#501st x gn reader

[momojedi]

➪ Babysitting

501st x GN! Reader

You are a researcher working with the 501st and it's exhausting. This one isn't that good since I was merely just dabbling about, but if you like it, I'll make a proper story about this :)

"Again?" I sighed.

There they were, the troublemakers of the 501st, properly lined up and eyes bashfully glued to the floor, like a bunch of school boys. Captain Rex cleared his throat tensely. "Yes, sir." I shook my head, strictly staring down each and every one of them before taking the notes on my datapad. "You boys are going to be the death of me."

I hadn't known what I was in for when the Senate requested me to keep tabs on clone behaviour, especially when they sent me off to General Skywalker's troops. I should've known better when they mentioned the infamously unorthodox Jedi Knight but the job seemed to be paying well and I could perhaps even offer a study to speak for better treatment of the GAR! What I ended up with however was anything but what I had expected. The 501st was a... pain in the ass, so to say. Constantly getting into trouble and costing the Republic more than the war had itself. From fighting each other to breaking or damaging things, I started to feel like I was putting up with kindergarteners than adult soldiers.

And that's exactly where I was standing with them right now. A destroyed speeder bike in flames, two non-functional blaster rifles and a broken nose on Hardcase's account that Kix was now desperately trying to tend to. I lowered the datapad after finishing my notes and looked around for anything else. "I'm - we are very sorry, sir," Fives stated respectfully, a hint of sheepishness lacing his voice. "We... we weren't expecting things to go this bad." Hums of agreement resounded among the troopers. Echo backed his brother up. "He's right."

I rose my brows, unconvinced at all. This had to be a joke. "In what world did you think trying to shoot your brother off while he's driving an active speeder bike wouldn't go - and I quote - this bad?" I scolded them like a babysitter would. Rex, who had taken his place behind me in an authoritative manner, crossed his arms and glared at his brothers disapprovingly. Fives, who had taken the stand for his brothers, grinned sheepishly at that. "We were testing out our new blasters...?" It sounded more like a question than a statement. I pinched the bridge of my nose and shook my head. A bunch of idiots.

[ireadwithmyears]

Hello~

May I get "It's not your fault." Or "Just hold on to me. I have you." For Fox please?

(Or Dogma, or Jesse)

❤️ - @vodika-vibes

two truths and a kiss

Pairing: Dogma/gn Reader

Requested by: @vodika-vibes

Prompt: “Just hold onto me, I have you

Tags/warnings: Jedi reader, whump, descriptions of blood and injury, mentions of death, needles, hurt/comfort

Summary: When a rash decision leads to you getting injured during a search and rescue mission with your favourite trooper/you’re very secret crush, Dogma, a concoction of slightly too much painkillers, your subsequent loss of having a filter, and a childhood game conspires to bring certain feelings to light. Only problem is, you’re very much convinced that he doesn’t, and couldn’t, feel the same way.

authors note: So originally, I had a whole outline drafted for this, a completely different idea with commander Fox. However, as things tend to do, the story started spiralling and was getting too big to be contained. I had to take a step back and shift my focus towards something much more manageable. I hope you like and enjoy this just as much. I had a lot of fun writing it.

“I’m telling you, there’s someone in there.”

You turn, an already stubborn slant to your shoulders as you address the helmeted trooper at your side. He’s cautious, an equally stubborn rule follower at his heart as you are, and you, well...

You’re just a newly minted Jedi knight who is still learning the ropes of command, which is why, instead of being assigned your own battalion upon your knighting ceremony, you had been sent off with the 501st to gain some much-needed field experience. 

But regardless of how fresh out of the creche and clumsy you feel, you are still a Jedi, and the call of a presence—a human life resonating within the Force—still rings as clearly as if it were a bell, the insistent nudge that you must go to them threatening to pull you forward if you don’t reign yourself in.

This is exactly why you were sent to scout this village with Dogma, command ordering small search-and-rescue teams to recover civilians after a recent bombing by the Separatist forces had caught everyone by surprise. Your ability to easily identify signs of life and help guide troopers who had been assigned to clear out debris and medics to their locations was valued, and without a doubt often made these trips operate more efficiently.

“And I’m telling you that these houses were already badly reinforced before the Seps  up.”

Dogma sounds exasperated even through the modulator of his helmet, and despite being unable to see his face, you can tell he’s making an effort not to be, always wanting to be respectful of the chain of command but equally loyal and steadfast to his own instincts. You like that about him, always have. His uncompromising devotion to what he believes is right and true has attracted you to him ever since the moment you met, even though he, to your disappointed but grudging acceptance, has never indicated that those feelings are reciprocated.

You won’t push it. In fact, you would consider it to be taking advantage of your position if you did, since technically you are still considered a general. Dogma is so loyal to rules and order, who knows what someone could get him to agree to if they were to possess ill intent towards him.

The very thought of abusing his loyalty like that makes you feel somewhat sick. So you keep your mouth shut, and that’s that.

“Are you telling me that we should just leave someone who might be injured trapped inside there?” you ask, folding your arms across your chest.

“That isn’t what I said,” he sighs, and there’s a soft hiss as the seal of his helmet releases and he removes it from his head. “I’m just saying maybe we should find a better way to get to them.”

“We can’t wait for backup,” you protest, ashamed by the tightness that suddenly constricts your throat. You’re not a Padawan anymore. You should be able to handle yourself and get a more solid grip on your emotions. But it’s hard.

It’s hard when you close your eyes, taking a breath to recenter yourself and instead are unable to pull your focus away from the life form. One of your first classes as an initiate had been learning what you can discern simply from observing different presences in the Force. Master Yoda would say something like “Words you may have to describe this being within the Force. Tell them to me, you should.”

If you were still one of the younglings sitting cross-legged in that circle with his eyes intently focused on you right now, the first words that come to your mind would be helpless, fearful, and almost...small.

“Dogma, please?” Your voice is quiet and pleading, and though you’ve never seen this happen before, at least when it comes to Dogma, there’s a flicker of hesitation followed by an almost imperceptible softening of hard edges that takes you by surprise and instantly catches your notice.

You notice everything about him though, and that’s only made you—impossibly and with a naivety that is so unfitting of a Jedi—fall for him a little bit harder.

You had noticed the first time you had set eyes on him the way he was so reassuring with a shiny trooper, his eyes wide and looking distraught after an admiral had sharply reprimanded him for a minor infraction.

“They’re, they’re gonna decommission me, vod,” he had stammered. “They’re gonna pack me up and send me back to Kamino and they’ll...”

“Easy, trooper, look at me.” Dogma had taken the kid by his shoulders, waiting for his eyes to meet his. “They won’t decommission you. I promise. General Ti put an end to that as soon as she arrived on Kamino, remember? You’re not going anywhere.”

The trooper had nodded, unable to stop the shudder that had run through him at the lingering mix of fear and overwhelming relief that had spiked through him.

“Now, it was the artillery data logs that were cataloged incorrectly, yeah?” Dogma had asked. “I want you to show me what you did, and then I’ll help you figure out where you went wrong so this doesn’t happen again.”

The innate compassion that he didn’t even seem to be aware of possessing paired with his logic and determination to problem solve and combat fear with facts had drawn you to him even before he knew you had existed, and to your frustration, it had never stopped luring you in even when you knew you should cut the line and pull away, which would have been the smart, pragmatic choice he would have made if he were in your position, which he’s not, and would be much safer for the both of you.

You’re quick to squash any impulse to think that maybe, just maybe, his inexplicable softening in this moment is because he has a soft spot for you. Stupid, you scold yourself. Stay on task and just be glad that you’re getting through to him at all.

“Their presence within the Force feels like that of a child,” you continue, your words picking up in speed as your desperation urging you to move forward grows. “Maybe even that of an infant. I can’t be sure. But we, we need to—”

“Alright, General. I understand your concern,” Dogma raises a hand, silencing your worried rambling.

He lets out a breath, tilting his head as his eyes intently scrutinize the small, rundown two-story house that is miraculously, at least for the most part, still standing in front of you.

“Just…” There’s a slow exhale of breath followed by the sound of him placing his helmet back on his head. 

“We need to be very careful in there. Let’s not give the medics more casualties to worry about.”

As soon as he finally agrees to search the house, you’ve stopped listening, immediately walking ahead to find a way inside just in case he takes it back.

You can hear his irritated huff in the distance, but sure enough, the sound of his heavy boots against crushed pavement follows you an instant later.

*

Despite only half listening to Dogma’s concerned directive that you need to be careful, you do try, at least at first, to listen to it. This starts easy. The discovery of two adult bodies trapped beneath the crumbling interior wall sobers you considerably, and it’s easy to pause and slow your steps after that.

This lasts for about five minutes into your search. 

Then the presence that sits at the edge of your consciousness like a beacon slowly begins to become restless, unsettled, and afraid, and you grow the distinct feeling that whoever it is—child, toddler, or Force forbid, a baby—is just beginning to wake up and is discovering that it’s all on its own.

The spike of fear that hits you square in the chest feels like it’s your own for a brief moment, and that’s all it takes to send you running up the cracked and splintering flight of stairs that you find in the back hallway. Closing your eyes, you allow the Force to guide you.

You’re up the stairs before Dogma can even call your name, and by the time he has, you’re in the room. You hear the distant, put-upon sigh he lets out before his reluctant footsteps begin to follow you, but you don’t focus on it. You’re too fixated on the nursery and on the hand-painted teddy bears on the wall. Did his mother, with so much love and patience, delicately create each one? Did his father, with so much optimism and hope for his child’s future, set up the crib in which he now sleeps?

Did the bombing, quick and fast and merciless, strike them down before they could even make it halfway to the staircase that separated them from their sleeping child? 

It is nothing short of a miracle that the downstairs wall that had caved in on both of them hadn’t started a chain reaction throughout the rest of the house. You are grateful that the second floor, by some Force-given stroke of luck, didn’t crumble down with it. And yet, all you can feel is grief stabbing like a piece of broken glass twisting in your heart, and upon taking a breath to steady yourself, you attempt to discern if it’s your own, or if it’s the child’s. The little boy in his crib is just beginning to stir and look up at you with big, watery eyes and an already trembling lip that instinctively causes you to take a step forward and reach out towards him.

Crack!

The sound rings unsettlingly loud, screaming of “something is wrong” just beneath your foot. It registers within your body, danger flaring up within the Force like a brush of wild fire against your skin an instant too late.

Because by the time you’re comprehending it, by the time your muscles tense as they prepare to react to the oncoming threat, your foot has already gone through the cracked and breaking boards of the old wooden floor beneath it, punching through the boards in what feels like a final, vicious jolt as it pulls you downward.

A sharp cry escapes your lips, arms and upper body flailing in a desperate, perilous attempt to pull your leg free, which only results in a further dissent through the floor, your leg precariously dangling in the air.

“Dogma!” you manage to shout, your word being half cut off by a gasp that seems to punch all the air from your lungs as you feel the snap of something tugging, something breaking within your leg as gravity fights to pull it down further than it can go through the hole.

Your ears are ringing, and distantly you think you can hear the child’s helpless, distraught wailing through the pounding of your heart, but the blurry fingers that tantalizingly brush over the corners of your eyes make it hard to differentiate past anything other than the pain.

“C-can you hold the floor?” 

Dogma’s voice, sure and steady despite its waiver, cuts through your pain and fear as it comes from just behind you. You swallow, biting back a whimper, your eyes still squeezed shut as you nod your head, reaching out a hand and letting the Force flow through you, reinforcing the floor that surrounds you so that he can make his way towards you without fear that he’ll fall through as well. It takes all your concentration to keep holding it up, and even then the stars are still fluttering beneath your tightly closed eyelids.

Hands guide your flailing ones to strong shoulders, your fingers curling and instantly trying to find purchase within the ridges of his cool, plastoid armor.

“I’ve got you. I’ve got you. Deep breath.”

That’s a big ask. Your heart is still racing too quickly, and you don’t think you can. But you must, with as much effort as you can muster, give a pretty good attempt.

“Good,” Dogma’s tone is warm, encouraging despite the tension that is pulled tight beneath. “Again, and when you do, I’m going to pull you up, alright?”

You nod, fear spiking through you but adrenaline doing its best to silence its protests.

You breathe. 

He tugs.

You must make some ungodly noise, because when the blinding, all-consuming pain loosens its iron grip, your throat feels slightly raw. Dogma’s voice is muffled, speaking to you in soft, soothing tones, and you realize with a start that you’re in his arms, holding tight to his shoulders as he carries you from the room to more stable ground.

“Wait, the...the baby. We can’t—”

“We’re going to wait for backup to get here so he can be safely retrieved,” he cuts you off smoothly, undoubtedly already working two steps ahead of your pain-addled brain. “He’s in the safest place he can be right now. We need to get you a med evac.”

It’s then that you make the mistake of pulling back slightly, glancing down at your leg uselessly dangling as he holds you up.

It’s a mess. 

You can still feel the blood that trickles down your leg, see the cuts, broken wood, and splinters that surround your upper thigh digging into your skin, and you swear you can clearly see where it’s broken. 

“Dogma!” Your voice comes out in a choked cry—a panicked and childlike whimper as adrenaline finally abates and fresh, overwhelming fear takes hold in its place.

“Shh, I know, I know. Easy, adika, easy.” 

You’d normally protest the endearment. Coming from the troopers, it’s usually meant to tease. But falling from his lips, so softly and so easily, instead it makes you feel soothed, and you're unresisting as he cradles the back of your head, tugging it away from the ugly wound and pressing it against his shoulder, holding you there. 

“Just hold onto me. I have you.”

You sniffle, swallowing a sob as he maneuvers you, slow and careful as he guides you onto the ground, his hands remaining on your shoulders as he props you against a wall. 

“See?” he murmurs, his voice reassuring as he takes your hand in his, the press of his fingers warm, even through his gloves. “I have you. You’re safe. Everything‘s going to be okay, I promise.”

You nod, raising a trembling hand to wipe tears away from your cheeks and he smiles, releasing his grip. 

You immediately long for the comfort of his warmth to return. But you don’t ask.

“I’m going to call the medic in charge of evac. See what can be done while we wait for them to get here,” he says, pulling out his comm. “Sit tight, hm?” he says, his voice serious and completely deadpan, his only giveaway being the slight twinkle in his eyes as he turns away.

“Dogma, that is not funny,” you burst out, your voice incredulous as you glare at him.

“Really?” he asks, raising a skeptic eyebrow at you as he leans forward, tapping against the persistent twitch in your cheek as it fights to pull your lips upward. “Then why are you smiling, mesh��la?”

You let out a sigh, your head thumping back against the wall and briefly wishing that your leg wasn’t broken right now, because if it was working, you’d surely take the opportunity to kick him for that.

He gives you a knowing smirk, turns away, and before you can respond, raises his comm to his lips.

*

“Alright,” Dogma says, already swinging off his pack. “If it were just a break, I would have to splint it. But the medics want me to leave it alone because of all the splinters. So lucky for you, we can just skip to administering painkillers.”

“Sounds great,” you say sardonically, summoning a small thumbs-up. All your energy is focused on breathing through the sharp, prominent pains that stab through your leg, now being the only thing to center your attention on.

“I’ve only got a hypo dose equipped for a standard clone trooper, so, uh...” he shakes his head, staring down at the injector in his hand with preemptive indecision.

“Too much is better than not enough,” you say with a dismissive shrug. “What’s the harm at this point?”

He fixes you with a look that you’ve come to recognize promises a lecture. 

“The harm is that there’s always a possibility you could overdose and die if I give you too much,” he says, sounding somewhat horrified at your easy agreement.

“I won’t,” you say, giving him as much of a reassuring smile as you can muster. “If worse comes to worst, I’ll be high as a kite for a couple hours, that’s all.”

“But we don’t—”

“Dogma.”

The soft utterance of his name gently cuts him off, and you reach out a hand, lightly touching his, his fingernails stilling their nervous drumming against the floor as he looks up at you. 

“I trust you,” you say, your voice completely earnest. He looks down, and you’re slightly surprised to see the shadow of pink that’s crept into his cheeks at the unquestioning sincerity of your words.

“Now please give me the hypo before I’m tempted to find more strenuous means to knock myself out so that I don’t have to feel this anymore.”

He lets out a soft huff, but there’s an upward tilt to his lips that he can’t quite hide as he leans forward, acquiescing with a silent nod before he presses the hypo to your neck. 

“Deep breath,” he warns. His voice is a low murmur, so close to your ear that you have to fight the urge to shiver. There’s a pinch, your lips pressing into a tight line as you fight the urge to make a sound, and then he’s pulling away, quickly discarding the used material.

“Perfect,” he mutters, hands swiftly repacking the small medkit. “You let me know if you start to feel dizzy or nauseous, okay?” 

You hum a soft agreement, your eyes closed as you take a slow, deep breath. The medication is fast-acting, and you can already feel the heaviness, the gentle and warm numbness that creeps into your bones as you lean your head back against the wall.

“Hang tight,” he says, and there’s a warm pressure against your uninjured knee as he briefly rests his hand there, fleeting and gone too soon. “We just have to wait for evac. They’ll be here soon.”

“So much waiting,” you sigh, your head lulling against your shoulder. Your mind has already wandered, lingering on that one word and bringing you back to memories of being an initiate lined up outside of large training rooms anxiously waiting for your turn to be assessed by the Council. 

“We would always play games as younglings while we were waiting for our turns for stuff,” you say, and your voice sounds far off, even to your own ears.

“What kind of games?” Dogma asks, and a part of you in the back of your mind thinks that he’s asking just to keep you talking, just to keep you here. You don’t really care, though. You’re happy to oblige.

“Like...talking games,” you shrug, blinking up at him slowly. The medication that was in the hypo made you feel like you’re thinking through some sort of fog. “Like ‘two truths and a lie.’”

“What’s that?” he asks, and now you can’t resist rolling your eyes, tilting your head in consternation.

“It’s pretty self-explanatory,” you shrug, and he gives you a slightly rueful grin in return.

“Humor me,” he says, moving to sit beside you and lean against the wall. “If we were playing, give me an example.”

“Okay,” you agree with a smile, because this game is fun, and you’ve forgotten how much fun it can be having not played it in years. “I’ll give you three facts. You guess which one the lie is.”

“Alright,” he says. “Hit me with them.”

He leans back on his heels, intrigued as to what you’re going to say. 

“I once saw Master Windu doing an impression of Master Yoda for a group of younglings.”

He nods, a small smile creeping onto his face. He knows this one. He has heard you recounting the story to a nervous shiny who was worried about working with him and one of his squads.

“I’ve never been kissed before.”

Your next words take him by slight surprise, even though they really shouldn’t. You’re a Jedi, and Jedi don’t typically engage in that kind of thing, though privately, he thinks that that’s quite a shame, at least when it comes to you. Of course, this could also be the lie. But judging by the somewhat dejected look on your face, he has a hard time believing that it is.

“And now I’m—”

His head snaps up, hearing the tiniest waver and break in your voice, startled to find your eyes peering back at him, filled with tears.

“And now I’m going to d die here, and no one’s even ever wanted to kiss me,” you sniffle, the tears now freely falling onto your cheeks.

“Hey, no, that’s not true,” Dogma murmurs, catching one of your hands in his. “You’re not going to die here, I promise. Kix’ll have you feeling good as new in no time. Please don’t cry, mesh’la. Everything’s okay.”

Logically, he knows that it’s just an adverse reaction to the medication, the side effects tending to cause emotional instability, especially, he reminds himself, because the dose he had given you wasn’t properly tailored to your height and weight. But he still can’t help the way that his heart breaks a little at the sight of you, looking up at him with such a pitiful, lost expression. 

“But, but I feel so strange, like I’m dying,” you say, tripping over your words a little. You don’t know why you keep talking. You can’t really think of why there would be a reason to continue and don’t even anticipate or think through your next words. “And, and I’ve liked you for so long, and I wanted you to kiss me, but it would be selfish for me to ask because,” you hiccup, reaching up to swipe at your eyes with a sleeve. “Because you don’t, you don’t like me like that, and I’d never, I’d never want to make you feel like you had to.”

Silence stretches so long that you dip your head and stare down at the ground, watching the path of an ant as it walks along the cracked floorboards.

Then, “I know what your lie is.” 

You blink, confused. Your lie? What lie? You don’t remember a...oh yeah, the two of you were playing a game of “two truths and a lie,” and well, everything feels so fuzzy and warm, and for a minute your body felt so numb that you thought you were dying, and you forgot that you were supposed to think of a lie to tell him. Oopsies.

“Wha,” you mumble, brain foggy as it tries to follow and discern the thread of his words and the conversation.

“You said I could never like you like that,” he says, folding his arms across his chest. “That’s a lie.”

You blink, completely taken aback. Downstairs, you can hear the sounds of boots against the floor, troopers and another voice that makes you think it might be Ahsoka conversing as they make their way through the house.

“It is?” You ask, slightly startled, even as your lips pull into an unbridled and triumphant smile and you fight the urge to giggle because he likes you. He actually likes you.

“It is,” he agrees, giving you a small smile as he takes your hand and gives it a brief squeeze before letting it go as the voices draw nearer and the boots clatter up the stairs. “And when this is all over and you’re not high on pain meds, I promise I’ll prove it to you.”

You smile, nodding up at him, feeling content. You turn your head sensing a presence to find Kix standing above you, a seemingly permanent look of concern etched on his face.

“Kix,” you say with a smile, giving him a wave. “Did you know that Dogma likes me?” 

“It would be impossible not to, bud,” he says with an easy smile as he drops to his knees at your side, though you swear you catch him giving Dogma a strange look.

Oh, right. You must be injured, and if you had the energy you would look down and check. You know this because Kix reserves things like calling you “bud” for when you’re hurt. So, you reason that you must be, considering that and the small wince he gives you as he looks down.

“Have you been crying?” he asks, newly concerned as he gets a good look at your face, taking your chin in his hand. “That leg must hurt a lot, huh?” 

You nod and shrug, though the fact that you’ve been crying is news to you. You’ve been crying? You can’t remember why. 

“Before we move you onto the stretcher, I need to remove the splinters from your leg and examine the break,” he says in that calm and matter-of-fact way of his. “I know you’re on some pretty substantial pain meds right now, but it still might hurt a lot when I touch it,” he explains, giving you a sympathetic look. “How would you feel if I were to give you something that’ll let you take a little nap while I get you fixed up?”

“Sounds great,” you agree immediately, beaming up at him with enthusiasm. “I like naps. Naps are great.”

“Dogma,” Kix turns, speaking to your companion. “Ideally, I’d want her in a fully reclined position when I administer the anesthetic. “If you take your thigh plates off, she can put her head in your lap, and it’ll be a bit more comfortable than it would be if she were on the floor.”

You don’t hear a verbal response, but you look over to see Dogma, and is it your imagination or Does he look, eager? As he nods his head.

A second later, there’s the sound of armor releasing, clattering as it’s neatly stacked to one side. Kix carefully maneuvers you, helping you shift so that you’re lying down. You can feel Dogma’s warmth, so close to your cheek through the material of his blacks as you lie your head on his legs.

One of his hands moves, gently touching your hair before he hesitates, looking as if he might pull away. You tilt your head, making a small noise of protest as you nuzzle into his hand and he gives you a small smile, hand returning to gently stroke your hair.

“This okay?” he asks softly, and you nod your head, a contented smile on your lips.

“Perfect,” you agree softly, your eyes drifting shut, coaxed by the gentle and soothing touch, and really, it is.

So perfect, in fact, that you barely register the slight pinch in your shoulder as Kix, taking advantage of the distraction, smoothly administers the anesthetic.

*

“Hey, mesh’la. Open your eyes for me?”

“No.” Your response comes out in a tired mumble, feeling so warm and comfortable despite the persistent pinching of something in your arm that you don’t feel inclined to listen until…wait. That was Dogma. He’s calling you “mesh’la.” And the pinching of something in your arm? What is that pinching?

Your eyes fly open, snapping your head up from where it’s resting on a pillow to find the source of the discomfort, quickly becoming dizzy at the sudden movement but not before your eyes catch on the tape that’s securing the IV line at your inner elbow. Your leg has been put in a cast, and judging by the generous coating of something sticky and cool beneath it, you have to assume that it’s bacta soaked.

Everything hits you at once—the injury, the hypo, that stupid game of “two truths and a lie,” the utterly embarrassing way you had confessed your feelings to Dogma, and…oh, Force.

“Hey.” 

Dogma’s hands are on your shoulders, easing you back down, a concerned expression on his face as he contemplates you.

“Take it easy,” he continues. His hands are light, but they remain where they are, the touch warm and grounding.

“The, the baby?” you ask, the sight of his face reminding you of how you had even gotten into this mess to begin with.

“He’s fine,” he reassures you, reaching out to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. “Commander Tano was able to pull him from the room without incident.”

You smile, relieved, but it’s fleeting, replaced with fresh shame and guilt as you avert your eyes from his, worriedly biting your lip.

“Dogma, I am so, so sorry about all that,” you say, waving your hand as if that would explain what all that means. “I didn't, I wasn't thinking straight and I just, I wanted to say that I don’t...”

You stop, words trailing off into nothing because he hasn’t pulled away. In fact, he’s lightly stroking your cheek before cupping your chin, eyes bright as he leans forward and cradles your face, his thumb gentle as it smooths over the hollow of your cheek.

“W-what are you doing?” you ask, your voice coming out breathless.

“Keeping my promise,” he says simply.

He leans down, slow, delicate, and wanting as he brushes his lips against yours. He lingers there, long enough for you to notice that his lips are slightly chapped from countless instances of anxiously being worried between his teeth beneath the shelter of his helmet. But they’re warm, tender, and despite your donning confusion, at this moment, they are just for you.

When he pulls back, your eyes are fluttering, and he smiles down at you as you try to comprehend. 

“You, I, what?” You stutter, and apparently he has rendered you unable to form a complete sentence.

“Shh,” he soothes, his voice soft as his thumb brushes along the outline of your lips. “That’s the truth, mesh’la. It’s my truth.”

“You, you like me?” You ask timidly, for some reason feeling the need to verify.

“I thought we pretty obviously established that,” he says, and there’s no hiding the smirk that’s on his lips. “But just in case you need clarification, yes, I do. I like you very much, and I hope that your whole speech wasn’t just the painkillers talking, because you’ve made me hope that you might perhaps feel the same way.”

“I do,” you say quickly, your cheeks feeling like they’re on fire at the reminder. “But, but I couldn’t ask. I know how important following the rules is to you, and I couldn’t.”

“And if you want me,” he says, ending your rambles with another gentle brush of his thumb against your lips. “If you’ll have me, I would bend every single one of them.”

Oh.

Well, you really don’t know what you could adequately say in response to that declaration. So instead, you settle on a single, quiet request, looking up at him with soft, pleading eyes.

“Stay?” you ask, your voice just above a soft whisper.

“Of course,” he says, features softening at your tone. “Always.”

He takes your hand, gently lifting it to press his lips to the back of your knuckles, closing his eyes as he holds it to him for a moment. 

“Besides,” he says, a roguish grin appearing on his face as he sets your hand back down on the blanket, keeping your fingers lightly twined with his. “Someone has to make sure you follow the bedrest requirements and don’t sneak out of the medbay before they’re up.”

“What,” you say in a snort, unable to stop it as you look up at him. “You don’t trust the medics to be able to keep me here?” you ask, sounding skeptical.

“Oh, considering that they have to deal with Skywalker and Tano on a daily basis, I fully trust their abilities,” he says, his voice light and amused. “I just happen to think I can be a little bit more persuasive.”

He raises your hand, turning it so he can press his lips to the inside of your wrist, feeling your pulse jump and skip beneath them, causing him to smile, his eyes bright as he looks up at you.

Well, when he puts it like that, it’s easy for you to see his point. 

“C-come here and kiss me again,” you murmur, and there’s no hiding the breathlessness in your voice as you look up at him.

He obliges, shifting to take your face between warm, calloused hands, his fingers brushing against your jaw, softly cradling your cheeks as he leans in. His lips meet yours in a warm, tender caress as he lets out a soft, contented noise that hums against your skin. You sigh, letting your eyes close, now fully able to bask in the feeling of him pressed against you. The way his broad shoulders completely dwarf you from view. The way his tongue just barely brushes against your parted lips, causing you to shiver in response. His warm chuckle, and the smile that lights up his eyes as he pulls away.

And well...it becomes pretty easy to see his point, because you think if he keeps kissing you like that, you might just do whatever he asks of you, just in the hopes that he’ll give you another.

Is it bribery? Sure. But he’s made the reward so sweet that you don’t have any qualms about taking it.

So, when he looks down at you and asks, his fingers idly stroking through your hair as he does, “Do you think you can get a little bit more sleep for me, cyar?” all you can do is nod.

“Keep doing that,” you mumble, the medication going through your IV already making you feel drowsy, sleep becoming a relatively easy thing to surrender to. “And I think I’ll do whatever you want.”

•Thank you to @lornaka for the amazing art on these dividers. And thank you all so much for reading. If you enjoyed, please consider leaving a reblogg. You might help someone else discover something that they enjoy, too😊

[neon-junkie]

SW nsfw headcannon: Fives and Echo would absolutely wreck your shit together

Echo and Fives are like the Yin and Yang of the bedroom.

Echo is soft, caring, tender, loving. He will ensure that you're getting as much pleasure as possible, even when you're doing the act of giving. And no giving act goes unnoticed - go down on him, and he'll go down on you for twice as long.

Fives is passionate, eager, bold, forward. As giving as Echo is, Fives will make you work for your meal, whether that's being dicked down, or just receiving kisses. He's not cruel, though, as you'll be rolling your eyes back from his words alone.

Echo will be taking his sweet time going down on you, all whilst Fives is nibbling hickey after hickey across your body.

Yin and Yang, I'm tellin' ya!

[actuallybarb]

softest sweater

pairing: captain rex x gn!reader

warnings: one curse word i think, reader and rex shower together but there’s nothing sexual, ahsoka is sad, there’s literally no plot this is just self-indulgent fluff

word count: 0.86k

a/n: i just want it to stop being 104° every day and have a clone trooper to call my own. modern au, i guess, but nothing is specified. i wrote this in, like, an hour, so pls forgive any mistakes

The sleeves of your sweater were pushed up over your elbows as you washed the growing pile of dishes in the sink, watching the rain fall from your kitchen window. Since the window faced your backyard, you didn’t see whoever it was that knocked on your front door. One quick glance through the peephole, though, had you throwing it open.

Ahsoka stood on your front step, completely soaked through. You pulled her into your home, and with the sounds of the storm shut out with the closed door, you could properly hear her choked back sobs.

“‘Soka?”

“Barriss, she—she broke up with me.”

“Oh, baby.” Water be damned, you pulled her into a hug, softly stroking her cold montrals. “Everything’s gonna be okay.”

She pulled back and wiped at her eyes, still sniffling. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

“I’m glad you came here. Do you want to talk about it?” She shook her head, water falling off of her. “Raid the closet for something dry, I’ll get you some food.”

She pulled you into another hug and mumbled, “Thank you,” into your chest.

You turned back into the kitchen and set the oven to preheat, then sent a quick message.

She’s with me.

After you put the frozen pizza into the oven and started on some cookie dough, your front door opened again. Heavy footsteps turned into soft ones as boots were taken off by the door to dry, then Rex stepped into your kitchen and wrapped his arms around you, tucking his chin on your shoulder.

You leaned back into him as he pressed a gentle kiss to your neck, giggling when sweater fluff got into his mouth and made him sputter. “Hey.”

“Hey. Cookies?”

“And pizza.“ You looked over your shoulder and kissed his jaw before saying quietly, “Barriss broke up with her. She walked here in the rain.”

“Ah, shit. Poor kid.”

“I’d wait for her to come downstairs before you get changed.”

“Probably a good call.” He moved around you and pulled out the brown sugar and flour and passed both of them to you. “And how was your day?”

“Camrac still hasn’t been fired, so, you know, it wasn’t great.” You grin at his muffled chuckle. “It was fine, nothing unexpected. I’m sure I’ll think of something worthwhile to tell you later.”

He smiled. “Looking forward to it.” He took the mixing bowl from your hands and covered the top with a towel, then put it in the fridge to chill. Then he pulled on the oven mitts and carefully removed the pizza from the oven.

Ahsoka appeared at the entrance to the kitchen, wearing one of your softest sweaters and some of Rex’s shorts, rubbing at her eye.

“Hey, kid.”

“Hi Rex.” She walked toward him and tucked herself into his side, his arm tightly wrapped around her shoulders. “Is that pizza?”

“And there’s cookie dough in the fridge.” You sliced the pizza and grabbed some plates. “Movie?”

She nodded. “Movie.”

The three of you arranged yourselves on the couch and got lost in the film. When the pizza and cookie dough were gone, Ahsoka’s head ended up in Rex’s lap, and his head ended up on your shoulder.

His eyes fluttered open as the credits started to roll. “I missed it?”

You snickered and kissed his cheek. “That’s why we picked one we’d all seen before.” You glanced down at the Togruta and smiled softly. “Will you carry her upstairs?”

“Yeah, I’ve got her, you go turn down the bed.”

You crouch down to her level and place a warm hand on her shoulder. “‘Soka?”

“Hmm?”

“We’re gonna take you upstairs.” She started to sit up and open her eyes, but you increased the pressure on her shoulder just barely. “Rex will carry you, baby, just lift your head.”

She did as you instructed and Rex lifted her easily, then they followed you up the stairs. You pulled the covers back on the spare bed, then tucked her in when Rex set her down, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. Then you plugged in a soft night light before closing the door.

Rex already had the shower running when you entered the en suite bathroom of your room, and you groaned as the eucalyptus scented steam filled the space. “You spoil me.”

“I treat you exactly the way you deserve.”

You both stripped down and stepped into the shower, grateful once again you installed the overhead shower head when you first moved in.

Rex’s hair was easy to wash, and you had him purring for you as you scratched product into his scalp.

He happily returned the favor.

The rain finally stopped as the two of you dried off, changed into pajamas, and slipped into bed. Rex, the living furnace, opened his arms and let you curl into him, your head on his chest. He hummed in contentment as he stroked his fingers up and down your back. Your eyes slowly started to close, and you hummed back.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Your family, all under one roof, safe and dry and warm.

There’s nothing else you could’ve asked for.

[green-alm0nd]

[Rex x Jedi!gn!reader]: Let me help you

----

----

Summary:

Jedi can't show feelings, yet your insecurities have not been really noticed by anyone. Except for the Captain of the 501st battalion, who happens to have feelings for you and can't stand seeing you hurt yourself.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: ANGST, MENTIONS OF SELF-HARM IN THE FORM OF SCRATCHING, AND CUTTING, lots of feelings, insecure reader, comfort, slightly suggestive in some parts, sad Rex hours, protective Rex, drinking, fluff, mild mentions of a panic attack, angst with a happy ending. Kinda self indulgent but that's not the point. Not proofread.

Enjoy!

A/N: I'm not really happy how this came out, but it's not the worst fanfic I've ever made. In my mind, it was supposed to go one way and when I wrote it it took a whole other turn. I'll probably edit it at some point.

----

"'Ner Nau', a Mando'a word that means 'light', or, 'My light'."

----

Rain fell over Coruscant, coating the planet in a translucent veil. The city lights and the sounds of speeders flying everywhere made it look more melancholic than it actually was.

79's was as busy as ever, having won a fight against a bunch of Separatists droids had the 501st bursting with confidence. Which was, of course, understandable. Twi'lek waiters and waitresses served drinks to the clones, some already drunk, others with slightly more tolerance. They danced, laughed and enjoyed since the night was still young.

There stood Rex, proud of his men, yet embarrassed at the sight of his squad acting like a bunch of kids celebrating their birthday. The clone took a sip of his drink, and awkwardly looked away whenever he received some sort of whistle or sway of hips coming from any of the waiters or waitresses. He shifted his weight from one leg to the other, uncomfortably staring at the doors of the bar.

You came through the door, looking exhausted. Rex's face immediately brightened, and he left his drink aside, walking towards you.

"General." He greeted, with a small nod. You were looking extremely attractive, despite you were wearing the same Jedi robes as ever.

"Captain." You greeted back, with a small smile.

When Rex looked back at you, he couldn't help but notice the bags under your eyes, and the overall exhaustion that you seemed to show: slumped shoulders instead of a confident pose, tired eyes instead of ones filled with determination, no one needed to be an expert to know something was up.

"If I knew you'd be this exhausted, I wouldn't have invited you here in the first place."

You shrugged it off.

"Oh, don't worry about it. Today's battle was tiring for all of us, except for you lot. I've never seen a squad with such energy." You remarked, smiling fondly at the celebration they were having.

Rex let out a light chuckle.

"Yeah, my boys are like this every time."

He motioned at the bartender.

"Want me to get you a drink?" He asked.

You shook your head no.

"Nah, I'm fine." You replied, still taking a sit next to his. Your hands rested on your lap, looking around the clone bar.

You had to admit, Rex looked extremely attractive under the lights of 79's. His armour hugged his body perfectly, and his face didn't have that frown he held in battle. His face was relaxed, and calm. While you were slightly, not to say clearly, tense.

Red, green, and blue shone repeatedly, in an almost overwhelming dance. Music blasted off the loudspeakers, someone with sensitive ears might've found it annoyingly loud.

Some clones approached you, and you kept a light conversation with them. Rex watched from the side, taking small sips from his drink as he stared in awe. Even though you looked exhausted and slightly uncomfortable, you made sure to talk to people. He admired how strong-willed you were.

Until, he saw them, that is.

He stopped for a moment, his smile instantly dropping and his brow furrowing. Your Jedi robes lifted up at the exact moment where he could see some spots on your hands and wrists that were in a lighter, pinkish colour.

He frowned, weirded out by the small spots on your hands. He knew what they were, it wasn't the first time he had seen them. He had a few scars on his own, war always left a scar. But yours...yours were different.

Yours were cuts. Yours were scratches. And they weren't old. They were clean cuts, and that scared Rex.

He stared at you, at your smile, which no longer seemed like the smile that made his heart beat faster. It was fake, false, so...not you.

His head started making up questions. How did you get them? Did someone do something to you? Did you inflict them upon yourself? Had this happened before?

Had he been so dumb he hadn't realised?

He didn't want to make you uncomfortable while you spoke to the other clones, so he waited. The taste of spotchka left bitter in his mouth, no longer craving for a drink. Eventually, you and Rex were alone again, and you felt his uneasiness through the Force. His signature was tense, and a tad agitated. He spun the glass with his hand, the drink following the lazy yet tense movement. His lip quivered slightly before he started talking.

"What are those?" He asked, his dark brown eyes piercing into yours.

You didn't have to ask what he meant, based on his rigid and stiff pose, his eyes never leaving yours. You tried puffing your chest, trying to look more confident as a defence mechanism.

"War brings scars. As a Captain, you should perfectly know what it means." You excused, heart beating in anticipation.

Rex shook his head. He gripped his glass cup. How could he have been so oblivious?

"I've met many clones, people and Jedi in my time. But none lied as bad as you are lying right now."

Your view shifted to the ground. You expected disappointment, anger, and discontentment. Yet, Rex's voice remained unreadable.

"What are those, Ner Nau?" He asked, no hint of anger nor disappointment. Just worry.

Your mind went into overdrive. Your gaze started darting around. Had others noticed? Were the other clones looking at you? Did they know? You felt yourself dissociating from reality, hiding your consciousness in the darkest corner of your mind. Your breathing became more erratic, and you found yourself unable to breathe. It was pathetic, you felt pathetic. A Jedi is supposed to keep their cool, to learn to control their emotions. However, Rex had always been able to break the glass that separated control from feeling. If all clones saw you like this, it could be bad. It was already bad enough that Rex was seeing you in a weak moment, you had to get out of there immediately.

Rex's words felt like a broken, dusty record. You couldn't make up the words, he seemed genuinely confused and concerned. Your senses came back, but your panic attack didn't leave as fast as it came. You felt dizzy from hyperventilating, and you needed some fresh air.

"I have to go." You said, before getting up and leaving Rex alone.

....

Rex was left alone. He wondered how you'd get back to the Jedi Temple with the pouring rain, though that wasn't even the main problem. He had seen something that filled his body with dread. And the person he felt the closest to refused to open up to him, and it saddened the clone.

He thought about it, wanting to chase after you. However, everything had happened too quickly, and the last thing he wanted was to make you more uncomfortable than you already were.

He took a sip of his drink before heading back to his headquarters, thinking about the recent events that had taken place, and if his question had ruined the friendship he valued the most.

....

Rain continued to fall on Coruscant, clouds covering the stars that orbited around the planet. The Jedi Temple was unusually quiet, the sounds of steps being the only thing that kept the sanction from complete silence.

You were in your barracks, preparing a few things as you were going on a mission. You felt truly embarrassed for what had happened the previous night, only making a fool out of yourself and Rex even more worried than he already was. You made sure to cover your arms well, though it had been hard to hide the scratches on your knuckles, fueled by the nervousness and the need for some sort of release.

You took a deep breath, and exited your barracks.

Jedi were walking around the temple, each focused on their own task. Most of the time, Jedi were egocentric, only focusing on controlling their emotions and not helping those who mentally screamed for help. It bothered you, yet you focused on other stuff, since thoughts like those could lead you to the Dark Side. Then again, at this point it felt better to let emotions release and not just bottle them up like everyone around you did.

On the way to the hangar, you felt a hand pull you to a room. It grabbed you from your sleeve, and slid you towards the right of the corridor.

Rex.

The door automatically closed, and you found yourself alone in the room with the clone you loved the most. He had left his helmet on a small table on the side of the room. His expression remained stoic, yet he seemed worried.

"Tell me. There's no one here. You can trust me, I won't tell the Council, I won't tell anyone." He said, almost desperately.

You were taken aback by his sudden behaviour, how this strong-willed clone Captain looked so worried and concerned for you.

"I know what those are. I've seen them before; why didn't you tell me? I could've- I could've done something."

You stared at him, trying to keep it together. You didn't want to break down in front of the person you loved the most.

"Rex, it's... complicated. It's a lot more deeper than you think." Your reply didn't seem to work on Rex, he felt guilty for not realising what you were going through.

The clone took your hands in his, butterflies erupting from your stomach at the mere touch. But that pleasant feeling in your stomach was quickly replaced by dread when Rex stopped in his tracks. He felt the slightly rough surface on your hands, scratches that could be quickly dismissed by saying it had been a loth-cat; scratches you had made yourself. Inflicted upon yourself.

He stared at you, a silent plea, waiting for the consent to see how far your pain went to.

You had nothing left to lose. After all, you already had the chance to lose his friendship. You looked away, letting him.

Rex carefully lifted up your sleeves. The clone braced himself for the worst, and slid your sleeves to your elbows. He felt as if all the air had been sucked out of his lungs by a punch. Clean, and somehow concise cuts rested on your skin.

You felt ashamed that you had left Rex see your arms in the first place. However, when you stared at him, he stared at you back, a pleading look in his eyes yet again. You knew he was trying to nonverbally ask for permission to touch your scars, and even though you risked your friendship even more, you allowed yourself to feel vulnerable.

His hands slowly touched one of the scars, slowly sliding down from your elbow to your wrist. His fingertips traced and rested on the bumps on your skin; some deeper, some not so deep, a constant reminder of the neverending pain you had to endure.

His eyes tried to search for yours.

"Ner Nau..." He whispered, caressing your scars. It wasn't painful, in any way, it was more of a temporary remedy that were his fingertips.

"You're wonderful. How could you even do something like this? Why didn't you ask for help? Why didn't you let me help you?" He asked, staring intently.

Your eyes widened, surprised at his question. You couldn't believe Rex's reaction. Yet there it was, no one else in that room, a worried friend trying to comfort the hurt.

"Asking for help doesn't make you weak." He assured, bringing his lips to your scars, trying to somehow ease the pain.

He kissed every single one of those small bumps, a silent support, and his acts, a comforting lull, making sure you felt loved.

"You matter. Don't do this to yourself."

That's when you finally broke.

Your eyes filled with tears, as you quietly sobbed. Rex slowly wrapped his arms around you, providing you with the comfort you needed at that moment.

"It's alright. I've got you now." He reassured.

And ever since that day, Rex became a lighthouse, a guiding spark that helped you out, that showed you were loved, and to show that the clone Captain loved you.

----

Not very satisfied with this one but I'm also working on headcanons ideas that I like more.

Reblogs and shares are highly appreciated!

My requests are still open!

[vodika-vibes]

Hey Vodika!

I don't know if you're currently accepting requests, but I'll leave it here just in case. Could I please ask for the Members of the Coruscant Guard whose S/O brings them a coffee with a snack and a kiss every day for a good day's work? That would be super sweet and tender. 😍

Kind regards!

Morning Routines

Summary: Your partner works so hard and much, and all you want to do is make his life easier. This desire birthed a morning habit that you’ve grown to love.

Pairings: Commander Thire x GN!Reader, Commander Thorn x F!Reader, Clone Trooper Hound x F!Reader

Word Count: 1533 total

Warnings: Pregnancy

A/N: So, I'm not sure if this is exactly what you wanted, but I kind of rolled with it so that all of the stories aren't the same. Also, you didn't specify which Corries you wanted, so I picked the three that were making me happy this morning.

Click HERE to be added to my taglist!

Commander Thire x GN!Reader

You lean your hip against the door frame that leads into Thire’s office (a small room where he’s able to fill paperwork in peace and talk to the men under his command without everyone eavesdropping) and a small smile lifts your lips as you watch him work for a moment.

Like all of his brothers, Thire has dark skin and curly hair. The same face, and hairstyle, repeated over and over and over…and yet you’d never mistake any of his brothers for him.

He absently uses the back of his pen to scratch a scar on his neck and then goes back to filling out his paperwork, apparently so deep in his work that he hasn’t even noticed you’re there. 

You press your hand over your mouth to smother your amused laugh, content with just watching him for now. 

In truth, you could watch him for hours and never get tired of it. He gets so flustered when you watch him, and it generally ends up with him pressing his hand over your eyes and pulling you into a deep kiss to distract you.

Which, really, only makes you want to watch him more. 

You lightly knock on the open door, “Knock, knock.”

He looks up at the sound of your voice, and a bright smile crosses his face, “Cyare, I was wondering when you were going to show up.”

You step into his office and cross over to his desk to set a thermos of caf and a homemade breakfast sandwich in front of him, “Oh, I’ve been here for a few minutes. I like watching you work.”

He laughs softly, “You just like watching me.”

“That too,” You lean against his desk, “I shouldn’t stay long, I have some errands I have to run.”

“Can you stay for a little bit?” He asks as he leans back in his seat while reaching out for you.

You immediately slide your hand into his and allow him to tug you onto his lap, “I don’t want to distract you from your work.” You reply, though that doesn’t stop you from trailing your lips against his temple.

“Please distract me from my work. If I have to read another incident report about the 501st’s drunken antics last night I’m going to lose my mind.”

You laugh softly, “Well then, I should probably go and shut the door.”

He grins at you and then tugs you into a proper kiss, his hand sliding up to rest on the back of your neck. “I’m not bothered if you’re not.”

Commander Thorn x F! Reader

Thorn is a man in love.

His cyare, in his opinion, is the pinnacle of perfection and he can and will fight anyone who disagrees with him about that fact.

She’s so amazing that she takes time out of her busy day to bring him breakfast. She does this every morning. Even when he says that she doesn’t have to. Even when he’s not working.

She says that feeding people is her love language, so he’s long since stopped fighting her about it. And now he just eagerly awaits her arrival at his office.

“Thorn!”

And there she is. Hair pulled off her neck, dressed in an adorable red and pink sundress, and wearing the pendant that he gave her for their first anniversary. 

He is so in love with her.

“Cyare,” Thorn stands to greet her, though he knows he doesn’t have to. “Good morning,”

“Good morning to you too,” She grins at him, and Thorn can’t help but notice that she’s wearing the deep red lipstick that he loves so much. 

“Someone’s dressed up today,” he teases lightly as he accepts the bag of food and the thermos that’s decorated with various animals, and sets them on his desk so he’s able to cup her face.

“I woke up feeling cute this morning.” She explains as she leans her head into his touch.

“You wake up cute every morning, cyare.” Thorn praises with a grin.

He steps around his desk and allows her to slide into his arms. She smells like her lotion, some sort of soft-smelling flower that she likes, and Thorn can’t stop from burying his face in her neck to try and imprint her scent on his brain. 

She giggles, and her fingers lightly tuck a curl that’s fallen out of his bun back into place, “I’m going to talk to my grandfather about the home he offered me this morning. I thought I’d dress up and make a good impression.”

“That right?”

Her fingers slide down the back of his neck and stop as soon as they hit the plastoid of his armor, “I did some thinking, and I think, so long as the house doesn’t come with strings, I’ll take it.”

Thorn pulls away from her neck to look at her, “You need a bodyguard?” he asks, “I can pull some shinies to play protection for you.”

She laughs, a bubbly noise that never fails to make him smile, “There’s no need for you to abuse your rank, Thorn.” Her smile is bright, though, so he takes it as a win. “Anyway, the home he offered me would be a nice place to start a family—” she says lightly, as she traces the red paint on his armor.

Thorn’s thought process screeches to a halt as her words hit home. And he can’t stop himself from picturing her pregnant with his baby. “Yeah?” He asks, suddenly very hoarse, “A family with me?”

Her smile is a little shy and a little teasing, “Well, who else is there?”

Thorn stares at her, genuinely speechless for a moment, and then he finds the words, “I love you.”

She grins at him wide enough that her eyes crinkle at the corner, “I love you too.” She stands on her toes and presses a loving kiss to his cheek, “I’ll let you know how it goes. Enjoy your breakfast!”

And then she’s gone as if he’s going to be able to focus on work at all for the rest of the day.

Sergeant Hound x F! Reader

Hound works hard. If he were a natborn rather than a clone, he’d be bringing home a lot of money.

Tragically, he’s not a natborn which means he doesn’t get paid at all, and all of the money he has access to is slated towards the care and maintenance of the Massiffs and the Kennels that he runs.

Luckily, that also includes medical care.

Hound frowns as he crouches next to a whimpering Massiff, he was kicked in the side by a target and hasn’t been the same since. The vet is already en route.

“Good morning, Hound.” He doesn’t jump when he hears a familiar voice from behind him, though some of the tension does drain from his body. 

The vet, this vet specifically, is his riduur. They’ve been married for the better part of 6 months now, and there is no one he trusts more with the Massiffs. 

“Morning, Doc.” He straightens and favors her with a lopsided smile, “Didn’t think you were still doing house calls.” That’s what she said, at least. She looks good though. 

Long hair pulled into a no-nonsense tail, her scrubs neat with nothing overly loose that could get caught or tangled. A diagnostic droid trailing behind her, a tool she’s had to start taking advantage of due to her condition.

Honestly, Hound had no idea that they made maternity scrubs until she dragged him clothes shopping when none of her clothes fit her anymore.

“I’m not.” She replies lightly, “You forgot your breakfast at home, and I was already on my way to bring it to you when my nurse called and said that you called for a vet. I offered.”

Hound blinks, “Breakfast?” Her hands are empty, save for her kit.

“I’m hardly foolish enough to bring food into the kennels, Hound.”

“That’s fair, you left it on my desk then?”

“Of course.” She walks over to the kennel holding the injured massiff and peers at him, “I need to get into the kennel.”

Hound pauses, his hand hovering over the latch, “Are you sure about this?” His gaze drops to her stomach. Her very round, very pregnant, stomach.

“I’m pregnant, not dying.” She sets her hands on her hips, “I’m more than capable of doing my job, so long as you do your job and keep him calm.”

“Oh, come on, cyare. I’m allowed to be a little unsettled about this.” Hound points out.

At that, she smiles at him and leans up to kiss his cheek, “You’re sweet, and I love you for it. But you don’t have to worry about me. Promise.”

Hound sighs and opens the door to the kennel, before issuing a sharp order to the Massiff in Mando’a.

Maybe, when this is over, he can talk his Riduur into staying and having breakfast with him. But for now, he offers her his arms as she slowly lowers herself to the ground.

His riduur is the most stubborn woman on Coruscant…and he wouldn’t change her for all of the credits in the galaxy.

@imabeautifulbutterfly @n0vqni @bad4amficideas @justiceandwar98 @Mira-Loves-Star-Wars

@tiredbi-peach @dukeoftheblackstar @trixie2023 @kimiheartblade @padawancat97

@falconfeather23435 @etod @bb8-99 @kiss-anon @continous-mistakes

@yoitsjay @liz-stat @cc--2224

[yoitsjay]

Like Your Not Even There

Pairings: The bad batch x gn reader

Summary: The bad batch catches you dancing like nobody's watching

Warnings: fluff, crosshair flirting, no echo

Word count: 1,403

You couldn’t really remember when you had joined The Bad Batch. You had enlisted in the republic army as a combat certified medic, having been part of a planet’s military before it was taken over by the separatists, and you had left to offer the republic your support.

Because you weren’t a clone they didn’t place you with any of the larger battalions, though you’ve heard stories of how amazing the 212th and the 501st were. Instead you had been placed with a small clone unit called Clone Force 99 professionally, however they called themselves The Bad Batch.

At first you were very much an outcast, and the four clones were untrusting of you until one of them ended up severely hurt. It was Tech, who had ended up with a broken ankle as well as a broken arm. You were the one who had rushed out behind cover and shot multiple battle droids whilst dragging Tech behind a rock before you immediately started repairing the broken bones, and then managed to get him back to the Marauder whilst laying your own cover fire.

Crosshair, Hunter and Wrecker immediately gained trust in you, and welcomed you into their little family. It still took a couple months, but you fell into their routine on the battlefield and in the Marauder. You got first dibs on the shower because if you didn’t you wouldn’t use the good salve that wasn't technically republic approved but worked better than bacta did, and instead would just use Bacta. Which they didn’t mind but- it was the little things that mattered…

That currently took you to the present. The Batch was off on a restock mission while you got to enjoy a bit of much needed alone time. On a previous mission, one of the citizens you had saved had given you a portable radio, and Tech showed you how to hook it up to your data pad where you had a bunch of recorded songs.

So you had the excuse to play them on full blast, and you were dancing away in the cockpit of the Marauder with your music blasting, a ration bar in your hands, acting like a microphone as you bounced around the ship, singing the lyrics to whatever song was playing.

“The look, the lips, the hips, the tits, the hair, the eyes, the skin, the waist, you can see what i can do on this microphone so guess what i'm gonna do to you at home!” You sang out loud as Perfect (Exceeder) played on your radio.

You jumped around in the hallway, letting out a squeal as you entered the bunk room, reaching your bunk as you hummed more lyrics while searching for something underneath the bunk. The song then finished, but went on to play another one of your favorites from a new band you discovered recently by taking a sneaky look at Tech’s datapad.

My Iron Lung by Radiohead flooded through your speakers as you found the wrench you were looking for, taking a bite from your ration bar as you rushed back to the cockpit, sliding underneath the chairs to one of the control panels.

“Fath~ you're driving me away.” You sang out, humming as you held the wrench in your mouth whilst unscrewing the panel. You were tasked with fixing some aspects of the ship after all, but it didn’t stop you from singing and dancing as you did so.

You removed the wrench from your mouth, and started tinkering around, belting out more lyrics.

���From my life support, my Iron, lung~”

You continued singing and working before fixing whatever issue that was causing some issues with the fresher, humming the last bits of the song as you tidied up your toolbox before putting it back underneath your bunk.

“The head shrinkers, they want everything, My uncle bill, my belisha beacon~” you sang, wiggling your hips as the song faded out. You were a bit out of breath by now from all the dancing and bouncing around, but of course it didn’t stop you, and now you started organizing the little med area whilst dancing.

Distracted by everything you hadn’t realized that Hunter and the others had come back, the music followed by your singing being heard from the outside piquing their interest, as well as the fact that the ship was bouncing when you were.

Eventually you walked away from the med area just as The Bad Batch entered the Marauder. You were mid lyric and mid dance move when they saw you, however you hadn’t even noticed they were there as you danced right past them and into the cockpit.

The four boys just watched in fascination as you swayed your hips side to side, wrapping your arms around yourself as a more sensual song had started playing. Ocean eyes by Billie Eilish. Though when she sang ocean eyes, you switched the word and instead sang brown eyes, obviously mentioning the clones, or more specifically the batch.

upon hearing that Wrecker was the first to break the silence with a cheer, catching you entirely off guard. The boys watched you squeal, and rushed to turn off the speaker, running past to grab it, only to trip on a wrench that you had forgotten to put back. You expected to hit the floor, but instead you felt arms wrap around your waist, and spin you around. You were still at a tilt, but being held by not one- but two of the Bad Batch, being Hunter and Crosshair, with one of their arms supporting your back.

Your face flushed brightly, and they helped you back upright just as a joke song about gangbangs started playing. You squeaked, ducking under their arms as you ran to the speaker and shut it off, your face beet red as you stared at them.

“How long we-”

“Only a few minutes Mesh’la.” Tech interrupted, and you sighed in relief, only to blush more when Wrecker spoke up.

“Wow Y/n! you got some good dance moves! and a hella good voice too!” He exclaimed, and Hunter nodded in agreement. “Definitely.” Crosshair teased. You huffed in response, looking away from them as you tried to rid the blush from your face. “If you had commed me-”

Again, Tech cut you off. “We did in fact comm you, three times. But you didn’t pick up so we came back a bit early to make sure you were okay, which is when we found you like this.” He explained, adjusting his goggles as he stared at you. A soft ‘oh’ fell from your lips as you rummaged around in your pocket, pulling out the comm device, noticing all three missed messages or calls from Tech.

You huffed again, fiddling with your fingers for a moment as you opened your mouth to speak, only to say nothing and then shut your mouth again. “W-well… you got what we needed?” You asked after a moment, looking over at Hunter, avoiding looking at crosshair since he probably still had that smirk on his stupid face.

“yeah we did, and we got a new mission too so we best head out.” He explained, breaking the awkward standoff as Tech made his way to the pilot's chair. Wrecker walked over to you, slapping his hand against your back before pulling you into a side hug, making his way to the cockpit as well. That blush returned, and you slowly turned your head to see crosshair now standing right beside you.

Crosshair leaned down towards you, and nervously you tried to take a step back, your back bumping against one of the consoles. You gulped, seeing his smirk as he whispered in your ear. “Next time i want to see you dance like that on my lap.” He flirted, his words sending a shiver down your spine as you watched him back off and also head to the cockpit.

Hunter shook his head at Crosshair before extending a hand to you, offering a smile. “Sorry Mesh’la… but seriously though, you’re quite beautiful when you dance. Don’t be afraid to do it more.” He stated, hearing you snort.

“I would, but I'm afraid if I do, Crosshair might bust one.” You joked, taking your spot in the cockpit, crossing your arms over your chest as Hunter laughed, but said nothing else.

These boys… they’ll be the death of you one day.

Tag List:

[luminoustarlight]

OH MY GOSH I SAW UR POST ABOUT WANTING ANI FLUFF REQUESTS so i’m gonna just spit shit out into your inbox okay anyways

playing with his hair and he’s like all in love and he’s like laying on you right and then he like flips his body over and starts kissing you and saying how much he loves you and shit OHBMYFUCKINGGOD

thats like so basic but

Sweet Everythings | Anakin Skywalker (x gn!reader)

Admissions, cuddles, and kisses.

On the rare occasion that Anakin has a day off, he is absolutely spending it with you. He sneaks over to your apartment early, as quietly as he can manage but his arrivals always stir you out of your sleep.

When you groggily call out to him with tired eyes, his reply is always the same. "It's just me, angel. Go back to sleep." Anakin slips himself beneath your sheets, sidling up to you on the warm side of the bed. He drops a soft kiss to your shoulder while wrapping his arms around you and bringing your back to his firm chest. "My love," he whispers.

"Mmm," is all your foggy mind can conjure.

"You are my everything," Anakin says. "Every day I don't see you, I am yearning for you. I think about you on the battlefields, the promise of your love is what gets me through even the toughest of missions. I would leave it all for you, my angel. I think about it often..." Anakin's voice trails off.

You let him lull you back to sleep with sweet nothings. Or rather, sweet everythings. When he expresses how much he loves you, how much you mean to him, it is not nothing.

"I would leave the Order if you asked me to," is the last thing you remember Anakin saying before fully falling asleep.

You would never ask him to do such a thing— leave the Order. You know he is conflicted about many aspects of the War, the Jedi Way, the Prophesy, the attachment to you he's not supposed to have. But Anakin is a good Jedi. He is a good Master to Ahsoka and he is a good commander to the 501st. You would never ask him to leave the Order for you and you hate that he thinks you want him to.

Or perhaps it is what he really wants... and he needs you to be the reason for him to finally walk away.

When you awake up, Anakin's legs are tangled with yours. His head is on your chest, rising and falling as you breathe. You comb your fingers through his bed-head, detangling the knots in his dirty blonde waves. A rather firm pull awakes him up.

"Ow," he mumbles.

You grin. "Sorry, Ani."

"S'okay," he sighs. He lays his arm over your tummy while peppering kisses above the seam of your bed shirt. Warm lips against warm skin, your calming scent of Lavandula infiltrating his senses. "I love you, anyway." Anakin traces his lips over your clavicle and the early intimacy makes your whole nervous system send shocks to your nerve endings. Every little touch is heightened. You feel every kiss deep in your bones, his hands feel impossibly large on your hips as he crawls on top of you.

Anakin lays his full weight on you which makes you wheeze out a puff of air. "You're crushing me!"

"Nuh uh," Anakin replies. "If I was crushing you, you wouldn't be able to talk."

You roll your eyes, playfully hitting his shoulder. "Get off of me, you oaf!"

That gets him sitting up. Anakin's pretty face is contorted into a not so pretty face as he exclaims, "Oaf?!"

"I said what I said."

"Take it back."

"No," you jut your chin up in protest.

Anakin frowns. "Take it back or no kisses."

Oh, now that is something you simply cannot gamble. To not kiss Anakin is like Tatooine with only one sun— unimaginable. It's only a joke, but a knot of sadness forms in your throat. There are many rotations in which you can't kiss Anakin. Weeks upon weeks when he is away on a mission and you have little communication with him.

Those bouts are the toughest— when you are missing Anakin with your entire being and you can't be consoled by even your closest friend because not even she knows of your relationship.

Anakin can sense the uneasiness in you. Plus, the way your face falls is a clear indication that you are upset. "Hey," Anakin shifts off of you and props himself on his elbow. He runs the back of his fingers over your cheek as he wonders what he said wrong. "You know I was only joking, right?"

"I know," you sniffle. "It's dumb."

"It's not dumb, my love. What is bothering you?"

"Oh, Ani," you tuck his hair behind his ear with a smile. "You know I would never ask you to leave the Order for me."

The crease between Anakin's eyebrows deepens. "What are you..."

"It's hard to be away from you sometimes," you bite the inside of your cheek. Anakin absently draws on your skin with his mechanical limb. "Okay, all of the time. It's hard to be away from you every time we are apart. Encrypted files are never enough. Our stolen moments in the Temple are never enough."

Where you're going with this starts to terrify Anakin. Anxiety creeps into his bloodstream, heart rate ticking up as he fears he's about to lose the greatest, most wonderful thing in his life.

"But this," you say, grabbing Anakin's hands. "Ani... we are enough. It is the most sweetest thing to be loved by you, Anakin Skywalker. And I would go through hell or high water to keep you in my life. But I will never take you away from the Order if that is not what you truly want."

"I- I didn't realize you were awake when I said that. It's just something I have been meditating over. Do you know how happy you make me? I didn't know love until I met you." Anakin has somehow maneuvered himself on top of you once again. His nose brushes yours as your breath becomes one in the space between you. "If I were to leave the Order, it would be so that I could love you freely. Because you, my love, are all I ever want."

Anakin lowers his lips over yours, nothing over the top or too intense. It's just pure love. Poetry in motion as your lips move against each other. Anakin wraps his arms around your back and rolls you over so you're sitting on top of him. You cup his cheeks to press yourself even closer to him. There is nowhere else either of you would rather be.

anakin masterlist

[the-bad-batch-baroness]

Fortunately Unfortunate

Jesse x GN!Reader

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

Pairing: Jesse x GN!Reader

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

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

Word Count: 9.2k

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

@clonexreaderbingo Square: Tradition

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

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

Jesse grunts. “This program is stupid!”

“This program is tradition,” Rex retorts.

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

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

“But–”

“That’s an order,” Rex interjects.

Jesse grits his teeth. “Yes, sir.”

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

Jesse takes the data-pad. “Yes, sir.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The four clones trade head nods of acknowledgement.

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

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

Cody nods. “I’ll leave you to it.”

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

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

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

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

“Nice to meet you both,” Boil adds.

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

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

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

Boil chuckles. “Sort of.”

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

Sinker shrugs. “Sounds fun.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I mean, it won’t stop!” Jesse yells.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What look?” you ask.

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

You groan. “That obvious, huh?”

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

You sigh. “Don’t you want more?”

“More what?” Violet asks.

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

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

You pout. “Besides that.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I–”

CRASH

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The first clone in camouflage visually bristles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t you mean, clones?” Boil asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey,” you call. “Wake up, Jesse.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You chuckle at his disdain for the planet.

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

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

Jesse chuckles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jesse chuckles. “That’s fine, too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Violet elbows you in the side.

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

“You’re staring,” Violet answers.

“Am not,” you argue.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jesse gives you a devilish grin.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You fidget with your hem. “Kinda.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stay?” you ask.

“You know I can’t,” Jesse sighs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Masterlist

AO3

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[momojedi]

Could I have #88 and #97 with Captain Rex, pretty please...??

JUST MARRIED PAIRING: Captain Rex x GN! Reader

#88 | “Don’t panic but I think we might have accidentally gotten married…” #97 | “I want you and I know you want me too.”

GENRE: Fluff WARNING: none A/N: Since I got prompted #88 by an anon who asked for no one in particular, I mixed up your request with theirs. Thanks for requesting!

MASTERLIST | MOMOJEDI'S 300 FOLLOWER CELEBRATION

"Mhi solus tome,

Mhi solus dar’tome.

Mhi me’dinui an,

Mhi ba’juri verde."

Intense concentration furrows my brow as I massage my temples, striving to translate the unfamiliar words. "For fuck's sake," I mutter, frustration punctuating each syllable as I kick a nearby pebble with surprising strength, eliciting a muffled groan and the metallic clang of beskar as it ricochets off a distant helmet.

Two weeks may not seem long, especially when operating undercover among a terrorist faction whilst the galaxy is engulfed in war. It would probably be advisable to keep a cool head and avoid making a big deal out of insignificant subjects—such as unfamiliar phrases. However, when those words escape the lips of your longtime crush, delivered with an unexpected fervor while locking passionate eyes with you in a language foreign to your ears...

Well, needless to say, I've devoted more time to overthinking it than I care to admit.

When General Skywalker tasked us with shadowing Death Watch until the Jedi Council reached more intel, I hadn't given it much thought... admittedly, he hadn't specified that by "us" he didn't mean Ahsoka and me, as usual, but rather the captain of the 501st and myself—the very someone I've harboured feelings for since the day we met.

Nevertheless, I maintained my composure, played my part, and stayed under the radar, much like Rex, until Death Watch proposed an elaborate ceremony—a ceremony whose name I could barely pronounce, let alone understand its significance. Before any suspicion could arise, Rex quickly agreed in my place, and now here I am, entangled in some eerie ritual with a military captain whose gaze seemed entranced, so intense was his focus.

"If I had my datapad right now...," I hiss under my breath, casting blame on whoever decided I should leave my sole translation device behind. Likely Skywalker.

The crunch of gravel under heavy boots interrupts my daydreaming. I spin around sharply, only to find the very man haunting my mind approaching. "I figured I'd find you here," Rex hums as he settles beside me. "Yeah," I reply with a dry laugh, brushing the dust off my hands. "Sorry, I suppose I just needed... alone time. After everything yesterday, you know?" Rex's eyes widen almost comically, and he sheepishly scratches the back of his neck. "Oh... yeah."

The ensuing silence gnaws at my nerves, prompting me to pop the question after another agonising five minutes. "Hey, about that... what did those words mean, anyway?" "I'm not sure what you're referring to," Rex responds, avoiding my gaze. I gulp. He can't have forgotten, can he? "Come on, Rex... It seemed significant." After a moment's hesitation, Rex sighs, running a hand over his buzzcut before raising his head to face me, though still evading it. "I..." "Yes?" "Alright, fine. [Name], don't panic, but... we might have accidentally... gotten married."

...

"WHAT?"

"Shh!" Rex quiets me with a gentle hand over my mouth, his eyes darting cautiously around us before he releases me. I shake my head slowly, puzzled. "Sorry, but what?" "The, um, the words... they were Mandalorian wedding vows," he admits, his tone tinged with uncertainty. I can't help but laugh. Married? Us? "You're joking." "Unfortunately not," he replies, a slight smile tugging at his lips, before his expression shifts to sheepishness as he rubs the back of his neck. "Though I do believe you'd make an excellent partner." Suppressing a chuckle, I ignore the warmth creeping into my cheeks.

"Actually, I realized we needed a distraction when I overheard some members gossiping behind our backs. They were growing suspicious, so I thought perhaps they'd relax if we participated in some traditions." Rex sighs, examining a pebble he's picked up. I shoot him a hopeful sidelong glance before quickly looking away, feeling my heart quicken.

Force, this man is captivating.

Silence envelops us once more as we both drift deeper into our own thoughts. When I sense the gravel shifting under his weight, I raise an eyebrow. "It wouldn't bother me, you know?" A lump forms in my throat, causing a series of coughs to escape at his words. "Wh-what?" "Being with you." Suddenly, his warm yet weighty hand finds mine. Sweat prickles at my heated skin as I keep my gaze fixed ahead.

"R-rex, are you suggesting...?" "[Name]," he interrupts, turning to face me. Before I can evade his gaze, he gently lifts my chin, compelling me to meet his eyes. I run my tongue over my dry lips, which his gaze is now fixated on. "I want you. And I know you want me, too." His proximity sends shivers down my spine as goosebumps ripple over my arms and back. His newfound confidence is palpable. "I've noticed the way you look at me, how you stare. I know, [name]," he murmurs against my lips, "what do you think?"

I flush, gripping his wrist as I lock eyes with his warm gaze. "I think you're right." Rex chuckles deeply, resonating like a rumble in his chest. "Good." And before I realize it, his lips meet mine,

Time seems to slip away as I surrender completely to the kiss. Eventually, Rex pulls back, leaving me breathless, and flashes me a mischievous grin.

“So, about that wedding night…”

[wanderinginksplot]

Kix + Competence

After a rocky meeting, you try to avoid Kix and the attraction of his competence. It doesn't work out.

Kix x gn!reader (no use of 'y/n' and no pronouns). Romantic.

Word Count: 3,200

Warnings: feelings of intimidation, mentions of trooper genetic manipulation, nervousness, some awkwardness.

---

"Alright, that finishes up the bulk of today's briefing," Captain Rex announced. "Any other business?"

"Yeah, why are we having a briefing when we're so deep in unoccupied space that a Seppie would be a welcome sight?" one of the nearby troopers asked rhetorically, his voice pitched low enough that only the trooper beside him - and you - could hear.

It wasn't a bad point. The briefing had mostly been made up of minor points about the ship's maintenance and small alterations to the mission… only the declassified pieces, of course. The captain was welcome to have as many meetings as he wanted, but you were curious why you had to attend.

You were a last-minute addition to the Resolute, pulled in to fill a position that had been vacated due to an unfortunate combination of injuries, deaths, and transfers. The job as a radar technician was one you excelled at, and your supervisor had immediately recommended you to fill the temporary vacancy. Your competitive streak had preened at the recognition of your skills, even if they sent you to a dangerous position far from home.

The fact that you had no family and few friends was probably part of the reason for your new assignment, but you were trying not to think about that.

In any case, silence reigned in the hangar bay after the captain had asked his question and you were ready for the meeting to end, but the captain nodded to one of the troopers.

As the man in question stepped forward, your heart gave a heaving thud and you did your best to look somewhere else.

Kix was the 501st's medic, the one assigned to keep the men safe and treat any injuries that may occur in the field. He was an efficient worker, an unflinching professional, and extremely competent in every respect.

That was the problem. 

Your first interaction with the medic had been less than ideal. You had been brand new to the Resolute and interacting with some troopers for the first time when you had asked how they spent down time on the cruiser. They had mentioned a few things, but seemed especially excited about competitions in the blaster ranges. As always, the mention of a chance to excel had piqued your interest and you had excitedly mentioned that you were a good shot. 

“Who knows?” you had joked. “I might even end up beating some of you!”

They had laughed, but Kix - standing nearby - hadn’t. “Doubtful. Troopers are bred from the genes up to be better than nat-borns at anything combat-related. Shooting, running, strategy, detonators…”

With the horrible sensation of prior interest that had now curdled in your stomach, you offered a curt nod and walked away. 

Kix’s bluntness hadn’t been a surprise, especially since he was a medic, but it paired poorly with a shocking revelation you had about yourself: you liked him. 

You hadn’t known how thrilling you found competence until you had joined the GAR… and even then, you encountered very few examples of it. But on the Resolute, Kix was the one who had drawn your attention. At first that was mostly due to irritation, but it had soon turned to reluctant admiration. He was attractive even beyond his bearing and you could see yourself in a relationship with him - hells, you had imagined it often enough - but your assignment was probably temporary and it seemed like a bad idea. 

So, as the self-assured, competitive technician you considered yourself, you put all your energy toward avoiding Kix any time there was a chance of sharing a space.

It really didn’t work very well. You always found yourself in situations where Kix was present. Even worse, he always seemed to be doing something that showed how intensely good he was at being a medic or influencing his brothers or any number of things he had been trained to do. It was frustrating.

At the front of the room, Kix had only just started to speak. Despite your determination not to stare at- ahem, watch him, his voice commanded your attention and you found your gaze locked on him anyway.

“As most of the veteran troopers on this ship know, you are expected to meet basic safety standards to serve aboard a space-faring vessel, especially in times of war. Every being on this ship must hold certain certifications concerning those standards.” Kix glanced around the room. “I know we have a few newcomers on the Resolute, so consider this your briefing: you need to attend a class and an assessment. Dates and times for those are posted on the ship’s information boards and outside of the medbay.”

This wasn’t the first you had heard about safety standards and certifications. You had even known they were required for serving on ships. However, you had always assumed you were exempt since you were only a specialist brought on for a temporary assignment. Apparently, that wasn’t the case.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, you reasoned. Kix probably wouldn’t be there. Why would a medic supervise safety regulatory compliance? …okay, you could guess why. But he had other work to do.

Your hopes were instantly dashed when Kix finished, “I’ll be personally supervising every training and assessment. If you don’t complete your full certification by the end of the week, you’ll be subject to disciplinary action.”

“What if we’re already certified but wanna come hang out with our favorite medic?” a voice called from the front of the group. 

Kix rolled his eyes, but a grin flashed over his face as he said, “Jesse, you can go ahead and let your certification expire. I don’t think anyone is comfortable with the idea of you trying to save their life.”

A loud scoff and some raucous laughter was the only answer to that… at least until Captain Rex announced, “Dismissed.”

You were slow to join the crowd of troopers drifting toward the doors back into the main body of the Resolute. Even just that split-second smirk on the handsome medic’s face had been enough to throw your heart into a pounding rhythm. 

How were you ever going to survive a full class with him and still learn enough to pass the assessment? You certainly didn’t want to be found lacking, even in a temporary assignment. And especially since you knew Kix had such a low opinion of nat-borns already.

Two days later, you hadn’t found an answer, but you were in the class. It wasn’t the last one offered, but it was the only one that worked with your schedule. Infuriatingly, Kix had been around even more often since the briefing. Any time you were somewhere for more than an hour or two, he would be there as well. The reasons were always different and valid: working on a project, checking on someone who had sustained an injury on the last mission, following up with people who had taken their assessments. 

When you finally walked into the class, you were relieved to find that it seemed to be a module-based course. There were workstations set around the room, each with a datapad lying on the desk. 

“Welcome,” a voice greeted warmly. You knew who the voice belonged to, and a polite - if mildly pained - smile was already stretched over your face by the time you turned. “Let me explain how the class is going to work.”

You nodded, glancing around the room as an excuse to avoid his eyes. You were worried what they would see in yours. “I would appreciate that. I’m a little lost.”

“Well, we’re going to start with a short holovid on the datapads,” Kix told you, gesturing to the waiting row of workstations. “It’ll walk you through some basic safety and first aid information. Then, when you’ve finished the video, you’ll come to the back area.”

You hadn’t seen the small, half-curtained area until Kix pointed it out, and then your nerves were thrumming with tension. 

“To demonstrate the skills there, I assume?” you checked. When Kix nodded, you asked, “And is this a test situation or a collaborative effort?”

“More the former than the latter,” Kix told you. “That works better for you, since you’re the only one who signed up for this particular time slot.”

The signups had indicated that you would need one to two hours to complete the full course. Just your luck that time would be spent completely alone with the 501st’s handsome medic.

“I’m sure you have other things to do,” you said in a desperate attempt to get out of this for a little longer. “I can sign up for a different course with other people in it. Just let me know what day and time.”

This was the only course that worked with your schedule, but surely you could be excused from your job to be certified in order to continue performing said job? That sounded like something you could convince your supervisor to allow. 

But Kix was already shaking his head. “You’re already here and I’ve had this time set aside since you signed up. Go ahead and grab a datapad. The holofilm is already queued up. Let me know when you’re done and we’ll move on to the second half of things.”

You weren’t sure what you had expected to see in the holofilm - maybe CPR or basic first aid - but you were met with a diagram of a Venator-class star destroyer. 

An LY-77 droid began speaking about the build of the ship, what each floor held, and where the major mechanical components were housed. You held a top-secret security clearance as part of the requirements for your job, but this was still intensely well-guarded information. Honestly, you weren’t sure you were supposed to be seeing it at all, but it was interesting enough to hold your attention. 

The droid talked you through emergency plans, evacuation routes, and the location of medical kits. Then the holovid delved deeper into the specifics of what you could find in the medkits and how each piece should be used. That was where things started to get more complex. The medkits were meant to help with anything from trips and falls to depressurization. 

Just as you were starting to feel bitter at Kix for describing the holovid as ‘short’, it ended. That would have been good, but it left you with the realization that you had to go spend time one-on-one with the medic. 

When you walked toward the curtained area, you found Kix sitting at his desk seemingly engrossed in filling out forms. You cleared your throat softly. “Kix? I’m done with the holovid.”

Kix immediately stowed his datapad in a drawer and stood. “Good. Any questions?” 

You shook your head and he gestured you toward the curtained area. When you stepped through, you found a realistic mannequin lying on the bed with a medkit on the table beside it. It seemed to be a generically humanoid medical mannequin, though someone had drawn the outline of a chestplate across the torso, along with some lines that looked suspiciously like Hardcase’s tattoos.

“We’re going to run through some questions and test how well you remember the different topics covered in the holovid,” Kix told you. 

Despite the nervousness screaming through your system, you passed the majority of the test without making a mistake. Luckily, the internal organization of a Venator-class star destroyer was fairly logical, which made it easier to follow. Questions about emergency situations had captured your attention, so you had retained more than you might have, otherwise.

“Okay, great job,” Kix congratulated. “Let’s move on to the practical portion. Go ahead and open the kit.”

That sounded simple enough - and it should have been - but the medkit had latches unlike anything you had ever seen before. Dimly, you remembered the holovid mentioning that the medkits were tamper-proof, with latches designed to be operated only by sentients. You weren’t sure whether the sentient-operated design was one you endorsed, especially since you couldn’t manage to pry them open, even as a sentient yourself. 

“They’re sent-op latches,” Kix reminded you. 

You gritted your teeth in an effort to hold back a biting retort. “I realize that. I’m just having trouble opening them.”

“The holovid showed you how to open them.”

The underlying meaning being that you should remember how to use the latches. Or that you hadn’t been paying attention. Both of those conclusions frustrated you because, despite paying attention, you didn’t remember how to operate the latches. 

“I don’t have a perfect memory, not like you do,” you countered. Your irritation made the factual statement sound snappish. Kix frowned and you shook your head, regret spiking in your chest. Just because you thought he was condescending didn’t mean you could be rude. “I didn’t mean it like that…”

“Do you need something to eat?” 

The sudden change in topic made you stare. “Wh-what?” 

“Your hands are shaking,” Kix pointed out, already bustling to a nearby cabinet. Before you could get more than two words into your explanation, he was back and pressing a small packet of crackers into your hands… Which, you had to admit, were noticeably shaking.

“Are you feeling okay?” he continued. “Eat and I’ll get you something to drink. I think I’ve got some juice around here. I haven’t seen anything noteworthy in your medical records, but we can run some tests-”

“Kix, I’m fine,” you interrupted. “I’m nervous, not sick.”

He pulled up short, squinting at you. “Nervous? Why are you nervous?”

“Well, I’m not sure…” you drawled slowly, sarcasm dripping from every word. “Maybe it’s because I’m being tested on a half-learned set of procedures by a hyper-competent medical officer?”

“You shouldn’t be nervous,” Kix assured you. 

You rolled your eyes. “Kix, put yourself in my position. You wouldn’t be nervous if you were me?”

“I’m already nervous.”

You would have taken it as a joke, a dry little comment meant to either put you down slightly or attempt to put you at ease (failure though it would be). However, the surprised and regretful look on Kix’s face told you that wasn’t the case. 

“You’re nervous?” you asked, feeling stunned. “Why would you be nervous?”

“It’s not- That isn’t-” Kix cut himself off with a sharp sigh and an impatient turn, like he had other things he needed to do. But now that you knew what to look for, you saw past the cool, professional facade. He really was on-edge. “You aren’t an easy person to get to know.”

If the galaxy had given you a thousand guesses, that wouldn’t have been among them. “Get to know me? I don’t understand.”

Another sigh. “You know the men talk amongst themselves, right?”

“Yes, I know,” you told him with a shrug. You had seen the troopers gossip in the mess hall, on the bridge, in hallways… anywhere, really. “They aren’t exactly subtle.”

“Of course not,” Kix agreed, shaking his head in exasperation and mild amusement. “But you may not know that they have plenty to say about you.”

You winced. “Anything I need to explain?”

Kix frowned for a moment in confusion, then barked out a laugh. “No, nothing concerning. They say good things about you. Really good things, actually. Mostly that you’re hardworking and trustworthy and funny. And there’s the- Well, the… You know you’re good-looking, right?”

Now it was your turn to give a sharp laugh. “Pretty rich coming from the best-looking trooper in the GAR.”

Any embarrassment you may have felt at saying that directly to Kix’s face was negated by the fact that you had heard the comment parroted word-for-word at least two dozen times since you had first stepped aboard the Resolute. 

And you made sure your tone showed that, too. 

Kix grinned anyway, as cocky as you would have expected if the compliment had been given by you alone. “Flattery won’t make me forget the rest of the assessment, but you’re welcome to keep trying.”

“Don’t get too excited,” you warned him, watching his expression stay exactly the same despite it. “I also think you’re rude and condescending.”

Finally a reaction - Kix grimaced slightly. “Because of the genetic superiority comment?”

“Yes.” If the confirmation came out flat and a little dry, it was still better than anything else that may have escaped you.

“Yeah, Denal told me I karked that one up pretty badly,” he admitted, looking a little sheepish. “I’ve wanted to make it up to you, but I was trying to let you make the first move and you never acknowledge me.”

That made you frown in realization. “Wait, is that why you’re always hanging around? Trying to get me to talk to you?”

Now Kix was frowning, too. “Yes? Why else would I do it?”

“Honestly, I thought you were showing off,” you replied. “You always seemed to be doing something to prove how great a soldier you are or how skilled you are at being the 501st’s medic.”

Kix ducked his head, handsome face reddening slightly. “Well, if I was going to be around anyway, I thought it might help if you thought I was good at my job.”

“That’s never been in question,” you countered, feeling exasperated. “Anyone can see you’re good at your job, Kix. But all it made me feel was intimidation.”

And attraction, a traitorous little voice reminded, not incorrectly. You pushed it away, but not soon enough. Whatever Kix had read in your expression, it was enough to give him a look that was almost gleeful.

“What was that?”

“I didn’t say anything,” you denied.

“No, but you didn’t have to.” Kix took a step toward you, putting himself squarely in touching distance. You got the distinct feeling it was meant to be for your benefit. “Come on, tell me what that face was about.”

The resulting argument was short, but longer than was worth it. Eventually, you sighed. “Like I said, you’re a good-looking man. Can we move on?”

“On one condition.”

You frowned at the cryptic answer. “And that is?”

“Spend some time with me,” he requested. “Just dinner here on the ship. Any time you want before we get back to Coruscant. And then it’s up to you - if you want to keep seeing each other, say the word and I’ll plan a better date planetside. What do you think?”

The pause you took to think it over was about twice the time you actually needed, but it was soothing the remains of your irritation to see him start looking nervous. At last, you took pity on him. “I’d like that.”

“Good,” Kix said, gracing you with a small but sincere smile that spread over his handsome face. That smile turned into a grin the next moment as he nodded toward your hands. “I still need you to open that medkit, though.”

Your groan was loud and mostly theatrical, interrupted by Kix’s laugh and broken by your own.

---

Author's Note - I feel like I've written very few fics featuring Kix (other than Nobody Listens to Kix), so I wanted to write one. Thanks for reading. I hope you liked it!

You can find other works on my masterlist or sign up for my taglist here!

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[knightprincess]

Softness Suits You (Tech x GN! Reader)

Words: 2k Warnings: None - unless you count Kriff and Karabast as swearing. Note: Gender Neutral - Use of You and (Y/N) A part of the Bad Batch Gift Exchange @cloneficgiftexchange For: @theunderscorekinginyellow Prompt: "Softness Suits You"

“(Y/N),” called Tech, skidding to a halt as he rounded the corner. Blaster fire passed the corner mere seconds later. “Now is not the time to give up on me,” he commented, pulling you back to your feet. You’d slipped down the durasteel wall you’d been learning against with a sharp groan of pain, an arm tightly wound around your midsection, the other putting pressure on another unseen wound hidden beneath your armor and the layers of fabric. 

“Wasn’t the time for the plan to go wrong either,” (Y/N) voiced, recalling how the mission had gone sideways quickly. “We went over the plan five times,” you grumbled, blowing out an agonized sigh as the stabbing pain grew in strength. 

“I got the package, didn’t I?” responded Wrecker, the sound of blaster fire being exchanged echoing through the com. 

“Anyone injured?” came Hunter’s smokey voice. Omega’s innocent one followed, celebrating after hitting another target with her energy bow. Echo soon confirmed he and Wrecker were slightly banged up, but nothing serious. Their main problem was being pinned down. 

“(Y/N) got hit, unsure how serious it is,” announced Tech, seemingly ignoring your comment that you were okay. Even when it was evidently obvious you were anything but. You were losing blood, feeling dizzy and shaky, and could barely stand on your own two feet, and Tech had stated you looked paler than usual. 

“Tech, get (Y/N) back to the Marauder,” demanded Echo, his voice severe and unyielding. The job for Sid meant little compared to the life of a friend. 

“Omega will meet you there,” said Hunter. The young clone’s protests shortly followed his words. “That’s an order,” he added, slipping into a mix of his previous Sargent Mode and that of a protective father figure trying to protect their child and family. “The rest of us Plan 13.” 

“Oh yeah,” exclaimed Wrecker, launching into the attack on droids and mercenaries alike. The human wrecking ball wasted little time running head-first into the battle again. His actions a reminder of his days as a soldier of the GAR, back when everything was simpler before the dark times began to strangle the galaxy. 

“Oh brother,” mutters Echo before readying himself to rejoin the battle before him. Pushing aside the memories of the many food fights on Kamino before it was bombarded and forgotten about—memories of his brothers of the Domino Squad, 501st, and Bad Batch. 

“Ready?” asked Tech, placing his D17s in the holsters for the time being, reaching for your arm to pull you back to your feet. Directing the arm around his neck as his own snaked around your midsection. Hearing the sharpness in your breath as you began to limp forward. The pilot soon pulled the yellow-tinted screen of his helmet down, scanning you over to get a clear idea of the damage and injuries sustained.

“What’s the prognosis, Doctor?” sarcastically asked (Y/N), your eyes glazing over as you become confused and disorientated. “Is it as bad as Crosshair’s friction burns from the Skako mission?” you asked with a light chuckle, wincing shortly after with the pain shooting through your ribs. 

“I would argue that was worse,” answered Tech, recalling Crosshair grumbling for days afterward—even more so when Wrecker refused to let him forget about it. “However, this is a close second,” he said, trying to keep your spirits up and offer a distraction from your injuries and dire state. 

“Damn. I was hoping to top him this time,” replied (Y/N), as if you had forgotten Crosshair wasn’t there. Instead, he had chosen to return to the Empire, even after they had bombarded Tipoca City with all of them inside. “Still working on that plan to get him back,” you add with the smallest of grins. 

“Crosshair … chose a different path. We have to accept that, even if we don’t agree with it,” spoke Tech with a prang of sadness. Thankful when the Marauder came into view, Omega was already on the steps, waving at them with a small smile of her own. At least until it hit her, Tech was all but keeping you up now. 

“What happened?” questioned Omega, quickly running back up the steps, moving to get the medical kit stowed away aboard the ship. At the same time, Tech pulled (Y/N) over to the sleeping racks upon getting you aboard. Nodding to Omega in thanks, when she brought the medical kit over to him, he reached for stem cells and bacta gel in hopes of aiding the healing process. 

“We could use a lift,” came the booming voice of Echo, the coms lighting up with the disagreement between the Arc Trooper, Hunter, and Wrecker. 

“That with or without Omega hanging from the ship and me falling out or over something?” asked (Y/N), doing your best to lighten the dreary mood and keep Omega from seeing just how bad things were. You had a soft spot for the kid and the boys. 

“It was an unscheduled study break,” Tech voiced in response. At least explaining Omega hanging from the ship. A smirk appeared across his lips upon remembering the two separate incidences regarding (Y/N) falling over something and falling from the ship completely. “And momentarily lapse in coordination.” 

“Just patching (Y/N) up, then we’ll be there,” announced Omega, keeping the trio of Hunter, Echo, and Wrecker in the loop. 

“This is going to hurt,” stated Tech, receiving a (Y/N) famous deadpan look in response. At least informing him, he was pointing out the obvious again, without calling the exceptionally minded clone by the normal nickname. Captain Obvious. 

“You mean more than it already does?” You asked, the next part of your comment forgotten as the bacta gel burned like someone had poured the lavas of Mustafar into your open wounds. “Kriff!” 

“Language” worded Wrecker via the comm link. 

“Aurebesh,” you replied, much to Omega’s amusement. Tech could only shake his head and roll his golden eyes. 

“Switch out the words, (Y/N),” spoke Hunter, once again the familiar sound of blaster fire following his words, hinting at the trouble the trio was in now. 

“Yes, Papa Hunter. Next time, I’ll use Karabast,” quickly shot (Y/N), not noticing Tech had stepped close with an anesthetic, at least not until he caught you with it. 

“Rest for now (Y/N). Omega and I can handle the extraction,” announced Tech. He made sure you were lying comfortably on his rack before heading to the cockpit with Omega. The young clone gave Gonky his own mission to watch over you while you slept. 

When (Y/N) finally woke up, the Marauder was on stable ground, and the ship was quiet—too quiet. The only noise was Gonky waddling the length of the ship with the normal “Gonk” on repeat, although the droid did seem to be pestering Tech, who sat at the communications desk just in front of the sleeping racks. 

“Where’s the others?” you asked with a cracked and broken voice. Your throat was dry and scratchy from the lack of use. Slowly, you moved your head to look around the ship. The cockpit was empty, void of Echo and Wrecker. The rear gunner's port had no Omega resting there, although Lula and her little clone trooper were. Hunter was nowhere to be seen either. Only Tech and Gonky were there. 

“Wrecker and Omega are following through with their tradition,” Tech replied, standing and walking over, an unreadable expression painted on his features. The moment he reached you, he placed a soft hand on your forehead, relief washing over him minutes later. "Hunter and Echo are delivering the package to Sid.” 

“How long was I out?” you asked. Then it hit you: You were no longer on Eadu but instead back on Ord Monell. 

“Just over a day,” started Tech, helping you sit up. “I’d appreciate it if we didn’t repeat what happened,” he added, pushing his goggles back up the bridge of his nose. 

“I’m not gonna let you get shot, Tech, and I did tell you to leave me,” argued (Y/N), feeling relief now the majority of your pain was gone, either nulled by the anesthetic or washed away by the bacta healing the wounds. 

“We don’t leave our own behind,” stated Tech, a matter of factly, with a pointer finger raised, as if to drill it into your head and make it stick. “The others are fine as well. Wrecker still thinks the scans are invisible spiders,” he added, allowing his stiffness to melt a little upon hearing your small ring of laughter. 

“Hunter and Echo still the parents?” (Y/N) asked, side-eyeing and suspicious, just in case something had changed while you were out for the count. 

“Careful (Y/N), your softer side is showing,” joked Tech. “Either that, or you hit your head harder than I thought.” 

“Or I’m high as a kite and hallucinating,” you commented. 

“Not lost your sense of humor, " Echo said upon boarding the ship. A scratch now donning his cheek below the left eye. However, the worry plaguing him now seemed to melt away. 

“Mustafar would freeze over before that happened,” (Y/N) replied with a small smile, “Or Hoth would warm up.” You quietened for a few minutes before it hit you: Tech had said your soft side was showing. Didn’t it always when you were around your found family? “Wait, what you mean my softer side is showing?” you questioned, hearing Echo chuckle as he held his hands up in surrender before walking off to the cockpit. 

“I don’t mean to offend you,” started Tech, suddenly uncomfortable, even more so when his hopes of you missing his words were dashed. “Normally, when out in the field or around Sid, you appear like Crosshair, stoic, cold, and armed with snide comments for enemies and sarcastic ones to lighten the mood,” he rambled, hoping to explain away what he now saw as a blunder. 

“Tech,” you softly call, a sweet grin appearing now as you made it apparent you weren’t offended by the comment, merely curious. 

“I thought it was obvious. Softness suits you,” directed Tech, 

“Will you two make it official already?” voiced Wrecker as he and Omega returned to the ship. Hunter followed along behind, slightly confused by the comment but smirking nonetheless. 

“Way to ruin the mood, Wrecker,” (Y/N) replied. “I’m recruiting Omega to help terrorize you the next time you go speed dating.” 

“That was one time.” 

“Wrecker went speeding dating?” questioned Echo 

“Yup, It’s right up there with Hunter and Crosshair waking up handcuffed in a fountain,” you reply, hearing Omega laughing, 

“I hate your memory right now,” commented Hunter, his cheeks redding as he sat down at his normal spot. 

“Please do tell me more,” commented Echo, knowing he and Fives got up to some crazy things, along with Kix, Hardcase, and Jesse, things he often got a chuckle out of when he allowed himself to remember them. However, he wanted to know more about what the rest of the batch got up to during the war. 

“No! I’m gonna die of embarrassment,” replied Wrecker, recalling the speeding dating disaster. Their first shore leave after joining the war effort. (Y/N) as their Jedi had told them to have fun, not expecting to get a call from Fox informing you, your squad was spending the night in detention. 

“Wasn’t that bad” replied Tech, trying to soothe the situation. Although he’d admit you laughing from behind him wasn’t helping. 

“I want to hear about it,” Omega called, her sweet, innocent voice seemingly breaking through. Hunter and Wrecker shared a glance, knowing (Y/N) couldn’t deny the young clone anything, although, thankfully, you told the stories in a child-friendly way. 

“Was that the one I have no memory of?” asked Tech, recalling they’d gotten up to a lot of mischief. He’d personally set off a few security breaches from hacking sensitive information. Wrecker had set so many alarms off with his explosives that the Coruscant Guard had come to expect it and, at points, used it as a training exercise. Hunter and Crosshair found themselves in contests with different goals. Meanwhile, (Y/N) collectively named everything the Lame Game. 

“Yup,” replied (Y/N), popping the p. “Never did find out how you ended up black-out drunk under the booth table. Or why you were wearing Wolffe’s helmet?” You laughed. 

“Tech’s right; Softness does suit you,” replied Hunter, the smallest of grins appearing across his lips as he got comfortable, ready to relive the embarrassing moments of the past. “You’re still the best storyteller, though.”

KnightPrincess Masterlist

[freesia-writes]

Hey!!! So excited to see that you were opening requests for a Bad Batch Valentine's event! I would like to put in a humble request of a one shot with Echo and a female reader. I have no specific details on appearance. For the general vibe, I would like it to make me feel all the happily ever after feels. I love all your work, can't wait to see what you do next!! ❤️ 😍

Yeah baby! I can't ever resist a little stargazing/campfire sort of situation, so here's a fairly generic setting that's just filllllled with his sweetness (and slight sauciness, LOL). Dividers by @stars-n-spice from this post here!

Echo x GN!Reader

970 words

No content warnings

Underneath the twinkling canvas of stars, you and Echo found yourselves nestled around the crackling campfire, the warmth casting a gentle glow over your faces. The air was crisp, carrying with it the faint scent of pine and the distant sound of nocturnal creatures stirring in the forest.

Echo sat beside you, his gaze fixed on the dancing flames as they flickered and swayed in the cool night breeze. His expression was thoughtful, his brow furrowed slightly as if lost in deep contemplation.

"You know," he began, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between you, "there's something about being out here, under the stars, that just feels... right."

You nodded in agreement, following his gaze as it drifted up toward the glittering expanse above. "It's peaceful," you replied softly, "like the chaos of the world fades away for a little while."

Echo smiled, a small, genuine curve of his lips that softened the lines of his face. "Exactly," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

As the fire crackled and popped beside you, the two of you found yourselves lost in conversation, sharing stories and memories as the night stretched on. Echo spoke of his time as a member of the 501st as well as his time in Clone Force 99, recounting daring missions and narrow escapes with a mixture of pride and humility. You listened intently, hanging on his every word as he painted vivid pictures of battles fought and comrades lost. There was a depth to Echo's stories that resonated with you, a sense of camaraderie and loyalty that spoke to the bonds forged in the crucible of war.

"I'll never forget the time we were stranded on that desolate moon," Echo said, a wistful smile playing at the corners of his lips. "We had to fend off a pack of ravenous nexu with nothing but our blasters and a few thermal detonators."

You laughed, the sound echoing softly in the quiet of the night. "That sounds like quite the adventure," you replied, imagining the scene playing out in your mind's eye.

"It was," Echo agreed, his gaze distant as he relived the memory. "But it was also one of the moments that brought us closer together as a team. We had each other's backs, no matter what. I felt like a real part of a team again." 

As the fire burned low and the sky lay above you as a dark, velvet cover, you realized that this moment was something special. It was a chance to connect with Echo on a level that went beyond the battlefield, to see the man behind the armor and the scars.

"Thank you for sharing your stories with me," you said softly, breaking the silence that had settled over the clearing. "It means a lot."

Echo turned to you, his gaze soft and sincere. "Thank you for listening," he replied, a hint of warmth in his voice despite its wistful touch. "It's been a long time since I've had someone to share them with.”

You felt a flutter of anticipation in your chest, and the air between you seemed charged with electricity, a palpable tension that you couldn't ignore. He shifted beside you, his gaze lingering on your face as if searching for something in the depths of your eyes. 

"You know," he began, his voice low and husky, "there's something I've been meaning to tell you."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, anticipation coursing through your veins. "What is it?" you asked, barely above a whisper.

He reached out, his hand coming to rest on yours, his touch sending a jolt of electricity up your arm. "I... I don't know how to say this," he confessed, his gaze dropping to where your fingers were intertwined. "But ever since I met you, I've felt... something. Something I can't really explain, and something I don’t think I deserve, but… I don’t want to stuff it down anymore.”

“Oh.” Your breath caught in your throat, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air between you. “Echo… How could you say you don’t deserve it?”

“Cause I’m a bit of an ass,” he said with a grin, breaking the intensity of the moment with some levity.

“My favorite ass,” you teased, heart warming at the humor and relief that softened his sharp features. 

Echo looked up, his gaze locking with yours, and in that moment, the world seemed to fall away. His pale brown eyes were brimming with emotion, a new vulnerability and courage surfacing at the same time. You didn’t know how to confess all that you felt toward him as well, feeling utterly paralyzed by the dreaminess of the entire situation -- nestled cozily side by side on the ground beneath the stars. 

Without thinking, you leaned forward, closing the distance between you until your lips met in a soft, tender kiss. It was like coming home, a perfect moment of clarity and connection that left you breathless and wanting more. He sucked air in through his nose, freezing for a split second before tilting his head to deepen the kiss. His arms snuck around you, pulling you more closely against him until you were almost losing your balance, and you came tumbling apart with hands sprawling to find the ground and a small chuckle punctuating the passion.

Once you got situated, you snuggled back together, closer than before, tucking yourself against his side. He nestled his cheek against the side of your head, his fingers tracing patterns against the outside of your arm. "I've wanted to do that for so long," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled, a rush of happiness flooding through you at his words. "Me too," you replied, turning and leaning in to press another kiss to his lips.

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[dangraccoon]

Dnd and clones make brain go brr, so thank you!

I rolled a 10, Echo, 9. "I'm ready to try again if you are", and a 16. Forced proximity (great rolls for once)

I was thinking maybe they dated before the citadel, and after they reunite he's all cold and insecure and forced proximity gets them actually talking again? hehe she/her or gn is fine!

I'm Different

Echo x F!Reader (no gender or pronouns described)

~ Echo - "I'm ready to try again if you are" - Forced Proximity ~

Author’s Note: here you go, anon!! I hope it was what you’re looking for! And feel free to send more if you’d like 💛😁

Warnings: mentions of canon character deaths, partial cave in, restricted space (not very tight), body image issues

Mando'a Guide: Mesh'la - beautiful

From the moment you’d met him, you knew Echo would be the love of your life. He was kind, smart, and very handsome. He’d swept you off your feet the moment you first met when you’d joined the 501st, coming onto you with some cheesy pick-up line Fives had dared him to use. It hadn’t worked, of course, but the sheepish way he’d apologized and started a real conversation had won you over.

Losing him was the hardest thing you’d ever had to endure in your life. You found comfort with Fives, finding solace in that friendship. But then he was gone, too. Your heart had been so heavy, looking at the other men who so resembled your lost love and friend. 

Even though their personalities varied from man to man, you still saw them. You saw Echo’s strict adherence to the regulations that only lasted up until Fives gave him that look that could only mean “I’m going to do something crazy, and you’re coming with me.” You saw Fives’ fierce determination that was always softened by Echo’s cool, calm, and collected demeanor. You saw the domino twins in every pair of troopers you met. That is, until you met them.

Clone Force 99 was… different to say the least. You’d met them very briefly before they’d left with Rex for a mission. Rex would only describe this mission to you as “need-to-know”, and for that, he’d gotten one of your “death glares” as Echo and Fives had called it. You saw Kix and Jesse shudder out of the corner of your eye before you stormed off. Ever since you’d been stationed with the 501st, you knew everything. Some of the shinies even thought you to be the natborn version of an ARC. The radio silence you were receiving was unusual.

You endured days of nothing until one day you’d cornered Kix, demanding to know what was going on. He’d sighed deeply, then wordlessly led you back through the compound to a wing of the medical bay.

A pale clone sat on the edge of one of the beds, covered head to artificial foot in machinery, being beeped at by several droids.

You stared at the man, something familiar stirring in your chest, and even though the man never noticed you, you knew in the very depths of your soul that it was Echo - your Echo.

It had been months since you transferred with Echo to the Bad Batch. The odd group of clones had pulled you both in with open arms, despite being a “reg” and a “nattie”. You’d gone on countless missions, one after the other, always busy, but something was throwing you off.

Despite having reacquainted with your lost lover, Echo was different. He was polite and somewhat cordial with you like you were any other natborn. He might not have known it, but it was breaking your heart.

“What’s wrong with me?” you asked him. He had wandered further into the cave the squad had set up camp inside, claiming to want to get away from Wrecker and Tech’s snoring. He hadn’t heard you following him.

He startled, desperately avoiding your gaze. “I’m not sure what you mean,” he muttered.

“You’ve been avoiding me since Anaxes,” you stated bluntly. “I know it’d been years since you’d seen me and a lot was going on back then, but Echo, it’s been months and you can barely even look at me unless it’s a necessity.”

Echo finally met your eyes, noticing the tear slipping down your cheek. He sighed. “I’m not trying to-”

Suddenly, there was a rumbling in the ground. The whole cave shook around you, knocking you to your knees.

Rocks fell all around you, cutting off the tunnel back to the others and the opening of the cavern. 

Echo pulled you to your feet milliseconds before a large jagged boulder fell, barely missing you.

A moment later, the rumbling stopped. Hunter began calling you and Echo over the comms. “Are you two okay?”

“We’re alright,” Echo answered, already pushing at the rocks blocking the two of you from reaching the rest of the group. “But we’re boxed in.”

He gave a hard shove to one of the large rocks, moving it just a little. With its shift came a downpouring of rocks that would’ve hit him had you not grabbed the backplate of his armor, yanking him away.

“Don’t attempt to move anything,” Tech warned. “The structural integrity of the cave is questionable at best.”

“Sit tight until we find another way out for you,” Hunter ordered.

“Kriff,” you swore, plopping down onto the ground. 

Echo sat as well, though you could tell he was uncomfortable.

“Don’t worry; the others will find a way out of this place,” you sniffed, scowling at the ground. “You won’t have to be stuck with me for long.”

You could feel his eyes on you, but you didn’t look up as you tried to hold back the tears gathering in yours.

“I didn’t mean to-” he started but cut himself off with a sigh. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

Your head lifted to meet his gaze. “What?”

“You haven’t changed much, despite everything,” he explained. “You’re still kind and smart. Still a hell of a fighter and… hell, somehow you’ve gotten more beautiful.”

You felt your cheeks warm. “Then why-”

“Because I’m different,” he asserted. “The Separatists took me and used my brain. They- they changed me. Turned me into this.” He gestured to the replaced portions of his body with his scomp. “And they- they nearly broke me.”

“Echo-”

“And you don’t deserve it. You don’t deserve any of this,” he growled. “You deserve someone who can hold you, who can take care of you. You deserve a person, not a thing like me.”

Your tears were flowing freely down your cheeks now, washing away the dirt that clung to your face, leaving streaks as they went. “Echo,” you whispered, gently touching his arm. He still didn’t look at you. You scoffed. “Stars, you’re stupid.”

You thought he might’ve broken his neck with how fast he turned to face you, his expression a textbook example of shock.

You chuckled. “Of course you’re different. I mean, stars, Echo; you were dead!” You took his hand in yours. “I couldn’t expect you to be exactly how you were before, and I hope you don’t think I’m truly the same after losing you. But I love you, and that’s something that could never change. Organic or machine parts, you’re still you. You’re still my Echo.”

He watched you curiously as if he thought you might be playing a joke on him.

“I know things are a little different now, but I’m in this for the long haul and I don’t want to lose you again,” you whispered. “I’m ready to try again if you are.”

“Mesh’la,” he shook his head. “I can’t- I won’t be able to provide the things you need.”

You cupped his cheek, your eyes boring into his. “Will you love me?”

“Yes,” he answered without hesitation.

“Then you can provide everything I need.”

You pulled against him, your lips meeting his softly, but still firm and steady.

He eagerly kissed you back, instantly remembering the feel of your lips against his.

After a few moments, you breathlessly pulled away, resting your forehead against his. 

“I love you, Echo.”

“I love you, too.”

Thanks for reading! - River

Roll for Request Masterlist Main Masterlist Taglist Form

Tags: @writing-positivelyexisting @nekotaetae @lokigirlszendaya @get-wr3ckered @flowered-bicycles @jediknightjana @idoubleswearimawriter @lucyysthings @error6gendernotfound @unstable-kiwi @6oceansofmoons @l3xi3luv @savebytheodoresnonjosestuff @techs-goggles9902 @winter-phoenix1995 @serenityselene @nomercyforthewarrior

[vodika-vibes]

This is my masterlist of TBB fics, so far it only has Hunter, Crosshair, Echo and Howzer though (the majority of Echo fics are on the 501st Masterlist)

Only You - TBB Hunter x Reader (request) I'll Take Care of You - TBB Hunter x Reader (request) The Sentinel - TBB Hunter x Jedi!Reader Sharing is Caring - TBB Hunter x F!Reader (request) The Seer - TBB Hunter x F!Reader The Seer pt II - TBB Hunter x F!Reader Not To Me - TBB Hunter x F!Reader (request) Shades Of Grey - TBB Hunter x F!Reader A Loving Man - Crosshair x Reader (request) A Loving Man - Interlude - Crosshair x Reader A Loving Man pt. II - Crosshair x Reader A Loving Man Pt. III - Crosshair x Reader Thin Line - Crosshair x F!Reader (request) Maybe We'll Be Happy - Crosshair x F!Reader We Could Be More - Crosshair x F!Reader We Could Be More pt II - Crosshair x F!Reader (Request)(smut) We Could Be More pt III - Crosshair x F!Reader We Could Be More pt IV - Crosshair x F!Reader For The Love Of A Bounty Hunter - Crosshair x F!Reader (request) Ordinary Day - Crosshair x F!Reader It's Not That Complicated - Crosshair x F!Reader Lazy Morning - Crosshair x F!Reader That's What Family Does - Crosshair x F!Reader The Other Side - Crosshair x F!Reader (request) You'll Be In My Heart - Crosshair x F!Reader (Request) A Joint Effort - TBB Crosshair x F!Reader Trick-Or-Treat - TBB Crosshair x F!Reader (Request) I Dream of Forever - TBB Echo x Reader (request) You're Worth It - TBB Echo x GN!Reader (request) Who's Insecure - TBB Echo x F!Reader (Request)(Smut) Gentle Touch - TBB Echo x F!Reader (request) Wouldn't Change A Thing - TBB Echo x F!Reader (request) Our Happy Ending - TBB Wrecker x F!Reader (Request)(Smut) For Always - TBB Wrecker x GN!Reader (request) So Long As We're Together - TBB Wrecker x F!Reader

Order 66 - TBB Tech x Jedi F!Reader (Warning: Heavy Angst) Experimentation - TBB Tech x F!Reader (Request)(Smut) Simple Chemistry - TBB Tech x F!Reader (request)(Smut) The Dancer - TBB Tech x M!Reader (Request)(Smut) For You - TBB Tech x GN!Reader There Are Other Ways - TBB Tech x F!Reader (Request)(Smut)

Every Time We Touch - Crosshair x F!Reader x Tech (Smut)

May You Find What You Seek - pre TBB Tech x F!Reader x Phee Genoa

Take a Break - Captain Howzer x Reader (request) Not You - Captain Howzer x F!Reader (request) Playing Doctor - Captain Howzer x GN!Reader (request)

In The End - CX-2 x F!Reader (Request)

[yoitsjay]

Blades and Bandages

Pairings: Kix x Gn! Reader

Summary: your a bounty hunter working with the 501st, and Kix has a mega crush on you.

Warnings: fluffiness

Word count: 1,263

Bounty Hunters actually working for the republic instead of against them was a rare sight to behold. The republic was never really in the habit of hiring outside help, until you came along. You just so happened to be one of the republic senator’s children, and a very skilled fighter at that, working remotely on Coruscant or on your home planet, helping your mother and father the best you could.

That involved you working with the republic, the senate and the jedi. Which in all honestly you couldn’t much complain about. Your father, who stayed on world while your mother worked in the senate, had begged you to join forces with the jedi, and your mother begged the senate to accept a bounty hunter’s help.

You could never say no to your father, so that lead you to the present, where you were all tacked up with weapons for any situation, standing in front og the famed General Skywalker and his clone captain Rex, and behind them stood the rest of the torrent company and a few extra clones who were observing you, analyzing if you were a threat.

Though the way you and Anakin joked and bickered back and forth made it sound like you were old friends.

Probably because you were.

When Anakin became Obi-wan’s padawan, before the clone wars began, Obi-wan would take Anakin off world on peace missions to republic allied planets, which included yours. You were a bit older than Anakin, being around 17-18 at that time, so younger than Obi-wan still, annoyingly… That didn’t stop you and obi-wan from roughhousing though, or friendly sparring as your father called it, and encouraged.

Either way, you had known Anakin and Obi-wan for a long time, you would have enlisted in the republic army but the only jobs available were medic positions, janitors and mechanics, which is nothing you were experienced with.\

Bloodshed was your favorite sport, so you became a bounty hunter, though you never took jobs from the separatists, too risky, and the pay was shit. So you did odd jobs for some random people on different cities and planets like Corellia or Coruscant.

And then of course, your father made you the head of the royal guard on your home planet, so you stopped bounty work for a little while as you built up your regime and trained young men and women to protect their home. Though as much as they fought hard, it couldn’t help much when separatist rained down bombs and terror on your people.

So the cry for help was sent, and accepted, and then came the begging of allowing you to help, which was begrudgingly accepted but only because your planet’s flora and fauna was lethal, and you were an expert on how to navigate it.

And thank the maker they sent Anakin, because he actually listened to you, unlike most Jedi.

So with Anakin’s help and manpower, and your navigation skills amongst others, you beat back the separatists and saved your home planet from more damage than what was already done. Then the republic decided to start hiring you to help on small missions at first, with other nat born operatives, and then you got the okay from head office (supreme chancellor) to work alongside the 501st. And you had been happily doing so for about a few months now.

And Kix was infatuated with you, and all his brothers knew it too, with the way they caught Kix’s eyes wandering over your form, or staring at your behind for a little too long.

“You're so in love” Fives had shouted once, after a tough recovery mission, where you had gotten injured, and yet despite that continued to help clones evacuate or get to the medical wing to get Kix’s treatment before settling down and getting your own. It was the day Kix really did fall in love with your courage and bravery, on top of your stubbornness.

And the thing was, Kix couldn’t even deny Fives’ words. Because his brother was right. Kix was in love with you, and he had no idea how he was going to tell you, if ever.

Currently, Kix was organizing the medical room for the upteenth time that morning, you and a few other clones were outside, joking around, and every time he heard your laughter his pulse quickened, and he misplaced something and he had to start his organizing routine all over again.

“Hey Kix” Your voice suddenly rang out into the room, and the clone’s shoulders visibly tensed. “You alright?” You then asked, watching as he fumbled with opening a package of bandages, which continued to slip from his grasp and fall onto the floor, which he’d quickly pick up and try all over again to open the damn package.

“Yes im- im fine-” Kix grumbled, about to drop the package again, only for you to reach out and grab both of his hands within your own. God your hands were warm, even through your gloves he could feel the heat radiating from you.

And you pretended not to notice the little shiver that ran down his back, and you smirked.

“Kix…” You spoke up softly, watching in amusement as he stared blankly at your hands, then slowly looked up to your face. You were smirking.

And dread filled his chest.

Maker- you knew all about his feelings, and you were about to make fun of him, he knew it, he should have just told fives to shut up, or better yet, maybe he shouldn't have tried to be such a lovesick blubbering idiot-

God your lips were soft…

Wait what?

Kix let out a soft gasp and his eyes widened as he realized you had leaned in and closed the gap between you and him, and had pressed your lips to his. He heard the whispers of his brother’s outside, who were obviously eavesdropping, but all he could focus on was how gentle you were being.

Then he got his shit together (finally), and just as you went to pull away and apologize, his hand cupped the back of your neck and he brought you in again, and his lip’s were back on yours. This time he took control of the kiss, and he deepened it, nipping at your bottom lip and taking advantage of when they parted so he could slide his tongue into your mouth.

When you and Kix finally pulled away from each other you were both breathless, and the look you were giving him- god he wanted to see it every day.

“I love you too.” You whispered, a slight giggle lacing your words as you broke the silence that had grown between you two. Kix’s face reddened, and he looked over to the door where Fives had given him a thumbs up, Kix rolled his eyes, and looked back at you.

“You mean that?” Kix asked softly, watching as you nodded your head. He sighed in relief.

“Thank the maker, I was going stir crazy not knowing if i would ever be able to touch you.” He breathed out, basking in your rumbly laugh that followed his words.

“Yeah, well I gave up waiting to see how long it would take you to kiss me, so I did it first.” You replied, and his eyes went wide.

Outside the medical room, Fives and the others burst into laughter hearing Kix’s shout’s of disbelief, followed by your laughter, and Fives high fived Echo. “Another successful job done.” Fives grinned, and Echo copied it.

“Yeah, it’s about damn time.”

➺

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@moomoog017