to surprise a Jedi, but you seemed to have done it. General Ti blinked at you before offering a slow nod. “I appreciate your passion, but you must be certain. I will need to reveal certain information that cannot go beyond those investigating the issue. If you need time-”

“Respectfully, General, no.” You smiled in an effort to make that sound retroactively more polite. “I understand that I may have answered too quickly to sound sincere, but I am. I would be thrilled to help the Jedi under most circumstances, but if there’s a chance I can do something for the troopers, it’s not something I need to think about for very long. How can I prove that I’m serious about helping and that I won’t change my mind?”

The general’s slow study of you was… unnerving. There was an underlying sense of pressure in being around a Jedi at all - how could there not be? They were famed for being able to see through people. Not literally. Well, you hoped not. But most legends agreed that the Jedi were able to parse a person’s innermost feelings about a person, thing, or situation.

With that in mind, you met her dark eyes directly, focusing on your own determination to help the troopers who had done so much for you.

You would never know whether your focus played a role or if General Ti came to her own conclusions, but she smiled faintly at you and began to explain.

---

“So she wants you to help track an information leak?” Alpha asked. His gaze was directed away from you, but you didn’t blame him. After all, watching the progress of the ARCs-in-training was his job, and you had come to find him while he was working.

“Yes,” you confirmed, also watching the room where the new ARCs were doing a series of drills Alpha had ordered for them. “Apparently, they’ve already done some of the-”

“Hey!” Alpha shouted, the unexpected volume making you jump. “Maw, if I catch you trying to pull that osik again, you’ll be out of here and I’ll see if I can get you officially demoted. Do. The. Work.”

Before you could recover from the mild scare, Alpha was speaking again. This time, it was at a much more reasonable volume. That was good, since this was an incredibly secret conversation despite the location you were having it. “Who is ‘they’? If you’re coming into an investigation that’s already underway, you need to make sure the others are people whose work you can trust. Otherwise, you’ll have to go back and check everything they've done so far.”

“General Ti and Commander Colt have been looking into things up to this point.”

Alpha’s stormy expression cleared - at least, until one of the ARCs glanced up at you both. “Good. They’re both trustworthy. They know what they’re about and you can be sure they did things the right way. Why are they bringing you on?”

“I- Wait, what does that mean?” you asked, trying to fight back a feeling of hurt. Did Alpha think you were that strange of a choice?

“Sorry, neverd’ika,” Alpha apologized instantly. “I just mean that you aren’t an investigator. You have the skills, but I wouldn’t have expected anyone here to recognize that if they haven’t seen the way you work.”

You were mollified slightly. “Okay. Well, the general must have noticed something in one of my past updates for the report. It was one of the sections where the Kaminoans didn’t want to give me the information I needed, so I had to get creative about how I got it. And they- Oh. Are there cameras and audio recording devices in this room?”

The thick layer of condescension in the smile that spread across Alpha’s face would have offended you if it hadn’t been tempered by an even greater amount of fondness. “Yes. Too late to be asking that question, little spy. But you don’t have to worry. I’ve been shutting both of them down every time I step into the room since I first came back here as an instructor.”

“Don’t the Kaminoans have a problem with that?”

“Of course,” he told you with a snort. “But I don’t exactly go up to the cameras and start slicing them. I’ve rigged up a disruptor. I keep it in my kit and it leaves the audio and video feeds of any devices within a certain range unusable. The kaminii can’t trace it back to me, so they can’t do anything other than get kaden.”

“And that means..?”

“Angry.” There was a little smile playing around the corners of Alpha’s mouth, one he clearly thought he was hiding from you.

He was trying to teach you Mando’a. He had been leaving little hints, dangling them in front of you until you asked for translations, then tried to hide his delight at it. You let him think you hadn’t noticed, mostly because his glee was adorable and you knew he would hate that you thought something he did was so cute.

“Kaden, then,” you agreed absently, your mind already having wandered onto the next thing. “Do you have more than one disruptor?”

“Of course. Wouldn’t be much of an ARC if I didn’t have a few backups.”

You nodded. “Could I have one of your backups?”

“No.” As you were gaping at the immediate refusal, Alpha gave a sidelong glance at you. “They’re useful and you never know when you might need one. The next time we have a few hours, I’ll teach you how to make your own.”

That was… frustrating, but you couldn’t deny that it made sense. “Fine, but we’ll have to make it soon. General Ti wants me to start helping with the investigation as soon as possible.”

“What exactly- hang on.” Alpha cut himself off to give a series of new orders to the ARCs. There were more abbreviations and code phrases in it than actual Basic words and you hadn’t even begun to sift through the unfamiliar mass by the time Alpha’s attention had returned to you. “What exactly are you going to be doing? Or did the general tell you not to tell me?”

“The opposite, actually,” you told him, basking in the slight surprise that crossed his face. “She said she would appreciate hearing your insight, but didn’t want to involve you since you have the ARC training to occupy your time.”

“She already has you talking like a karkin’ Jedi,” he grumbled, but you could see the pleased look that had bloomed at the confirmation that General Ti trusted him. He nodded at the ARC trainees in front of you both. “This isn’t much of a distraction right now. Tell me what I need to know.”

“Like you said earlier, there’s an information leak on Kamino,” you explained. “The general and the commander have been trying to track down the source. They’re fairly sure it’s one of the bounty hunters who live here.”

Alpha cursed, long and low. “Those beroya. What are they leaking?”

“Training methods, numbers, building layouts,” you replied, bracing yourself for his response to the next part. “At least, the general thinks so.”

“She thinks?” Alpha snapped, instantly fulfilling your expectations. “She doesn’t know what’s been leaked?”

“No,” you said, wincing a bit. “It’s a miracle she found out about it at all. Some Force thing that Commander Colt managed to find proof of in the outside galaxy.”

Alpha snorted so hard you were worried he would hurt himself. “The Jedi don’t believe in miracles, they make ‘em. But if someone is giving out secret information, there’s trouble coming. That information is gonna get used, and soon.”

"That's what Commander Colt said," you replied absently, your focus drifting to the ARCs in front of you.

They were starting to work as a unit, but Alpha had told you that wasn't really what he wanted to see from them. "ARCs have to work alone more often than not," he had told you when you first started observing the new group. "They can't get too comfortable with the idea that they'll have someone else to rely on out there."

You hadn't liked hearing it phrased that way, but you understood the sentiment. It was literally part of Alpha's job to make sure the ARCs could work independently, and he certainly did his best at it.

Alpha had apparently noticed the direction of your gaze and focused on the ARCs as well. His eyes traveled briefly over the group. "Four minutes, men."

"Negative," Echo replied, sounding near-frantic. "We have nine minutes left on the clock."

Alpha's habitual scowl deepened. "Consider this a message from the clock, then. You have three minutes, fifty-three seconds."

A helmet-muffled curse came through the comlink before the group split into harried movement. The tasks they had left to complete were divided between men and completed as quickly as possible.

“Where are the General and Commander now?” Alpha asked.

He kept his eyes on the trainees as he asked the question and you followed suit as you replied. “They went to speak with the Kaminoans. I reminded her that all long-range communications are supposed to be monitored. If someone is sending information off of Kamino, there should be a record of it.”

Alpha didn’t say anything for a long moment. When you managed to pull your attention away from the troopers as they frantically worked to complete their mission, you found his eyebrows raised, expression considering. “That’s a good point. Like I said, you have all the skills you need to help the General with this. She was smart to include you.”

You started to politely demur, but Alpha asked, “Why aren’t you there with them?”

“General Ti pointed out that the Kaminoans don’t like me,” you admitted. “Me going with them would do more harm than good.”

Alpha was quiet, but there was a smirk playing around the corner of his mouth. “If I know the General, she put it in better terms than that. She has tact.”

“You told me once that tact is a lie that only stupid people believe.”

A rich laugh burst from Alpha as you watched in delight. He cut himself off fairly quickly, but the unguarded reaction still warmed your heart. “I did say that.”

Alpha’s smile entirely changed his face, and you were suddenly sharply aware that you were staring at him with a love-sick expression plain on your face. With a lack of other options, you dropped your gaze to the countdown displayed on your chrono.

You had started timing the ARCs-in-training on your wrist chrono as soon as Alpha had announced their quickly dwindling time, but you shouldn’t have bothered. The millisecond their allotted time was up, Alpha brought his comm to his mouth and snapped, “Time!”

The men pulled up short. They were spread around the battlefield in various phases of task completion, but all of them stopped and stared up at Alpha - and, by extension, you. Alpha made a gathering motion with the hand he had lifted to hover in front of his chest. It must have been a signal, because the ARCs-in-training instantly started to approach.

As you watched them, you frowned. “What happened to Aftermath’s leg?”

“He got shot.”

You gaped openly, horrified. “And you made him keep doing a stupid exercise? He needs to go to the medbay! You send him and I’ll go ahead to warn Limit-”

“Easy, little one,” Alpha told you, catching hold of your elbow before you could hurry away. “Simulated blaster fire.”

“He’s limping,” you pointed out.

“The training outfits they’re wearing have specialized equipment built in,” Alpha told you. “When it senses blaster fire, it sends a harmless electrical current through the muscles of the area to temporarily deaden it. Lucky for Aftermath, you can still walk after getting shot in the calf.”

You took a moment to absorb that. “Does it hurt?”

Alpha shrugged. “Less than a blaster bolt.”

You grimaced, knowing exactly what that meant. It did hurt, then. “When does the current stop transmitting?”

“When I shut off the transmitter.”

“Alpha!” you chided, but bit back your reflexive demand to turn it off. He had asked you to trust him, asked you to be a silent observer instead of trying to actively participate in the ARC training process. If he felt it was best to keep the current running to teach Aftermath something, you could only go along with it.

Alpha’s thoughts seemed to be running in the same vein. With a sarcastic tilt to his head and a knowing little smirk, he asked, “What was that, administrator?”

“Nothing, Captain,” you bit out, somewhere between smiling and pouting. You had almost slipped and you both knew it. Instead of admitting that openly, you gestured to the training area. “Carry on.”

Alpha programmed the observation platform to sink until it was level with the floor of the training area, then began to deliver feedback to the ARCs-in-training. You always loved to hear Alpha break down a mission, offering insight to the men, but his voice faded as your focus shifted inward.

You had expected Alpha to argue against you being involved in General Ti’s investigation. You weren’t an investigator, as he had pointed out, and he tended to focus on how much he wanted to keep you away from any possible danger. You had gone into the conversation prepared for Alpha to object, but you hadn’t expected the compliments he had given. Alpha thought you had investigatory skills. That wasn’t something you would have realized about yourself, but it was a large part of the work you did for the Republic. He wasn’t entirely wrong, and the boost to your confidence was noticeable.

You still weren’t sure how much help you would be to General Ti and Commander Colt, but you felt a lot better about things now.

“-I have never seen such a dush performance. You men are supposed to be the best?” Alpha shook his head, folding his arms over his broad chest. “We’re done for the day. Get out of my sight.”

Fives beamed. “A free afternoon? Hell, yes!”

You winced even as you watched Alpha’s body still. He had the air of a predator ready to attack and all the ARCs-in-training watched him warily - other than Fives, of course.

“This is not a free afternoon,” Alpha bit out. “I can’t stand to look at you any longer today. Do you even understand what you did wrong?”

“We didn’t complete the mission,” Fives said with a shrug. “But how could we? You kept giving us orders that didn’t make sense.”

“Did I?” Alpha asked, glancing down the line of ARCs. “Does anyone else feel my orders didn’t make sense?”

The silence that stretched was so long and intense that you felt like you couldn’t have broken it if your life depended on it. The men seemed to feel the same way… until Echo uncomfortably shifted his feet.

“Two of the orders you gave us did blatantly contradict each other, Captain,” he said, stiffening his shoulders as if preparing to be hit.

That seemed to do the trick, and murmurs of agreement came from the group as a whole. Aftermath added, “One of your orders even ran counter to the mission, sir.”

Alpha stared at them. “I wanted you to disregard my orders.”

This quiet was stunned instead of awkward. Alpha nodded as if confirming their thoughts. “You had your mission, you knew your objective. This exercise was supposed to teach you to focus on that objective instead of getting bogged down in all of the di’kutla orders you might be given along the way. You’re going to be ARC troopers - assuming you pass - which means that you have more latitude in the field than most other men. This was your chance to think for yourselves and choose to follow the orders that would help you complete your objective. You failed.”

The men looked guilty, but Alpha’s voice was merciless as he waved a hand at the door. “Get out of here. I need to figure out how to continue your training from here. If you’re gonna be ARCs, you’ll need to think for yourselves. I’ll have to come up with a way to make sure you do that. Dismissed.”

There was no happiness or excitement as the ARCs trudged through the doors. Alpha’s lack of belief in them had a clear effect on their motivation. With your own recent experience with Alpha’s ability to increase confidence, you could relate.

Alpha watched the ARC trainees leave the training area before turning back toward you. The flurry of expressions that crossed his face was fascinating and almost comical: confusion, concern, guilt, frustration, and reluctant resolution.

“Don’t, neverd’ika,” he sighed. “I know you think I was too hard on them, but it’s my job. I can’t-”

You grabbed his hand, lacing your fingers through his and tugging him down until you could press a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you for believing in me, Alpha.”

Now the primary expression on his face was suspicion, and that made you laugh. “If this is some kind of trick to convince me to go easier on them, it won’t work. Feel free to keep trying, though.”

“No, no, I just-” you shrugged. “I’m glad you think I can help the General and Commander with their investigation. If you believe in me, I feel like I can do it.”

Alpha scowled outright. “Of course you can do it. But if you think I’m not going to be right by your side, you better think again. This could be dangerous, and I’ll hettir ki haran before I let you do any of it alone. I’ll be there.”

From his stance and the firm note in his voice, Alpha expected you to argue with him, but you only laughed again and gave him a quick hug. It was definitely best to have Alpha on your side.

---

Author's Note - I know I have a habit of not posting all of the Mando'a translations, but I feel most can be understood from context or looked up pretty easily if someone is really curious. I'm making an exception for 'hettir ki haran' because it's a phrase I cobbled together. Loosely, it means 'burn in hell'. Hettir does mean burn and haran is hell (though the Mando'a translation is closer to the total destruction of the universe than an afterlife). I couldn't find a translation for the word 'in', so I substituted ki, which is 'in' in Māori. Just in case someone wanted an explanation for my invented phrase!

I apologize for the lateness of this chapter! Last week, I was convinced I should have posted a chapter and this week, I was convinced I posted one last week. I'm all turned around. But here you go and thank you for your patience!

You can check out other works on my masterlist or sign up for my taglist here!

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