#captain Howzer x oc | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

starqueensthings · 1 year ago

Text

FOREWORD | NEXT | AO3

We begin our journey with the protagonist. This chapter will read dry for those only here for our Clone Wars and Bad Batch favourites. Since it’s an introductory chapter, it’s strictly OC’s in this one… (squint real hard and you may find a glimpse of one our faves!)

WARNINGS: brief elusions to a traumatic past, but next to no detail provided (yet). Mildly graphic descriptions of medical injuries and surgery.

RATING: the entirety of this work will be classified as 16+ for mature themes, with sporadic chapters upped to 18+ for explicit encounters.

PLEASE ENSURE YOU’VE READ THE FOREWORD LINKED ABOVE FOR AN IN-DEPTH DESCRIPTION OF WHAT DEGREE OF CONTENT YOU CAN EXPECT THROUGHOUT THIS STORY BEFORE PROCEEDING.

The unusually abrasive whirring of his hip servos both alerted her of his arrival, and wordlessly reminded her for the umpteenth time that the congestion of her work schedule had rendered him irresponsibly overdue for an oil bath, though neither that irksome grating nor his return to her side proved urgent enough to pull her attention from the task at hand.

He slowed to a stop and hovered in the doorway of that rapidly darkening office, hinged hands clasped together in front of him while his round, glowing oculars patiently blinked at the obvious intensity of her concentration.

She allowed herself only a breath more to wallow in that den of self-pity and exhaustion, the raging tornado of unfinished tasks in her mind threatening to raze what was left of the mental space she’d intentionally attempted to preserve for finishing the three dozen neglected medical reports.

“Hi Lumi...”

She addressed her AZI assistant in a shamefully distracted mumble, fingers hovering over the buttons of her keyboard as she fought to orient her over-saturated thoughts into the holocomputer through the fidgeting funnel of her hands.

“Good evening, Dr. Kiore.” Correctly identifying her current aversion for distraction, her droid companion thankfully offered nothing more than his typical jovial salutation.

The last couple of weeks had seen this duo truly depart the somewhat turbulent infancy of their working relationship, and the wrinkles of unknown expectation and unlearned behavior had since-been ironed smooth with the steam of shared experience and consistent reinforcement. Free of the bravado that budding surgical residents wore atop their shoulders like robes sewn with the threads of overconfidence, Lumi had become a remarkable working companion to June. Not only did his programming ensure he had a wealth of easily accessible medical knowledge, but he wasn’t hindered by the limited cognition of the human brain, being able to accurately process and categorize large amounts of data while simultaneously completing a variety of other tasks whilst entirely free from the plague of exhaustion.

Much to her appreciation, he’d also managed to effectively catalogue her dynamic panoply of mannerisms, thus ensuring he could readily identify her preferred positioning during specific procedures, recognize the potent displeasure behind her eyes if (and when) the nurse droid failed to include certain niche tools on her sterile tray, and presently, her sheer desperation for an extra ten seconds of undisturbed focus.

“Okay,” she muttered to herself, collecting the hospital-issued datapad from the desk in front of her and ceasing its slumber with the prod of a finger. Her tired eyes danced across the seemingly infinite list of medical charts waiting for their turn at the forefront of her mind, and it was with another dejected sigh that she checked off only the top item before abandoning the device again.

Tense from yet another long day of stooping over an operating room table, the muscles in her neck immediately protested the duress of a stretch as she extended her arms over her head and flexed her aching fingers. Refusing to lessen the strain until a satisfying pop met her ears, she paused for a moment to relish in the pain successfully distracting her from that perpetual gnaw in her mind.

“Alright,” she proclaimed suddenly, sending her palms clapping together in a gesture of feigned motivation, and Lumi immediately took his cue to enter, head twirling about on his neck with glee. “I need you to go to room 8-E,” she instructed while pushing her desk chair backward several inches with a nudge from her sneakered toe. “CT-2658 needs a preliminary vitals scan and a thoracic x-ray. Once those are completed, transmit the imaging to his chart and locate an FX-9 to prep him for a thoracotomy. This morning I just caught the nurse droid replacing the valve in his mask with the wrong colour… If it gets changed again before he’s anesthetized, make sure it’s the yellow valve. No incisions until I or a 2-1B is present.”

“Right away, Dr. Kiore.”

“Oh, and he goes by ‘Bolts’. Avoid using his CT number unless you absolutely have to.”

Lumi acknowledged her final anecdote with a small bow of the head before he turned and zoomed back through the open door into the hallway beyond.

The budding ache behind her left eye intensified as she watched his small metallic form circle the Welcome Station, an oversized u-shaped desk perched in the middle of the expansive ward, before pivoting and vanishing down the hallway on the left, and the increasing need to activate the lamp on her desk meant it was nearing the time her stomach would begin to revolt against her negligence, that measly handful of mixed nuts tossed hurriedly into her mouth some hours ago having utterly failed to satiate even a fraction of her hunger.

But time had vanished… again, and June was confident there wasn’t a meal anywhere in the galaxy capable of freeing her from the constant overstimulation that working in the Grand Republic Medical Facility had imbued her with over the last fortnight. And so her fingernails drummed absently on the desk in front of her as another exhausted sigh escaped her nose, both gestures laying bare her body’s continued attempts at combating the gale of patient information whipping about her mind. Resisting the urge to momentarily abandon that pressing obligation and head to the staff room for a fresh caf, she granted herself only another moment of quiet, the mental weight of her extensive to-do list keeping her glued to the cushion of her desk chair despite the near-rabid craving for both caffeine and a snack. Nibbling absentmindedly on her thumbnail, she redirected her attention back to the holocomputer in front of her and opened Bolts’s medical chart.

The wounded soldier had arrived at the hospital in the very early hours of the morning, having been medically evacuated from a planet called Malestare in critical condition. The triaging doctor in the emergency room at the time had quickly diagnosed the soldier with a condition known as ‘Flail Chest’, and had directed him to the Surgical Department on the 8th floor immediately thereafter.

The accompanying trooper was the company’s medic, and was only able to provide snippets of the harrowing and incomplete story. When probed for information about the initial incident, he described witnessing a series of explosions “about a kilometer south” of his squad’s tactical position, though admittedly had a poor vantage point at the time of the incident. He’d barely managed to rendezvous with the limping remnants of his decimated platoon before being urgently summoned to stabilize the wounded– Bolts included.

“I had to dart his chest,” the panting Medic heaved to the emergency doctor downstairs, wiping sweat from his brow with a trembling hand as he watched his brother disappear behind a small crowd of scrub-clad nurses, each of them fervently ripping the remaining armour from that fragile form. “Twice. The catheter held for a while, but collapsed just as we were jumping to lightspeed. He– he needs to be intubated… quick.”

With hurried reassurances that CT-2658 was now in the best care, the medic was ushered back onto the shuttle and returned to the front lines while his brother was rushed upstairs for lifesaving care.

Dr. Pherto Pavot, a highly intelligent albeit moderately antisocial man, was a longtime colleague of June’s and had been laden with the duty of on-call trauma surgeon for the duration of the night shift. With the assistance of an FX-7 medical droid, he’d managed to both successfully intubate the patient and send him for x-rays by the time the morning surgeons began to trickle in for their shifts only a short time later.

June had barely tied her sneakers before leaping into action. Determined to get the ailing soldier into surgery before her day was through, she took every spare moment she could find between the myriad of other scheduled procedures to dip into her office and stare at the radiographic imaging Pherto ordered that morning.

Now, as the sun completed its arc across the expanse of the Coruscanti sky, reaching its rays downwards for the cold slumber of the horizon, she was barely able to overpower the persistent pokes of exhaustion.

“Blunt force trauma from an undetermined source to the thoracic cavity–” she typed, jaw clamped closed against a violent yawn as she plugged data into the Kaminoan medical report her colleague had initiated many hours previously. “–Right 3rd to 6th rib fractured laterally, floating. Basal intercostal catheter in situ. Slight left pleural effusion. Prognosis TBD post surgery.”

She sighed, eyes peering disapprovingly at the screen of her holocomputer where Pherto’s hurried notes failed to complement the detail of her own, and the detrimental, perfectionist urge to delete the entire report in favour or starting over was nearly as challenging to repress as the yawn that continued to plague her, though she refused both. ‘Sorry Kamino,’ she grumbled, acutely aware that attempting to pull another word from her brain might cause it to simply cease firing entirely. ‘That's going to have to do.’

With a deft swipe across the screen from the pad of her cold finger, she landed on the patient’s main profile page. Despite having resentfully expected to see that irksome negative space beside his designation number, the implication of that missing information instantly soured her already dwindling mood, sending her eyelids aflutter atop an exquisite roll of her blue eyes.

As an attending general surgeon, she did not technically hold any amount of authority over her colleagues, though that had yet to stop her from repeatedly begging everyone in the Hospital to make a habit of prompting soldiers for their elected moniker upon intake. Much to her frustration, all of them continued to ignore her relentless pleas; intra-hospital memos went ignored, verbal requests were casually dismissed, ingenuine agreements were immediately followed by inaction. Even escalating the issue to the Chief of Surgery with hopes that her request may transcend the Surgical Floor had proved fruitless, as he had promptly deemed the issue “unimportant for effective medical care, and superfluous data in an already cluttered medical chart.”

‘Easy for him to say,’ she had seethed to herself, stalking away from her superior with the raging, indignant cry of “I am not just a number!” still reverberating poignantly in her ears. While there hadn’t been a clone soldier brazen enough to shout that sentiment in her face since that… eventful… day, the nuance of his message had not fallen on deaf ears, and it quickly became a personal mission of June’s to ensure that her patients, a demographic that now predominantly consisted of clone soldiers, never felt like anything less than a person in need of medical care.

Returning the holocomputer to a dark-screened slumber, she sat back in her chair and finally permitted that unrelenting yawn to contort her features as it expanded her lungs and forced her eyes closed. The shiver that rolled uncomfortably down her spine acted as an unsavoury reminder of how late the hour had grown, and she pivoted her chair to face the window of her office, hopeful to catch that last sliver of beautiful autumn sun before it commenced its duty until morn.

Unlike her best friend Jacoba, whose earliest memories included running amok in her parents’ home with a stethoscope made of string and a pair of purple safety scissors, June’s childhood dreams did not entail ending up as a surgeon in the busiest medical facility in the galaxy. While convincing her to speak about her childhood typically proved more challenging than pulling teeth from a snarling massiff, those closest to June knew that her earliest memories were ones filled with nature: impossibly tall pillars of pine swaying in an everlasting zephyr; rolling hills adorned with an emerald carpet of clover and jewel toned flowers, the vibrancy of their exotic petals possible thanks to the extended daylight hours that only Wild Space was privileged. Acting as the apex to her childhood oasis, and perched at the end of a winding path of uniquely red clay, was a small log home; its stone chimney mercilessly emitting delicate puffs of fragrant smoke toward an impossibly large sky, and the hand-knotted hammock chair hanging from the rafters on the porch, swayed in time with the trees. It was a dichotomously sheltered yet wild upbringing, full of innocent and simple dreams; hopes and desires and plans that reached only the stars of Wild Space.

Back then, June was naught but a tiny mind, desperately hopeful to gain only that of which she was knew: a cozy home nestled between protective mountains, an overflowing rain barrel infinitely teeming with signs of micro-life, a bustling market of familiar faces, a treehouse on the edge of a forest too full of exotic flora and fauna for her to wander unsupervised, a soft blanket for a picnic, a spike to impale one of her favourite mini sausages and a roaring fire into which she could roast it…

Now, long-estranged from her family and far away from that place both geographically and mentally, life looked a lot different for Dr. Juniper Kiore. Robbed long ago of that blissful childhood naivety, she was now a hard working young woman of twenty-three with no plans to return to the home world she still deemed the galaxy’s hidden corner of paradise.

As another shiver rolled down her spine, she cast a quick glance toward the accompanying desk in that shared office; the clutter and detritus Jacoba was notorious for deserting atop that otherwise identical desktop patiently awaited its owner to arrive for her shift and plunk her purse down amidst the fray. X-Ray films from the hectivity of yesterday still clung to the backlit display board on the wall, the series of luminous images depicting a grotesquely cracked skull and the adjacent cranial hemorrhage, and a femur shattered beyond recognition.

Interpreting the permission of that first yawn as authorization to open the floodgates, June’s cheeks quickly expanded under the duress of a second yawn barely seconds after recovering from the first, forcing her eyes closed again. With an indecorous grunt, she cracked each of her cold knuckles, relishing in the way that discomfort pulled her farther out of the stupor of fatigue before she turned to retrieve the caf mug perched beside her keyboard.

“Bleh…” she grumbled instantly, lips flattening in disgust as she swirled the anaemic dregs around the bottom of the ceramic cup. There were unmistakable signs of the milk beginning to coagulate, collecting around the sides of the purple dish with each twirl of the wrist. ‘Isn’t this the mug I grabbed at lunch?’ she asked herself, eyes unfocussing under knitted brows as she struggled to piece together the hurried two minutes in which she’d dashed to the staff room for caffeine some half dozen hours ago. ‘Or maybe this is the caf from last night, and that’s the caf from today?’

Her gaze fell upon a second mug sitting daintily beside the potted plant only inches from her right hand, identical to the first in every way with the exception of a small chip along the rim, stained with a lip gloss that she was sure she hadn’t bothered to put on in several rotations.

She traded one for the other, repeating the swirling motions and watching the minute dash of milk collect in the centrifuge of dark liquid. Bringing the chipped rim to her nose, she took a gentle sniff.

“June—”

Every cell in her body, every hair on her skin, collectively seized in alarm, shoulders jerking upwards in a startled spasm while a sharp gasp slapped against the back of her throat. That panic only intensified as, what could only be described as a miniature tidal wave of the stale beige caf, cascaded over the rim of that chipped purple mug and landed with a splat on her left knee.

“Maker, you scared the shit out of me,” she gasped, pressing a hand over her pounding heart and stowing the cup heavily back onto the desk.

“Sorry.” Challa snorted from his casual lean in the threshold, arms folded over his chest. “When is Jac coming in?” he asked, gesturing with a small nod to the empty desk chair on June’s left side.

She stalled the answer on her tongue, stealing an extended second for another calming breath as her heart continued to smash against the inner walls of her chest. “She won't be here for another half hour,” June finally conceded, tipping her wrist to check the time.

‘18:56pm. No wonder I’m kriffing starving.’

He offered nothing but a small hum in response, that heavy, signature Twi-lek brow tense with unspoken complaints as if he wholly disapproved that he couldn’t simply demand the clock say what he wanted it to say.

Dr. Challa Shuk was a fiercely intelligent and highly celebrated doctor with an inherent knack for organization and a remarkably efficient, yet, consistently pleasant bedside manner; the combination proving a perfect recipe for the individual tasked with running the second busiest department in the hospital.

Seemingly overnight, the inception of the war had shifted the priorities and policies of the institution to accommodate for the Grand Army of the Republic, incidentally bringing with it the ever-present undertone of tumult and uncertainty for the staff throughout. Being the determined and capable doctor that he was, Challa rose to the occasion marvelously, shouldering the brunt of the responsibility and almost single-handedly converting the Surgical Floor from a slow-paced civilian center to a bustling combat medical zone. But, despite his unwavering commitment to both the Grand Republic Medical Facility and to medicine in general, his acceptance of the changing reality, and the shifts in policy required to ensure a smooth transition, were not widely accepted by his employees; many of the surgical department doctors were highly resistant to the procedural changes and the variation in their established routine that came with it.

June and Jacoba were the only caveats to this unfortunate behaviour, both of them still early enough in their careers to embrace the required alterations with barely a breath of skepticism. Their adaptability had earned them both significant favour with the Twi’lek Chief of Surgery, and a number of other rarely anointed perks: both girls had been gifted their own AZI-class medical assistant droid to which they were permitted to utilize for whatever means they deemed appropriate, both were allotted the unheralded freedom to implete their own surgical schedules (much to their colleagues dismay), and the duo had been presented with their own office, an offering typically reserved for those who’d transitioned toward a career in the field medical research.

But Challa’s favourtism of the pair had seemed to sour as of late, the jovial smiles he typically offered in response to their notorious shenanigans had melded into snorts of derision and subdued grimaces. Last Primeday had seen him stick his scowling face into their office and bark that Jacoba’s chair had developed an irritating squeak that needed to be rectified immediately; two days later, he’d summoned June into his own office and reprimanded her for having inappropriately cold hands, hissing that he was growing very tired of fielding continued patient complaints that their doctor’s fingers felt like icicles. While moderately affronted at the time, June merely shouldered the chastization, both unable to deny that her hands were always cold, and very aware that root of his bespoiled mood did not stem from the subnormal temperature of her skin…

“You weren’t about to drink that were you?” Challa inquired from the door, nose scrunched in disgust as he watched her snatch a kleenex from the box on the desk and dab at the stain on her pant leg.

She huffed and rolled her eyes, watching the unabsorbent paper square fail to remove even a fraction of that putrid stain. “I was thinking about it,” she retorted, crinkling the tissue and tossing it into the trash bin under her desk. “I was trying to sniff out how old it was when you gave me a damn heart attack.”

“How ladylike of you,” he teased, ignoring her reproachful glare. “And there’s no time for caf right now. I heard you agreed to stay late again tonight, so I need you on deck to tackle this case.” He shifted his weight to his feet and unfolded his arms, pulling his datapad from the breast pocket of his lab coat and prodding it awake. “I’m transmitting you the chart of your next patient,” he advised, violet eyes appearing neon whilst bathed by the illumination from the device in his hands. “It’s a simple laceration repair sent up from the emergency department, but it’s been sitting for a while and the FX-7’s are still tied up. See that it’s dealt with and discharged, and then meet me in my office.”

Her datapad chimed from the table in front of her, needlessly alerting the room that she’d successfully received the details of her next mission though she refused to acknowledge it, her sapphire eyes now narrowed skeptically at her boss. An abashed silence filled the space between them as he averted his eyes from hers, the atypical nature of his request not lost on either of them.

“A laceration repair?” June repeated with an unmitigated scoff, cocking an eyebrow at his obviously intentional silence. “From emerge? Are you kidding me?”

Her incredulity must have been the expected response, as he’d already reached to pinch the narrow bridge of his nose before she’d finished voicing her aggrievement.

“Eight battalions landed at lunch, June,” he declaimed over her final few words, eyes closed against a wave of barely-restrained impatience. “They’re beyond swamped down there. And like I just told you, this one has been sitting for too long already. I want it dealt wi—”

“But Rondi is the on-call trauma doc today,” June protested, gesticulating wildly towards the door as if Dr. Rondi Reid was eagerly waiting outside her office to accept the umbrageously trivial case being thrust under her nose. “And I’m only staying late to do the thoracotomy. I just sent him downstairs for prelim scan—”

“Jacoba will scrub in when she gets here,” Challa exhorted, dismissing her disgruntlement with a wave of his hand. “Besides, I have something important to discuss with you afterward and we both know that surgery would have you here all night.”

The ire bubbling in her gut rendered her apathetic to everything other than the injustice of the situation, and the pleading flash of his violet eyes was missed entirely as she clamped hers closed and choked out a dramatic whine.

“Challa come on,” she begged, lurching forward in her chair and interlacing her hands in a feigned prayer, “I’ve been staring at his x-days all day. I basically just redid his entire Kaminoan report because some people can’t be bothered with details, I know this case the best. That’s my surgery.”

“You will go where you’re needed, Kiore, and I won’t hear another word about it.”

The conversation was over, his statement drenched in a finality more potent than the stench of that day old caf. The rapidly darkening tone of his voice in combination with the uncommon use of her last name meant there was no point but to concede to his authority, and it was with great difficulty that she bit back the slew of arguments still poised for their turn on her tongue.

“Fine,” she grumbled, looking deliberately away from his stern expression and collecting the datapad from her desk. “But this ‘meeting in your office later’ better be a party in my honour for being such a kriffing team player.”

“Not quite,” he abjured following a frustrated albeit amused snort. “Now get to 18-S. And for everyone’s sake, leave the attitude here.”

June glared at his retreating figure, waiting until the tips of those magnificent, sand coloured lekku disappeared down the hall before throwing herself dramatically against the back of the chair, an insolent groan rumbling loudly in her chest.

“Laceration repair!” she hissed to the ceiling, the realization that a fresh cup of caf was now entirely out of the question pulling a false sob from her lips. “My thoracotomy… all damn day I’ve been prepping… ‘they’re swamped down there’… yeah, yeah… aren’t we all…”

It seemed no amount of grousing and groaning would appease the indignance still inflated in her chest, and her datapad continued to mock her with its innocent luminance as she tipped her head forward and roughly pulled her long dark hair into a ponytail. When she had affixed her mane firmly to the nape of her neck, June begrudgingly snatched the device from her desk and opened the holochart Challa had so graciously gifted.

DSGN: CT-5863 GEN: 1–B RNK: Captain (742nd)

ASSN SECT: 91st MRC DRCT SPVR: CT-411 STATUS: Active Duty

Assigned priority: CLASS D. OPEN WOUND: NON life-threatening.

Intake notes: subdermal lac. quadrant 6— full thickness separation, jagged edges from unknown source. PT reluctant to divulge cause of injury. PT uncooperative when offered NBA injection. Declined having accepted NBA from combat medic at time of injury. Advised to remove all vesture from waist up. Hema scan still outstanding.

“Oh fantastic,” June griped to the cactus on the desk, her mood now as prickly as it’s sharp little spines. “Refused a pain injection— twice, has been sitting here for Maker-knows how long, nobody remembered to ask his kriffing name, and I have no Lumi to transcribe for me. A glorious ending to another glorious day.”

She tucked the datapad aggressively into her armpit and stalked from the office, flicking her ponytail onto her shoulder as she went.

The bedlam of the open ward met her at the mouth of the hallway, that staggering din nearly forcing her eyes to narrow against the onslaught of noise as she made her way around the unusually barren welcome station. The dissonant harmony of a dozen monitors, shrilly beeping in the chorus of chaos, echoed around the white walls and attacked her eardrums with a gusto that she hadn’t quite become accustomed to yet. The deserted nature of that central hub was immediately explained by the sheer pandemonium lining the hallways, and every other step toward 18-S saw her ducking out of the way of a rolling FX-7 droid, hurrying to answer its urgent summons.

The egregious sound of violent gagging assaulted her ears as she passed room 12-N, shortly followed by the spectacular splat of what could only have been vomit hitting the floor. ‘Control your face,’ she reminded herself, upper lip quickly flattening in disgust as she back-peddled to that doorway and prodded the button that would summon both a sanitation droid and the nearest surgical student.

Room 18-S was the second last room of the south wing, and bore the classification of ‘Outpatient Room’, meaning it was only modestly equipped, and outfitted for only minimally invasive, single treatment procedures. The hoverbeds were never prepared for an overnight stay unlike those in the Northern and Eastern halls, and in place of the large diagnostic scanners that typically consumed all available real estate on those sterile grey walls, were lockers acting as safe storage for the overflow for other rooms, and containing a varied assortment of extra medical supplies, sterile tool packs, and maintenance equipment.

Doing her best to resurrect whatever was left of her dwindling patience, she stopped in front of the closed door of her destination. Praying to the stars above that whoever was waiting on the other side was neither vomiting on the floor like the poor chap in room 12, and didn’t feel the need to berate her about his heinously long wait, she knocked gently on that steel barrier and waited.

***

FOREWORD | NEXT

Tag list: @anxiouspineapple99 @sinfulsalutations @starrylothcat @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius @secondaryrealm @dystopicjumpsuit @freesia-writes @sev-on-kamino @littlemissmanga @523rdrebel @wings-and-beskar @wolffegirlsunite @sunshinesdaydream @clonemedickix @drafthorsemath @jediknightjana @moonlightwarriorqueen @starstofillmydream @mooncommlink @wizardofrozz @trixie2023 @clonethirstingisreal @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @mythical-illustrator

#starqueenswrittenworks #The Only Exception #oc sundays #captain Howzer x fem!OC #Captain Howzer x OC #Howzer x fem!OC #3rd POV

21 notes · View notes

moonstrider9904 · 1 year ago

Text

Stargazing

Pairings: Captain Howzer x Female OC (Athena Allard)

Series summary: Athena has spent a long time on Coruscant working as an administrative for the Republic - too long. Fed up with that lifestyle, Athena returns to her home planet, a forest-type planet far in the Outer Rim, also used by the GAR for peaceful operations, and Athena eventually meets the captain of the battalion in charge. Can she return home to the fullest when it feels like the GAR followed her to the ends of the galaxy?

Series rating: Explicit 18+ for sexual content in many chapters

{main masterlist} {AO3 link} {Wattpad link}

Status: coming soon

Chapter 1 - Flimsiwork (coming soon!)

Chapters with a * contain smut. More chapters TBD.

Other resources

Athena Allard profile (coming soon!)

#tbb au #the bad batch au #stargazing series #moonstrider writes #tbb fanfic #the bad batch fanfic #captain howzer #captain howzer fanfic #captain howzer x oc #the bad batch #tbb howzer #oc athena allard

12 notes · View notes

starrylothcat · 2 years ago

Note

LOVE the idea for the follower celebration! And congrats!! 💕 I’m gonna shamelessly spam the crap out of it and you can pleeeease feel free to use your discretion to ruthlessly cut some or all from the lineup. 😂😘

I’m unabashedly in love with this Howzer x Fem!OC full length fic that I wrote… 🙈🤣 I think it’s got playfulness, character growth, action, romance, yearning, angst, adventure, passion, and is just a fun ride overall. It’s done for now, til TBB S3 shows me the rest of Howzer’s story, but I left it in a nice pause place, not a cliffhanger. It’s thoroughly researched to be canon-compliant and is SFW but rated PG-13 for the various content tagged at the top of the post. 💕 I’ll be posting chapters daily here and people can request to be on the tag list, but the entire work is on Ao3 for people who don’t want to wait. 😂

xoxo

https://www.tumblr.com/freesia-writes/721894443901403136/quantum-entanglement-howzer-aurelia-master

Ahhh thank you for the first submission! I’m all for self recommendation hell ya!

Howzer is up there in my favorite clones and I just read the first three chapters of this fic. I LOVE Aurelia already and Howzer being a confident, cocky shiny is everything. I’ll definitely be keeping up with this one! Awesome work @freesia-writes 😁

If you love Howzer check this out y’all!

Starry’s Spread the Love Event

#the bad batch #captain howzer #captain Howzer x oc #spread the love sw event #starrysfollowevent #the clone wars fanfiction

3 notes · View notes

captn-trex · 7 months ago

Text

star wars masterlist

all works are x fem!reader unless specified

if you like a fic I would really appreciate a reblog <3 tumblr thrives on sharing and so do I ! if you want, you can be added to/removed from my taglist here :)

— series

technical devotion: echo x fem! original character — complete, 72k words, 24 parts

shadows of kamino: [rex, fives, hunter, tech & crosshair] x fem! original characters — ongoing

threads of the unseen: ahsoka x f!reader

part one: tread carefully | 5.4k part two: forging connection | 4.2k [coming soon]

— events

200 follower celebration event: clone x reader song inspired fics

— oneshots

501st legion

arc trooper fives gone, but not forgotten | 4.4k ↳ how to feel again | 3.1k my kingdom for a kiss [18+] | 8.7k

clone medic kix a tricky situation | 2.8k

clone trooper hardcase oldest trick in the book | 3.4k

the bad batch

sergeant hunter a little while longer | 4.1k a half-hearted escape | 3.4k

clone trooper tech we never quite made it | 10k

clone trooper crosshair brightest in the dark | 9.2k

misc. clones

commander wolffe words in my mouth | 3.7k consequences be damned | 3.3k

commander fox read between the lines | 8.1k

captain howzer angel of small death [18+] part 1, part 2, part 3 | 24k

#masterlist #star wars #clone troopers #the clone wars #the bad batch #501st legion #divider by saradika #echo x oc #ahsoka x reader #captain rex x reader #arc trooper fives x reader #kix x reader #hunter x reader #sergeant hunter x reader #tech x reader #commander wolffe x reader #commander fox x reader #captain howzer x reader #fives x reader

101 notes · View notes

masterjedilenawrites · 9 months ago

Text

Ready Or Not

Howzer x fem!S/O | 1.9k words

Content: blind dates, bad first impressions, Howzer has some thoughts and feels to work through, maybe some demi vibes?, no real fluff but I think it's sweet in its own way

Prompt: I came across this concept of a "Meet Ugly" and thought it'd be interesting to explore. Used this scenario: Getting set up on a blind date and not having the best reaction when they first see each other.

Part of Operation #MoreHowzerFics

He did not have time for this.

Maybe the rest of the galaxy had been duped into thinking the war was over, but Howzer knew better. There was still a fight to be had, and a more dire one at that. A fight for his brothers. Their fates were hanging in the balance... and here he was, sitting at some cafe on Pabu waiting for a date.

He wasn't even sure how it had happened. Rex had insisted there was a reason soldiers took R&R, and even though they technically weren't soldiers anymore they should still try to relax every once in a while. Fireball had taken to saying "you need to get laid" every time Howzer was in an even slightly bad mood. Greer was always going on about how they needed to think of the future, find a dream worth fighting for, like a home or a family. And Gregor was weirdly interested in figuring out what everyone's "type" was; everywhere they went he'd point someone out and gauge their reactions.

All of that somehow had culminated in setting Howzer up on a blind date the second they touched down on Pabu. As if he had time for such things. As if he cared about such things.

And yet... here he was. Wearing his armor and a frown, but he'd still shown up. If he wasn't so busy cursing his brothers in his mind, he could have analyzed why he was here. Or whether he maybe secretly did care about such things.

His leg bounced and his narrowed eyes stared unfeeling out at the planet's glistening waters. He glanced down at his watch every few minutes, growing more upset at how the time passed without this supposedly "cute" date of his showing up. A memory of Echo whispered in the back of his mind, saying something about "Pabu time", how people here didn't need to move with the same urgency he was used to, but he didn't listen to it.

A few people passed by and gave him pleasant smiles. Some entered the patio and gave warm hugs to neighbors they recognized. An elderly couple went up to the counter, leisurely reading the menu as if they had never dined here before. One girl confidently strolled in, at first acting like she knew where she was going, and then halting in the middle of the tables and looking about in confusion. She then tried to cover and got in line to order, as if that had been her plan, even though Howzer had seen the whole thing and knew she had probably absentmindedly gone to the wrong place.

He fought back the urge to roll his eyes at these people. He wasn't really annoyed at them. If anything, he envied their peace. They didn't have family enslaved by the Empire. They didn't have uncertain futures. They were allowed to wander and smile and act a little silly. It's what he would want for his brothers once they were freed. No, he was annoyed because they weren't free. This peace was not theirs. But here he was, sitting in a cafe overlooking a beautiful view and waiting for a date as if he had earned it. How in the galaxy had he let Rex and the others convince him to do this?

Just when he started to entertain the idea of bailing, the girl from earlier caught his eye. She had made it up to the counter now and the worker was pointing over in his direction. Howzer subconsciously shifted, his back straightening and his hand settling on his thigh next to his blaster holster. Usually he'd pretend not to have noticed, let any potential threats think they were catching him unawares while all along he had the upper hand. But here, he decided to send a different message. I am aware, I see you staring, try to mess with me.

The girl followed the path that the worker had pointed her in, right to Howzer. She didn't look like a spy or some other kind of threat, but these days, who really knew. Especially when she seemed determined to appear pleasant and confident, despite the nervous gulp Howzer clocked from across the patio, not to mention the little display of carelessness he had seen from her earlier.

"Hi there," she said when she came within a few feet of his table.

She gave out a breathy laugh and Howzer frowned, waiting to see what she wanted from him.

"Um," she gulped again, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Another nervous tell. What was she hiding? "I uh... Phee told me to meet someone here. For a... a date?"

Howzer's eyes widened in realization. Kriff.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to walk right past you," the girl continued to fill in the silence. "I guess I wasn't expecting, um..."

She trialed off as she realized how the thought was sounding out loud, and then quickly tried to save face by hurrying over to the seat opposite him and pulling it out. But Howzer wasn't going to let her off the hook that easy.

"Weren't expecting... what?" he asked once she sat down. He eased his hand away from his blaster but kept his posture upright. She may not be a threat but he wasn't exactly comfortable.

She exhaled quickly with a sheepish smile. "Well, a clone."

Howzer's eyes returned to their narrowed state, sizing up this girl he found himself sitting across from. She interpreted the silence as offense and immediately started babbling.

"I mean, not that there's anything wrong with that. It's... it's just... You know, you've all just recently started coming here... I mean, I guess I shouldn't be surprised... Of course Phee would set me up with someone I don't know, I know practically every other guy here, and there's a reason I'm not with any of them... And she's been working with clones more recently... But like, I know only a few of you are sticking around for good, so I guess that's why it didn't occur to me that..."

Howzer wasn't sure when he had started zoning out. He felt bad, but also couldn't help it. He didn't have much time for this date to begin with, and certainly no time to listen to a stranger ramble without getting to any sort of point. He was a soldier; he valued conciseness. Whatever suppressed little hope he had that maybe this date wouldn't be so bad after all, maybe he finally would find a romantic connection with someone, dissipated into the saltwater breeze.

He sat forward and the girl stopped spewing her thoughts, eagerly awaiting him to interject and contribute.

"Look, you seem like a nice girl," he lied. He honestly didn't really have an opinion about her one way or the other. He'd been hit on plenty of times back on Ryloth but had never felt anything by it, other than occasional annoyance when it interrupted his duties. "But it seems like we both have some disappoints over this arrangement. Why don't we cut our losses now, get some time back in our days, and part on good terms?"

Now it was her turn to frown.

"You... you're disappointed?"

Howzer was already scooting his chair back to stand. "It's nothing personal against you," he tried to reassure, though even he could hear how impolite it sounded. He hated that he was in such a situation. He should have never come in the first place.

He gave her a formal nod, almost like a salute, and then strode through the patio gate and down quiet, cobbled streets back toward the town square. Each step felt heavier and heavier and he did whatever he could to ignore the guilt twisting in his chest, even trying to look at his surroundings and focus on taking in the architecture and flora and beauty. It was a hollow focus, but he was determined to keep walking, believing he'd soon forget about this awkward encounter and the rude behavior he'd displayed, and things would go back to normal... as normal as they could be in a war.

But then a voice started to cut through to him from behind.

"Sir? Sir!"

He turned in confusion to see the girl jogging toward him. She pulled up a few feet from him, only slightly out of breath.

"Sorry. Um, I don't know your name. Or your rank."

"My rank doesn't matter anymore," he said, immediately regretting how defensive it sounded. He really was a mess today, wasn't he.

"Sure it does," she said with a small smile. "It was an accomplishment, something you should always be proud of."

Without realizing, the tenseness in his shoulders started to loosen. He took in a deep breath and said the first normal thing all day. "My name's Howzer. Captain Howzer."

Her smile grew just a bit more. "It's nice to meet you, Captain Howzer. And... I'm sorry if I came across rude or annoying before. I understand if you don't find me attractive, but I really don't want that to be your impression of me. I really wasn't disappointed to find out you were my date. In fact, I'm disappointed I didn't actually get to have you as a date. But, like I said... it's okay if you're not interested."

Howzer's heart was twisting again. She was a nice girl. Sweet, thoughtful. Still used too many words, but he supposed he didn't use enough sometimes. As far as attraction, he wasn't entirely sure he knew what that felt like, but those bright eyes and soft smile weren't so bad to look at.

"It's not that I'm not interested," he started to say slowly, but then realized he wasn't sure how to finish the thought.

The girl stepped closer. "You're just not ready?"

"Honestly, I don't know if I ever will be ready." He gave a sheepish shrug, though he was starting to feel better. He appreciated that she was helping him sort through these confusing feelings. Her eyes were closer, swimming with the reflection of the sky and what he believed to be genuine care. Before he knew it, he was elaborating. "I mean, do I like the idea of sitting down for coffee with someone and getting to know them? Of course. But to what end? I don't know what the future holds. I don't know if I can be a good friend, let alone... something else."

She nodded in understanding but still offered a different perspective. "To be fair, no one really knows what the future holds. And relationships come in all different forms. There's no one way to be a good friend. Or a good something else."

Howzer's eyes slipped away from hers, pulled toward the glistening sea in the backdrop behind her. He mulled over her words as he watched the waves, nothing but tiny little ripples from this distance. It reminded him of some of the paintings he saw back on Ryloth. He'd always been impressed with artists who could make small details seem real. They were only small strokes on a canvass but they captured a whole entire feeling.

He shook himself, not sure why he was thinking about such a thing right now. The girl was still watching him with a small but knowing smile. She stepped back and returned the nod he'd given her back at the cafe.

"I'm really glad to have met you, Captain. I wish you all the best."

She turned and started walking back the way she'd came. Howzer let her get a few steps before finally calling out.

"Wait. I didn't get your name."

She paused and smiled at him over her shoulder.

"Hope."

Every Character Tag: @dangerousstrawberrypie, @justanothersadperson93, @arctrooper69, @sleepycreativewriter, @techie-bear,

@theroguesully, @cw80831, @cdblake1565

Other Clones Tag: @kaijusplotch, @lucyysthings, @marvel-starwars-nerd, @severalseashellsbytheseashore, @lackofhonor,

@flowered-bicycles, @foodmoneyandcats, @lulalovez, @aconstructofamind, @the-mom-friend-dot-com

✨Join A Tag List Here!✨

🩵 More Howzer Fics Master List [TBA] | 🍾 One Shots Master List | 🌙 Master List of Master Lists

#star wars #the clone wars #the bad batch #morehowzerfics #captain howzer #captain baja blast #howzer x reader #howzer x s/o #dates #blind dates #first dates #first impressions #meet ugly #demiromantic #hope #oc!hope #??#maybe??

111 notes · View notes

thecoffeelorian · 1 month ago

Text

Chapter Title: Backlash

Word Count: 1,359.

Brief Description: Brief Description: Captain Howzer x Female Reader, Captain Howzer x Chandrilan Reader (Singular Love Interest). A reaction to betrayal, a threat of arrest, and a test of the potential bridegroom's intentions all converge at the Minola residence...

AO3: Link Here

Extra Notes: This sat in my Notes for upwards of 3 months before I dropped it in here...man, I'm slow and I suck at updates. Anyways, I hope people are still interested in this, as sporadic as I've been after all this time.

Chapter Masterlist: Link Here

The No-Pressure Tag List:

@crosshairs-dumb-pimp-gf @cloneflo99 @vrycurious @gun-roswell @padawancat97

@littlefeatherr @yeehawhijack @knightprincess @masterjedilenawrites @skellymom and anybody else on the lookout for more Howzer fics.

“What. The kriff.”

Whatever happy bubble you might have been trapped in before has now popped…and with it, you’re not sure if you can feel anything else but betrayal.

“So this is why you came. Dear old Dad cried you a river, Briana joined in, and I’m the one who got put up for sale...”

Betrayal from whoever might have ratted you out at home, betrayal from yourself simply for agreeing to come back…oh, but most of all, betrayal from him.

“Now that’s not exactly true—“

“—It’s true enough to me.”

What right did he have, exactly, to sell you out like this?

“I should have known you’d just become Dad’s doormat in the end.”

Was it just some social side effect of the Republic treating his people like factory made machines, or had this been his idea all along?

“More like your own welcome mat, if you will accept me.”

“Don’t get cute with me, Captain. I don’t ‘accept’ anything!”

Either way, it doesn’t look as though “dear old Dad” is all that celebratory any more, because you’ve just succeeded in wiping that shit-eating grin right off his face.

“N-Now Katie, this-this is hardly the time for—”

“—Don’t. Call me. ‘Katie’.”

He’s looking somewhat scared of you this time, in fact, so much so that you start to get a little thrill out of it.

“I’m not your ‘Katie’, I’m not his ‘Katie’, and I’m definitely not going to—”

“—Y/N, please!”

Orinna, by contrast, is giving you the Look. The one you used to get as a kid when she caught you running too fast in the hallway, or else chasing Briana one time too many around the formal dish ware cabinet.

She’s not too keen on watching you do something dangerous today, especially not if she can help it.

“Zis is not ze time to begin a second war, all right? Ze Troopers and ze Separatists ‘ave all laid down zheir arms. Why can you not do ze same?”

“Rebels are meant to fight, and so am I.”

“Mothers are meant to worry, and so am I!”

“Whatever for?”

“Because I do not want ze authorities arresting you! Think upon zat!”

Her dark eyes are glaring into yours at this point, a sure sign that you’ve officially crossed one line too many with her. You’ve never really seen her this angry before, true—but given that this is such a rarity from her, it’s certainly making you think twice before going any further.

In fact…even though you’re still pretty pissed off at Dad and Howzer together, you’re also not thinking twice about raising your hands in surrender. You’ve messed with her head enough for one day, maybe, so perhaps now is the proper moment to back off and stand down.

“…All right. Fine. I’ll do that.”

“I certainly ‘ope so. Capitaine?”

She motions Howzer forward with one hand, but not without both of her lekku moving rather closely into the sign for “May spice salt your wounds”. Obviously, she won’t be that eager to deal with any more of your issues today.

“Feel free to escort Miss Minola inside, for I do not doubt zat you will ‘ave much to discuss.”

“So I am told…”

As for the good Captain, on the other hand, he’s decided to hang back until you were most likely to calm down and knuckle under. So far, he may have the calming down part of you already proposed and seconded.

“…Still, Y/N, if you will allow me to continue—”

“—Any Trooper will, if he doesn’t bore me first—”

“—You may not find me so boring as other men, for I ‘ad a few interesting teachers back on Kamino.”

“Why, what’s Kamino?”

“An oceanic planet.”

“If that is so, then feel free to go back. I’m sure they’re dying to see you.”

“So I am told. Come! We can go zere together!”

Howzer offers his arm to you, a sure mark of gentlemanly manners if this was any other meeting between you that your father didn’t preordain. Under normal circumstances, you might have happily considered this Captain as your escort back inside the manse.

Out here, however, you’re merely gathering your hands behind your back, one eyebrow raised in silent interrogation, and literally everyone—be they ranging from the scolding Orinna in front of you to Brainy Bri watching it all from her upstairs window—are now holding their collective breaths in anticipation for your next reaction.

“Oh? What makes you think I’m joining you?”

“I…don’t yet see a reason why you could not, Miss Minola.”

“Maybe I’d prefer to sit outside for a while.”

“Very well. I will be sure to join you.”

Howzer makes a small performance of lowering himself onto one of the two front benches; then patting the place beside him in hopes of having you as a partner. You certainly would have joined him willingly if it had been up to you alone, because then you would have had a modicum of freedom to do with as you wished.

Unfortunately, no thanks to Dad pushing this match as the main road to freeing up Briana…you’re instead eyeing one of the side tables, wondering if you should make your own show of sitting there instead…or worse.

“Actually…I think I’ve changed my mind, ‘Capitaine’. Perhaps I’ll go inside.”

“What, and miss the view of zis fine day?”

“Maybe it’s too bright a view for my sensitive eyes.”

“Very well, then…let me see you walk, if we cannot sit together.”

“Walk? Whatever for?”

“So I’ll know who to look for when the big day comes.”

“Oh? What makes you think I won’t be running out the door instead?”

“Please, Y/N, I am as good a gentleman as any other…”

They’re all watching you now, Orinna, Dad, Briana from the window and whomever else inside the house who have decided to stop work and peek at the proceedings. Apparently, you’ve gone from Little Miss Nobody to the talk of the entire household in a few short hours, beginning with your ill-fated disappearance.

“…That. I’ll. Try.”

However, now that the side table is within your reach and you’re more or less finished with being the pawn to your sister’s knight…it’s that single piece of wood that you’re not hesitating to use as your next weapon, because in a matter of seconds, you’re sending it flying at Howzer’s head, your only mission being to drive him off your property with or without the black eye that he may so richly deserve—

“Whoops.”

—And then, with about as much advance warning as you gave him, which at this point is pretty much none—he catches that piece of furniture in midair, executes a near-perfect twirl, and finally sends the table flying back to you, after which you’ve very little choice other than to catch it before it crashes.

“Oof!”

This you barely accomplish with all the grace of someone who never played any sports, for the impact alone all but knocks you onto your back while Howzer remains upright and unbruised. For what might be the first time ever, you’re left in a confused silence while the sting of catching a hard object with your bare hands wears off, because only then might you be able to get back onto your feet again with no further interruptions.

In the meantime, though…everyone’s looking on in a stunned silence, not knowing whether or not to panic as they wait to see what you do next. Judging from their past experiences, either you're going to run off in a huff, or else fall into an even bigger rage and throw another piece of furniture. Perhaps anything of the worst nature can happen from your end, as it's more or less the huge bad habit that you've let yourself fall into over time.

And yet...even as how Howzer's watching you cautiously, still figuring out whether or not he should protect himself and get out of here while he still can...that's when you end up surprising yourself as well as everyone else.

"Nice aim, Captain Howzer."

[To be continued in Chapter 6, "Revealed Truths".

Please like, comment, and reblog if you liked this chapter; and I'll see you in the next update! TYSM!]

14 notes · View notes

freesia-writes · 22 days ago

Text

Day One - First Meeting - Howzer and Aurelia

Anyone remember my full-length Howzer x OC fic? 😉 Well don't go looking for it! 😜 I've added a bunch of new chapters and am enriching the rest to re-release the whole thing once it's completed! Even better, the last part connects with the AMAZING longfic Stars Beyond Number by the illustrious @dystopicjumpsuit, and the stories weave together flawlessly. Thanks for the prompt, @clonexocweek!

Perhaps Howzer is a fringe character for you, but I think he'll steal your hearts as we follow him from his newbie days through TBB. He and Aurelia meet at 79s, where she's working as a bartender while she tries to figure out her life and he's a cocky little shiny with scruffy hair who is hilariously unrelenting [and unsuccessful] in his pursuit of babes. 😉 What starts with a few quips across the bar slowly grows into familiarity, friendship, and the realization of a deep connection... And that's just the start. 🤓

Also… this is her face ref, with an important caveat — she looks like this, only less pretty. 😜

#clonexocweek2025 #the bad batch #tbb #tbb howzer #howzer #howzer x oc #captain howzer #howzer fic #howzer fanfic #tbb fanfic #clone x oc

40 notes · View notes

starqueensthings · 5 months ago

Text

PREV | NEXT | FOREWORD | MASTER | AO3

Summary: June joins Howzer on a mission for caffeine. She learns a little about his role, his men, his outlook— and he, unknowingly, helps her navigate her struggle as a teacher. For a fleeting moment, June forgets to uphold that self indoctrinated distaste… that long-upheld aversion. For a moment, his companionship feels like nothing she’s ever felt before… nothing that she’d ever permitted herself to entertain… enjoy. But a moment is just a moment. Enjoy the roller coaster of this chapter— please remember certain aspects of a character (snippets of dialogue, facial expressions, etc) are all specifically placed so the audience can witness growth. We all about growth up in this house!

Rating/WC: all chapters are rated 16+ unless stated otherwise | 4475 words.

PLEASE ENSURE YOU’VE READ THE FOREWORD LINKED BELOW FOR AN IN-DEPTH DESCRIPTION OF WHAT DEGREE OF CONTENT YOU CAN EXPECT THROUGHOUT THIS STORY BEFORE PROCEEDING.

The jubilant breeze tumbling throughout the confines of the courtyard perched just opposite those glass doors instantly brandished her hair from her shoulders, beaming rays pouring mercilessly from overhead instantly capitalizing on the opportunity to remind her enraged skin of its power, and she near-winced upon feeling her neck prickle neath its unwelcome intensity.

“You okay?” Howzer asked as they trod down the half dozen stairs toward the locked gate, seemingly noting the sudden cringe atop her features.

“Yeah, fine,” June answered casually. “Spent too much time by the pool with my friend the other day and I’m still paying for it.”

“I saw that,” he chuckled, offering a sympathetic little grimace. “I’d offer some advice but I honestly can’t say I’ve ever had too bad of a sunburn.”

“Yeah, well… Quit braggin’,” June demanded with a smile. “I say this to my best friend all the time: not all of us are gloriously melanous.”

A tingle unrelated to that overhead radiance rolled down her back as his head tipped backward amidst a genuine laugh, and attempting to veil the flush rising rapidly back to her cheeks, she quickly reached to fiddle with the cuff of her sleeve… only to remember she was not wearing long sleeves, instead awkwardly shoving a dawdling finger neath the strap of her watch and giving it an pointless twist around her wrist.

As it turned out, the Combat Base’s close proximity to their chosen cafe perfectly elucidated why Hutchie’s was an establishment of which she’d never heard. Though for how distant it was from the central, senatorial sector of which June was largely familiar, only mere steps atop the pathway leading toward the jovial tinkle of its distant doorbell exposed how just how favoured of a spot it was for the denizens.

Yet even more astonishing than the steady flow of travel cup-laden patrons, stolling past with their steaming flimsi containers of delightful aromatic caf, was truly how simple it was to converse with the man next to her. Despite the butterflies in her stomach continuing their silent attempts at internal homicide, chatting with Howzer felt as intuitive as simply placing one foot in front of the other atop that bustling pathway.

Though their first encounter had far superseded the second in terms of duration, the plaguing ailment and the gentle coaxing he’d required before consenting to treatment had, unfortunately, dominated most of their conversation. Their only encounter since had been tragically too-short to engage in anything more than the hopelessly giddy “hi, I have to run but I really hope I’ll see you soon!” sentiments before the pair parted ways with dopey smiles atop their lips.

And in the void of pain or urgency, it was difficult not to marvel at just how casually that Captain carried himself. Imbued an insouciant energy of which June was sure she’d never be able to embody as effortlessly as Howzer did, breezy probes at conversation spilled from his lips as if he were intrinsically aware of all the topics she could chitter about for hours (though the way that mildly crooked smile wrapped its way around each word had her increasingly confident she would have been perfectly content to just listen to the music of that accented tone). Meanwhile, those large, boot-clad feet moved unhurried toward their destination as if the pathway itself had wordlessly offered to glide below at whatever speed he’d prefer; thankfully he’d defaulted to a cadence more comfortable for her much shorter legs.

As they wove through the ambling crowd, Howzer gushed about his Company; the 742nd was, admittedly, an anomaly of sorts. Not only did their authority ladder end with a Clone Commander and not the Jedi General that typically apexed large sectors of soldiers, but a period of extensive training in its earliest days of formation had seen those boys in teal thrust into an unusual hybrid role. Though classified as a “reconnaissance collection company subfractured from the 91st”, the 742nd was often deployed, instead, as an ��assault and secure force”, meaning they were just as frequently tasked with infiltrating an enemy base and securing its perimeter until such a time that reinforcements could arrive and claim the location as their own. Yet, he spoke of his career with the same admirable informality as he would speak of the weather, reminiscing of battles as if recalling the events of a party he’d recently attended, and though she was sure it had rendered her expression to something near a slack-jawed grouper fish, that unforeseen disposition had captured June’s attention and simply refused to free it.

His perspective of war seemed …well, different to anything she’d overheard from soldiers amidst her duties at work. Often those armoured troopers spoke of their duty with an unignorable severity; of the responsibility they carried to both loyally serve and immutably protect the Republic to which they served; of their allegiance to their CO’s, their brethren, and the legion they’d been assigned; of the demand for stoic, unvarying courage in the face of enemies they’d never seen before. Howzer spoke of governing his men as if they were nothing but a bizarrely oversized and appropriately dysfunctional family— ‘vod, he kept calling them before quickly explaining this was a common Mando’a word for brother. He spoke of their battle experiences as if those teal painted men had collectively experienced several disjointed parts of a larger, harrowing adventure; those that were sadly killed on the way were celebrated to a higher degree than those that survived, as the lost had simply moved on to a more exhilarating life of which none of them knew just yet. He spoke of the unremitting desire and obligation to keep his men grounded— to ensure they felt nothing but relative ease and confidence as they marched into the relative unknown…

“Just in here.”

June wrenched her gaze from that enamoring square jaw as he slowed his pace and veered slightly toward a glass door on the right, instead redirecting her eyes upward toward the sign overhead. Hung from the soffit by two oversized copper chains, that deep emerald placard and the loopy gold cursive laying bare the name of that little cafe was immediately familiar, June’s mind quickly extracting the image of the tiny green card she'd opened and cherished some days previous.

“Oh, thank you,” she muttered upon realizing Howzer had pulled the door ajar and was waiting for her to enter ahead of him.

But hardly a step through the door and into that foreign space had thrust an inherently wholesome fragrance into her nose; unseen steaming loaves of delicious crusty sourdough bread, carafes of fresh caf gurgling just out of sight, crystallized and caramelized sugars mixed with an enticing blend of aromatic spices… vanilla, cardamom, cinnamon, clove… and something earthy and deeply familiar.

Though her olfactory system seemed instantly content enough to simply stand atop that threshold and breathe in those potent whiffs of sheer delight, the opportunity was usurped by just how visually overwhelming the interior of that tiny shop was.

“Wow,” June whispered, gaze dancing fervently from corner to corner, item to item, person to person, whilst her feet took her thoughtlessly in Howzer’s wake toward the treat laden display cases on the left.

Like her companion, Hutchie’s was nothing short of …different. Utterly void of that sterile rigidity of which Coruscant remained notorious, three steps into that creaky, rustic cafe had June feeling as if she’d been unknowingly transported to a little bistro on a distant planet. High ceilings and limewashed walls worked in tandem to ensure that relatively cramped square footage was suffused with an indescribable, natural comfort. Taking up the majority of the cafe’s interior real estate was a sitting area along the right side; dozens of time-worn wooden chairs housing patrons of all shapes, colours, and sizes, an equi-diverse array of baked treats perched atop tables anchoring those esoteric conversations.

“Ouuu, Alocasia Zebrina!” June suddenly uttered aloud, excitement surging through her veins as her eyes affixed themselves upon a very familiar-looking striped plant perched in the center of those scrubbed pine tops.

“Say again?” Howzer asked, the din of chatter echoing around those four corners forcing him to lower his ear to only inches from her lips.

“Um, Alocasia Zebrina,” she repeated somewhat meekly, the subtle addition of his aftershave in her nose quickly overpowering that fleeting glee. “The plant on all the tables. I have one at home too. They’re notoriously hard to keep alive.”

Though not robbed of its clarity by the merciless cacophony still ringing around those walls, his chuckling response went wholly unheard, a sharp gasp escaping June’s lips as a searing pain erupted in her knee.

“Ow!” she exclaimed, left hand absently reaching to steady herself with the nearest pillar of solidity, while the other darted downward to appease her now throbbing leg.

“Sorry,” a passerby grunted. “Busy place. Watch where you’re stepping.”

“You okay?”

Again, Howzer went ignored, June’s narrowed gaze affixed on the back of the retreating Zabraki man who had nearly knocked her off her feet as he pushed his way through the throng.

“What happened?” Howzer tried again, this time successfully stealing her attention.

“Nothing,” June dismissed, cheeks flushing upon the realization the support she’d mindlessly sought amidst that unexpected jostle was the crook of that Captain’s elbow. “Guy just knocked into me on his way by. I’m fine.”

“Yeah, this place is always a madhouse,” Howzer answered, resuming normal posture and offering her an apologetic nod. “Stay close.”

Whether the shift was intentional or not, June soon found the back of her hand near-clamped between Howzer’s torso and elbow, the gentle pinch he’d applied to seemingly keep her grasp exactly where it had landed instantly took her mind off the bruise forming earnestly just below her kneecap.

As they lumbered forward in that lagging queue, mahogany floorboards creaking with every step, June’s focus shifted from the drape of her cold fingers around that scuffed plastoid to the display cases passing on her left side— floor to ceiling shelves presented some of the most immaculately prepared pastries she’d ever laid her eyes on; glazed donuts gleaming like edible orbs neath those overhead lights, richly decadent brownies blanketed in a crust of finely chopped nuts, strudels happily leaking their jellied innards onto the emerald green doilies they laid upon whilst waiting to be ingested. On the other side of that scrumptious exhibit, and only visible through gaps between that prolific array of decadence, scurried a dozen green-aproned staff members. Multicoloured hands of all shapes and sizes appeared routinely behind those delicacies, a sheet of protective wax flimsi draped atop palms preparing to extract the confection that some lucky patron up ahead had just claimed as their own. And though her mouth watered uncontrollably at first sight of a delectable looking meiloorun muffin, June’s thoughts had wandered near urgently toward the egregiously overdue caf her very cells continued to demand with each passing, uncaffeinated moment.

“Whatcha gettin’?” Howzer asked as they neared the front counter, her nose flooded with that intoxicating yet unfamiliar, delicate musk as he lowered his lips to a mere breath from her ear.

“Ummmm,” June hesitated, brows furrowing as her eyes danced fervently around the exorbitant list of foreign-beaned caf’s scrawled upon a chalkboard on the wall opposite. “Whatever it was that you sent to my office last week?”

“That was the Apple Java,” he advised her, pointing toward the center of the list. “Large?”

“Extra-large…”

The sudden exposure of that chronic caf addiction, and the way those dark brows raised at her seemingly mechanical, knee-jerk response, would have had her near-cringing neath the weight of self-consciousness had it not been for the smile quickly peeling across those dark lips, twinkly eyes softening as they danced warmly atop her features.

“Extra-large it is,” he repeated with the subtlest of snorts.

“I’ll buy though,” she hastily added, reaching to extract her wallet from the depths of her bag as he turned to greet the humanoid waiting behind the cash register.

“What?” he demanded. “No way! I’m ordering for like sixteen people.”

“So?”

“So! That’s going to cost you a fortune.”

“You fed the entire surgical floor with all those treats last week,” June argued with a shrug, removing her hand from the security of his elbow to unzip her wallet. “I can repay the favour.”

“That was differen—”

“Trust me when I say: I’m more stubborn than you are, and you will not win this.”

She watched his once-smiling lips purse ahead of unsaid protests, gaze narrowing slightly as it bore into hers, seemingly resolute in witnessing the first twitch of muscle that might lay bare any hesitation on her part… but she met that surveying leer with a stern, unwavering one of her own, blue piercing brown as if daring him to object further.

“Fine,” he consented atop the ghost of chuckle. “But put that hand back.”

She repressed a smile as he turned and began to order (twelve regular caf, four decaf, and one extra-large Apple Java), every subsequent breath escaping past her lips struggling to ignore the flutter that had erupted in her gut as he'd assertively collected her cold fingers and directed them back to their previous wreath around his elbow.

“Here’s the Apple Java, and the decaf,” the cashier announced hardly a minute later, passing a familiar looking flimsi cup across that mahogany counter to June’s outstretched palm, and a cardboard carrying tray of four others to Howzer. “We’re just brewing a fresh pot of regular caf. Give us a few minutes, and we’ll call you over when it’s ready.”

June followed in the Captain’s wake a half dozen paces toward one of the smaller tables anchored against the wall, the soul-warming aroma of apple and peekaboo vanilla wafting upward from the container in her hands near-banishing those irksome butterflies. With a small squeal of released anticipation and excitement she popped open the tab on that duraplas lid and took a sip of that scalding delight.

Snickering at the undeniable joy atop her features, Howzer pulled the nearest chair out from its perch beneath that scrubbed pine tabletop and gestured for her to sit, before placing both that laden travel tray and his helmet atop the table between them and taking a seat of his own.

“So you’re a full caffeine kinda guy,” June gleaned with a smirk, noting instantly that Howzer had failed to collect a cup from the collection on the table whilst she cradled hers with both hands.

“Oh absolutely,” Howzer answered, casting the decaffeinated collection of cups in front of him a near-revolted look. “What’s the point of drinking a caf if it’s not to wake you up?”

“Warmth?” June suggested with a small shrug. “Flavour? Even with reduced caffeine levels, it’s a fantastic analeptic. Some like to keep their cortisol levels low. Not to mention it keeps the bowels moving…”

June hurried to hide the flush rising earnestly to her cheeks behind that flimsi container as Howzer’s head tipped back amidst a full chested laugh that promised to dismantle her composure, nose scrunching neath his amusement and raising the little hairs on her arms.

“I guess those are all pretty valid reasons,” he spoke, draping an arm casually atop the backrest of his seat and peering across the table at her with that characteristic twinkle behind his eyes.

She shirked his gaze as discreetly as she could, pretending to pluck a nonexistent piece of fluff from the rim of her drink as she fought to restrain the newly invigorated flapabout in her gut.

“Tell me about class,” he continued as she hurried to pacify the lingering capriciousness by bringing her caf to her lips again. “What happened that made your boss so happy?”

June paused only long enough to force that still blistering liquid down her throat before offering him an evasive, one-shouldered shrug. “I don’t know,” she mused, licking the remnants of the last gulp from her top lip and sitting up straight in her chair. “The guys in class have always seemed so …uninterested? It's been really hard to get them to engage with any of the content we’ve been trying to teach them, despite doing everything we can to make the lectures interesting.”

“They’re just not paying attention?” Howzer probed.

“Right… or paying attention to the wrong thing, or being disruptive. Some of them would just spend all three lecture hours sleeping… Some of them would stare at me like it was some stupid game and it drove me up the kriffing wall… Others at least tried to make it look like they were paying attention, but it’s not hard to spot someone that’s napping with their eyes open…

“Today they were actually responsive… even borderline excited about what they were learning. I know, for a soldier, it’s probably not super exhilarating stuff that we’re teaching but… I don’t know. I think it’s all pretty cool once you understand the importance of the material? Maybe I’m just a giant dork, but…”

“Well…” Howzer started as her thoughts trailed away. “You said it, not me...”

“Oh ha ha ha,” June feigned with a roll of her eyes, though a smirk peeled across her lips.

The feeling of his amber-eyed, surveying gaze back atop her features forced her eyes back to the lid on her cup, bringing a cold finger to trail thoughtlessly around the rim of that white duraplas.

“I know it’s easier said than done, but try not to take it too personally,” Howzer continued after a moment’s pause. “That’s a bit of a weird age for troopers, to be honest. This is their first time off Kamino. They’re used to being barked at round the clock by ARC Troopers who wouldn’t recognize ‘consideration’ if it bit them on the ass. All these guys know is having their critical thinking tested every minute of every day, learning respect, and camaraderie, and strategy… all that kind of stuff. Now they’re sitting in a quiet classroom on a foreign planet, separated from everyone they grew up with, being taught combat medicine by civilians. It’s no excuse for, well… staring, but it’ll all be pretty foreign to those guys for a while.”

Gnawing mindlessly on her left thumbnail, June let his words wash over her, a peculiar sensation lurching deep in her gut that felt something-near …guilt.

“Hmm,” she hummed, pulling her finger from its clamp between her lips atop the cold realization that maybe… after all these weeks… she hadn’t been the only person uncomfortable in that classroom. “So it probably feels as awkward for them as it does for me?”

Howzer nodded, that infamously warm gaze thankfully lacking any semblance of judgment or critique as it landed back upon her. “Probably more so, considering almost all of them have probably never talked to a girl before. I know the ‘hot teacher’ comment bothered you but… they’re still learning.”

“Who said it bothered me?” June retorted, though the indignance of her demand diminished instantly upon seeing the deeply skeptical look he cast from across the table. Pursing her lips to repress a culpable grin, she hid behind her coffee cup and asked, “I was that obvious, eh?”

“June, your face speaks louder than your words ever could,” he snickered. “Those eyes could light someone on fire if they glared hard enough.”

June offered only a repressed snort, unable to offer him the titter he deserved whilst her insides churned amidst a simmering remorse that she hadn’t expected to feel for that century of once-disrespectful soldiers. “Kriff, now I feel like an asshole,” she mumbled.

“Nah, don’t sweat it,” Howzer replied with an appeasing smile. “They’re tough. And if they’re not yet, they will be soon. But—” Abruptly plagued by an unprecedented wash of what appeared to be diffidence, he paused to clear his throat and redirect his gaze to a blemish on the crown of his helmet. “—If you want them to stop staring, I’d maybe ditch the glasses.”

“What?” June asked, upper lip cocking in confusion. “Why?”

“Don’t get me wrong,” he started, eyes following his fingers as they began to absently drum atop that worn wooden table. “They’re nice. Um, really nice. Almost distracting… I guess?”

The profound reddening of his ears nowhere matched that of her cheeks. Skin prickling as uncomfortably as if the beaming sun beyond that tinkling doorbell had managed to scorch both her shoulders and every inch of her face, she instantly lifted her hand again to subconsciously hide behind that emerald green cup.

“Caf’s up!”

That stentorian call thankfully spared June the need to respond, and they stood from those rickety wooden chairs as if the seats had suddenly burned white hot below their butts. As Howzer scooped his helmet from the table and tucked it neatly neath his arm, June collected the travel tray and followed him back toward the counter.

The twelve regular cups of caf had been smartly divided into trays of four like their decaffeinated counterparts, but with one of June’s hands occupied by her own cup, and Howzer’s helmet plaguing the mobility of his right arm, it quickly became little more than a game of tetris attempting to figure out exactly how the only two remaining limbs were going to successfully cargo sixteen steaming cups of caf for the four-block journey back to Base.

After several precarious and time-consuming attempts at stacking them on top of each other, and much to the mixed amused annoyance of the still bustling queue behind them, June heaved a sigh. “Can you just put that damn helmet on,” she bossed at Howzer atop an exasperated chuckle. “We need your second arm.”

“No,” Howzer refuted instantly. “I won’t be able to see you properly. And I don’t like having it on if I don’t have to...”

“You don’t need to see me, you just need to see where you’re walki—”

“But I want t—”

“‘Kay fine,” she interjected, rolling her eyes and putting her cup of caf down on the counter. “If you balance them on my arm, I can take two trays in one hand and my cup in the other.” Though he cocked an eyebrow at her in a motion of unadulterated doubt, she dismissed his silent concern with an impatient shake of the head. “It’s okay, I used to be a server.”

Atop the rapidly growing pressure of agitation behind them, June insisted. “I’ll be fine, just do it before someone tries to take out my other kneecap.”

Looking as though he thoroughly disagreed with this seemingly impulsive plan, Howzer carefully lowered one tray on top of the other on June’s awaiting right wrist, hands lingering only inches from that teetering tower, poised to resume the weight should she let slip even a whimper of discomfort.

Though it prickled against her sunburnt chest, letting those heavy trays tip backward against her skin diminished some of their burden, and she quickly offered him a nod of approval before collecting her own cup and stepping back from the counter. Once Howzer had balanced his own allotted pair of travel trays, they carefully made for the door.

“You were going to send a cadet to do this?” June snorted as they traversed that sunlit path back to Base, heart seizing for the fourth time in as many minutes as her dribbling freight gave a perilous wobble in her arms and threatened to douse her lower half in scalding hot caf.

“Absolutely,” he laughed. “It’s a great character building exercise.”

“Character building?!” she repeated, utterly aghast. “Pffffft! Seems kinda mean if you ask me, but if that’s what lets you sleep at night.”

“Says the girl who slept in this morning,” he snarked back at her, turning to give her a smirk so dazzling, the discomfort of that hot and heavy cargo momentarily vanished.

“You know what,” June argued neath a chuckle, “I think I deserve a little credit for not sleeping in every kriffing morning. Not only do my shifts never end on time, but my bed is soft, and big, and warm, and a challenge to get out of on any given day…”

“Sounds like a place I’d like to be,” Howzer chortled, turning to grant a fellow trooper in a suit of white and orange a casual nod as they passed each other along that path.

Howzer clearly thought nothing of it, continuing toward their destination unaffected by that off-the-cuff remark, and wholly unaware of the way June’s shoulders had slumped near-theatrically in its wake. Yet, June’s stomach fell with speed thrice that of which they walked, disappointment wiping the lingering remnants of that diminishing amusement from her lips whilst the darkest corner of her mind eagerly raised a red flag and flapped it earnestly across her awareness.

‘So that’s what he wants,’ she concluded, the hubris of her distaste for men instantly usurping the unfamiliar giddiness that had seen her near-intoxicated by his presence for days… weeks. ‘To visit to my bed.’

And the sudden and complete banishment of that teased sense of adventure— that fleeting feeling of ‘maybe I was wrong’ or ‘maybe there are men I can tolerate…’ — had that once gloriously enriching Apple Java cascading down the back of her tongue like spoiled vinegar.

“Sorry—” she muttered after a contemptuous snort, dropping her gaze to her toes and watching that gum-embedded pathway lead them back to Base. “By formal invitation only.”

An impossibly urgent sense of relief surged through her veins as the first signs of that construction-laden building came into view across the road, the gargantuan glass doors they’d left through some time earlier glimmering in the oppressive midday sun as they approached that barbed gate, stopping only so Howzer could scan his wrist comm below the sensor and permit them access.

“June?”

It was only then she realized he’d been talking. Too lost in her own welling disappointment and simmering sense of regret, she’d thoughtlessly tuned out everything around her.

“Sorry, yeah?” she answered, squinting amidst the effort of finding that olive face.

“You still okay there?” Howzer repeated, gesturing with a nod to the cargo she’d, once again, entirely forgotten she was carrying.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she lied, knowing if she divulged the small river of scalding hot caf trickling from her wrist to her elbow, it would only further delay the end of this interaction.

“Okay. Gimme one quick sec,” Howzer requested of her, stopping as the gate closed behind them and shifting his own freight enough to bring his forearm to his mouth. “Spades… come in.”

“‘Sup, cap?” chirped a nearly identical voice through the static of that hidden communication system.

“Status on barracks?” Howzer asked.

“Barracks?” that voice repeated neath an incredulous laugh. “Uhhh… well, nine battalions have landed since last night so it’s safe to say ‘crowded’ is an appropriate word.”

“Duty or dismissed?”

“Unless uniform policy has changed and we’re allowed to loaft around in our underwear on duty, I’m going to guess dismissed. Why? Aren’t you supposed to be in the briefing anyway?”

“Meeting doesn’t start for a few minutes,” Howzer clarified, and I’ve, er… got some company. Thanks for the intel.”

June watched him glance somewhat apologetically in her direction before ending that somewhat cryptic conversation, eyes hardening slightly, as if her labeling her as such was mildly offensive.

‘Company?’ she scowled. ‘Barracks?’

“You trying to show off your bed, now?” June queried with a cocked brow, watching that sharp jaw tense whilst he chewed his lip, brown eyes narrowed in concentration as he silently deciphered some mental puzzle she wasn’t yet privy to

“No,” Howzer chuckled, a lop-sided smile returning quickly to those lips. “Trust me, it’s nothing to bat an eye at. Come on, we’ll go through the hangar.”

PREV | NEXT | FOREWORD | MASTER | AO3

Taglist: @sinfulsalutations @starrylothcat @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius @secondaryrealm @dystopicjumpsuit @freesia-writes @sev-on-kamino @littlemissmanga @523rdrebel @wings-and-beskar @drafthorsemath @jediknightjana @starstofillmydream @mooncommlink @wizardofrozz @trixie2023 @clonethirstingisreal @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @mythical-illustrator @arctrooper69 @somewhere-on-kamino @sverdgeir @heidnspeak

#The Only Exception #OC: June Kiore #Captain Howzer x fem!OC #fem!OC x Captain Howzer #Howzer x fem!OC #fem!Oc x Howzer #please heed warnings

18 notes · View notes