#★ arc trooper echo thoughts

[mori-does-sw]

CLONE CRUSHES: TORRENT COMPANY

PAIRING \ Torrent Company x GN!Reader (Rex, Fives, Echo, Kix, Hardcase, Jesse, Tup) SYNOPSIS \ How the troopers of Torrent Company act when they have a crush on you. WARNING(S) \ None AUTHOR'S NOTE \ This took me an insanely long time to finish, but here we are! Yes, the Mon Gala is a reference to the Met Gala. I am inordinately proud of it.

CAPTAIN REX

Rex is awkward—awkward around you when he realizes how strong his feelings are and awkward doing anything about it. He does more fumbling than flirting in the beginning, stuck in his head and panicking about it, but he gets more comfortable over time.

Give him a break, he’s doing his best.

Despite being standoffish in his affections, Rex is a gentleman and he’ll prove it to you in a million little actions. When you’re commuting through Coruscant, he’ll always walk on the side of you closest to traffic. If there aren’t enough seats of everyone at a group gathering, he would immediately get up and give you his. The second that you admit to being cold, he’s giving you some of his spare blacks.

Speaking of letting you borrow his clothes… seeing you wearing them for the first time almost breaks his brain. He just stands there and stares at you, eyes wide and head buzzing. All he can think about is how karking gorgeous you are, and how he can get you to replace your entire wardrobe with his stuff.

Later, he tells you that you can “just keep it”, and that he has plenty of replacements. He is not subtle at all, and thus deserves all the shit he’s going to get for it.

Rex doesn’t often show up to plans that aren’t mission-critical, not unless a few members of Torrent Company drag him along. Or, if he knows that you’re going to be there.

He could be at the Mon Gala, with all the most famous and wealthy beings on Coruscant, and he’ll literally just show up and talk to you the entire time. If he can’t, if he’s trapped in a conversation that’s actually important or you’re pulled away, he’ll watch from a distance until he can make his way back.

Rex knows his priorities. With a little luck, he might just become as important to you as you are to him.

ARC TROOPER ECHO

Echo’s feelings are pretty contained, much like the trooper himself, but the way he looks at you gives it all away.

You can be doing anything and he’ll be staring at you with literal heart eyes, but he can’t help it. You’re cute. He’ll watch you go about your life, perfectly intent until the warmth in his chest spills over and forces his gaze away to sort through his thoughts.

He’s on the other side of the damn room and you’ve somehow made him go all shy.

Echo’s observant—kind of has to be, as an ARC trooper—and he’ll catalog every habit of yours down to the littlest detail. A part of him craves the intimacy of knowing everything about you, something that fuels his quiet delight at being able to suss out what you’re thinking when others can’t. 

More often than not, his insight into you catches you off guard. Convincing others that you aren’t scared out of your mind is practically a job requirement, but somehow, you can never fool Echo. Not even your bravest face can convince him that you don’t need to lean on him, tell him your frustrations, or hold hands under the table.

Usually, Echo keeps to himself, a little closed off to anyone but his closest vode. But the minute you walk into the room, his mood immediately brightens. He’s quicker to smile and laugh; it’s like all his stress melts away, and that doesn’t go unnoticed by the rest of Torrent Company.

Hardcase has sneakily captured more than a few clips of you two, edited over with so many pink filters and glitter hearts that you’re barely recognizable, and circulated them among the vode.

It doesn’t matter if Echo tries to scour them from the holonet, they become so well-known that clones from entirely different battalions will ask him about his cyare.

He's eternally grateful for the Prime’s dark complexion—you don’t even have to lift a finger to get under his skin. You fluster him too easily. He’s helpless but to forgive you, though, when you smile at him the way you do.

ARC TROOPER FIVES

Fives could care less whether other people are laughing at him or with him—he knows he’s hilarious, and that’s enough to satisfy his ego. The only person who makes him uncharacteristically self-conscious is, well, you.

Yes, Echo has (and will) tease him endlessly for this.

Whenever he’s around you, he’d feel an undeniable urge to do one thing: make you laugh. He cracks a joke and immediately peeks over to gauge your reaction. If he succeeds in making you chuckle, snort, or even just breathe a little harder out of your nose, he lights up. You’re gorgeous when you laugh, even more so when it’s because of him. He can’t help but double down on the bit until you’re too weak to breathe.

Complaining about your sides hurting only prompts him to apologize for “being too funny for you to handle”.

Fives is an incorrigible flirt on a good day, but when he’s around you it becomes 1000% worse. He’s guilty of every cheesy move in the playbook—pretending to yawn and stretch so that he can put his arm around your shoulders, asking you to “hold something” and taking your offered hand in his, or even faux-demanding that you kiss his injuries better. 

He means everything he says, but he’s very careful to make his overtures playful. Fives doesn’t want to scare you away if you don’t feel the same.

Being near to you puts him at ease, soothes an itch he didn’t even realize he had before you both met. He unconsciously seeks out contact with you all the time, pressing his knee to your under the table, bumping shoulders, playing with the fabric of your sleeves. Small things.

So, he’s touchy, and about half of the time he doesn’t even realize it. Why should he, when he’s always shared contact freely with his vode? 

Maybe he makes just one too many comments, gets a little too comfortable in your personal space, gives in to his desire to see you flustered—but when you decide to give him a taste of his own medicine, he’s toast. Smile a bit, touch him, and Fives goes from a cocky, formidable ARC trooper to a stammering cadet.

He’s kind of okay with his brain melting, though, because you’re so pleased with yourself. And although he’s hot-faced and grinning like an idiot, he’s your idiot.

LIEUTENANT JESSE

Much like Fives, Jesse is a joker—one of his favorite activities is making fun of you, and in a way that implies you’re the one who’s crushing instead of him. It’s merciless, especially when the rest of Torrent company catch on to the bit. Getting flustered only makes it worse, easier for him to tease you about “getting nervous around him”.

Watch what you say when he’s around, because anything that could be construed as innuendo will be. Ask an innocent question about if clone armor is hot to wear, and watch Jesse’s smirk grow as he says: “I think I should be asking you that, sugar.”

It’s kind of a way for him to test you, figure out how the idea of liking him affects you.

His vode discover his true feelings when he actually shares his food with you, sometimes without you even having to ask. It’s kind of mindboggling to see the same guy who threatened Kix for stealing his rations readily let you eat from his plate.

He’d be so happy if you shared your food with him, too. Even more so if you bring him things that aren’t rations. The closest he’s ever come to straight-up confessing his love for you is when you got a box of Mandalorian uj cake for him because he’d never tried it.

However, playful, joking Jesse can become a no-nonsense bodyguard at the drop of a hat. He has a protective streak a mile long, something that drives him to shield his brothers from allies and enemies alike, and more recently, you. 

Jesse is intimidating as haran, built like a tank and covered with tattoos, and it’s made so much worse when someone’s targeting you. He’s not afraid to get in people’s faces about it, either, over two hundred pounds of ARC fueled by rage and spite. A little “chat” is all they need to get them to apologize to you—though, in Jesse’s expert opinion, they don’t deserve your forgiveness.

All of his bravado melts when you quietly thank him for defending you. That’s his job, sugar, and don’t you forget it.

CLONE MEDIC KIX

Between carrying out his duty to the Republic and ensuring his idiot vode don’t keel over and die, Kix neither has the time nor the energy to be throwing himself at his crush. Even without his job running him ragged, he wouldn’t be the type—no matter how intense his feelings are.

Rather, Kix courts you. From a distance.

While Kix may not have much in terms of credits, he’ll do everything in his power to make your life a little easier; By virtue of his authority and near-legendary status amongst the troops, he has a lot of influence on his side. And if that doesn’t work, well… there’s many reasons why you don’t piss off a medic.

Little acts of service are it for him. Before you even get to the refractory, he’s set aside your favorite “flavor” of ration bar to ensure they don’t run out. If you complain about being tired, you’ll find an extra cup of caff—or a sedative—sitting innocently on your desk. 

Struggling with the mountain of stuff you’re carrying? Kix is hauling whatever items are in reach into his arms before you even ask for help. About to miss the turbolift? He’ll hold the door for you and glare at his vode if they complain too much.

Need a hand to hold during a procedure? Don’t worry honey, he’s got you.

Kix loves that you treat his time with respect, but sometimes getting you all to himself is a high-stakes negotiation. You’ll bicker back and forth, him insisting that no, you’re not intruding on him or his brothers, and you trying to reassure him that he isn’t obligated to hang out with you if he’s too tired or doesn’t want to be around natborns. He knows he isn’t, but you’re oblivious to how much he wants to.

Kix would get so slick about stealing you away. When he has the opportunity, he’ll casually strike up a conversation about field medicine and- oh, you don’t remember that training session? Well, he has a blank space on his schedule today and he’s more than happy to slot you in for a little extra help.

He’d be (quietly) over the moon if you decided to slip into his office and chat with him while he tears through paperwork or runs labs. While he fantasizes about hopes to take you out on a proper date someday, he’s content to bottle up your laughter as he complains about di’kute vode, hoarding the memory for the darkest moments of the war.

CLONE TROOPER HARDCASE

Congratulations! With Hardcase crushing on you, you’ve snagged a two-in-one deal: A personal hype man and an overexcited puppy.

In Hardcase’s eyes you’re superior at everything you do, period. He insists that you’re the best at your job any chance he gets, even going so far as to volunteer your name whenever some mission needs your kind of expertise—annoying, but it’s hard to stay mad at him for long.

Your competence is really attractive to him, and sometimes he forgets you’re not together and lets a few comments slip. Hardcase doesn’t even realize what he’s said after the fact, oblivious to the fact that your face feels like it’s been dipped in lava when he admires “how kriffing good you are at that” and how “hot” it is.

He praises you so much for doing the most mundane things, it’s like a compulsion for him. You could be helping tape him up after a battle and he’s making little observations about how perfect your wrapping is and how gentle you are with him.

Kix overhears this and tells him that he’d better go to you for wound dressing than the medbay, if you’re so much better at it. He just might, if that means he could get you to touch him again.

Hardcase loves your attention, and occasionally that translates into him being intentionally annoying. He’ll pop up all the time when he’s off duty, making himself at home in your office or at your side and bothering you to your wit’s end. He’ll hide your stylus and make you chase him around to get it, or he’ll call you acting as if he has something important to tell you and then manage to keep you on the line for an hour.

The second it seems like you’re getting upset at him, however, he cuts the crap immediately. If you’re not having fun, he’s not having fun, and he wants to make that abundantly clear to you in case… just in case it turns out you’re interested in him the same way he’s interested in you.

CLONE TROOPER TUP

Tup might not be as confident as Kix, or as widely renowned as Rex, or as charismatic as Fives and Echo… and that knowledge can weigh heavily on him. Thinking that, compared to his brothers, he doesn’t have much to offer you is part of why he hesitates to act on his feelings.

Take these thoughts with a mountain of salt—Tup excels at something else, and that’s being an absolute sweetheart. His patience is near-infinite when it comes to you. He’s always happy to explain something (however many times you need) and is the first to lend you a hand if you’re struggling.

Just don’t read too much into his full-body flinches whenever your fingers brush his, the way his words stumble when you get too close.

Being a standard, rank-and-file trooper makes it all the more difficult for him to even imagine catching your eye, but ironically, his status gives him unique opportunities. Doing grunt work around the ship means that you often cross paths, affording him the chance to say hello or strike up a passing conversation. If he’s lucky, he gets the chance to be beside you throughout his shift.

It’s useless to try and thank him for any of his help, he’ll just duck his head and insist that he’s more than happy to give you a hand. Your praise, however, has him sporting a smug little grin for the rest of the day,

The man melts under your hands like butter. You can convince him to do anything if you ask nicely enough, and on more than one occasion he’s left. He regrets it only when you’re half in his lap and doodling on his bare arm, too focused to notice his increasingly flustered demeanor even as you scold him for fidgeting. 

Privately, you worry that people are going to use Tup as a doormat—but if you mention it to the rest of Torrent, their hysterical laughter will shut you up fast. 

Don’t blame them too much, though. The last time Fives mimicked a whip cracking sound within Tup’s hearing range, he was applying bacta for weeks.

[sinfulsalutations]

𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕡𝕖𝕠𝕡𝕝𝕖 𝕕𝕠 ⋆*･ﾟ𝕒𝕣𝕔 𝕥𝕣𝕠𝕠𝕡𝕖𝕣 𝕖𝕔𝕙𝕠

➼ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ ☆ ᴇᴄʜᴏ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

➼ ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ ☆ ᴇᴄʜᴏ ᴍᴇᴇᴛꜱ ʜᴇʀ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ: ᴛʜᴇ ɢɪʀʟ ᴡʜᴏ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ꜱᴛᴏᴘᴘᴇᴅ ʟᴏᴠɪɴɢ ʜɪᴍ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴡʜᴇɴ ꜱʜᴇ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ꜱʜᴇ’ᴅ ʟᴏꜱᴛ ʜɪᴍ ꜰᴏʀᴇᴠᴇʀ. ᴡʜᴇɴ ʜᴇ ɪɴꜱɪꜱᴛꜱ ʜᴇ ɪꜱɴ’ᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴀᴍᴇ ᴍᴀɴ, ꜱʜᴇ ᴘʀᴏᴠᴇꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɴᴏᴛ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ʜᴀꜱ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇᴅ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʜɪɴɢꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ᴍᴀᴛᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇʀ.

➼ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ☆ ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ ᴇɴᴅɪɴɢ, ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ʜᴜʀᴛ/ᴄᴏᴍꜰᴏʀᴛ, ʀᴇᴜɴɪᴏɴꜱ, ᴍᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴏᴜᴛ/ɢᴇɴᴛʟᴇ ᴋɪꜱꜱɪɴɢ, ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ɪꜱ ɪᴍᴘʟɪᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʟᴏɴɢ ʜᴀɪʀ, ᴇᴄʜᴏ ɢᴇᴛꜱ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʜᴇ ᴅᴇꜱᴇʀᴠᴇꜱ!

➼ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ ☆ 3.7ᴋ

➼ ᴘᴏᴠ ☆ ᴛʜɪʀᴅ ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴ

➼ ꜱᴏᴜɴᴅᴛʀᴀᴄᴋ ☆ ʜᴇᴀᴠʏ ᴡᴀᴛᴇʀ/ɪ’ᴅ ʀᴀᴛʜᴇʀ ʙᴇ ꜱʟᴇᴇᴘɪɴɢ - ɢʀᴏᴜᴘᴇʀ, ʟɪᴋᴇ ʀᴇᴀʟ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ ᴅᴏ - ʜᴏᴢɪᴇʀ, ɪ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅɴ’ᴛ ᴀꜱᴋ ʏᴏᴜ - ᴄʟᴀɪʀᴏ, ꜱᴏꜰᴛ ᴄᴜʀʀᴇɴᴛꜱ - ᴀʟᴇxᴀɴᴅʀᴀ ꜱᴀᴠɪᴏʀ

⋆ ★ ᴏʜ ᴍʏ ɢᴏᴅ ɢᴜʏꜱ ɪᴍ ᴀ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ᴀᴏ3 ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ ɪ ᴜꜱᴇᴅ ᴀ ʜᴏᴢɪᴇʀ ꜱᴏɴɢ ᴀꜱ ᴍʏ ᴛɪᴛʟᴇ ʟᴍᴀᴏᴏ. ɴᴏᴛ ʙᴇᴛᴀ'ᴅ, ʟᴏᴡ-ᴋᴇʏ ɪɴꜱᴇᴄᴜʀᴇ ᴀʙᴛ ʜᴏᴡ ɪᴛ ᴛᴜʀɴᴇᴅ ᴏᴜᴛ ʙᴜᴛ ᴡᴛᴠ, ᴋɪɴᴅᴀ ʙʀᴏᴋᴇ ᴍʏ ᴏᴡɴ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ ᴄᴜᴢ ᴍʏ ꜱᴡᴇᴇᴛ ʙᴀʙʏ ᴇᴄʜᴏ :((((( ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ 🤍

⋆ ★ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀᴏ3 ⋆*･ﾟ ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀᴍ

“We can make this work.”

The room instantly stills with her insistence; a claustrophobic air of expectation surrounds Echo as her eyes, the eyes he thought he’d never see again, look at him like he is the same person she fell in love with.

The same man who proudly showed off his ARC kit and flexed his muscles jokingly because of a lame tip Fives had given him. Who made out with her a couple of corridors away from General Skywalker, so enraptured in their heavy petting they didn’t even notice when he’d banged on the door for them to get out. The same man who kissed her goodbye for the last time before going off the citadel on a life-risking mission.

How can she not see that the person standing in front of her isn’t the Echo she used to love?

Damp eyes plead silently and she takes a small step forward, reaching out her arms almost like she wanted to engulf him in a warm embrace. But Echo steps away and oh-so softly shakes his head, all to ease her down gently.��

She tilts her head; he can't stop himself before he's grimacing. 

Kriff, does his heart want to break; it wants to shatter. He can’t bear the thought of what he has to tell her. Not when she’s even more beautiful than before, incredibly pained yet exponentially mature with the years of his absence etched onto her face.

She looks exhausted, awaiting any moment she'll be allowed to retire. Not just his death, but the lives of so many of his brothers have weighted her back, turned her into another tragic story of Atlas. Echo can't dare imagine adding more for her to carry on her shoulders.

“No, cyare, I don’t think you understand,” Echo tells her, eyes darting from his hands to her face. “I’m- I’m not the trooper you met all those years ago.”

Her face contorts, eyebrows pushing together with her head tilted to the side. He grunts in frustration at the back of his throat, squeezing her hand softly for emphasis as he talks.

“Just look at me,” He pleads. “I’m more karkin’ battle droid than human. You- You don’t want me.”

It’s unsettling, how she looks at him. Still lovestruck in a fantasy even after what he's said. Echo cranes his neck.

“It–” His voice dies when the first word forces itself out; he grunts softly and scrunches his eyes, trying to compose his thoughts better. It's overwhelming; never in a thousand years did he think this would happen. That he’d be in her apartment again; that he’d get to see her again. And that she’d still want him.

“It isn’t fair on you,” He finally manages to say.

The expression on her face Echo isn’t able to read. He used to be so good at telling what she was thinking.

Now she perplexes him; just like everything else in this new life of his.

“Why-why would you think you’re not good enough for me?” How her voice sounds more choked than his, Echo isn’t sure; but it still seizes his heartbeat all the same.

He hadn’t noticed before, but her hands have slowly separated themselves from where they held his and reached up, hovering over his face, shaking slightly in the air as she waits for his permission to continue. He gives it, nonverbally, with a dip of his chin, despite everything supposedly logical in his head saying he shouldn’t allow it.

As her hand cups his cheek, elegant and warm against his skin, he grimaces painfully with a creased brow.

“Because–” He begins, losing his argument the longer he thinks it over. “I said it already. None of this is fair on you.”

“What’s ‘this’?” She responds immediately. To anyone else, she might’ve seemed confused, an ignorant, greedy, and impatient lover who isn’t listening to him. But in her presence again, he picks up on her little mannerisms, her patterns of behavior. It’s a comforting sensation. One of familiarity.

Will he learn how to read her mind again? Only time can tell him, Echo promptly concludes.

“This body,” He responds without a single stammer. Echo wants to look her in the eyes and give her the assurance she needs, but instead, they dart back and forth with uncertainty.

“This life with me, this–“ He groans, the back of his throat dry. “We can’t be normal, cyare.”

A meek ‘pfft’ noise falls past her lips, eyes fluttering up and down in what seems as though a measly attempt at an eye roll.

“We’ve never been normal,” She responds.

Echo frowns far too automatically. Tragically? in part, she isn’t wrong. Allowing yourself to fall for a soldier and let him into your life isn't easy, even for the most tough-willed. Nights when he'd return bloodied and bruised unearth themselves from his clouded memory, and fragments of moments where she'd try to muffle her quiet sobs of relief, wiping away her tears as he held her tight in his arms recur beside them. She constantly lived with a fear he'd never return, and even that came true. His shoulders heave.

“Maybe we haven’t, but-but you know what I mean,” he persists with complete seriousness. She tugs her bottom lip between her teeth. “I can’t give you the life you deserve.” He gestures to the space around them, the space between them. “One with the perfect, handsome husband and a family and a house.”

When she shrugs, leaning in further and cupping his cheek, he holds back the wry face he wants to flash; she pushes him backward, further into her room, closer to the bed; he still has her layout memorized and etched into his retention. It's one of the only things that the Separatists didn't extract from his brain.

"I don't want 'perfect,'" She makes air quotations in the air as she says that, thinking of the ideal life Echo had illustrated for her. "I want you. I want you just as much as I did before."

He frowns.

"Even with all this?" A hand hovers over hers, gesturing for her to look, really look at the body he has, the metal and the circuits and the superficialness of it all. She gazes for a moment before looking up again. 

"If I'm to be completely honest..." She begins, moving so their chests are so close to touching, so close to pressing together so they become one person again, one entity of pure love and adoration. Perhaps those feelings can be revoked unchanged, an optimistic shadow of Echo hopes. "It makes me love you more."

Before he can beg the question how?, she's already continuing. Her other hand reaches up and cups his face endearingly.

"It shows everyone, even me, how strong you are," She marvels innocently, yet undeniably heartwarming. A sting of pain stakes throug his stomach. "My brave ARC trooper who went through and hell and back, and still came back just as wonderful."

His gaze drifts down again; somehow, her words make him even more terrified of looking into her eyes. What if, one day, she looks into his eyes, and doesn’t see that? Sees what he does, a broken figment of a man, a clone who failed his purpose, a soldier who can’t follow orders, no matter how hard they try. And then all this love he’s undeservingly graced with will be gone in just an instant. How selfish of him.

"Just as wonderful..." She still continues. "Just as handsome."

His eyebrows push together, and she pulls him down to kiss where his creases meet; she is a splendor of honey and healing between them in ways he never knew possible. Echo's eyes widen suddenly when he feels her lips against his, for the first time in what felt like a thousand eternities. Something in that moment is stilled; and for a fraction, everything is good. Everything is perfect.

"You're beautiful, Echo," She whispers against him. Her forehead comes to rest where he dips down. His eyes are still closed, but he can picture how she might look quite well. Eyes filled with adoration and hope, hope he so desperately wants her to share with him. 

"How-" He begins, choking slightly; his eyes shut harder. If he focuses hard enough, he can't feel her touch; the touch he feels so undeserving of. "How can you say that so easily?"

There’s a thin, unmeaningful pause in the air.

"It's second nature," She responds effortlessly. Her hand strokes his cheek, slowly lulling him to open his eyes and look, don't think, just look. "And because I love you."

And at that moment, he falls apart. Something in him, his lungs perhaps, collapses under the sudden pressure he's pulled into. It's a type of pressure he wants to be under, no doubt about it–he wants to be loved, to be held like this no matter what the sensible part of him thinks–but it remains a slow, painful strangling. 

His eyes shut close again and a sob ruptures at the back of his throat, thyroid straining. He leans into her without thinking of the crushing weight– not a step he consciously realizes he's taken, but one nonetheless. Her hands hold his face entirely; how she can be so incredibly firm and keep him so steady, Echo doesn't understand. None of this he can fully comprehend.

Another sob is ripped out of him.

"I never thought I'd see you again," Echo tells her, hushed and sorrowful between two quiet sniffles. "Your voice- I used to play the sound of your voice every day."

"I know, I know," She whispers back, nodding as he talks. Echo isn't lost entirely to pick up on how the words don't match her feelings; she didn't know, and her heart bounds to be swelling with overwhelming adoration. He knows hearing this means the entire galaxy to her; she missed him so, so much.

Why does he feel so much pain then?

He peels open his eyes, blinking away the litter of tears over his face, and allows himself to encircle her waist; they're already so close, and why Echo feels so nervous to simply touch her is puzzling

The softness in her eyes is something powerful. More powerful than a lightsaber-wielding Jedi or the most prepped battleship. Any remaining tolerance he has left completely dissolves under waves of matured, pained, yet beautiful love. Because he can’t deny how much he loves her. How much she makes him feel. That’s a power the Separatists will never have on him. 

"Stay the night?" She then asks gently, caressing his cheek. Echo gulps hoarsely as he realizes how long he’d been holding his breath, then nods desperately. 

"–If you'll allow me."

-

She's been in the `fresher for forty-five minutes now.

Told him to 'Get comfortable, I'll be out soon,' and 'You've slept over so many times before, don't feel like a guest,' but he sits stiff atop of the bed, still in denial that this is home. That it's still home after forced abandon. An oh-so-familiar feeling he hasn’t felt in so long rushes through him; its not as comforting as he’d hope it’d be.

Echo can hear her breathing, her soft humming of a lullaby she once confided that her mother always used to sing to her. The same one she sang lowly into his ear when he woke up in a cold sweat, silent tears streaming down his cheeks as he held her and crooned to him like a sickly child. 

Nightly tire seeps into his eyes, heaves his chest and Echo allows himself to breathe all the way down to his stomach. His lungs feel metallic, just as robotic as the rest of him as he awaits her to come out again. She never takes this long. At least, she never used to. Always efficient and makes so well with her time to keep her water and electric bills down.

Anxieties sweep through. She doesn't want to leave. Can't bear to see him sitting there on her bed again. She regrets her decision. She doesn't love him, she never did, she never will, she...

The door opens. She peaks through her head, a pleading softness etched into her.

"Echo?" She calls out to him.

"Yeah?" Her eyes scan him up and down, and Echo realizes how misplaced he looks. He hasn't sat down completely on the bed yet, his hands on his thighs and his posture perfectly composed, comfortably uncomfortable and so out of place. At least that's how he feels.

"Would you please brush my hair?"

A fond memory rushes through like a wave of warm water. She hates brushing her own hair. Always whines as she tries to untangle all the knots and always asks him to do it for her. The faintest smile graces Echo’s features.

“Of course, cyare.”

She grins softly. He tilts his head slightly.

“What?” He asks, incredulous.

“I missed your voice so much,” She recalls with a nostalgic glint in her eye. “The way you called me cyare.” 

His only response is a soft grunt of agreement; he feels the exact same way. He missed the way her voice wrapped around a note, let out a laugh discreetly when she shouldn’t have been amused, hold onto a gasp or relief when he came through the door bruised and bloodied. Everything about it lost in the cryochamber and restored the moment he sits face to face with her now.

Swiftly, he beckons her over and lets her sit beside him, turning her back to him and handing him the brush. The moment he takes it and lets it sift through her hair, the softest moan is coerced out of her lips and she leans back into his touch.

Wordlessly, he continues to brush her wet hair. There's a level of intimacy that can't be reached with skin against skin, heavy pants as he roots himself deep inside of her; they can't reach this level of trust, where her back can be turned against her and allowed to control her vanity. Even after going through hell and back disheveled–half a man, she puts her reliance in him without hesitation.

“I missed this,” He admits in a hushed, almost shameful exhale.

A soft chuckle comes out of her. Somehow, she sounds disbelieved.

”Putting up with my little hissy fits about my hair?” She jests.

He answers with full certainty.

”More than you’ll ever know, cyare.”

She sighs delicately.

”Have I ever told you how much I like that nickname?” She asks.

Echo tilts his head, stopping his hand movements for a split second.

”Cyare?”

She nods.

”I remember the first time you called me that like it was yesterday.”

Echo hums under his breath, continuing to brush her hair. He rakes his brain for the memory she seems to remember so well, eyebrows knitting in focus.

”…I’ve forgotten.”

She nods again, void of maliciousness.

“I was completely wasted at 79’s,” She retells the story for him.  “‘Was wobbling and knocking things over. You walked me home and made sure I was okay… and called me that when you were helping me up.”

The image comes to him. Her loopy smile as he attempts to wrap her arm over his shoulder, trying not to enjoy her helplessness too much as he helps her get up and leave 79’s, muttering into her ear softly, ‘Let’s get you home, cyare.’

”…I remember now,” Echo says.

Her hair shifts, head perking up.

”Oh?”

Echo mutters a soft ‘yeah,’ struggling to simultaneously grab all of her hair into a hand and brush it into the palm with the scomp link on his other arm. Even when he tries to do something from his life before, things have changed. Made menially more difficult.

”You asked me to kiss you at your doorstep…” He continues the story, a melancholic tone of recall plaguing him before he can stop himself.

Her head tilts again. It’s making it more difficult for him to brush her hair better, but he doesn’t mind.

”And you said no because I was drunk and not in my right mind…” She fills in the next sentence.

”…And I thought you would regret it the next day," He finishes, running a hand through her hair with finality. She turns her head, wrapping all of her neatly brushed hair to a shoulder and giving him a soft grin.

”I hope you know I wouldn’t have," She says.

He nods, allowing himself to soften further into the bed, borderline beamish.

“Still wouldn’t have kissed a drunk girl.”

The room basks in her sunlit smile. She leans in, wrapping her arms around his neck and resting on his shoulders, and Echo doesn't flinch. He expected to, with how wary and uncertain and unworthy he felt (and still feels) in her mere presence, but he doesn't flinch and it's so damn relieving he wants to cry in a mixture of joy and pain. Kriff, doesn't she look perfect, he dares to think. Isn't everything about her just... perfect. What did I do to deserve her?

She leans in further, pulling him down to meet her in the middle, their foreheads pressing against each other firmly. Her starry eyes carry unrealistic visions but he loves the dream inside them. She smiles, a breathy exhale shared between the little space they share, and she shakes her head without real purpose.

”Ever the gentleman," She mutters.

Echo's the one to make the final motion. He plunges down and captures her bottom lip between his, not even hesitating to embosom her waist with his hand. The upward curl of her lips is so prominent against his mouth; a sickly sweet happiness seeps and exudes off of her and into him. It flows through his veins, seizes his heart for a moment and Echo can't help but gasp. But it's swallowed by her own kiss. They both enrapture each other.

Even then, they revel in the languid motions they can take. Selfishly, Echo decides he wants more of her. All of her, if she'll allow it. He sucks in her bottom lip, parting his and swiping his tongue over hers in the way he always used to do, the way that made her squeak softly in a breathy gasp. She makes the sound again and his life is made in an instant.

The dam waters can’t be held back anymore; worldly anxieties no longer tether him to realism. All that matters is the two of them and the pure love they can have.

Echo squeezes her waist firmly and she breaks away with a smile.

”Didn’t think you’d do that,” She says lowly into his mouth. He only shrugs because her assumption may have been correct; he wasn’t expecting to kiss her.

“Me neither,” He admits aloud. She chuckles silently before kissing him again, making him crane his back to fully reach her the way he wants to. Something in him has been carnally ignited when she lets him hold her and kiss her like this; a feeling he hadn’t experienced in what felt like an eternity since he last saw her is unearthed. He needs all of it; needs all of her again.

He adjusts the two of them, moving her knees to spread her legs apart, and places himself between them; he beckons her to the center of the mattress, his scomp link aside and leaning on his elbow. His hand creeps up her neck into the back of her hair, grounding her into place as Echo allows himself to take.

But when she sighs and her eyes flutter close, he pulls away.

”Does it stand?” The words come out so softly and without structure, Echo is sure she didn’t mean for it to come out.

”What do you mean?” He asks after a moment.

”Is… does it stand the test of time?” Her hands hover over his shoulders now, fingers tentatively and timorously resting on thin air. She's gesturing to the two of them, talking about how this feels, how she feels, if it's okay, if he's satisfied; she treads just as carefully as he did just a few moments before. “The- the test of change?”

What test? The question wishes to beg in his mind. But it doesn't because Echo feels the tug as well. The claustrophobic worry that his anxieties inevitably are true; she won't want him the moment their lips meet again. 

"It does for me," He takes a leap into faith. He could carry the same fears and insecurities dear to his chest, or he could look into her eyes and see for himself how she feels. He does; he wants to cry.

She looks so happy. Her eyes crinkling at the corners and her lips spread wide into a blinding smile, she holds her chest softly, as if beckoning for her heart to still. She lets out a small sigh of respite, lifting her arms again to pull him down. When she kisses him, it's drowning in reverence. Drowning in relief.

"Me too," She whispers against his mouth, before seizing his lips again. His eyes scrunch hard against her, as if he’s trying hard to imagine a different world where they can be like this forever. He creates it almost effortlessly. The tenseness in his muscles weaken.

Since Echo was rescued, his chest has ached. His whole body reacted poorly to the prosthetics, each step painful and unworthy of existence. It's slowly subsided, but he feels the ache's hold on him weaken even more. Her simple touch fills empty sockets of his being; so violently stripped of him before, now returned in loving arms.

In the split moments, in their faint beautiful existence, he falls in love again. He kisses her and holds her tight and whispers how damn bad he missed her. The world narrows into a space only the two of them can fit, a galaxy where they can love each other in absolute peace and solitude.

Like real people do.

dividers by @saradika ~ tags: @starstofillmydream @pb-jellybeans @corrieguards @badbatchbabe @ladytano420 @jediknightjana @sleepycreativewriter @shinyshayminflower @thebahdbitch

[mori-does-sw]

THIS IS SO INCREDIBLY SICK I AM CONTrACTING DISEASES

pls tap for better quality if tumblr eats it, i beg u

AU in which Echo regains back conciousness while still being the algorithm.

[sinfulsalutations]

need thoughts??? i shall deliver

i am a FIEND for echo x f!reader

angsty rescue mission? either party being rescued and a heartfelt, fluffy reunion? bonus points for serious wounds/injuries??

not sure if this is what you're looking for.

hope you've had a great day <3

➼ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ☆ ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴊᴜʀʏ, ꜱʟɪɢʜᴛʟʏ ɢʀᴀᴘʜɪᴄ ᴅᴇᴛᴀɪʟ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ɪɴᴊᴜʀʏ, ᴘᴀᴛᴄʜɪɴɢ ᴜᴘ ᴡᴏᴜɴᴅꜱ, ʜᴜʀᴛ/ᴄᴏᴍꜰᴏʀᴛ ��ɢ, ᴇᴄʜᴏ ʟᴏᴠᴇꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴍ ᴀɴᴅ ᴠɪᴄᴇ ᴠᴇʀꜱᴀ

➼ ꜱᴏᴜɴᴅᴛʀᴀᴄᴋ ☆ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ꜱᴏɴɢ - ʟᴀɴᴀ ᴅᴇʟ ʀᴇʏ, ɪꜱʟᴀɴᴅꜱ - ʏᴏᴜɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ɢɪᴀɴᴛ

⋆ ★ ᴍᴀɴ ᴍʏ ᴇᴄʜᴏ ꜰɪx ɢᴏᴇꜱ ᴄʀᴀᴢʏ, ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴏɴᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ 2 ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛꜱ ɪɴ ᴍʏ ɪɴʙᴏx ᴀɴᴅ ɪ'ᴍ ᴀʟꜱᴏ ᴡᴏʀᴋɪɴɢ ᴏɴ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴡɪᴘ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜɪᴍ, ɪ'ᴠᴇ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ꜰᴇʟʟ ɪɴ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜɪᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀꜱᴛ ꜰᴇᴡ ᴡᴇᴇᴋꜱ. ɪ'ᴍ ꜰᴀɪʀʟʏ ᴘʀᴏᴜᴅ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜɪꜱ, ɪᴛꜱ ꜱʜᴏʀᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ʙɪᴛᴛᴇʀꜱᴡᴇᴇᴛ ʙᴜᴛ ɪɴᴛɪᴍᴀᴛᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ʟᴏᴠᴇʏ, ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇᴅ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ɪᴛ. ᴀʟꜱᴏ ɢᴏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴘᴜᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪɴ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʟᴏɴᴇ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ʙɪɴɢᴏ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴄʀᴏꜱꜱᴇꜱ ᴏᴜᴛ 'ᴇᴄʜᴏ' ᴀɴᴅ 'ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ' ᴏɴ ᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴄʜᴀʟʟᴇɴɢᴇ ᴄᴀʀᴅꜱ.

⋆ ★ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀᴏ3 ⋆*･ﾟ ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀᴍ

Echo just can’t stop his hands from shaking.

All he can think about is how close he was to losing you permanently, how you’d be there one second and the next a mere figment of the past. Someone that used to hold him so close, heal the sores on his joints that'd been left by others, sucked the poison out of him with just pure, unadulterated love.

He almost lost it all.

The fugitive was more dangerous than they thought. Cid told them he was a low-level petty theft, not someone willing to resort to violence the second he felt threatened. Once again, they received the wrong information. The moment he felt something was up, he took out a knife, cutting past and through your civvie clothes and rendering your whole arm to go limp against you.

As he works, slowly disinfecting with a cloth, intrusive, unsettling facts race through his mind. I almost lost you, you would've been hurt so much worse if Hunter and I didn't come in at the right time, how could I let this happen...

"I'm supposed to protect you, cyare," He rasps, entirely to himself but entirely audible as well.

You nod softly, biting your split lip, your unharmed arm wrapped around his shoulder.

"You do, you always do," You whisper back, because he truly does, no matter if he believes it or not.

Echo tries to keep his hands still for you. Steady and dexterous, a firm hand holding a bacta-dipped cloth onto the gash. Holding you against the couch as he mutters to himself once again.

“You’re here, you’re okay, it’s okay…”

There’s nothing else to do but sway keenly in agreement. Stained by tears, rosy cheeks, and bitten lips, you manage to smile. He looks up from the gash to look at the sight, almost like a miracle bestowed on his naked eyes. How do you look so composed when you’re injured? So perfect, so beautiful…

Echo will never get over you.

“Ah,” You hiss through your teeth, clenching them as he presses onto your skin further. He lifts his hand away instantly.

“Did that hurt?”

“Yeah,” a hissed inhale keeps you grounded as you close your eyes, swallowing harshly. “Just give me a moment.”

He does. Echo slumps down on the chair he placed in front of the cot, sighing roughly as he watches you catch your breath. His heart swells and seizes all at once; no one in this world, especially someone as good as you, deserves to look like this. To feel what you do at this moment. But you hold yourself so composed, take it so well, better than he's ever seen. Strong as a soldier, disciplined as an ARC trooper.

Through it all, the pain inflicted, you still can smile. You smile and breathe and you're right here, with him.

Everyone he’s cared for so deeply he’s lost. Even himself, the man that was taken by the Separatists damaged and torn apart from the inside. But you’re still here. You’re alive and well and love him with all your heart.

It’s a feeling he’ll never quite fully process.

tags: @clonexreaderbingo @starstofillmydream @pb-jellybeans @corrieguards @badbatchbabe @ladytano420 @jediknightjana @sleepycreativewriter @shinyshayminflower @heidi-lc28 @thebahdbitch

[trixie2023]

Awwww. Love this.

CLONE CRUSHES: TORRENT COMPANY

PAIRING \ Torrent Company x GN!Reader (Rex, Fives, Echo, Kix, Hardcase, Jesse, Tup) SYNOPSIS \ How the troopers of Torrent Company acts when they have a crush on you. WARNING(S) \ None AUTHOR'S NOTE \ This took me an insanely long time to finish, but here we are! Yes, the Mon Gala is a reference to the Met Gala. I am inordinately proud of it.

CAPTAIN REX

Rex is awkward—awkward around you when he realizes how strong his feelings are and awkward doing anything about it. He does more fumbling than flirting in the beginning, stuck in his head and panicking about it, but he gets more comfortable over time.

Give him a break, he’s doing his best.

Despite being standoffish in his affections, Rex is a gentleman and he’ll prove it to you in a million little actions. When you’re commuting through Coruscant, he’ll always walk on the side of you closest to traffic. If there aren’t enough seats of everyone at a group gathering, he would immediately get up and give you his. The second that you admit to being cold, he’s giving you some of his spare blacks.

Speaking of letting you borrow his clothes… seeing you wearing them for the first time almost breaks his brain. He just stands there and stares at you, eyes wide and head buzzing. All he can think about is how karking gorgeous you are, and how he can get you to replace your entire wardrobe with his stuff.

Later, he tells you that you can “just keep it”, and that he has plenty of replacements. He is not subtle at all, and thus deserves all the shit he’s going to get for it.

Rex doesn’t often show up to plans that aren’t mission-critical, not unless a few members of Torrent Company drag him along. Or, if he knows that you’re going to be there.

He could be at the Mon Gala, with all the most famous and wealthy beings on Coruscant, and he’ll literally just show up and talk to you the entire time. If he can’t, if he’s trapped in a conversation that’s actually important or you’re pulled away, he’ll watch from a distance until he can make his way back.

Rex knows his priorities. With a little luck, he might just become as important to you as you are to him.

ARC TROOPER ECHO

Echo’s feelings are pretty contained, much like the trooper himself, but the way he looks at you gives it all away.

You can be doing anything and he’ll be staring at you with literal heart eyes, but he can’t help it. You’re cute. He’ll watch you go about your life, perfectly intent until the warmth in his chest spills over and forces his gaze away to sort through his thoughts.

He’s on the other side of the damn room and you’ve somehow made him go all shy.

Echo’s observant—kind of has to be, as an ARC trooper—and he’ll catalog every habit of yours down to the littlest detail. A part of him craves the intimacy of knowing everything about you, something that fuels his quiet delight at being able to suss out what you’re thinking when others can’t. 

More often than not, his insight into you catches you off guard. Convincing others that you aren’t scared out of your mind is practically a job requirement, but somehow, you can never fool Echo. Not even your bravest face can convince him that you don’t need to lean on him, tell him your frustrations, or hold hands under the table.

Usually, Echo keeps to himself, a little closed off to anyone but his closest vode. But the minute you walk into the room, his mood immediately brightens. He’s quicker to smile and laugh; it’s like all his stress melts away, and that doesn’t go unnoticed by the rest of Torrent Company.

Hardcase has sneakily captured more than a few clips of you two, edited over with so many pink filters and glitter hearts that you’re barely recognizable, and circulated them among the vode.

It doesn’t matter if Echo tries to scour them from the holonet, they become so well-known that clones from entirely different battalions will ask him about his cyare.

He's eternally grateful for the Prime’s dark complexion—you don’t even have to lift a finger to get under his skin. You fluster him too easily. He’s helpless but to forgive you, though, when you smile at him the way you do.

ARC TROOPER FIVES

Fives could care less whether other people are laughing at him or with him—he knows he’s hilarious, and that’s enough to satisfy his ego. The only person who makes him uncharacteristically self-conscious is, well, you.

Yes, Echo has (and will) tease him endlessly for this.

Whenever he’s around you, he’d feel an undeniable urge to do one thing: make you laugh. He cracks a joke and immediately peeks over to gauge your reaction. If he succeeds in making you chuckle, snort, or even just breathe a little harder out of your nose, he lights up. You’re gorgeous when you laugh, even more so when it’s because of him. He can’t help but double down on the bit until you’re too weak to breathe.

Complaining about your sides hurting only prompts him to apologize for “being too funny for you to handle”.

Fives is an incorrigible flirt on a good day, but when he’s around you it becomes 1000% worse. He’s guilty of every cheesy move in the playbook—pretending to yawn and stretch so that he can put his arm around your shoulders, asking you to “hold something” and taking your offered hand in his, or even faux-demanding that you kiss his injuries better. 

He means everything he says, but he’s very careful to make his overtures playful. Fives doesn’t want to scare you away if you don’t feel the same.

Being near to you puts him at ease, soothes an itch he didn’t even realize he had before you both met. He unconsciously seeks out contact with you all the time, pressing his knee to your under the table, bumping shoulders, playing with the fabric of your sleeves. Small things.

So, he’s touchy, and about half of the time he doesn’t even realize it. Why should he, when he’s always shared contact freely with his vode? 

Maybe he makes just one too many comments, gets a little too comfortable in your personal space, gives in to his desire to see you flustered—but when you decide to give him a taste of his own medicine, he’s toast. Smile a bit, touch him, and Fives goes from a cocky, formidable ARC trooper to a stammering cadet.

He’s kind of okay with his brain melting, though, because you’re so pleased with yourself. And although he’s hot-faced and grinning like an idiot, he’s your idiot.

LIEUTENANT JESSE

Much like Fives, Jesse is a joker—one of his favorite activities is making fun of you, and in a way that implies you’re the one who’s crushing instead of him. It’s merciless, especially when the rest of Torrent company catch on to the bit. Getting flustered only makes it worse, easier for him to tease you about “getting nervous around him”.

Watch what you say when he’s around, because anything that could be construed as innuendo will be. Ask an innocent question about if clone armor is hot to wear, and watch Jesse’s smirk grow as he says: “I think I should be asking you that, sugar.”

It’s kind of a way for him to test you, figure out how the idea of liking him affects you.

His vode discover his true feelings when he actually shares his food with you, sometimes without you even having to ask. It’s kind of mindboggling to see the same guy who threatened Kix for stealing his rations readily let you eat from his plate.

He’d be so happy if you shared your food with him, too. Even more so if you bring him things that aren’t rations. The closest he’s ever come to straight-up confessing his love for you is when you got a box of Mandalorian uj cake for him because he’d never tried it.

However, playful, joking Jesse can become a no-nonsense bodyguard at the drop of a hat. He has a protective streak a mile long, something that drives him to shield his brothers from allies and enemies alike, and more recently, you. 

Jesse is intimidating as haran, built like a tank and covered with tattoos, and it’s made so much worse when someone’s targeting you. He’s not afraid to get in people’s faces about it, either, over two hundred pounds of ARC fueled by rage and spite. A little “chat” is all they need to get them to apologize to you—though, in Jesse’s expert opinion, they don’t deserve your forgiveness.

All of his bravado melts when you quietly thank him for defending you. That’s his job, sugar, and don’t you forget it.

CLONE MEDIC KIX

Between carrying out his duty to the Republic and ensuring his idiot vode don’t keel over and die, Kix neither has the time nor the energy to be throwing himself at his crush. Even without his job running him ragged, he wouldn’t be the type—no matter how intense his feelings are.

Rather, Kix courts you. From a distance.

While Kix may not have much in terms of credits, he’ll do everything in his power to make your life a little easier; By virtue of his authority and near-legendary status amongst the troops, he has a lot of influence on his side. And if that doesn’t work, well… there’s many reasons why you don’t piss off a medic.

Little acts of service are it for him. Before you even get to the refractory, he’s set aside your favorite “flavor” of ration bar to ensure they don’t run out. If you complain about being tired, you’ll find an extra cup of caff—or a sedative—sitting innocently on your desk. 

Struggling with the mountain of stuff you’re carrying? Kix is hauling whatever items are in reach into his arms before you even ask for help. About to miss the turbolift? He’ll hold the door for you and glare at his vode if they complain too much.

Need a hand to hold during a procedure? Don’t worry honey, he’s got you.

Kix loves that you treat his time with respect, but sometimes getting you all to himself is a high-stakes negotiation. You’ll bicker back and forth, him insisting that no, you’re not intruding on him or his brothers, and you trying to reassure him that he isn’t obligated to hang out with you if he’s too tired or doesn’t want to be around natborns. He knows he isn’t, but you’re oblivious to how much he wants to.

Kix would get so slick about stealing you away. When he has the opportunity, he’ll casually strike up a conversation about field medicine and- oh, you don’t remember that training session? Well, he has a blank space on his schedule today and he’s more than happy to slot you in for a little extra help.

He’d be (quietly) over the moon if you decided to slip into his office and chat with him while he tears through paperwork or runs labs. While he fantasizes about hopes to take you out on a proper date someday, he’s content to bottle up your laughter as he complains about di’kute vode, hoarding the memory for the darkest moments of the war.

CLONE TROOPER HARDCASE

Congratulations! With Hardcase crushing on you, you’ve snagged a two-in-one deal: A personal hype man and an overexcited puppy.

In Hardcase’s eyes you’re superior at everything you do, period. He insists that you’re the best at your job any chance he gets, even going so far as to volunteer your name whenever some mission needs your kind of expertise—annoying, but it’s hard to stay mad at him for long.

Your competence is really attractive to him, and sometimes he forgets you’re not together and lets a few comments slip. Hardcase doesn’t even realize what he’s said after the fact, oblivious to the fact that your face feels like it’s been dipped in lava when he admires “how kriffing good you are at that” and how “hot” it is.

He praises you so much for doing the most mundane things, it’s like a compulsion for him. You could be helping tape him up after a battle and he’s making little observations about how perfect your wrapping is and how gentle you are with him.

Kix overhears this and tells him that he’d better go to you for wound dressing than the medbay, if you’re so much better at it. He just might, if that means he could get you to touch him again.

Hardcase loves your attention, and occasionally that translates into him being intentionally annoying. He’ll pop up all the time when he’s off duty, making himself at home in your office or at your side and bothering you to your wit’s end. He’ll hide your stylus and make you chase him around to get it, or he’ll call you acting as if he has something important to tell you and then manage to keep you on the line for an hour.

The second it seems like you’re getting upset at him, however, he cuts the crap immediately. If you’re not having fun, he’s not having fun, and he wants to make that abundantly clear to you in case… just in case it turns out you’re interested in him the same way he’s interested in you.

CLONE TROOPER TUP

Tup might not be as confident as Kix, or as widely renowned as Rex, or as charismatic as Fives and Echo… and that knowledge can weigh heavily on him. Thinking that, compared to his brothers, he doesn’t have much to offer you is part of why he hesitates to act on his feelings.

Take these thoughts with a mountain of salt—Tup excels at something else, and that’s being an absolute sweetheart. His patience is near-infinite when it comes to you. He’s always happy to explain something (however many times you need) and is the first to lend you a hand if you’re struggling.

Just don’t read too much into his full-body flinches whenever your fingers brush his, the way his words stumble when you get too close.

Being a standard, rank-and-file trooper makes it all the more difficult for him to even imagine catching your eye, but ironically, his status gives him unique opportunities. Doing grunt work around the ship means that you often cross paths, affording him the chance to say hello or strike up a passing conversation. If he’s lucky, he gets the chance to be beside you throughout his shift.

It’s useless to try and thank him for any of his help, he’ll just duck his head and insist that he’s more than happy to give you a hand. Your praise, however, has him sporting a smug little grin for the rest of the day,

The man melts under your hands like butter. You can convince him to do anything if you ask nicely enough, and on more than one occasion he’s left. He regrets it only when you’re half in his lap and doodling on his bare arm, too focused to notice his increasingly flustered demeanor even as you scold him for fidgeting. 

Privately, you worry that people are going to use Tup as a doormat—but if you mention it to the rest of Torrent, their hysterical laughter will shut you up fast. 

Don’t blame them too much, though. The last time Fives mimicked a whip cracking sound within Tup’s hearing range, he was applying bacta for weeks.