#arc trooper training program | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

motherroam-rs · 8 months ago

Text

Unattached

Fives x Fem!Reader

NSFW Ahead Minors DNI 18+!!!

A/N: To all the girls who wish they lost their virginity to a clone trooper - this one’s for us.

Tags/Warnings: Loss of virginity, Best Friends to Lovers, Alcohol, Gambling, Lil bit of angst, Fluff, Smut, Oral Sex (F! Receiving), Vaginal Fingering, Slow burn (technically), Love Confessions, Happy Ending!!

Summary: Since the moment you were transferred to the 501’st as a Civ Medic you and Fives gravitated towards each other and over many months of friendship you can’t help but slowly fall for the charming ARC Trooper. The tension only increases when he finds out just how inexperienced you are.

Word Count: 9.8k

(For clarification, the italics are flashbacks)

The data pad read ‘Order for Civilian Medic Transfer’, which is really just a nicer way of saying ‘You can’t do anything about this, so just accept it and suffer’.

You had no choice when you were inevitably rotated between legions, untethered. Your newest order was to the 501st, and you find yourself standing in an empty Medbay; it’s quiet. Too quiet. You’ve either been fortunately assigned to a legion that didn’t see much action, if that were even possible, or you were stood in the eye of a hurricane.

Your eyes are caught on the tattoo across the scalp of the head medic, ‘A good droid is a dead one’ and you suppress a smile at the sentiment. It’s why you were needed - clones weren’t fond of droids, even those programmed for medical purposes.

“New?” The clone asks, eyes focused on a datapad. You weren’t, not by any means, you had been rotated countless times over the duration of the clone wars. But, you already begin preparing yourself for the usual gruff demeanour that often greeted you, although you were better than a droid, to many clones you were still just a ‘Civ’, despite the many sleepless nights of studying and GAR medical training.

“No, sir, transferred from the 104th.” You keep your words short, formal, but the clone medic’s eyes light up in recognition.

“Under Commander Wolffe?” He asks, a hint of surprise in his tone as he actually looks away from the datapad.

“Briefly,” you admit, recalling how just a few days before the commander in question practically growled at you when you had to check his eye. You lasted a week there. “I was with the 212th before that.”

The head medic eyes you with a curious look, waiting for you to elaborate, so you continued, “Typically Civ medics are just seen as temporary by the head medic, until a clone medic becomes available.” You explain, perhaps a bit too fast. How many times could you fit the word medic in that sentence? You internally groan, but he gives a small hum of acknowledgement, whether it was in agreement or disagreement of your statement, his face didn’t betray him either way.

“Go get yourself settled, and then report back here in an hour.” He says with a slight sigh, passing you the datapad, a blinking spot on the screen indicating where your bunk is - at least this time you weren’t in the shared barracks. “We’ve only just got back from being planetside on Coruscant for a week.” Ah, that answers the question of why it had been so quiet then.

“Thank you, sir.” You nod, picking up your small pack of personal belongings, it wasn’t much, but it was the only anchor you had when you were transferred around so often.

“Kix is fine.” He nods, giving you a genuine smile. “Welcome to the 501st.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The small room is thrumming with energy that’s been ignited from an evening of drinking following a particularly rough mission for the men. Contraband in the form of amber liquid that burns your throat and fuels bad decisions, is grouped together on a small crate you’ve been using as a makeshift table for the evening.

You’re currently sitting on the floor, leaning against a crate next to Fives as he divulges details to you about their most recent mission. Details that you probably aren’t supposed to know, but he tells you anyways, because ‘what are friends for if not to impress’, he had once told you with a sly wink.

You knew most of the other Civ workers in the GAR weren’t as close to the clones they served with as you were. In all of the legions you had been bounced around from, there was a clear divide between the small number of Civ members, compared to the clones. But in the 501’st, those theoretical lines were blurred, or probably didn’t exist at all, with how Fives’s arm settled around your shoulder. He always had been the most friendly out of his brothers.

Your attention is drawn away from the warm expression of your friend, and you groan as you catch Jesse and Hardcase standing side by side, comparing their lengths.

“Put it away, for the last time they’re all the same size!” You call out with a laugh, making Fives frown and whip around as he’s been interrupted from your conversation.

“Know from experience with clones?” Jesse sends you a drunken wink as his hands sloppily stuffs the offending body part back into his blacks.

“Medical experience with clones.” Your face almost hurts from smiling as you shake your head, before turning back to Fives. It’s faint and fleeting, but a look of annoyance crosses his features. You’re not awarded the opportunity to ask about it though, because he’s already delving into another over-exaggerated story of how he took out a whole group of droids on his own.

You wouldn’t really care if they all weren’t true, you just enjoyed hearing him talk. The man could make even the most boring senate conversations interesting, you’re sure of it. So you smile, hooked onto each of his words, cursing the way your heart beats too fast when he reaches out to push away some hair that's fallen from the usual tight bun you have to wear it in. His fingers graze the skin of your cheek, leaving a burning trail.

It’s a small gesture that doesn’t even break the rhythm of his conversation. The touches are natural, instinctive on his part. He’s always touching you - you know to him it means nothing more than that, but your tell-tale racing heart screams at you that you wish it did.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Once you had returned from being settled in, Kix had directed you to some neatly stacked crates containing new medical supplies to restock the old ones. Your sluggish movements remind you just how little sleep you’d managed on the transport here from the 104th, your body was still aching from the hours spent laying on the durasteel floor between containers of explosives. Not the best sleep you’ve had, and surprisingly not the worst.

“Hey Kix, can you tell me if this looks infected?” A voice pulls you from your thoughts, alerting you to the attention of a topless clone trooper, something that no longer phased you given how many entirely naked clones you had treated. Upon seeing you, the clone goes from being relaxed to formal instantly, clearing his throat as he fumbled to get the top half of his blacks on.

“You,” he clears his throat, his voice now adopting the typical ‘trooper at attention’ tone as he pulls the clothing over his head, “Are not Kix.” His top blacks are on backwards, and he runs a finger along the collar which now presses uncomfortably to his flushed neck.

“No, I’m not.” You agree with him, suppressing a small smile at how he looks caught off guard, from his surprised expression you may as well be a battle droid standing in the medical bay.

“May I?” You gesture to his top, and he reluctantly removes it once more, taking a seat on a free bed. You see his issue, a common rash splaying across his shoulders from where his armour has been rubbing his skin through his blacks.

“You’re the new medic?” He sounds more nervous than you are, his jaw tensing when you run your fingers along the rash, checking for any signs of infection.

You give a small hum, confirming he’s correct as you step away. “And you are?”

“Echo. I, uh.. Wasn’t expecting a Civ?” They never do.

“Not infected, by the way, it’s just irritated.” You seek out a steroid cream, which you conveniently just restocked. “Here, use this twice a day, and keep the area as dry as possible.”

He gives you a short, formal nod before he redresses, correctly this time, and leaves the room with his face almost as red as his rash.

You’ve moved onto another crate when you catch the movement from the corner of your eye, somebody passing the door to the Medbay. You think nothing of it until you see the figure again, this time he slows slightly to glance inside the room.

He walks past a third time - and then a fourth.

On what would be the fifth time you poke your head out slightly to watch him walk almost to the end of the hallway, just to turn around and begin his lap back past the door. He stops in his tracks when he sees you looking curiously at him, but quickly recovers even though he’s been caught, and strides back towards you. You catch a glimpse of a tattoo on his temple, but it’s his grin, framed by neatly trimmed facial hair, that seems to distinguish him from other clone troopers you’ve come across. It’s cocky, confident, and warm. Especially warm when he takes hold of your hand and presses it to his lips in a greeting that makes it feel as though you’re trapped in a boiler room, overheating.

“I’m Fives, and you are?”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You were settled between Echo and Fives, the three of you with empty cups waiting for the next round of the game. Each round you had to take a shot based on your answer to the question, which so far had ranged between ‘If you’ve been shot by a droid’ - which Rex groaned at, and ‘If you ever fucked a girl in the 79’s fresher’, which made several of the men cheer.

Your heart sinks a bit when Fives drinks at that one, recalling the night just over a month ago on Coruscant.

You had all been there together, his arm slung around your shoulder in the booth as you both laughed at some fleeting joke made by Jesse. You had grown closer, close enough to the point that he got teased relentlessly by his brothers for calling you his ‘best friend’ whilst under the influence of some strong pain medication in the Medbay.

You left to get some more drinks from the bar when Sinker approached you, a spark of recognition in his eyes. You were trying to focus on ordering the drinks, blushing as you attempted to turn down the Sergeant who was whispering over-sweetened things in your ear at how he wished you’d stayed with the 104th for longer.

You smiled in thanks when Echo came to help, claiming he saw that you may need help with carrying the drinks. You were grateful for the assistance, laughing with Echo under the usual volume of the crowd until you caught sight of your best friend, stumbling through the crowd towards the fresher, his hand intertwined with a beautiful Twi’lek girl.

You remember how Echo looked at you as he realised the reason behind your tightened jaw and hoarse voice when you excused yourself for some air. You couldn’t stand the sympathy in his eyes, the eyes that looked identical to those of your best friend, the man you were in love with.

So much for being unattached.

“It wasn’t that good.” Fives nudges your knee with his own, pulling you from your thoughts. A casual smirk plays on his lips and you’re about to laugh off the comment, ready to deflect the attention from your friend, when his twin interrupts you.

“Yeah, cause you couldn’t get it up!” Echo slurs as he leans against you, clutching his cup as some of the amber liquid sloshes down your chest before he apologises and wipes the stain above your breast with hazy eyes. Fives catches his brother's wrist, pushing it away from your chest lightly, and your mind races at Echo’s statement - Fives hadn’t slept with the Twi’Lek girl?

“Shut up, Vod.” Fives grumbles, his fingers tightening around his own cup as he looks away from the two of you. A blush, that must just be from a mix of alcohol and annoyance, creeps up to his face. Thankfully as most of these questions have been related to battle or women, you’ve barely drank, so you can at least try to be rational and push away thoughts that creep into your mind of how you think Fives would take you against the wall of a fresher stall. You can ignore the contemplation on if he would show restraint, or if he would make the walls shake.

“How about this - take a shot for how many people you’ve slept with,” Jesse calls out to the small group of you, an intoxicated grin on his face. Several hands reach for the last remaining bottle at once, ready to fill their cups, each of their owners immediately wanting to show off to the rest of the room's occupants.

“No!” Kix’s hand is the fastest to snatch the liquor away, holding it close to his chest plate. “We are not looking after you all in the Medbay with alcohol poisoning!” He gestures between you both, and Jesse bargains, coming to a compromise for 1 shot for every certain number, but the specifics of the round are drowned out by your own heartbeat.

Your body stills and you look down to your half full cup. It would be easy to drink, to lie to yourself and those around you. You don’t even have to drink more than once and yet you just continue to stare at your reflection in the liquid, it’s as if the cup were judging you.

“You know you’re supposed to at least drink once, right?” Fives whispers in your ear.

“Yeah, just got distracted trying to work out which of your brothers are definitely exaggerating,” You nod, taking a sip from the cup as you avoid his eyes that burn you more than any liquor ever could. You place the empty cup at your feet and lean your head against Echos, managing a small smile at how he’s snoring against your shoulder.

Fives gives a small hum of thought, finishing his own drink before placing the empty cup next to you, allowing his finger to linger on the rim for a moment. Your gaze is focused on the way the traces of liquor coat his fingertips, making the battle-calloused skin glisten. You close your eyes, trying to fend off the thoughts of how the whiskey tainted fingers would taste on your tongue, and the mental image of them coated in something sweeter than the alcohol.

“Remember the first time I dragged you here?” Fives’ amused tone forces your eyes open, his warm hand settling on your knee and he taps his fingers rhythmically, almost to the same beat as your unsteady heart.

It had been just over one standard month, one of your longest posts so far, and you were already finding yourself anxious that you could be transferred away at any moment. If you had told yourself just over a month ago that in your new assignment with the 501st that you would wake to two half-drunk troopers in your room, begging you to come play Sabbac with them, you would have diagnosed them with battle induced psychosis.

“Well, not with us-” Fives starts, rummaging around the small closet for something you could wear over your sleeping vest.

“For us.” Echo finishes, practically pulling you out of your bed with an eager nod as Fives approaches you with something in his hands.

“Hands up, sweetheart.” In your tired state, you obey thoughtlessly, allowing Fives to slip the sweatshirt over your head. His fingers trail down your sides, eliciting goosebumps across your skin as he pulls the heavy fabric down over you, and between the contact and his name for you, your heart skips a beat. It nearly stops when he winks before turning away to get your shoes.

Clone Troopers were often flirty, but over the last month, Fives seemed determined to earn the title of being the biggest flirt. Regardless which of his brothers got sick or minorly injured, he was always the one pulling them through the door and would then spend the entire time sweet talking you. Just last week, Rex had nearly concussed himself on a pipe and looked like he wanted to hit Fives who didn’t stop talking the whole time you examined the injury.

“And why do you need me to play for you? I’ve never even played before,” You swallow thickly, sliding your feet into the shoes as the twins guide you from your room, both of their hands on your back, ushering you down complex hallways that all look identical.

“Fives got caught cheating, so we both got banned,” Echo rolls his eyes, placing the blame on his brother, who begins telling you the rules of the game, which they are playing a slight variation of given that they only had items to bet, not credits. You had reluctantly allowed them to bring a full bottle of rather expensive vodka you had purchased last time you were on Coruscant.

“You did not wake up the new medic just to get her to play for you.” Jesse groans, and Rex begins apologising to you for his brothers, ready to scold them for waking you up, but you raise your hand to stop him.

“It’s no bother.” You shake your head, remembering Fives and Echo’s advice to act confident - so really you just had to ask yourself ‘What would Fives do?’

“You know how to play?” Kix asks, surprised by your sudden change in demeanour. He had been used to you keeping your head down in the Medbay, following orders, not showing up with a bottle of alcohol to bet on and Fives’s arm slung around your shoulder.

“Oh please, I’ve been playing Sabbac longer than some of you have been out of the tube.” You feel Fives give your shoulder a proud squeeze at your lie as he places the bottle of vodka on the makeshift table, and you both take a seat, “Deal me in?”

After several rounds of you finding your feet in the game, Fives drops his hand to your waist, giving it a squeeze - he’s signalling to go in for the kill. You turn your head slightly to look into his eyes, and he gives a slight nod that doesn’t go unnoticed by your opponents, he’s making it look so sure you’re going to win, but in reality your cards weren’t good.

You and Rex were down to the last cards, everyone else had folded. Either of you could have the winning hand, but if one of you backed out now before your cards were revealed, you could at least keep your own stake in the game. It was about the bluffing now, and thankfully you were good at that.

“Well, Captain?” You and Fives lean backward in sync. You press the cards to your chest, hiding how they’re on the verge of shaking from Fives’ grip on your waist, but also to hide your tell. It’s a small, barely noticeable movement, your forefinger running along the edge of your thumbnail - a nervous movement that Rex hasn’t noticed past your arrogant smile that perfectly mirrors Fives’. “What’ll it be?”

There’s a short beat where the room is silent and you hold the gaze of the Captain, all of the others staring between you both like it’s an intense standoff. He looks away first, tossing the cards down with a huff as he backs out, giving the win to you; he actually had a good hand.

“Oh and by the way, sir,” You lay your cards down, revealing that you had already gone bust, over the number limit to win. “I’ve never played Sabbac in my life.” You grin at the shocked expression on his face that melts into a warm smile and you’re enveloped into a hug from Fives while Echo reaps your winnings from the table.

After you all decide to have a drink from the bottle you bet with, the tiredness catches up to you, and you struggle to stay alert with the alcohol that casts a haze on your mind.

“C’mon, I’ll take you back.” Fives nudges you, picking up the half-full bottle of vodka as he pulls you to your feet, shaking his head in amusement when he tugs a bit too hard and you fall into his chest. “Already falling for me, sweetheart?” his voice is low, something that can only be heard between the two of you in the room full of his boisterous brothers.

You roll your eyes in amusement, a defence against how the whisper makes heat spread throughout your body. You take a half step back, placing the empty cup on the crate as you exchange a short goodbye with Echo.

“I’m gonna walk our lovely medic here back to her room, I’ll be back soon,” Fives gives a mock salute as you both make your exit and you try to ignore the whistle from one of the men as Fives chuckles, shaking his head. “Animals aren’t they, Mesh’la?”

You hadn’t known this side to any of the clones you’d served with, albeit you were just a medic, none of them had ever been this relaxed around you. The entire time you had been in the GAR, it had been lonely. There was no one to celebrate with after battle, no late night conversations between friends, no one to just sit with and cry when you weren’t able to save a life. But walking through the corridors with Fives somehow made it all worth it.

“You did great, sweetheart, I’m impressed.” Fives brings the bottle to his lips, taking a swig of the clear liquid as you stop outside of your door. “You’re just full of surprises aren’t you?” His tongue darts out to lick the vodka off his lips and you can’t help but let your eyes linger there after the action. His gaze is already meeting yours when you look up, heat flickering in his eyes like the flame of a candle - he’s caught you staring.

Fives’ hand comes up to hold your waist once more, his grip tighter now, drawing you closer like you were a flower he wanted to admire. The scent of vodka from his breath intoxicates you, and you find yourself hypnotised, leaning closer. You don’t know what causes it, but at the last moment he freezes, his hand falling from your waist to press the panel outside your door, opening it.

“Goodnight.” He gives a tight-lipped smile before stepping away, walking back down the corridor in the direction of the barracks. Despite the heavy sweatshirt and warmth of the vodka in your blood, you feel empty as you enter your dark room. You find yourself lying awake in your bunk as you work through a mixture of disappointment, embarrassment, and something that ignites an ache between your thighs.

He stopped himself from kissing you, and you didn’t know why.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

You know your way back, he doesn’t need to walk you, yet he always does. It’s been almost 8 standard months since you were transferred to the 501st, you could practically navigate your way around blindfolded. So, you know you're about to turn onto the corridor your room is on when he speaks.

“You didn’t drink.”

Your mouth goes dry, it’s like you’ve just eaten a whole pack of ration crackers while sitting in the Tatooine desert with no water. The lights above feel harsher, as if you’re under a spotlight on the Medbay examination table, and Fives is the one inspecting you. He’s peering at you from the corner of your vision, gauging your reaction to his statement.

“What are you talking about, Fives?” You shrug in an attempt to appear nonchalant, but unfortunately due to his metabolism he was as sober as you, meaning he was just as observant. You couldn’t brush off his attention when he places a hand on your shoulder, stopping you in your place just as you round a corner. From here you can see the door to your room, the third from the end. It’s taunting you at how close you were to getting away with the secret you’d been keeping against your chest.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” His free hand grasps your chin between his thumb and forefinger, directing your attention to him. You swallow as he draws your face closer, eyes raking over your features as he gives a small shake of his head. “You didn’t drink.”

“Yes I did.” Your voice is impressively steady, you’re good at bluffing. Fives already knows this, but he knows you better, and his eyes dart down in search of something. Your fingertip presses against the edge of your thumb in a movement that Fives had catalogued in his brain since that day you beat Rex at Sabbac.

The credit drops. You can see the moment it registers in Fives’ brain as his jaw goes slack, his grip on your chin loosening.

“Are you a- mph!” Your hand covers his mouth and you push him to the wall before he can shout aloud what you’ve kept unsaid for your whole time in the GAR. Fives was an ARC trooper, he could easily push you away, but his muscles seem to weaken against your grip. You feel the resistance in his body melt under your touch, as his eyes soften just above where your hand covers his mouth.

“I know you’re a loud mouth but please,” Your voice is low, urgent, as you give him a warning look, your face burning from embarrassment as he’s just come to the realisation of why you didn’t drink. You didn’t have any number to drink for. You can see him linking it together in his head - why you turned down flirtatious advances from his brothers, why he walked you back alone after every late night. It was why your body was so responsive to every small touch and honeyed word from his lips; like a flower chasing fleeting sunlight in the late afternoon. “Just this once, Fives, keep your voice down.”

Fives gives a short nod down at you, assuring you he’ll be quiet. His fingers loop around your wrist, tugging your hand from his mouth. You unsuccessfully try to ignore the way his lips had felt against your skin, you’re so caught on the small patch of wetness on your palm that you miss the clench of his jaw and flash of emotions in his eyes.

“You’ve really never..?” He trails off, the words settling into the small gap between you, they’re not taunting or teasing, they’re simply disbelieving. Even though he’s released your wrist now, it’s still suspended in the air, as if you’ve been frozen in carbonite. You’re afraid to move away, that it would be just like all those months ago, that the moment would be shattered and lost.

Your breaths are mingling together, you’re like an asteroid orbiting, drawing closer and closer to his planet, bracing for impact. Fives is unblinking, waiting for the answer he already knows, but needs to hear for himself.

“No.”

Something stirs in the depths of Fives’ eyes and there’s a tension you could almost reach out and grasp from the air. Your body acts on its own, hand breaking free from its frozen stupor to find interest in a small scar on his jaw. You remember treating the small cut, he never even flinched, but you had let him hold your hand anyways. ‘It’s for comfort’, Fives had told you, accompanied by the usual sly wink that made it all the more difficult for your free hand to remain steady when you cleaned the cut.

Fives’ eyes slip closed when your fingertips graze against the shining scar, his breathing becoming carefully controlled. You recognise the pattern, it’s the same pace it was during the times he would take you to the training rooms, his body pressed to yours as he taught you to shoot. He would chuckle into your ear when your hands would shake, causing you to miss.

Your hands are steady now, no signs of the trembling are evident when you raise your attention higher. Your finger traces its way over the inky ‘5’ on his temple, and you’re about to move it away but you find yourself held in place, fingers still pressed against the tattoo.

Fives’ constant touches were always casual, fleeting, and meaningless. But this? This was deliberate.

His gloved hand is circled around the bare skin of your wrist once more, keeping your fingers pressed against his temple. After a short, breathless moment, he moves your hand, but not to push it away this time. He pulls it closer, making your fingers trace across his cheekbone, against his warm skin all the way on a deliberate path to his mouth.

Fives’ lips ghost across your fingertips and in contrast to his rough exterior and battle scarred skin, they’re soft. Just above the point of your fixation is his heavy stare, focused and serious, like you’re his target in the heat of battle.

Your heart is thrumming against your ribcage like blaster fire and you wonder if he can feel the pulse in your wrist through his gloves at the sheer force of it. There’s barely any space between the two of you, and it only lessens with every beat of your heart.

“Just… stay still for a second, please,” Fives’ eyes burn into yours and he’s like a black hole orbiting you, pulling you in with his gravity. “Can you do that for me, sweetheart?” His voice is a strained whisper, just cosmic background noise, all you can focus on is how his breath fans across your lips.

His eyes close again when you nod, and you allow yourself to slip away into the same darkness as he consumes all of your senses.

The touch is light, a soft brush of his lips against your own, and the gentle contact has a shiver running through your body. His hand has placed your palm back to his jaw, covering it with his own as he pulls you in deeper. The second kiss is more confident, the swipe of his tongue over your lower lip has the world around you dissolving into a meaningless void as he becomes the centre of your universe.

Before you can part your lips for him, Fives pulls away, just enough so he can look at you. There’s a dazed expression on his face, like he’s been concussed but is strangely happy about it. The momentary bewilderment melts away into an unusually shy smile and he’s about to kiss you again when you’re interrupted. There's laughter echoing from the direction you just came and Fives pulls back further, a suddenly serious look taking over his face.

You’re filled with a strange sense of deja vu when he steps away, your heart already sinking. Before you can open your mouth to apologise for getting carried away, to try and repair whatever strain the kiss could have put on your friendship, you’re being pulled along by his gentle grasp. Fives is making urgent paces down the short walk to your door, slamming his free hand to the control panel to get you both away from whatever prying eyes may have stumbled upon your private moment.

The door whooshes down to swallow you both in the darkness of your room and just like all those months ago, your back is pressed against the cool durasteel door. Only this time, you’re on the other side of it.

You immediately miss the warmth his body has been providing you with when he walks over to your desk, fumbling in the darkness from your lamp switch. Your lips still tingle from where his own were pressed against yours, and you swear you can still taste him.

The room is poorly illuminated from the dim bulb, but it's enough to highlight the figure of Fives leaning over your desk and you take in the full sight of him. He’s still wearing his armour from the waist down, but his upper half is only dressed in his tight blacks, and the lamp casts shadows that accentuate every ridge of muscle. It’s times like this where you’re reminded the man in front of you isn’t just your best friend, but also a highly decorated ARC Trooper, a man who spends most of his days in battle.

The serious look doesn’t leave his face, even when he’s moved back in front of you, blocking out the rest of your room with his large frame. At some point in the darkness, Fives has removed his gloves, allowing you to feel the rough skin of his hand as it cups your face. His thumb tugs at your lower lip, smearing saliva across the swollen skin as he teases the sensitive flesh. You can make out the apprehensive desire in his eyes as he marvels down at your mouth, before looking up to meet your gaze once more.

“Kriff, I…” His voice is light, and there’s an uncertain, almost desperate edge to it before he swallows it down. “Sweetheart, do you want this?”

It would be easy to lie to the both of you and back out. You never expected to meet anyone when you enlisted into the GAR straight from your medical school. Back then you had wanted to be a doctor, it was expected of you by your family, you sacrificed your entire social life to work for it.

You were never given the luxury of free-time, how could you ever have met anyone when all you did in your later teen years, when all your friends were partying and meeting their partners, was study? It was never a case that you didn’t want to be with anyone, but life simply prevented you from it. You were in your third year when the war broke out, two more years at the university and you would have graduated, but instead you decided to take your study credits and enlist as a medic. In less than a standard rotation from the moment you notified the university, you were on a transport to your first assignment.

You had let your work and the war rob you of so many experiences, you wouldn’t let them take this from you too. You wouldn’t let them take him from you too.

“Yes, Fives.” You nod, allowing your hands to rest on his broad shoulders. You’re sure of this, sure of him.

“Tell me to stop,” There’s a hunger in Fives’ eyes when you say his name and his lips press back to yours in a kiss that’s over far too quickly. “At any time, tell me to stop.” He’s holding your face still, unmoving until he has your consent.

“Okay.” There’s no reluctance in your tone, just a breathless need that makes Fives’ jaw tick.

Fives exhales, his shoulders relaxing and your eyes close again in anticipation, awaiting his kiss. But instead you feel the heat of his forehead press to yours, as if he’s anchoring himself against you, just for a moment.

“Okay, sweetheart.” His mouth is instantly on yours, his right hand still cups your jaw, but his left slips around your back in search of the zip on your uniform. He makes quick work of pulling the zipper down to loosen the material from your skin, and both hands travel down to your hips, tugging at the edge of the fabric.

“Hands up.” Fives’ voice is low in your ear as he presses a kiss to your hairline, and you raise your arms, allowing him to slip the top from your body. He discards it on the floor, not wanting to waste any time that could be spent with his hands on your exposed skin.

Fives is slower this time. Each movement is purposeful when he guides you both towards your small bunk, his tongue slipping past your lips in a kiss that makes you dizzy as you taste him in your mouth.

When the back of your knees meet the edge of your bunk, Fives’ lips begin to trail down your body. His path starts at the soft skin of your now exposed cleavage, and continues down past your bra, over the smooth skin of your stomach. There’s a soft scrape when his armour makes contact with the floor, he’s dropping to a kneeling position with his lips hovering over your abdomen. You look down at the man kneeling before you with his fingers hooked in the waistband of your uniform leggings, and you can’t help but smile. Fives pauses momentarily, sending a wink up at you before he tugs the fabric down, exposing the flesh of your legs.

“Lay down.” Fives whispers, and you can feel his warm breath tickle your stomach.

You settle backwards onto the bunk, allowing Fives to remove your leggings entirely, along with your shoes. You’re left in just your simple, black GAR issued bra and panties. It’s nothing special by any means, but Fives eyes you as if you’re an oasis he’s stumbled upon in the middle of a month-long battle. One meant only for him.

You let your eyes slip closed as you hear the familiar noise of his armour being removed, clattering to the floor. It’s something you’ve heard many times when he’s come to relax with you on an evening and you find yourself counting each piece removed as a distraction until bare fingers brush your knee. It’s a comforting touch to draw you back to him.

“Open your eyes, sweetheart, look at me.” Fives is sat just between your legs, bare aside from tight boxers that leave little of his anatomy to the imagination. You already knew what clones looked like naked, you had treated enough of them to not be phased by any part of their body. But a clone on a Medbay table was different to your best friend whose lips were pressing to the soft flesh of your inner thigh. “Is this okay?”

He inhales against your panties and you attempt to swallow your embarrassment and nervousness at the sight of your friend between your legs with only a thin layer of fabric between you. The sight of his ever-present smile between your legs sends a flood of heat through your body before it concentrates in your lower stomach.

When you don’t reply immediately, he pulls back slightly, giving the thigh he’s hooked over his shoulder a light squeeze. His brown eyes are filled with concern, searching your expression for any hesitation.

“You still with me?” His thumb traces patterns against your skin, each movement only encouraging the fire in your body.

“I’m still with you,” You nod, watching as something lights up in his eyes. “What are you-“

Fives immediately silences your question with an action. His wet, open mouth presses to your thigh again and you feel yourself exposed to him when he hooks a finger in your panties, pulling them to the side.

“I’m taking my time with you Mesh’la.” His hot breath fans over your now exposed cunt and you fight the urge to clasp your legs together, you’ve never felt more vulnerable lying in your bunk, entirely bare to the person you trust most and it’s a vulnerability that makes your heart race as if you’re under attack.

Fives seems to sense your nervousness as he holds your knees firmly apart with his shoulders and free hand, keeping your legs open for him to litter small kisses on your inner thighs, all the while keeping you exposed for him.

“Focus on me, Cyar'ika.”

Before your apprehension can get the better of you, Fives is licking a slow, experimental stripe up your slit, parting your folds with his tongue. His eyes are on yours the whole time, studying the awed look on your face and gasps of pleasure when his tongue runs over your clit.

Fives shakes his head, grumbling something under his breath. Before you can decipher it, he’s using one hand to lift your hips from the bed while his other practically tears the panties from your body, leaving you in just your bra. Strong hands move to grip the top of your thighs and pull you to him so he can secure his mouth to your core without obstruction, filling the room with wet, desperate noises as he laps at your cunt.

Your hands twist in the thin bed sheets, desperately searching for something to ground you as his tongue delves inside you. His mouth is attached to you like you’re his last meal before an execution, the first drop of water after a mission on a desert planet, something he’s denied himself for far too long.

One of his fingers circles your entrance and your eyes snap open, finding him already looking up at you with a question in his gaze, asking for permission. You can only nod, not trusting your ability to speak with Fives’s tongue dragging slow circles around your clit.

Your head slumps back to the floor when he proceeds with your consent, the sensation is entirely foreign as you feel his digit sink into you, testing your tightness. Your own fingers were nothing in comparison to his, even just the one is beginning to stretch you.

“Fives…” Your breathless plea encourages him and your teeth sink into your lower lip as he adds another finger to stretch you further. You let out a small whimper at the slight burn and he slows his movements slightly to allow you time to adjust.

“Shh, Mesh’la,” He changes the angle slightly, massaging his fingertips against the walls of your cunt as they search for a particularly sensitive spot. Your body jolts, arching towards him when he finds it, and a moan escapes you. “That’s it, relax.”

The heat in your core is building as you grow wetter, making it easy for him to work his fingers into your tight hole, only adding to the growing pleasure building in every part of you, begging to escape. He presses his thumb to your swollen clit, one goal in mind.

“Need to make sure you’re ready for me, Cyar'ika.”

Fives withdraws his fingers from your gushing cunt, his hands instead moving from under your thighs and securing themselves back to their original position on your knees, keeping your trembling legs open as he continues to suck lightly on your clit when you reach your climax. Your body shakes, set alight with pleasure that’s only intensified by the way his head rests against your thigh, looking up at you as if committing the moment to memory.

When you finally relax against the bed, the pleasure having temporarily robbed your body of energy, you expect him to be done and move onto the next step. Instead, he lets out a low chuckle and begins circling your clit with his thumb once more.

“Do you think you can give me another one, Mesh’la?” His soft smile contrasts his words, but his eyes gleam with mischief when you whisper a small ‘yes’ in response.

He’s using just his fingers this time, two of them working you in a scissoring motion, stretching your walls as his other hand slips between you and the mattress. His fingers expertly find the clasp to your bra, freeing you from the last item of your clothing.

His pupils are dilated, drinking in the sight of your writhing body, now entirely bare for him. He leans back slightly, taking in every detail, something between a smile and a smirk on his lips when his eyes focus on his own fingers pumping in your tight hole. The moment he feels your orgasm hit, cunt tightening around his fingers, he descends on you once more. Teeth pulling at your nipple, his thumb secured to your clit as he lets you ride out your orgasm, your hips attempt to grind up against his hand, chasing pleasure.

The world is falling back into place around you when he shifts his weight on the bed, and you hear the final piece of clothing hit the floor.

Fives is kneeling in front of you, a hand on each of your knees as you take in the sight of his bare body. His large cock makes the breath hitch in your throat, but he presses a soft kiss against your lips, prepared to ease the tension that threatens to overwhelm your body. His eyes are filled with a warmth that reassures you when he pulls back to press another kiss against your forehead, “You can take it, Cyar'ika, I’ll go slow.”

Fives settles his hips between your parted thighs, hooking one of your legs over his waist to keep you open beneath him. Soft lips ghost over yours and you feel the head of his cock settle against your entrance.

“Are you ready?” His thumb brushes along your jaw, a loving reminder that it’s your best friend above you, the person you trust the most. The same man who you would stay up with late at night after every difficult battle, who you would always pick up an extra ration bar for, the man you were in love with.

“Yes.” Your eyes slip closed as you press your lips back to his.

The initial pressure of his cock entering you gives way to a sharp pinch that causes you to suck in a sharp breath through your teeth. Despite all of Fives’s efforts to prepare you, the unfamiliar pain seizes your body in an uncomfortable grasp.

“Relax for me, Cyar'ika.” He murmurs the assurance against your mouth, forcing his own breathing to slow, unconsciously prompting you to calm down. A hand presses to the underside of your thigh, pushing it upwards as he rolls his hips into you, he’s only halfway inside and you try to force yourself to relax around his impressive girth.

“That’s my girl.” He groans into your neck as his hand drops from your thigh to drag precise circles around your tight clit. The added layer of stimulation makes you gush around the half of his length inside you, making it easier to take his cock, but he doesn’t push any deeper. Instead he rocks his hips in a shallow motion, allowing you to adjust to this size first.

“Shh, don’t worry, Mesh’la,” He strokes your hair, continuing to press soft kisses of assurance to your mouth as he works your clit in time with his shallow thrusts. “It’ll be easier once you cum with me inside you, then you’ll be more relaxed for me.”

Fives’ hips pick up their pace, but he still limits himself, expertly watching your body's reactions to his cock. He’s continuously ensuring he doesn't go too fast, too hard, too deep. It’s a balancing act, one he seems to be perfect at with the way he already has the beginnings of another orgasm taking grasp of your body.

“Fives!”

You’re grinding helplessly against him now, one hand on his tanned chest and the other grasping at the short hair on the back of his head. Between Fives’s whispered words of adoration in your ear, you can make out the wet noises as he thrusts inside you, each movement causing more of your wetness to drip between your joined bodies, smearing you both with your arousal.

You’re hooked onto his words like a lifeline as he guides you through the experience.

“Kriff-” He shakes his head as he takes in the sight of you cumming around his cock. But it’s not lust in his eyes, it’s something far more intense. “I promised I wouldn’t do this..” His voice is strained, like he’s trying to keep the words inside of him.

Before you can even catch your breath fully to ask what he means, your world is spinning when he pulls you upwards, slotting himself underneath you so you can no longer try to read the emotions in his face. Your back is now pressed to his chest, his body supporting you to stay upright and he’s hooking his right hand under your knee, spreading you apart.

His chin rests on top of your head, the position allowing him a full view of your body as his cock enters your cunt from behind; it’s more than before, but still not the full length. Your right arm curls up around behind you to hold the back of Fives’ neck, needily pulling him closer in the moment as you writhe against his body.

“Look at that, Cyar'ika,” You feel the rumble in his chest just as much as you hear it, and it draws your attention down to your joined bodies. He shifts slightly to support your head as you catch glimpses of his cock disappearing into your tight hole in a series of shallow, restrained thrusts. “Look how perfectly we fit together.”

His eyes remain locked on your body, the way your chest heaves and cunt tightens, dripping down his cock as you cum once more, you’re already losing count. From what you were always told by friends when you were in University, losing your virginity was supposed to be a far cry from this. In fact you don’t think a single one of your friends had cum when losing theirs, and yet here you were, the room almost spinning from the pleasure Fives had given you.

Fives chuckles at the blissful look on your face as he pulls his hand from your clit, allowing you to relax against his larger frame. “You are really something else, Cyar'ika.” He’s slower this time when he rolls you both over once more, cradling the back of your head as he rests you back onto the pillows.

He resumes his original position above you, thumb tracing the curve of your cheekbone. His eyes are full of adoration when he looks down at you, and there’s no trace of the painful stretch from earlier when he slides the full length of his cock inside you this time.

He’s been so focused on your pleasure that his own has been forgotten, but you see the evidence of it. He’s coated in a sheen of sweat that makes him appear like one of those glossy paintings in the art galleries on Coruscant. He’s an artwork, beautifully crafted, every muscle in his body coiled tight in restraint as his hips grind against yours.

It’s your turn to touch him this time, to appreciate every bit of the vulnerability in his face as he presses his forehead against yours and you angle your face upwards to steal a kiss. A tortured moan escapes his lips as his thrusts only increase in speed, he’s clinging onto you like it’s his sole purpose.

“Where?” His breathing is ragged against your neck.

You make a confused noise in response and he curses something in Mando’a.

“Where do you want me to cum, Mesh’la, hm?”

You‘re speechless from the pleasure, but thankfully your body answers for you, already locking your legs around his hips to keep you joined together.

“Alright, Cyar'ika, inside it is.” There’s a soft rumble of amusement against your throat before his mouth finds yours again. One hand tangles in your hair while the other grips your hip, both of them seeking to drag you closer. You’re two stars colliding in the void of the universe, no longer orbiting each other, instead becoming one as your light drowns out all darkness around the pair of you.

His name is falling from your lips, cries of it suffocated against him when his tongue slips into your mouth. Fives empties himself inside you, his cock unloading a flood of warmth that already overspills, leaking from your cunt with every slow movement of his hips. He pulls back, an unreadable emotion in his eyes before he buries his face in your hair, distracting himself by stroking at your burning skin. You stay there as you both begin to calm, hearts beating in sync with one another as your bodies remain joined.

He’s breathing heavily in your ear, an affirmation that you haven’t died and ascended to some afterlife when he drags his hips away from yours, leaving you empty as he stands up.

“Where are you going?” You hate yourself for sounding so needy, but with his cum leaking from between your thighs, how could you not. You knew it was common for men to leave straight after sex. You’ve caught some of the boys’ one night stands sneaking out barely ten minutes after they had been brought to the barracks, hair messy and clothes dishevelled.

“Relax, sweetheart, I’m not leaving.” He winks at you before disappearing into the small fresher joined to your room. You hear the water running for what seems like far too long, before he returns with a warm washcloth.

“Gotta clean us up before we make a mess on the bed, I’m not falling asleep in a wet patch.” He settles back between your legs, whispering soothing praises as he cleans your combined fluids. He’s thorough, making sure there’s no trace of him left before he presses a kiss to your inner thigh and discards the cloth into your laundry basket.

“C’mere.” He settles down next to you, lifting an arm to allow you to curl up against him and he pulls the bed covers over your waists. “You did so well, sweetheart.” He presses a kiss to your forehead, basking in a moment neither of you want to end. It’s sweet, intimate, and perfect.

Yet you can’t stop yourself from asking the question.

“What did you mean when you said you promised you wouldn’t do this?”

He pauses, an awkward smile tugging at his lips, you’d never seen him nervous like this, a blush creeping into his cheeks that he can’t even blame on the sex. “Caught that did you?”

You nod, biting the inside of your cheek. Your cards were on the table, it’s only fair that his should be too.

“I suppose it’s only fair given that I didn’t let you get away with not drinking.” There’s a nervous edge to his laugh as he drags you closer to him, like he’s afraid you could disappear at any given moment.

“Do you remember the first time we played Sabbac, you kicked Rex’s ass, and I walked you back to your room?”

You nod slightly. The memory still plagued your thoughts on sleepless nights, it embedded itself in a playlist of embarrassing moments that liked to keep you awake. Yet, it also featured on the list of thoughts that had your legs twisted in the bed sheets as you imagine what would have happened if he did kiss you that night.

“I wanted to kiss you, but I couldn’t.” He sighs regretfully, admitting the truth he had been fighting against all of the months since that night.

“I think you’d only been here for what - a month?” You feel his laugh against your cheek as it rumbles in his chest. “And I couldn’t get you out of my damn head, I even made Echo fake being sick once just so I had an excuse to come to the Medbay and talk to you.” You remembered, and now felt slightly bad for insisting you give Echo all those unnecessary virus and anti-nausea shots.

“I needed the excuses to see you, because if I didn’t, and I saw you without them, it’d mean something that I’d been avoiding.” He trails off, trying to find a way to put it into words, it wasn’t something he had ever been good at. But he would try, for you he would try.

“The rest of the boys found out because I called you my girlfriend once when Kix gave me some of the heavy stuff in those green syringes.” He laughs, shaking his head and your mind begins to put the pieces together, that’s why they teased him so often about it. “They all promised they wouldn’t tell you how I felt though - I wanted to be the one to tell you.”

He drags a hand down his face, his jaw tenses. “And then I got jealous when I saw that Sergeant from the 104th talking to you, how he had his hands on you,” He shakes his head, an irritated look playing on his face, both at the other trooper, and his own actions on that night. “Thought I blew my shot, and I tried to cover it the only way I knew how.”

Your mind recalls him and the Twi’lek making a beeline for the 79’s freshers, how just a month ago you ended up crying in the alleyway, it was like taking a blaster bolt to your chest. No amount of Bacta could fix the pain that night, but you had certainly tried to heal it with whiskey.

“But I didn’t do it, and it’s not like Echo said, not because I couldn't,” He pulls himself back from you, but continues to hold you, to keep you in the moment with him as he explains what happens, a regretful look on his face. “It’s because she wasn’t you, Cyare.”

He presses his forehead to yours, closing his eyes and your fingers trace over the tattoo again, just for a moment, just until he finds the strength inside of him; the strength to override his programmed instincts to be a loyal, unattached soldier and nothing more.

“I promised myself I wouldn’t…” Fives trails off, opening his eyes. He needs to see your reaction, whether it’s good or bad, he needs to know. “Fall in love with you.”

You wonder if this is what the Jedi feel with the force around them, but instead of the whole world, you just feel Fives. The warmth of his skin under your fingers, the certainty in his eyes, the utter devotion for you in his voice as he fights against every form of conditioning he’s received.

“Fives, you idiot…” His expression is concerned at first until he sees your teary eyes and beaming smile. “I love you too.”

You had loved him since the moment he kissed your knuckles on your first day in the Medbay, every interaction after that only strengthened the bond between you.

Fives smiles down at you, his quiet laughs tickle your skin with warm air as you’re lured back into his embrace. He laughs disbelievingly, shaking his head as he allows his body to press back against yours, a perfect fit.

“We have so much time to make up for, sweetheart.”

You never want to lose this feeling, his lips marking your body, peppering reminders everywhere that you’re his, you have been since the moment that fateful order flashed up on your datapad. You’re anchored, attached, tethered to him - whatever word you want to give it, you’re his.

#arc trooper fives x reader #fives x reader #arc trooper fives #star wars #clone wars #Arc trooper fives smut

694 notes · View notes

the-bad-batch-baroness · 1 year ago

Text

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

Tag List: @nahoney22 @commander-sunshine @sunshinesdaydream @padawancat97 @verndusk @starrrgazingbunny @coraex @lickylickylicky @homemade-clones @523rdrebel @clonemedickix @starrylothcat @mooncommlink @ladyzirkonia @stunkbiggu @cdblake1565 @ladytano420 @moonlightwarriorqueen @anxiouspineapple99 @clonethirstingisreal @dreamie411 @trixie2023 @novas-daydreaming

Join my taglist HERE

Tip me a tea on Ko-fi HERE

161 notes · View notes

vodika-vibes · 6 months ago

Note

Congrats, Vodika!!! 🎉🎊🥳

May I request a Western AU with beloved Fives? [sfw]

Love ya and looking forward to seeing what you come up with!—Coffee 🩵

The Marshal

Summary: You’ve been the sole owner of the Broken Hearts Saloon since the day your fraternal twin brother decided that staying in this sleepy town wasn’t for him. It’s not easy, you barely make enough to make ends meet, and you have to live in a small studio above the saloon. So, when the US Marshal arrives you’re sure that your already bad day is going to turn into a bad month.

Pairing: ARC Trooper Fives x F!Reader

Word Count: 1886

Prompt: Western AU

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: So, after doing some research, US Marshals track fugitives and run the Witness Protection Program. I doubt it's the same people, but I'm taking some artistic liberties here to make it work. I hope you like it!

You remember the day your twin brother left as if it were yesterday.

You remember sitting on the mattress while he paced in front of you, waving his hat and gesturing wildly while he bitched about how little the Sheriff does to protect the town from the growing bandit population.

You remember him punching the wall hard enough that his knuckles started to bleed.

You remember him looking at you and telling you that the pair of you can’t stay here. That the bandits had already killed your parents, that it was only a matter of time before they killed you too.

You remember ducking your head and saying that you won’t abandon the Saloon that your parents started because of Bandits.

You remember his rage. How his face turned red, and how he advanced on you with his fists clenched. How he got right in your face and yelled and raged at you. You remember how you feared, for a moment, that he was going to hit you.

And you remember how final the door slamming shut behind him sounded.

It was a relief, the following morning, when you realized that he took his horse and a bag of his clothes and was gone. Oh, sure, you did your duty. Reported to the Sheriff that your brother was gone, with his horse. That he decided to leave.

The Sheriff, an old family friend, only shook his head and sighed, before asking if he hurt you before he left. And then reassured you that the Sheriff’s office would add your brother's name and face to the growing list of people to keep an eye for when they do their patrol.

And then life carried on.

You learned, right quick, that you had to change the way you carried yourself or else your patrons would steamroll right over you and your policies with all of the grace of one of the steam trains that crisscross the country.

So you ditched your long dresses for carefully tailored versions of your brother’s clothes, and steeled your spine. You refused to let anyone walk all over you, not in your own establishment.

Sure, life wasn’t easy, having to do everything on your own was so, so hard some days, but mama always said that you’re more stubborn than a mule when you get an idea into your year.

And so, time goes on.

The Broken Heart’s Saloon is never going to make you rich, but under your careful management, and after reading a handful of books from the East Coast, you learn how to make something of a profit, so you’re able to buy clothes that actually fit you.

Of course, bandits are still a problem, but they don’t come into the town all the much anymore, not since the new Sheriff decided that any bandits who try anything in the town would be put down with extreme prejudice.

Even so, you can’t imagine living anywhere else.

It’s hot and sunny the day that your world crumbles to your feet. The Saloon is empty, the morning rush has already ended, and the dinner rush won’t start for several hours. Normally, you use this time to clean up and do any repairs that might be needed around the saloon.

But there’s something off about today.

A feeling of deep anxiety, that you can’t quite shake.

And so, when the door opens and Sheriff Echo steps into the saloon, your heart sinks. And when a second man, identical to Echo save for the five tattooed on his forehead, but with a badge with a five pointed star attached to his belt steps into the saloon after him, you go cold.

It’s never a good thing when the Marshals come to town.

Echo pulls off his hat and sets it on the counter, his gaze is sympathetic, “Sorry for bothering you so early.”

“Not that early, Sheriff.” You reply as you set your cleaning rag in the sink, “I still have coffee on, if either of you want some.”

The Marshal sinks onto a bar stool as he places his own hat on the bar as well, “None for me, it’s a bit too hot for a hot drink.” He has a kind smile, the Marshal, and you find yourself relaxing slightly.

“Well, how about something cold then? I have some lemonade?”

“That would be wonderful,” Echo says as he sinks onto a stool next to the man who can only be his twin.

“Alright, then.” You pull out two clean glasses, add ice, and pour some lemonade into both, before you pass the drinks to the two men, “Here you go.”

The two men take small sips of their drinks, and there’s a slightly uncomfortable silence that you’re hesitant to break.

In the end, you don’t have to. Echo sets his glass back on the bar and looks at you, “This is my brother, Fives. He’s a US Marshal.”

“The badge did look familiar to me,” You reply with a wry smile. You can’t think of a single person who wouldn’t recognize the five pointed star of the US Marshals badge, it’s almost as distinctive as the six pointed star of Echo’s Sheriff badge.

Fives sets his glass down on the counter as well, “You’re Miss Racine? Twin sister of Connor Racine?”

Your heart falls to your toes, “What did he do?”

Fives glances at Echo and then waves him off, “Go on, vod. Back to work with you.” He stands, “Is there someplace we can talk?”

You’re quiet for a moment, “I…yeah. I can shut the Saloon for a bit and we can talk upstairs.”

“After you.”

You move around the Saloon, shutting and locking the doors once Echo leaves, and hanging a sign that you’re closed for the moment, and then you lead Fives up the stairs in the back and into your small studio home.

“Make yourself at home,” You say as you sink into one of the kitchen chairs. You’re not terribly surprised when he sinks into the chair across from you.

Fives is quiet for a moment, and then reaches into his jacket and slides a sheet of paper across the table, “Miss Racine, I need to know the last time you saw your brother.”

You pick up the paper and stare at it, feeling like you need to cry.

There, emblazoned in black and white, is your brother’s face.

Wanted by the US Marshals. Connor Racine. Bank robbery. Murder. Bail jumping.

You drop the paper and flip it over so you don’t have to look at it, “I haven’t seen my brother in years, Marshal.” You admit honestly, “Not since the day he left.”

Fives sighs, “Echo said as much, but I had to make sure.” He awkwardly rolls his shoulder, “Miss Racine, I have reason to believe that your brother will come to you for help.”

“He won’t get it-” You say.

“Then he’ll hurt you.”

You want to tell him that Connor would never. That he’s your twin brother, that he promised to never hurt you.

But you can’t. Your twin brother died the same night your parents did.

“What do you suggest?” You ask instead.

“There’s a safe house I can take you to, you’ll be safe there.” Fives said.

“And when can I return?”

Tellingly, he doesn’t answer.

You flip the paper back over, “Has he joined a gang?”

“Yes.”

“I’m going to have to go into Witness Protection, aren’t I?” You ask, your voice heavy.

“We don’t know that yet.” Fives corrects, “But if you do, I’ll be there the whole time.”

You press your face into your hands, “Fine,” Your voice is muffled, “Fine, when do I leave.”

“Immediately.” He pauses, “I am sorry about this.”

“It’s not your fault. My brother’s the idiot here.” You stand, “I just need a few minutes to pack.” Fives nods and moves so he’s standing near the door, his hand resting on his pistol.

It’s that, more than anything, that tells you how dangerous your brother has become.

Several months later, you’re living in a completely different town. You can see the ocean from your back window.

It’s nice, though it’s not what you expected from your life.

All things considered, Fives is an excellent housemate. He’s polite and respectful of you, not to mention funny and charming when he puts his mind to it.

As he said before he took you away from your hometown, Fives has been protecting you for months. You’re not sure, exactly, what’s happening. But you do know that Fives has had to move you several times since you’ve left your home.

One time, Fives had to kill someone right in front of you, to protect you from a would-be assassin. That had been three houses ago.

You like Fives. More, maybe, than you should.

There’s something incredibly attractive about a man who will kill to keep you safe. You’ve done your best to hide your attraction from him, but he’s hardly a stupid man, and you’re hardly a subtle woman.

Sometimes his gaze lingers on you, when he thinks you’re not looking.

You think that means that he thinks very similarly about you as you think about him, but you’re not sure how to put it into words. The last thing you want is to lose him, after all.

You look up from where you’re wiping down the kitchen counter at the sound of Fives entering the kitchen. “Breakfast will be done in a bit, but there’s coffee.”

“Mm, you’re the best.” His voice is thick with sleep, and you turn to smile at him.

He’s shirtless, clad only in the sleep pants that he prefers. It’s a sight you’ve gotten used to, over the last couple of months, but one that you still very much appreciate.

“You’re staring,” He mumbles as he pours a liberal amount of sugar into his coffee.

“I’m wondering if I should just sprinkle some coffee over a mug of sugar from now on.” You counter, grimacing as he adds another spoonful of sugar.

Fives laughs, “I like sweet things.”

“There’s sweet, and then there’s whatever that is.”

He glances at you, a wide grin on his handsome face, “You wanna taste it?” Fives asks as he takes a sip of his coffee.

“I’m sure it tastes horrible.” You say even as you reach for his mug.

You’re surprised when he sets the mug on the counter, and catches your wrist. He tugs you closer to him, and ducks his head, pressing his lips firmly against yours.

Your free hand settles on his chest as you lean into the kiss. And, before you really realize it, his arm is tight around your waist, and his tongue is sliding against your lips, coaxing you to part them so he can map out the inside of your mouth.

Fives breaks the kiss before you do, he seems to have an uncontrollable grin on his face as he releases your wrist and allows his hand to cup your cheek. “Should have done that ages ago,” He mumbles.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Slowly he bumps his forehead against yours, “Do you mind?”

“Not at all.”

His smile widens as he leans in and kisses you again.

And you can’t help but think, maybe things aren’t so bad, really.

#star wars #tcw #star wars au #vodika-vibes 650 event #arc trooper fives x reader #fives x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #f!reader fic #answered asks #western au

58 notes · View notes

mamuzzy · 3 months ago

Note

Hey dear :D can you tell us about your headcanons on Jango training the Alphas ? :D

I finally got here to answer this ask. <3

And ooooh boy do I have??? Only angsty ones, love.

I use RepComm lore as a base of my headcanons, just to make clear in what continuity I'm creating in. And that means: NO INHIBITOR CHIPS.

The whole idea of the Clone Army revolves around one thing ultimately: to completely exterminate the jedi. To create an army that is ready for the decisive moment of taking down the enemies of the Sith without the jedi even noticing what is coming at them.

The trainers of course didn't know that this is the ultimate goal of the army, but they knew they had to train a whole army for a future war that who knows when will come. They had be loyal. And they had to be effective.

Every trainer had different approach:

Kal Skirata used love and insisted on the importance of comradeship which ultimately didn't necesserily made his commandos loyal to the Republic, but to each other.

Walon Vau used harsh discipline and insisted on the importance to make his commandos remember: they are superior than others and they have the most important mission in their life. Nothing awaits them outside because they have everything they need: their duty. Vau's trainees remained loyal even after the regime change.

And then we have the Alpha ARC Troopers trained by Jango Fett.

The Alpha ARCs in their mind are the unaltered version of Jango Fett. 100 copy of Jango Fett with their brain remained untouched (compared to the Nulls who's brain was tampered with). Meaning, the Alpha's undying loyalty to the Republic is not pre-programmed, it is not in their genes. It is conditioned with traditional methods: And that is FEAR.

More under the cut

Jango Fett didn't care about the clones and I will sparta-kick everyone from this hill who tries to fight me. I don't have a single worldbuilding where Jango was a "good daddy" for the Clones. He was a great, loving and caring father to Boba and Boba alone.

For him, the clones are products, but also they are part of his agenda: Even he dies, there will be millions of Jango Fetts who will fulfill his revenge of killing off all the Jedi.

The books often mention that Jango was a sociopath (meaning he is on the spectrum of ASPD), and this template was able to make the clones to be so effective. His brain is just built different and wasn't cluttered with moral based inhibitions. That's why I think that Jango wasn't actually a sadist who enjoyed tormenting his trainees - The Alphas - out of joy and personal amusement. It served the purpose, it was all pragmatic.

There wasn't any more description what was Alpha's training like on Kamino but these little snippets of lores made my brain go brrrrrrr about the theories. If the Alphas - THE ALPHAS!!!! - were scared of Jango it could mean that their training included something that gave a reason to fear him.

We know that he installed his own commands into the Alphas such us destroying the Clone Facility in case of Separatist attack on Kamino which Alpha-17 almost fulfilled. But also, being unquestionably loyal to the Jedi. For me, these commands weren't installed. I truly love the unaltered brain-Alphas.

-- Physical pain --

When you are in the military and under training, the line between educational violence and actual physical abuse is very thin. Insubordination had to be punished. Jango had to make sure that the Alphas remain loyal despite not having the same inhibitions like the rest of the clones, so there must have been exercises where he tested how far the Alphas would go to fullfill their duties, achieve victory, enforce an order, AT ALL COST.

They had to put through physical hell, pushed over their limits, pushed over their thresholds and beyond. If caught crying, if caught showing pain, if caught showing the single muscle of questioning Jango's orders, they had to be punished. They weren't made to compete with each other, but they also couldn't protect each other publicly when Jango punished the Alphas for insubordination. They had to watch. They had to learn from it.

The Alphas found secret ways to communicate with each other. To find comfort in each other in one way or another. Oh they knew the concept of love and caring. They watched Jango and Boba from the distance. The reassuring words. The caring touches of a father. They watched how the Nulls were running to their precious sergeant for comfort when hurt. They were very much aware that this is not something they would get.

-- RECONDITION: THE ULTIMATE DEATH --

The Alphas needed only one case of serious insubordination to learn their places and that was Alpha-Ø2. He was truly an independent mind and free-thinker, a true inspiration to thrive for individualism in the sea of Jango Fetts. Spar refused to comply and refused to sworn loyalty to "a republic" which he didn't knew.

And one day Alpha-Ø2 disappeared. Only to return without his memories. Returning without his fiery temper, without his free-spirit... and without any knowledge of how he used to love his Alpha-brothers dearly.

The brainwashing of the Alphas were so much successful later in time, when Alpha-Ø2 - called now Spar - actually deserted at age 8, two years before Geonosis, most of the Alphas felt disgust just by thinking about him - they had to.

Alphas had to believe that Spar was the utter disgrace to the Republic, otherwise it would mean, that they were actually treated wrong.

They had no idea that Spar's desertion was orchestrated by Mij Gilamar and Jango Fett himself after Spar regained his memories - probably the only mercy Jango showed for a clone.

-- Jango had to find the perfect balance --

The Kaminoans wanted soldiers who are independent thinkers but still loyal. Completely supressing their individualism wasn't an option, learned from Spar's case.

What the Alphas did in their non-existent freetime wasn't his business. But the Alphas had to drop everything that is them, when Jango ordered them to do so.

Jango hated every form of authority and realized that the Alphas inherited this trait for his disdain. So he used this train in them to be more effective as advisors for the Jedi. The Alphas had to make sure the Jedi survive until the critical point after all.

Alpha-17 is the smartest of them and the closest thing they had for Spar, which made him always walking on thin ice.

Tavo and Sull, lovebirds.

Maze had knowledge of wide variety of things due to reading forbidden literature that wasn't their in their curriculum.

Fordo communicated only through sign language due to trauma, and his closest friends learned too so they can speak to each other. He only spoke when Jango ordered him to do so.

They were smart enough to know what is was truly considered disobedience. And that was going against the Republic and Jango. If they comply to these rules, they will be safe.

-- ALPHA vs NULL conflict --

Jango always had to remind the Alphas that they were expected to be better than their precedessors, the Nulls. If they fail to meet with the standards, they won't have "a kal skirata" to save them from recondition.

Alpha-Ø2 sure didn't have.

The Alphas after a while didn't need outside motivation to be obedient and loyal. Because they were meant to be everything the Nulls couldn't be. Seeing the examples with their own eyes, how chaotic the Nulls were, how the Nulls as children were actually unruly and sadistic toward the kaminoan technicians, how they disobeyed everyone who was not Kal Skirata, they finally saw what is expected from them: BE BETTER THAN THEM.

And they finally found their positive reassurance on their own. How to take pride in being the true servants of the Republic. Only the Nulls didn't give a shit about this rivalry. They didn't care about Jango or the Alphas or being better than the Alphas.

Being obedient without question was totally against he Alphas nature but they tried. They tried fucking hard.

Alphas: We are the perfect soldiers of the Republic because we are obedient, well-behaved, and we don't cause trouble to our trainers unlike you.

Nulls: We are perfect soldiers because Kal'buir said so, nyenyenyeeeee!!!

Indeed. That Alpha's didn't have "a kal skirata" in their life to tell them they are enough. That they are perfect. That they do the best. Because their best was never enough.

And they weren't enough.

The Alpha ARCs deemed to be failure in the end and their template genes weren't put in to mass-production. When the deployment to Geonosis began, they realized that they weren't meant to be used in the battle and it almost broke them.

Despite their effort and hard work, the Alphas still deemed a failure. Unpredictable, unruly, and because they didn't have any inhibition in them, the Kaminoan didn't trust that they would fulfill their roles. Alphas had to watch the Nulls leave to Geonosis while they were put into stasis.

They didn't have "a kal skirata" to save them from this fate. They didn't have Jango Fett, he wasn't there at all.

They were all alone.

-- Did Jango's approach work? --

My answer is: no.

Despite the conditioning, the Alphas had wide-variety of reactions to the Republic, to the Jedi, and Order 66.

Some were able to shake down the effects of the conditioning, and realized that this dead man won't come after them from the grave to punish them for disobedience.

Some Alpha deserted and died by the hands of Clone Assassins sent after them during the Clone Wars.

Some Alpha remained loyal to Jango's orders, the Republic and then the Empire, training the new generation of soldiers.

Some Alpha went into hiding and became bounty hunters.

Ultimately, how they interacted with the world around them as individual and how the environment treated them decided their own fate.

46 notes · View notes

wanderinginksplot-writes · 6 months ago

Text

Clone Trooper Rambles

Part journaling exercise, part character study, part playing imaginary friends with clone troopers.

Warnings: Arguments, Fives giving off irritating little brother vibes, threats.

---

Commando

“Ahh, finally some representation!” Fi crowed, beaming at me.

Sev glanced over, frowning when he saw the shirt I was wearing. “What are you talking about, di’kut? That’s a white commando helmet. You and the rest of Omega wear that ridiculous black armor.”

“That armor has saved our shebs more times than we can count,” Niner told him.

“Yeah?” Scorch asked, eyes dancing. “How did it work out for you on that snow planet?”

“That isn’t the point,” Fi brushed off. “Point is, it’s clearly stylized. It’s supposed to be a negative image. Black armor on a white background.”

“Just like you on that snow planet,” Boss said casually.

“So you agree the picture on her shirt is of us.” Darman hadn’t even been in the room last time I checked, but he was suddenly there and sounding victorious.

I shook my head at the argument and kept working my way through the dirty dishes in the sink. And yet, my shoulders felt suddenly tight with tension when Fives walked in and made a disgusted noise in my direction.

“Ugh, a commando helmet?” he asked, not bothering to disguise his disdain. “Why? Got bored representing the better half of the GAR?”

“Better?” various commandos demanded.

“Half?” I repeated. That seemed like a severe overstatement from what I knew about the GAR.

“No offense,” Fives told everyone, giving his most offensive look around the room. “It’s just… well, you know. Commandos are bred that way. ARC troopers are the ones who distinguished themselves in battle. We earn our specialties.”

“You wouldn’t last a day as a commando,” Sev snapped.

Fives shrugged. “Yeah, I’ve heard you can die of boredom.”

Sev snarled and Boss didn’t look particularly motivated to hold him back from the now-smirking Fives.

Fixer stepped slightly in front of his squad-mate. It seemed like the only concession anyone was willing to offer. “Commandos get more training than any ARC. It’s different from the ground up. ARCs are standard troopers who happened to think fast enough not to be killed. Commandos are trained to think differently all of the time.”

“We’re Kamino’s most advanced group of troopers,” Atin expanded for Fives. “You’re basically a standard trooper with a skirt and a chip on your shoulder.”

“Skirt?” Fives demanded, finally sounding less than thrilled.

“Hey, a commando shirt,” Wrecker commented, coming inside from his most recent guard shift. He looked utterly bewildered by the way everyone turned on him, snarling. I gestured frantically for him to stop talking or just leave, but Wrecker was busy staring around the room and trying to figure out what had happened.

“You got something to add about commandos?” Scorch asked, his smile a bit too sharp for my comfort.

Interestingly, Wrecker and the rest of the Bad Batch were kind of commandos, I mused. They had certainly gotten less intense training than the earlier squads like Delta and Omega, but technically…

“Nope, nothin’ at all,” Wrecker demurred, holding his hands up as he walked out of the room.

Smart man.

“I’m just saying,” Fives started, “this argument is pretty even with just me representing the ARCs. That’s a pretty clear sign in my favor.”

“The only sign is that the ARC training program takes troopers who are a few screws short of a gunship,” Atin muttered loudly.

Stomping footsteps from the front door sounded their slow, ponderous way into the kitchen. I glanced over in time to watch Alpha-17 round the corner. He seemed to pick up on the tension in the air, staring around the room with displeasure written across his scarred face. “Whatever osik you’re all going on about, keep it to yourselves. I don’t have enough patience to pretend to care.”

The commandos dispersed, throwing dark looks and muttered complaints in Fives’ direction. For his part, Fives stood beaming at Alpha as he settled into a chair across the counter from where I was washing dishes.

“Fives, what are you staring at?” Alpha demanded. Without waiting for an answer, he added, “Kark off. I’m tired of looking at you.”

“Yes, sir, Captain,” Fives agreed immediately, rushing off.

Alpha and I sat in silence for a long moment before I lifted a brow at him. “It’s like you could smell the trouble.”

Alpha snorted, lifting his arm to show you the comlink attached to his vambrace. “Echo told me what was going on. Figured I’d put a stop to it before they got too wrapped up in themselves.”

“Ah.” I thought about that as I set a dish on the drying rack. “You may have been a few minutes too late for that.”

“Did anyone throw a punch?” he asked. When I shook my head, Alpha said, “Then I was on time. If it happens again, kick ‘em out of the house. I know you can do that. May as well use it now and then.”

“At least it was a good distraction from the dishes,” I said mournfully, looking at the stack I still had yet to clean.

Alpha gave me an exasperated look. “You have access to years of music and podcasts on that phone. That has to be more entertaining than trooper drama.”

“Depends on the drama,” I countered, grinning as Alpha rolled his eyes.

---

Previous | Next | Masterlist

Author's Note - This was just a silly one as I worked on characterization for the different commando groups and how they would interact with the ARCs. But it makes me smile when I read it, so here you go!

#clone trooper rambles #ink's fics #delta squad #omega squad #wrecker #bad batch wrecker #fives #arc trooper fives #captain alpha 17 #alpha 17 #star wars #star wars the clone wars #star wars fanfiction #ink's life #not crazy just creative #imagination

34 notes · View notes

stardustandash · 22 days ago

Text

where flesh and metal meet

Whumptober Day 21: Body Horror

Some days Echo wakes up still expecting his hand and legs to be there. He’ll roll out of his bunk and fall when his limbs end far before he expects them to. He’ll wake the others with the noise and they’ll laugh it off, connect his limbs, and go about their day.

Ao3 Link

It’s not that bad. He’s made his peace with it.

There’s far worse things to miss than a couple of limbs.

Instead the metal limbs and scomp arm mean that he’s far more useful than ever. Echo can run tirelessly, jump higher, and hack into nearly any computer. He’s accepted his new limbs, they’re a part of him now.

The cybernetics are harder.

The only person Echo trusts to help him with his cybernetics is Tech. And even then, he only lets him work on it in the middle of the night. He doesn’t want the others to see, or know, the extent of what the Techno Union did to him.

Echo sits with his back to Tech, gazing out of the corner of the Marauder’s viewport at the stars. The wires that connect his head to Tech’s datapad burn across the skin of his back. They feel like flies against his shoulders and it takes everything in him not to twitch.

“There are no new codes in your system,” says Tech.

Echo can’t see his face, but he can hear the confidence all the same.

“Good.”

“However, some of the programming and interpretive software is out of date. I could create some updates for you if you like,” says Tech.

The clacking of the datapad’s buttons are the only noise in the ship.

“What?”

“The programming that lets you hack using your mind via the scomp link is not running as fast as it could be, and I could improve the haptic feedback from your legs to give you better balance over rough terrain,” explains Tech.

Echo goes icy cold.

“Are you saying I’m programmable?”

“Well, yes. Your cybernetic implants are, after all, computing parts. Your mind is like the central processing unit, while the implants take on other functionary roles.”

Echo is a good soldier. He’s been trained since birth for battle, then trained further to make ARC trooper. His squad died without him, Fives died without him, and he’s survived being blown up. There are very few things in the galaxy that are capable of frightening him. Learning this is one of them.

“Could someone reprogram me? Give me different memories or change my allegiances?”

Tech pauses. Echo can’t hear his fingers tapping away as Tech considers the question.

“At a guess, that is what was being attempted in your captivity on Skako Minor. In order to use you to your full effectiveness, it would have been best to erase any of the parts of your mind that were not related to Republic battle strategies and tactics. Since you were able to call out with your designation number, and retain your memories of growing up on Kamino and fighting in the war, their attempts to do so were overthrown,” says Tech with hardly a break for breath. “So I believe if anyone tried reprograming you like that, they would have a rather difficult time of it.”

Echo listens to the rambling explanation and tries to relax. Tech is trying to tell him that he’s in no danger of losing himself. It should be reassuring. Yet the fear is still present.

“Thanks, Tech,” says Echo anyway.

“Whatever for?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

The tapping resumes. “Would you like me to craft the updates?”

“Maybe… Maybe not quite yet,” says Echo.

Even though it’s Tech, and he just explained that Echo can’t be sliced or overridden, Echo still feels uneasy at the thought of someone simply uploading something into him. To improve him like he needs improving.

Echo made his peace with the prosthetics and the things he’s missed since being held captive and presumed dead. But the cybernetics are another story. He remembers being hooked up to computers, barely clinging onto himself. He remembers the feeling of hands digging around underneath his skin and the shock of electricity as parts were connected without his consent. Those are the things that keep him up at night.

#whumptober2024 #tbb #the bad batch #clone wars #tbb echo #tbb tech #fanfic #fanfiction

12 notes · View notes

jazaesis · 11 months ago

Text

Original SW Characters

Below is a little about my main Star Wars OCs and their tags!

Avani of Cathar

Jedi Temple Guard and founder of the Guild of Force Users.

Pronouns: she/her Born: 37 bby Era: Clone Wars Sexuality: Ace/Aro

Padawan of Master Chyaro Xalendren, Avani is deeply spiritual, compassionate, and perceptive. She possesses a strong connection to the Force, guiding her actions and interactions with others. Avani's compassionate nature is evident in her willingness to aid and support those in need. She demonstrates a sense of wisdom, resilience, and a relentless commitment to the ideals of balance and harmony within the Force.

Avani served in the Clone Wars alongside her sister Jedi General Kalon, as they led the 107th “Storm’s Edge” Battalion. Knighted during the war, Avani was permitted to participate in the Jedi Temple Guard Trials, her life long dream. Her trials lasted a week, and when she emerged, the temple was in flames…

Following the fall of the Republic, and serving the Rebellions for years, Avani found herself questioning the established norms of the Jedi Order, but still finding a need for an alternative approach to understanding and utilizing the Force. She spent many years traveling the galaxy, observing the impact of the Jedi Order on the galaxy, studying ancient force related civilizations, and the wars that left scars on the galaxy and her friends. Avani established the Guild of Force Users on the planet of Avalon, and dedicated herself to teaching the ways of the force to everyone.

Aro Rua Ris

A chronically ill, Ryloth-born Twi’lek and Jedi Knight.

Pronouns: he/him Born: 43 bby Era: Clone Wars Sexuality: MLM

Raised for the majority of his life in the Jedi Temple, Aro was a quiet, distant youngling. He frequently found himself in the Halls of Healing for mysterious ailments that hindered his training progress, and he often felt that he fell short of his peers. Despite displaying significant aptitude with his Force abilities, Aro was nearly ejected from the Initiate program due to his health before he was taken on as a Padawan by Jedi Master Ima Gun Di.

Aro was Knighted in the early months of the Clone Wars when he was 20 years old. He was given command of the 482nd Battalion where he met Clone Commander Nite. Despite Aro’s commitment to the war effort and the Jedi Order, he found himself caught in Nite’s orbit and the two of them began to form a bond that lasted the duration of the Clone Wars and beyond.

Aro is a fun loving and sarcastic, yet deeply caring person that struggles with both familial and romantic attachment. Although he had been warned against those types of relationships, Aro proved time and time again to be made stronger and more confident by those around him. He is very humble, often attributing his accomplishments to the support of those closest to him.

Commander Nite, CC-23-6483

An ARC Clone Commander and Rebel Leader.

Pronouns: he/him Decanted: ?? Era: Clone Wars Sexuality: Bi

Honorable, loyal and strong, Nite is an ARC Commander in the Grand Army of the Republic, known for his dedicated leadership alongside Jedi General Aro Rua Ris. Nite led the 482nd battalion during the Clone Wars. He can be serious yet maintains a humorous side, possessing a witty sense of humor. Nite is exceptionally skilled in battle and deeply cares for his troopers' well-being. He deeply values Aro's companionship, the two growing closer throughout the war, and eventually falling in love. Nite deeply values family, standing by Aro Rua and Thalia’s side no matter what challenges are thrown their way.

Thalia Ris & Mei

A Togruta healer.

Pronouns: she/her Born: 16 bby Era: Original Trilogy/Guild of Force Users

Adopted daughter of Aro Rua and Nite and an orphan of the Clone Wars. Thalia is extremely emphatic and can feel the emotions of those around her, she’s particularly attached to Aro and is easily concerned and upset when he’s ill. Force sensitive, but not trained as a jedi, Thalia could often see force ghosts as a young child. Thalia is the light and joy of Aro’s life, extremely compassionate to all those around her, has a deep love for animals. She’s also super artistic and loves drawing and painting. Thalia grows up to become a doctor, traveling the galaxy and aiding those in need - much like a Star Wars Doctors Without Borders. Thalia is often accompanies by her grumpy tooka Mei.

Amarinda “Arri” Amar

A Jedi learner in the Guild of Force Users.

Pronouns: she/her Born: 11 bby Era: Guild of Force Users AU Sexuality: Bi

Amarinda is a spirited and impulsive individual with a penchant for mischief and adventure. Growing up under pirate occupation on her homeworld of Caelisole instilled in her craftiness, cunning, and resourcefulness, making her adept at sneaking, bluffing, and improvised problem-solving. Despite her impetuous nature, she deeply values her friends and family, displaying loyalty and care towards them. However, she can be stubborn and holds onto grudges. Amarinda's fiery personality often drives her to take risks and act impulsively, but her good-heartedness is evident in her desire to help others, even if it leads to unforeseen consequences.

Kalon Marean

Former Jedi Shadow and First Sister Sith Inquisitor, “The Scylla.”

Pronouns: she/her Born: 53 bby Era: The Clone Wars Sexuality: Pan

Caught between two prodigies, Kalon struggled to live up to legacy left behind by Master Xalendren’s previous padawan and forge her own path through the shadows cast by the light of his new padawan. Trained by Master Chyaro Xalendren, Kalon harbored resentment toward Avani, feeling overshadowed by their shared master. Desperate to forge her own path, Kalon joined the Jedi Shadows. Her path diverged when she became a Sith Inquisitor during the Empire's reign, but eventually found redemption with the aid of Avani, reconciling with her past.

Chyaro Xalendren

Anomid Jedi Shadow, former Jedi Temple Guard.

Pronouns: he/him Born: ??? bby - idk he’s very old Era: Clone Wars

Initiated into the order at the end of the High Republic, Xalendren was raised with the oldest of Jedi traditions by his late master. After the death of his first padawan, Thayeon Tehom. Xalendren served in the Jedi Temple Guard, until his removal due to his “aggressive” approach. Xalendren took on Padawan Kalon, training her to be better and stronger. Years later, Xalendren crashed on the world of Cathar, and discovered young Avani, taking her on as his next padawan.

Experienced and knowledgeable, Xalendren is a dedicated mentor to Avani, but is quite stuck in the old traditional ways of the Jedi. His holds a high regard for hierarchy, order and tradition, and holds vast knowledge in the force, combat and negotiations.

Hala Dymostra

Pronouns: she/her/they/them Born: 15 bby Era: Original Trilogy Sexuality: lesbian

A Nightsister in the Elomnii Coven born during the reign of the Empire. As “Prya’s Eye,” Hala is dedicated to her coven and well-being of her sisters. Hala can often be found hunting in the Dathomir mountains on her orbak Magick Man or sparring with her wife, Togruta assassin Morticia.

Gaia’voshi Laparedo

A film maker from the distant outer rim, studying filmmaking on Alderaan, documenting the Clone Wars and Rebellion.

Pronouns: she/her Born: 15 bby Era: Clone Wars & Original Trilogy Sexuality: lesbian

Born on a distant agriworld in the outer rim to farmers, Gaia'voshi was raised in the great outdoor with a great appreciation to all creatures and life. At the age of 12, Gaia'voshi's family moved to Alderaan in hopes of better opportunities and land. There, Gaia'voshi fell in love with filmmaking and earned a scholarships to study at one of Alderaan's greatest universities. Gaia’voshi spent the majority of her university years traveling the galaxy documenting cultures and communities. At the start of the Clone Wars, Gaia voshi realized she could use the power of her voice through documentation and journalism to raise awareness and support for civilians & troops. This project would go on to be called "A Galaxy Divided: Beneath the Fire.”

Gaia is joined by her film droid "Beq,” trusted ottabura, Leto (original species by @/sundownsquad), and later her speed-racer girlfriend Lu-Dal Kore. Gaia is an open character! Check more info here.

Golden Guard Raze, CT-21-0019

A clone trooper serving with the Jedi Temple Guards.

Pronouns: he/him Decanted: ?? Era: Clone Wars

During the Clone Wars, Jedi Knights aided in the war efforts through supporting the Grand Army of the Republic (GAR) through the Orders partnership with the Senate. Jedi Knights, often acting a Generals or leadership roles, accompanied Troopers into battle and lead operations. However, this meant the Jedi were limited in their abilities to oversee certain operations by the powers of Senate. The Jedi Temple Guards were crucial in the protection of Jedi temples across the galaxy and investigating force-related matters. However, since the Temple Guards solely operated under the jurisdiction of the Jedi Order, not the Senate, they were often unable to complete investigations, especially in matters involving the war or Separatists.

So, the Jedi Head of Security, Din Drallig, made a special request to the Jedi Council and Senate to have a trooper placed with the Temple Guards. This trooper would allow the Temple Guards to operate in war related matters. The trooper, ultimately selected by Commander Fox himself, was Coruscant Guard Special Ops Raze.

Raze, later nicknamed the Golden Guard for his gold detailed armor, accompanied the Temple Guards in investigations, battles, and galactic conflicts. While Raze may don the golden symbols of the Temple Guards, he himself was not a Jedi, nor force sensitive, and such, was not permitted in restricted zones of the Jedi Temple. Raze further is not privy to the secrets of the Temple Guards.

#Star Wars #Star Wars ocs #about #my ocs

39 notes · View notes

tacticaltutter · 23 hours ago

Text

FINALLY! (Click for better quality, looks better up close)

after several days of working on this piece, I have finished! Helped freshen up on some of my art skills and such.

So, ya'll may be wondering as to who in the kark this girl is? Welp, do ya'll remember my pieces of my clone trooper Shrike? This is Shrike, they are the one and the same. Now bear with me, I know that some may think that is stupid and doesn't make sense. So I will be explaining that in a sec. I have been waiting to go into detail about Shrike's background and info till I have their face design, and such, done. So now is the time to get into what is my cringe worthy thoughts of my clone trooper Sonna. HORRAY!

(take note that these are at risk of change)

Background:

A long while back, the Kaminoans were doing a series of tests to perfect their decommissioning tactics. Using the cloning material of REDACTED, they cloned a total of 666 test subjects.

They were not given increased aging as that was still in the works

Each subject was killed off, one by one, till they got to the youngest of them, EC-666. At that point, the kaminoans had just about lost interest and the last clone was left to rot, forgotten, in a crypto pod.

Fastforward to about 9-10 years before the start of the clone wars, A kaminoan assistant happened upon the forgotten clone. Bringing up their finding to the head scientists, it was decided after much heated debate that the random subject would be used for a side training experiment.

Thus, EC-666 became ECT-666.

Training:

It was decided that ECT-666 would be trained in assassination and black ops training.

Most of their weapon training specialized with melee weapons for quieter executions.

ECT-666's favoritism of longer blades and throwing knives did not go unnoticed.

Due to their small size, they exceled at stealth and hiding.

As a result of ECT-666's obvious difference in appearance to the other clones, they were trained separately, and not permitted to be seen by anyone else but the kaminoans and the trainers.

A good portion of their usual trainers showed disgust towards ECT-666. Many interactions left them with bruises or at worst a broken bone or two.

This led to ECT-666 having to learn to see to their own wounds, in fear of the Kaminoans seeing them as a damaged product.

In addition, a chunk of ECT-666's training followed the ARC-trooper programs. So, they were unofficially, partially trained as an arc.

Physical Apperance:

At the start of the clone wars, ECT-666 is roughly 15 years of age, standing at exactly 5'0.

They are of female origin, are naturally blond, with blue-green eyes (Hazel?).

Receives during their time in the war. a singular scar the runs around their left shoulder was a result of a training session that went too far.

Mental State:

Unkown to the Kaminoans, ECT-666 has some of the memories of the other clones like them from the decommissioning tests. Most of said memories were of their deaths and the harsh treatments they received. ECT-666 has no idea as to why, but they don't let it slip.

Due to the collective trauma; of watching clones being decommissioned, grueling training, and somehow having a vast number of the memories of the other clones of REDACTED. ECT-666 suffers from PTSD, depression, anxiety, and stress.

ECT-666 most likely has ADHD that they inherited from their template. Additionally, they are barely on the autistic scale.

Has zero self-restraint to jump headfirst into danger.

There will be more to come soon, so keep your eyes out for it! ❤️🐀

#art #digital art #artists on tumblr #the clone wars #star wars #clone trooper sonna #star wars clone wars #clone trooper shrike #sonna #clone trooper oc #original character

7 notes · View notes

lightwise · 10 months ago

Text

Clone Trooper X

Okay, since there’s been a lot of discussion around CX-1 from the season 3 trailer, I want to give us all a little refresher on how the original Clone X was revealed to us in season 2, the similarities they’re showing between him and CX-1, and what purpose they might be serving in the story.

This is not meant to engage discussion on whether the helmeted CX paratrooper in the trailer is Tech. We don’t know yet if the helmeted clone and the helmetless, deep-voiced clone are the same, or two different CX troopers. All we know is that the helmetless one who has spoken lines in the trailer, is named CX-1 in the subtitles.

Season 2:

We are introduced to the assassin clone known as Clone X in the beginning of episode 7, The Clone Conspiracy, as he is tracking and firing on two clones who were there during the destruction of Kamino and had been contemplating revealing Rampart’s deceptions. Many people thought this could be Crosshair, but based on his less skillful shooting ability and the faint glimpses of his unusual armor, I didn’t think it was.

We then see him fully via a holocall to Rampart, where the garble of his helmet (again, very different than a regular helmet modulator) conceals his identity as he is told to hunt down Slip and Chuchi. Later he finds and kills Slip and several of Chuchi’s guards, attempting to kill her during a prolonged chase (for an assassin, his shots are noticeably not as precise as Crosshair’s or many bounty hunters are), and Captain Rex as well, who appears out of the fog and saves her. He had been in the area to help Slip get to safety, and ended up stunning CX and bringing him into the Martez sisters’ garage for interrogation.

This of course ends up being the most fascinating aspect of this clone’s arc. Rex undoes his helmet and both he and Chuchi are shocked to find a familiar clone face hidden beneath it. Chuchi wonders why a trooper would be doing this and Rex feels like they’re not a trooper at all, but that he doesn’t know what they are. Once CX wakes up from being stunned, Rex tries to get him to talk and find out who sent him and what his mission is, but he stays stubbornly silent.

Once Rex offers to release him if he’ll just talk, he begrudgingly spits out “no you won’t, Captain Rex,” showing that he knows who Rex is and that he doesn’t seem to be surprised that he is alive, even though Rex’s official records state he died. CX then hauntingly says “You’re fighting the wrong battle, brother—you’re limited.” When Rex asks him what that makes him, he responds even more chillingly “a believer” before biting down on a suicide capsule.

None of this terminology or behavior is normal for clones or imperial troops that we have ever seen before. He appears to have been brainwashed in some manner that is very different than any enhancements or conditioning that Crosshair went through or that other imperial clones such as Cody seem to demonstrate. He has become a tool solely at the disposal of Rampart and whoever else in the Empire is putting him to use.

This seems to be confirmed in the next episode, where in examining his body, Rex had determined that all of his original CT identifications implanted by the Kaminoans had been wiped. Perhaps his mind had been too. CX is said to have been born in the first wave of troopers in 32 BBY, which would explain how he knows Rex, and that he is not a new clone creation but an original CT trooper who has been “repurposed” for this program.

Note that in this season we don’t get an answer on who is actually overseeing his training or brainwashing or anything else related to him. He seemed to be taking orders only from Rampart, but with Rampart off the stage after these episodes, it seemed likely that this CX program was bigger than just Rampart’s department or efforts. Sure enough, season 3 seems to be confirming that.

Season 3 (TRAILER SPOILERS AHEAD):

We see at least one, perhaps two new CX troopers in the season 3 trailer. A clone assassin named CX-1 has voiceover that precedes the reveals of an imperial commando, the bounty hunters we’ll see this season, as well as Nala Se with the words “They are coming…” and then it switches to the visual of his face as he finishes “for ALL of you.” And the visuals then show a quick sequence of the majority of our heroes—Wolffe, Hunter, Rex, Echo, Fireball, and Omega, and Wrecker—the “all of you”. This speaking clone has the same generic face and haircut that CX showed in season 2, as well as the same deeper register but with a honeyed smoothness to his voice that is very different from the rest of the regs or the gravelly pitches of the Batch boys. All in all, he seems like a copy (I know I know) of CX in season 2.

In both instances, it appears the X troopers dialogue comes when they are being interrogated by someone they were trying to hunt down. Beyond that, we still don’t know much about their origin and purpose in the broader shift away from CT to TK troopers mingled with Palpatine’s cloning efforts.

Also, I just can’t stop thinking about both troopers’ voices. Why are they so much deeper? And CX-1’s smoothness compared to most of the clones makes me think that the X-number troopers are clones of CX and much younger? Their voices haven’t had as much usage as the clones who have been through the entire war? I don’t know. It’s intriguing though.

I am fascinated to see exactly how much more expansive of a role the X troopers and potentially their program are going to serve in this season. Perhaps they will remain mysterious and simply be yet another way that Palpatine and Hemlock have twisted the clones’ existence to suit their purpose, and to act as a harbinger for what’s to come. Or perhaps they will be a pivotal hinge of this season in more depth this time. We shall see.

Now go forth and speculate 😁

#the bad batch #star wars #rampart #CX-1 #clone trooper x #clone assassin #tbb #tbb season 2 #the bad batch season 2 #tbb season 3 #the bad batch season 3 #bad batch spoilers #tbb spoilers #tbb trailer #tbb season 3 trailer #some light ramblings #somelightramblings

36 notes · View notes

oceankat8 · 10 months ago

Text

IIIIIII have been sitting in this little comic scene for quite a few months trying to get it just right but I am p much as happy as I think I can be with it at this point esp with the clone troopers in the bg bit that is killing me SO here is uh...this.

a scene from @blackkatmagic 's fic when the dead tree flowers (this comic has spoilers)

Transcript:

“Fives. After this fight—after this, I want to take all of you away with me.”

“There’s a place for us,” “I have it ready. Far from any battlefield. Or, if it’s truly what you want, I can come for you after you’ve finished ARC training, when you’ve deployed, but—it will be safe with me. You’ll have everything you could ever want.”

“We don’t want to become ARCs just to finish the program,”

“We want to be ARCs so we’re able to protect each other better,” “Not just—not just Domino. All the clones. We’re brothers in arms. We’re clones. We’re all the same.”

“Fives—”

“We can't leave,” “There's—we have a thousand reasons not to.”

And no reason to stay (written in red in the bg because it isn't said but Granta projects it anyways)

#starwars #fanart #granta omega #arc trooper fives #blackkatmagic #kat8 #comic #fanart of a fanfic #art #If anyone comments about the armor being wrong I may cry #I didn't...pay nearly enough attention to the armor watching any of the shows/movies and it is coming back to bite me #Star Wars

52 notes · View notes

mamuzzy-creates-stuff · 10 months ago

Text

"Go and raise hell" - Alpha-17 to Deadshot on his ARC graduation The ARC Trooper with armor clean as if he was a shiny, but his face is weary from battle scars, wrinkles screaming about years of experience, and there was certain sadness in his eyes only those had who faced the horrors of war before… only Deadshot didn't remember any of it. All he needed to know that he suffered amnesia due to an explosion and no one came for him after his rehabilitation. That's how he ended up the 501st after Alpha-17's ARC training program. All Deadshot knew that whatever the fucking galaxy is about throw at him, he will ENDURE. ENDURE. ENDURE. It's his mantra, sometimes whispered in his dreams, whispered when injured, whispered when Rex avert his eyes. Be strong and endure because if you fall behind once again, no one will be there to help you get on your feet. Endure and survive.

He is my everything. My precious babyboy. My miserable meowmeow. My emotional punchbag. If you have questions about this pretty little blorbo, don't hesitate to ask! He will try to answer as best as he can...

MASTERLIST TO DEADSHOT RELATED POSTS

「501 shenanigans」 [ART]

「Deadshot gets the love he deserves」 [ART]

03/08/2023 | OC: Deadshot | Sketchbook | He is a miserable blushy mess |

「Comfort a character: Deadshot」 [ART]

「Shattered」 [ART]

「Fives x Shots」 [ART]

CLONESHIP 23/10/2023 | OC: Deadshot, ARC Trooper Fives | They are in love, you honour |

「Mlem.」 [COMIC]

09/11/2023| OC: Deadshot, Clone Trooper Hardcase, Clone Trooper Tup, Clone Trooper Dogma, ARC Trooper Fives, ARC Trooper Jesse | Torrent barrack shenanigans | Boys being boys | Hardcase is a kind of friend who randomly licks your face |

「Stargazing」 [ART]

12/11/2023| OC: Deadshot | Deadshot loves watching the stars | Space art thingy |

「I've got a birthday gift from Corey!」 [ART]

「The captain isn’t entirely satisfied with the new ARC trooper」 [Comic]

「Deadshot has one of those days」 [ART]

12/12/2023| OC: Deadshot, Clone Trooper Tup | Sketchbook | Breaking down in 3…2…1… |

「Bruiser isn’t entirely satisfied with the 501st new ARC trooper either」 [ART] + Part 2 [ART]

「Deadshot has one of those days」 [ART]

12/12/2023| OC: Deadshot, Clone Trooper Tup | Sketchbook | Breaking down in 3…2…1… |

Skrunkly Shots[ART]

Skrunkle trooper!shots made by nuclearteabag |OC: Deadshot | Gift for me <3 |

「Deadshot has one of those days again」 [ART]

05/01/2024| OC: Deadshot | Character reacts to post | ith, you managed to get him feel something :DD |

「Deadshot has one of those days yet again」 [ART]

16/01/2024|OC: Deadshot | Deadshot has one of those days but this time he is pretty

「Deadshot reacts to Fives portrait」 [ART]

Fives x Deadshot (OC) CLONESHIP 16/01/2024 | Arc Trooper Fives, OC: Deadshot | Fives exists and Shots is melting |

「Sketchdump」[ART]

FIVES x DEADSHOT ECHO x TECH MAZE x BOOKS CLONESHIP 02/02/2024| ARC Trooper Fives, OC: Deadshot, ARC Trooper Echo, TBB Tech, Alpha-26 Maze | sketchbook | Various sketches about cloneboys + JungleSkirmish!AU lore |

「One of those days」 [ART]

「He was supposed to be dead to begin with」 [AO3]

FIVES x DEADSHOT (OC) CLONESHIP 20/04/2024| OC: Deadshot, Captain Rex, ARC Trooper Fives | Fanfic | Wordcount: 2446 | Mature | Talking about a dead person and grief | Captain Rex had enough with Deadshot's digging into the past and decided it's time to have a conversation neither of them wished to have. | If you perhaps read the older version, this one went through a little editing. |

#original clone character: deadshot #original clone character: kissar #arc trooper fives #captain rex #clone trooper tup #cloneship #fivesshots #clone trooper hardcase #clone trooper dogma #arc trooper echo

23 notes · View notes

mereelskirata · 6 months ago

Note

tell me your tup and dogma headcanons? *chinhands*

*squishes cheeks* I don't have many headcanons for these two (or anyone else tbh) but I shall share with you what I have.

Dogma is older than Tup and they're not batch mates.

I absolutely adore fics/art where the two were decanted around the same time and were best friends during their cadet years (I mean I've drawn and written about it myself). Lately though, with a certain post about paint on armor, I've come to the start thinking that - while they may have been friends or have worked together now and again on Kamino - Dogma has been alive and a part of the 501st longer.

Dogma received praise from his trainer(s) once and now often seeks it.

This one came to me yesterday while thinking about this ask and again today while rewatching clips from the Umbara arc. This could just be attributed to what the clones are programmed/trained to do or just plain loyalty but Dogma is the only one that I've noticed (and remember) doing so.

The first time we see him, he's exhausted and out of breath and told to go rest by Anakin. Straight away he refuses and continues to stand there as if he's trying to show that he's the best trooper and willing to press on despite the exhaustion. I'm willing to think he's expecting Anakin to recognise this and praise him for being an excellent example of a trooper.

After that he's constantly wanting to seek approval from Krell. Again, this could just be down to pure loyalty to the Jedi, but it's always Dogma (and to some extent and persuasion, Tup). He wants to rat out Jesse, Hardcase and Fives about their unsubordination. He's the one that takes charge of their execution, not a ranking officer like say Appo or Rex as though he had offered up then and there to take charge of the firing squad, just to show loyalty and perhaps sieze praise from Krell.

In a more lighthearted tone though, I do think this need to be praised has gotten him in more trouble than he can count outside of the battlefield and Tup and Torrent have used this against him a couple of times to go to 79s with them or try something silly and reckless.

Also he has a praise kink.

Dogma has trouble recognising his limits and needs a helping hand to stop.

This could broil down to the praise thing or he's just stubborn, but I honestly think Dogma would push himself to the point of him passing out from hunger and exhaustion or even death if given half the chance if no one tells him to stop.

Rex has to order him to go rest after he refuses Anakin and later on in the arc, despite being surrounded and outnumbered by angry troopers who want to take down Krell, and Rex who's giving this whole speech wanting him to step aside and do the right thing, it's Tup who convinces him to stop.

Tup has a low pain threshold/tolerance.

This headcanon only exists because of the chip arc. No reason why or a moment in a scene I can pin point that made me go "AHA. New headcanon!". It just happened. I will say this kinda leans into the next one:

Tup got his tattoo from his batchmates.

So I had seen once a post that had mentioned that the tattoo was something someone got from jail and questioned what Tup would've done to have gotten it, but I liked the idea that he had actually gotten it from his batch mates as a dare.

Maybe he was a crybaby as a cadet and they'd often tease him for crying often over the minor of things like his hair getting roughly tugged or he'd sprain his ankle while training. They would only stop if he "proved" that he wasn't a crybaby by daring him to do something. Sometimes nothing consequential like sneaking into a trainer's room and taking something or standing in the middle of a shooting range at night and letting one of the boys shoot something off his head.

One of those dares would be letting them stick-and-poke him with whatever they wanted and wherever they wanted on his body. Long story short, he'd be wailing in pain, pass out and wake up later sore and a tear permanently under his eye.

#I don't know if this is what you wanted or if any of this makes sense but here you go ehqiehqwih #corey hcs #hcs #for corey

13 notes · View notes

knightprincess · 5 months ago

Text

Forgive Me (Echo x Medic Reader) - Epilogue

Words: 2.5k Warnings: Suggested injuries, paralyzation. Fluff, family. Pronouns Used: She/Her - Used of Y/N - Reader is nicknamed Snap.

Pabu was peaceful once more. With the return of those who’d gone off to Tantis came the end of a chapter and the beginning of a new one. The fight against the empire had just begun, and at the call of Echo, Rex, Gregor, and Howzer joined the group on the peaceful island. Each greeted with the news of (Y/N), the truth about the CX Troopers, and reunited with old friends many believed to have been lost. By far, Fives’s reappearance was the most shocking, especially for Rex, who’d been there the day he was supposedly killed.

Although the rebellion against the Empire grew, it was put on the back burner for a few months. With the scattered information (Y/N) had managed to give, Comet fully recovered, although he chose not to fight any longer. Instead, he settled for a quiet life on Pabu, helping to protect the people. By the time the battle of Yvain took place, Comet had become known as the “Old Uncle” who told the best stories.

Dogma, too, made a full recovery. Although he’d been unaware of what had occurred after his imprisonment during the war, he had been aware of Order 66. A once rule-abiding trooper, his heart almost broke to learn the Republic was no more, being replaced with the cold, unforgiving Empire. Wanting nothing more than forgiveness for his previous action, Dogma joined the Rebellion to fight for all the brothers lost during and after the war. He wrote the names of those he fought for on his armor, ensuring they would never be forgotten.

Among the names were Tup, Kix, and Jesse. He’d helped Rex with his rebellion until the Empire launched a crushing blow on Barton 4, the base of operations at the time. There, Dogma gave his life to protect what remained of his brothers and the innocent civilians hoping to escape for a better life. Among those he saved were Hera Syndulla and the former Jedi Caleb Dume.

Although Cody physically recovered from Tantis and the empire, his mind never did. Plagued with nightmares of the past, of guilt for what he’d helped bring about, and grief for all those needlessly lost. For a while, he stayed on Pabu, helping the rebellion every now and again. After a while, he decided to search for Obi-Wan. Unknown to Snap, she’d helped him. Her repeated word of “Tattooine” was all he needed.

Once he’d found Obi-Wan on Tattooine, he apologized for what happened and asked forgiveness, volunteering to do whatever was asked of him. Although hesitant initially, Obi-Wan eventually came around, asking Cody to bury his and Anakin’s lightsabers in the Dune Sea. Cody would leave Tattooine in 3BBY when Mon Mothma called for aid in her rebellion. He became a pilot and later an instructor for the Rebellion, helping to train those who bravely volunteered and prepare them for battle.

Fives, on the other hand, was a different matter altogether. Hemlock had taken an interest in the former Arc Trooper, claiming him as his personal project. After much research it was revealed Fives was supposed to be phase two of the CX troopers, aimed to be more like the Bad Batch members, enhanced physically and mentally. Because of that, his programming was far harder to reverse. Although thankful, he was able to recognize those he’d previously known.

Like with Dogma, he wasn’t aware of the Republic’s fall nor Order 66 and the destruction of the Jedi. All of it came as a cruel shock to the former Arc Trooper, even more so when it became clear all of it was a part of the plot he’d discovered before his believed death. It took several years to reverse what Hemlock had done, but it had come at a cost. With the removal of the implants, Fives was paralyzed from the waist down. However, that didn’t stop him from living a full life on Pabu, free from the war, both past and present. Fives would spend his time in the island's gardens and with (Y/N). His favorite time of day was sunset. The sight of the island lighting up never ceased to amaze him.

Gregor, Rex, and Howzer stayed on Pabu for a while after Tantis and joined the others. Howzer had taken a liking to Emerie, and thrust went on several assignments with her. The pair eventually reunited Jax, Eva, Baron, and Sami with their families. Like Cody, Howzer would join the Rebellion, being inspired by the words of the young Jedi Knight, Ezra Bridger. Sadly, Howzer and Emerie both perished at Scarif, helping Jyn Erso with her surprise attack and retrieval of the Death Star plans.

As everyone knows, Rex, Wolffe, and Gregor went into “retirement” briefly. But before that, they fought in many more battles, including Barton 4, The first failed Battle of Scarif, and The Battle of Anaxes. The latter resulted in the destruction of the planet due to the old volatile bomb Admiral Trent had once planted exploding.

All three great commanders would rejoin the fight many years later, likely many brothers they each joined the rebellion in varying degrees. Rex joined the Phoenix Squadron and later fought in the Battles of Lothal, Yvain 4, Hoth, and Endor. Rex would also be reunited with R2-D2, and told Luke stories of his father, Anakin Skywalker.

Gregor would fight and fall in the Battle of Lothal, finally being able to fight for a course he believed in and a battle of his own choosing. He’d later be laid to rest on Pabu, under the watchful eye of (Y/N)—the civvi medic who became family.

Wolffe was a different story. Although he fought in the Clone Uprising, he joined later than many of his brothers. Refusing to leave Snap until he was sure she’d be okay, the civvi medic all put throwing him on the ship, showing shades of her old self when she swore to bring hell if he didn’t keep in contact. Wolffe kept his promise throughout retirement and remained in contact with (Y/N), the Bad Batch members, and Comet.

Following the loss of Gregor and the battle of Lothal, Wolffe continued to fight, joining the Havoc Squadron, which was made up of Omega, Mox, Deke, and Stak. Many times, he commented they remained him of the boys, his wolf pack. When the Civil War ended, Wolffe retired once more, becoming a permanent Pabu resident. When returning, he took Omega and the rest of Havoc home.

What happened to the family of Clone Force 99, you may ask? Well, simply put, they retired. With all the jokes, antics, and family drama, one might expect. During the quieter moments, Omega’s training continued, with Deke, Mox, and Stak joining. Over the years, Fives, Comet, and (Y/N) were pulled into the family unit, ensuring none of them were alone. Wolffe would begrudgingly become a member of the makeshift family when the Civil War ended. Omega nicknamed him Gruffly Uncle Wolffe and occasionally Growls, depending on her mood.

Wrecker turned his love of fishing into a day job, joining the fishermen on the tides for days on end. Of course, he’d always come back with elaborate stories to tell and always greeted those who were part of his family with a bone-crushing hug. By the time the “kids” joined the war effort, Wrecker was confined to a wheelchair, but that didn’t stop him from playing games with the kids and being there to see Stak off the night he joined the Rebellion.

Believe it or not, Crosshair decided to open a little carnival of shooting games, everything from throwing things at targets to water guns. For the fun of it, he’d added hook-a-duck and give prizes. The former sniper also loved cooking and drawing, often experimenting in the kitchen and engaging in banter with Hunter and Wrecker. His artistic skills were something of a legend on Pabu, his keen eyes allowing him to capture the details others missed. Eventually Crosshair took up photography, capturing the beauty in both people and the simple things in life.

At some point, he “adopted” Deke, ensuring the former cadet had a family to rely on. He passed down all his skills as a sniper, unknowingly preparing him for the rebellion to come. Although reluctant to let Deke go, Crosshair would see his boy off the day he left Pabu and greeted him with a fatherly hug when he returned. The two were in constant contact through the war, with Deke never being afraid to pester his dad for advice, needing a confidence boost or a reminder of home.

Tech had quite the journey. At first he avoided almost everything to do with his life before Tantis and becoming a CX Trooper. Instead, focusing on helping (Y/N) recover and reversing the reconditioning each trooper, including himself, had been put through. For the most part, Tech recovered; although his mind remained the same, he could never steady his hands again. There were always tremors and spasms. Along the way, he’d also lost his confidence, becoming self-conscious about his scars and mismatched eyes.

Wolffe helped with the scars, while Phee and (Y/N) had worked together. Phee worked on the present and future, while Snap helped Tech process the past and became the project he wanted to fix. Eventually, Tech joined Phee on her adventures across the galaxy, reigniting their previous spark of romance. Tech and Phee would adopt Mox and eventually marry; although they’d go on all kinds of adventures, they’d always return with priceless artifacts from across the galaxy.

Sadly, Tech eventually lost his sight. No one knows for sure what happened. He’d woken up one day, and his normal golden eye was nothing but black. His cybernetic was damaged not long after, resulting in partial blurred vision. Despite losing vision, Tech still enjoyed the peaceful life on Pabu, becoming a flight instructor after retiring from going on adventures with Phee. Just like Wrecker, Crosshair, and Hunter, Tech was there to see Mox off when he joined the Rebellion, a proud smile knowing the next generation was ready to take over.

What happened to Echo and Y/N, I hear you ask?

Echo stayed on Pabu for a while, enjoying the peace and helping where possible. He was there for Cody when the reversal process started and Tech when the exceptionally minded clone allowed him to help. Likewise, when the struggles began with Fives and (Y/N), Echo was there to offer a hand.

The challenge with Snap truly started upon finding out how much she remembered. She did remember some things from the war, joining the efforts: Fox, Thorn and the Coruscant Guard, Master Plo, Wolffe, and the 104th. She remembered everything, right up to the day Fives had told her of Echo’s supposed death at the Citadel. Then nothing. Anyone she met after that point had to reintroduce themselves, hoping something, anything, would retrigger her memory of them.

Over time, other things came to light. At first, (Y/N) struggled to speak outside of a selected few repeated words: Tech, Help, Thank you, Love, Necklace, and Free. Eventually, she was able to speak almost perfectly, with a stutter and sometimes long pauses, as she took the time to allow her mind to catch up. Hunter took the time to help her speak with Tech and Wolffe's assistance.

Retrigging (Y/N)’s memory wasn’t easy. Certain words seemed to bring things back, as did actions and objects, but it didn’t always stick. Sometimes, it was as if her memory reset every night. As you can gather, Snap was never able to return to her previous role of Medic, her mind too broken to allow her to continue doing her previous job role. Although she did patch the boys up from time to time.

No one knows for sure what triggered her memory of Echo’s rescue. Every time she’d seen him before that, it was as if she didn’t know who he was. He’d introduce himself as if they were strangers. Then, one day, she recognized him. That day, her first words to him were simple enough: “You’re alive.”

Echo hadn’t smiled as much as he had done that day. To hear her utter those words, knowing she remembered something more, meant the galaxy to him. However their relationship never returned to what it was, mainly due to Echo’s guilt for what happened. He blamed himself even if no one else did, even if (Y/N) didn’t.

Instead, The pair built up a strong friendship; Snap would offer the encouragement needed to continue his fight against the empire while reminding him to stay safe; his family still needed him after all, even if he didn’t realize it.

The hardest part for Snap was relearning all she forgot, sometimes, many times over. Her family, the war ends, the fall of the republic, the Jedi purge, and even her own actions. The latter of which (Y/N) was determined to put right. Eventually succeeding, first with Cody, then Comet, Tech, after he finally deemed she was able to complete the necessary steps sufficiently, and finally Fives, with Tech assisting, and Rex along with Gregor to provide a helping hand when needed.

Of course, Wrecker kept to his word; he contacted Devika when the ship landed on Pabu. The young Senator visited at every chance, helping where she could and thanking with gifts and knowledge. When away, Devika would also call at every opportunity, updating those stowed away on the peaceful island on the goings-on of the wider galaxy.

As for retirement, Echo never really did retire; when the uprising failed, he helped Devika with her plans in the senate, eventually leading to a bigger rebellion. For the most part, the former Arc Trooper worked as an analyst and battle strategist. However, when the others retired, he remained in contact with the bad batch and the family on Pabu, along with Rex, Gregor, and Wolffe. Echo lived to see the empire fall, settling down on Coruscant when it all ended, along with Rex. However, he’d visit Pabu when able.

(Y/N) never left Pabu, instead settling on the island along with those who became her family. Although she could never aid as a medic again, she did train the next generation. And helped to raise the kids. At first, she lived with the Batch, mainly with Hunter and Tech, if only so they could keep an eye on her and help when needed. Eventually, though, she tried to live on her own, something that they all discovered was disastrous, even more so upon discovering (Y/N) no longer had the mental capacity to live alone.

By the time Mon Mothma called for the rebellion to unite, Snap was living with Fives and Comet, running a little stall at the island market, selling flowers from her little garden and handmade clothes, blankets, and trinkets. She never got tired of hearing the stories the others would tell, and although her memory never truly recovered, she still enjoyed listening to the others, whether it be about past adventures or about their day. They were her family, salvation, saviors, and rocks when she needed them most—her reason for continuing when she lost everything, including herself.

~End~

A/N - Thank you for coming on this little journey with me. May the force be with you, always x

Series Masterlist

11 notes · View notes