#clone medic focus

[josephsaturn]

How the General looks at you when he’s trying to get back to the battlefield (he has a concussion and severe internal bleeding)

[jedi-starbird]

Time Travel is my favourite trope and I think we need more fics where both Obi-Wan AND Qui-Gon time travel together because no matter when they get sent it's chaos. They're saving the galaxy and being physic flash-bangs to everyone around them.

like before Bandomeer?

The entire council is baffled to watch as Qui-Gon 'never taking a padawan again' Jinn has suddenly cut off his post-Xanatos depression tour to return to the temple and beeline to the creche with a frantic energy. His wild eyes immediately single out a fluffy, red-haired initiate.

"You." he exhales with a pointed finger, slightly ominous as he towers over the child. Said child starts vibrating with delight. "Me." he agrees, launching himself at the man. Qui-Gon drops to his knees with a thud that cannot be healthy. Obi-Wan's attempts to clamber into Qui-Gon's robes and maybe onto his shoulders is thwarted by the fact that Qui-Gon's massive hands are cupping Obi-Wan's tiny squishy cheeks. He stares at the initiate for a few minutes with an intensity that is starting to worry people.

Finally, "You're so small." Qui-Gon sounds like he might cry.

'What the fuck?' Plo Koon projects at Mace.

"I'm 9! That tends to be the case!" the child chirps back.

"You're nine." Oh. Ah. Qui-Gon's eyes are distinctively misty. He squishes the boy in a hug so hard he squeaks. Mace makes a series of gestures that imply the need for a head-scan. Depa obligingly drifts off towards the halls. Qui-Gon scoops the child up onto his hip and claims him as his padawan on the spot. The assorted council members and creche-masters burst into noise. Mace tells Depa to bring some space ibuprofen as well.

after Naboo?

Anakin is a little apprehensive of his place in both the order and Obi-Wan's life, but then one day Obi-Wan wakes up and is suddenly a lot less sad in the force?? In fact, if Anakin didn't know better he'd say he was almost giddy, but he's watched Obi-Wan try to pretend his world hasn't fallen apart for the past few months so it can't be that, right? And um, Miss Bant? He knows grief is a funny thing that affects people differently but he's pretty sure 'massive mood swing' and 'having full conversations with invisible people' is not...great? and you said to tell you if Obi-Wan got really weird in any way.

Anyway after a lot of medical exams, intense consultation with the archives, and a couple exorcisms, Anakin ends up being raised by his 'real' master and his ghost master. He is far more well adjusted emotionally and far less well adjusted for what counts as normal people behavior(not talking to thin air). When questioned on this, all he ever says is that he's talking to Qui-Gon. Isn't he...dead? Well, yes. Wait, he's a ghost? Ghosts are real? ...Well this ghost is real.

This starts a great number of existential crises among non-force sensitives and incredibly heated theological arguments amongst the Jedi. Whenever Obi-Wan is questioned on this, all he ever says is some variation of "the force got to know him for 5 seconds and kicked him back out." Mace backs him up on this even though that reasoning is technically blasphemous. Qui-Gon is having the time of his un-life. He's ascended to his final form, his sheer existence is a heresy, this is truly all he has ever aspired towards.

the Clone Wars?

The minute they get dropped back Qui-Gon immediately goes and haunts the shit out of Dooku. They have a signed terms of surrender and promise of info on the Sith Lord within the year. Only half of it is because Qui-Gon's giving Dooku complexes that are only perceptible to shrimp, the other half is because they now have a ghost spy that is not bound by the laws of physics nor spacetime.

Obi-Wan only nominally pays attention to this as he immediately goes and implements his 19 step seduction plan with Cody (he had to focus on something on Tatooine to pass the time). It fails. Spectacularly. Publicly. Ah right. Tatooine was not exactly the height of his sanity. Everyone in the GAR and temple is now riveted by High General and Councilor Obi-Wan Kenobi's attempts to go on a date with his Commander, who bats him away him like a particularly annoying stray and seems one bouquet of cactus away from committing mutiny. Anakin is worrying if it means his master knows about his secret marriage and this is some sort of really weird power play. (It is, but not in the way he thinks)

The next time Dooku goes after Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon spends a good few months appearing tear-stained at the edge of Dooku's perception and only communicating in terrible wails and discordant mutterings of 'padawan. my padawan. my little one.' 24/7.

"Wait, you're annoying Dooku into surrendering?"

"Oh no Anakin, we're crushing his psyche like a bug. :)"

[noisilyscreechingsong]

Dp x Dc Crossover

Danny and Ellie somehow get tangled with Cadmus and frozen for study later. Obviously it comes to the JL’s attention and they all go ‘oh no another clone’. Anyone’s choice of who they think it is or if it’s a collection of people they took DNA from and meshed together to make these two sassy children.

Would be funnier if they came to DC universe by accident and didn’t have time to really learn about it before capture. The result being they have no idea superheroes are a thing and the heroes just thinking ‘these kids were traumatized and held captive, they don’t even know who Superman is!’ and cue another layer of hilarious misunderstanding.

When confronted about the whole clone thing, Danny immediately defends and protects Ellie. Obviously. Then they notice he was not defending himself, to which Danny goes ‘I’m not a clone!’ The heroes look at each other in clear doubt. ‘Oh he was in denial or seriously didn’t know who he was made from. That will make this harder.’

I may have started something though…

They found a discrete laboratory hidden in plan sight, underneath an office building. When researched, they found connections to Cabmus.

Considering the last encounter they had with the organization, they wanted to be prepared. Hence why when the small team noticed Batman walking down the stairs, Superman followed behind with a tight expression.

“Report.”

Red Robin stepped forward.

“Two cryo-stasis containers holding two nearly identical people. The first a male, approximately 13-14 years of age. Stable. The second a female, younger, approximately 10-11 years of age. Also stable, but her stats are lower than the boy’s.”

“What do you know?”

“Virtually nothing,” Connor says casually. “There are no documents left behind, digital or physical, and there are zero labels on these things.”

They arrive toward the back of the basement where the two frozen containers were sitting upright. One unit obviously smaller than the other most likely holding the girl. Batman has to peer down into the larger unit to see the boy’s face. Frost collected on his eyelashes and black hair like a forgotten doll. No movement from either forms, not even breathing.

“So we don’t know who they are made from,” Superman pushes, clearly displeased.

Batman keeps looking at their faces. The curve of their noses, the shape of their jaws, the positioning of their cheekbones. They didn’t look like Connor. No, they reminded him of someone else.

“We suspect hybrids of some sort,” M’gann contributes. “A mixture of different heroes if I had to guess, but there is no way of knowing with our lack of information without waking them up.”

“Can’t you look into their minds?” Clark questions.

M’gann squirms at the directness and Connor steps forward to defend her. Tensions rise.

“No, sir. They are frozen so there is hardly any brain function except to keep them alive. They aren’t even dreaming.”

She looks them over sadly, obviously distraught with not being able to connect to their minds in anyway.

Batman turns to Red Robin, the younger already watching him.

“You see it too, right?”

Batman grunts. Yes, he saw it.

“Is there a way to move them?” Batman brings back the focus.

“The containers are connected to the buildings power and then a back-up generator in case of emergencies. We’d have to switch the power to something mobile and there’s no telling what kind of effect that would have on the kids,” Connor explains, against the idea of moving them.

“It’s six in the evening. Most everyone in the building above as gone home for the day,” Red Robin helpfully adds.

“Evacuate the rest. Then call a medical team.”

“Wait,” Superman interrupts as the three younger heroes jump to do as instructed. “You’re not thinking about waking them up now, are you?”

“You have a better idea?”

Batman doesn’t even look at him as he studies the stats on the old screen connected to the nearest pod. This one holding the boy. He’ll be the first one out seeing as he’s the more stable one.

“They could be dangerous. They could try to attack us.”

“That’s why we’re here,” Batman deadpans. He didn’t state the obvious that they were children who had been frozen for who knows how long. If anything they’ll need reassurance that they were safe, not weapons in their faces as soon as they wake up.

Clark was not happy with his decision, but as long as he didn’t antagonize them Bruce left him alone.

It wasn’t long before they were ready to begin. Three medical personnel stood several yards back behind the heroes. Red Robin begins the defrosting procedure and they have to wait maybe an hour before the door slides open. There is a breath among them as they wait for his eyes to open. Instead they hear a cracking of thin ice and the boy falls forward without the door holding him in place. Connor is the one to catch him before he hits the floor face first.

Superboy turns him to lay him flat on the floor, the boy’s body still stiff with cold. Frost makes his hair and eyelashes brittle. His lips are a faint shade of blue.

“He isn’t breathing,” Connor informs quickly.

One of the medics push forward first, oxygen mask in hand.

“Bring the thermal blankets. We need to get his core temperature up,” the woman urgently instructs.

They get to work quickly in warming up the boy who is too small and fragile. After several minutes of the medics squeezing air into his mouth and rubbing his limbs and chest to get the blood flowing, the boy takes a breath. Then another. He coughs roughly, his throat scratchy, and starts to shiver.

“There we go.”

He whimpers and tries to move his hand, but the action is jerky and unpracticed.

“His eyes,” M’gann informs them, finally able to get some brain activity. “He can’t open his eyes. The ice-“

Connor takes a water bottle the medics brought and poured the room temperature water over his eyes to melt the ice holding them together. The boy jumps in surprise and tries to turn his head away but Connor continues until he can manually wipe away the ice and water from his eyelids.

Blue eyes. The boy has bright sky blue eyes. They aren’t the Krytonian blue, but they were still familiar.

He blinks and squints and looks around, breathing picking up at the people surrounding him and the unfamiliar environment. M’gann, sensing his distress, kneels down and sets a warm hand on his leg.

“It’s okay. No one here will hurt you. You’re safe now.”

He doesn’t relax, but he seems to at least understand her. He studies their uniforms and then her face before his eyes flick to something behind her and they widen. His breath stutters in his chest, making him wheeze out on the exhale.

They look behind the green skinned girl to see the smaller pod still holding the little girl, no change in her status.

The boy reaches out a shaky hand toward it, scraping against the cold concrete in his lack of energy to lift it.

“She’s okay too.”

He opens his mouth to speak, licks his lips, tries again.

“-ou-,” he rasps. His breath hitches and he’s coughing again. They help him onto his side.

“You want us to get her out?” Red Robin interprets.

The boy squints through the tears from the lack of oxygen at the hero. His expression is scrunched in discomfort and worry. As enthusiastic as he can manage, the boy nods.

“Okay, we can do that. You just have to wait, she needs to thaw out, just like what we did with you,” Red Robin explains to the boy.

He nods again in understanding, his eyes glued back to the girl in the pod. He still shivers harshly and his breathing isn’t regular but he’s not panicking and in no shape to attack them, so it seems like they were in the clear with that one.

While the girl is thawing, they get him more comfortable with warm blankets and get him to drink some water for his throat. He still wasn’t moving much except to curl up on his side and breathe on his colorless fingers. Every time he swallowed he cringed like he was drinking acid, so talking was off the table for now.

The boy was fighting sleep by the time the container door slide open. Connor was there and holding her before she could fall like the boy had.

Superboy lays the girl down close to the boy, seeing the pale hand reaching for her. As soon as he backed away the medics were on her to get air in her lungs and warm her body same as they did for the boy.

The boy watches, quietly holding her hand. Siblings it looks like it. Seeing them side by side was startling. They seemed to be clones of each other, one just younger and the opposite gender, but they were the same.

It was concerning as the number of minutes increased and there was no change. She didn’t breathe or move. She looked dead.

“Get the defibrillator,” the medic ordered, urgent.

The boy surprisingly wasn’t panicking, instead he held a hard determination that made some of the heroes curious.

Pushing himself up onto his elbow, he leaned over the girl and started weakly pushing the blankets out of the way. Thinking he was just helping to make the medic’s job easier, M’gann helped until her torso was exposed.

“You need to back away so they-“

She stops when she sees him tug at the girl’s white shirt to get into direct contact with her skin, hand pressed to her chest.

“What are you-?”

He narrows his eyes in concentration.

Red Robin unconsciously takes a step back when the boy’s blue eyes change into a glowing toxic green, illuminating the girl’s face, frost shining in the light. The hand pressed to her chest also starts to glow the same green until it seeps into her skin like she’s absorbing this weird energy. It reminded them of Starfire actually.

The green in his eyes fades as soon as the unknown green energy is lighting up her entire torso just under the skin. He pulls away and looks expectantly at the medic holding the defibrillator. She flinches into moving, setting the machine down and charging it. She’s hesitant to touch the green energy but the boy nods in encouragement, not looking concerned for anything but the girl’s health.

“Clear!”

It takes one shock for the green energy to disperse through her body and cause her to gasp. The girl starts coughing harshly and the boy pulls her to lay on her side facing him. Connor quickly helps the boy to cover her in blankets. The boy goes as far as tucking them around her and taking one of his own blankets to pile on top. He was moving more easily now even if it was sluggish.

M’gann gasps quietly just as the girl starts sobbing, whining when the act of crying hurt her throat. The boy pulls her close, wrapping his arms around her and tucking her under his chin so they could barely see her. They watch as he calmly comforts her until they are both eased into unconsciousness.

Batman give Superman a pointed look as he passes him. Clark doesn’t respond.

“Get them to the Watchtower med bay,” he orders.

It’s Superman who picks up the pile of two children tangled together and wrapped in layers of fabric, nearly throwing them at how light they both weighted. The three younger heroes follow behind, Tim mumbling about “Lazarus pits” and “Jason”, M’gann twisting her fingers in anxiety, and Connor keeping a close eye on the two kids being carried by his original.

It’s unsurprising that it’s Connor who volunteers to say with them when they are settled down in the med bay, still clinging to each other in sleep.

[sollis-occasum]

you think i'm gone 'cause i left - anakin skywalker/darth vader x fem!jedi!reader (part 1 of 3)

summary: After failing to save you from a painful death, Darth Vader remembers his past with you and realizes why he can never completely leave Anakin Skywalker behind.

warnings: angst, no use of y/n, reconstructive surgery, blood, mentions of major character death (or not who knows), darth vader is his own warning

word count: 3.8k

a/n: First of all, I must say that English is not my native language. Also this is my first x reader format fanfiction. I'm pretty sure I made some mistakes but I hope you don't mind guys. I am always open to your suggestions ♡

part 2

Darth Vader, the master of the dark side of the Force, the legendary lord of the Sith, the tyrannical leader who terrorized the galaxy, remembered very well the moment when he swore to dedicate his worthless life to Lord Sidious, his lord and savior.

While his body, burned and torn apart by the lava, was trying to be fixed by the health droids, he was writhing in despair and moaning in a painful voice. The wave of pain spreading from his lungs to the rest of his body with each breath showed him a type of physical pain he had never experienced before, and even the cold metal hands touching his burned skin were insufficient to alleviate his pain.

"He should be unconscious by now," he heard a distant and very deep robotic voice, which he thought belonged to one of the medical droids. Yes, the pain he felt at that moment would be enough to kill another human being and maybe even drive them insane, and God knows that's what Anakin wanted with all his heart as he lay on the operating table screaming. But how could this be possible when he sees your lifeless body over and over again every time he closes his eyes?

In fact, he had calculated all the possibilities down to the smallest detail while making his plan. There was no war he wouldn't fight, no enemy he wouldn't face to create a future that included you. He was ready to turn his back on the entire galaxy just to see you smile one more time. Moreover, Palpatine had made a promise to him. He said that contrary to popular belief, it was possible to resist death and that he knew how to do it, and that he would help Anakin in trying to save you. All he had to do was accompany him to the dark side. Anakin had done everything he was told. He had given up on who he was, accepted the name his new master had given him, brutally executed separatist leaders, and led thousands of clone troopers in attacking the Jedi Temple he once called home. Even killing those little children who looked at him with admiration with the lightsaber they saw as a symbol of peace was not important to him. Of course, he wasn't proud of himself for betraying what he believed in in his past, but he also knew that what he did was a small price to pay to save you. So why didn't what he did work? Why couldn't he prevent the scene he had seen many times in his nightmares from happening?

He gripped the operating table tightly with his mechanical hand and mumbled your name in a voice only he could hear. He kept saying your name over and over again, as if he was drawing strength from you, as if you could come and save him if he said it enough times.

He closed his eyes tightly and tried to focus on something other than your pained facial expression and bloodied body. If he wanted to survive, if he wanted to rise up and take revenge for what was done to you, he had to find a way to endure the pain he suffered, and what was there in this life that gave him as much strength as you? He tried desperately to remember the moment you first met.

Nearly a month had passed since Qui Gon Jinn's death, and during this time his new master Obi Wan Kenobi had begun training him to become a Jedi. He was grateful for the opportunity given to him and did not want to be ungrateful. However, there were so many moments during his training that he despaired and wanted to return to Tatooine... First of all, Obi Wan Kenobi was not the person he imagined. Yes, it was an undeniable fact that he was a powerful Jedi. He was also smart, very smart. Anakin knew there was a lot of thing he could learn from him. However, it hadn't been long since he had ended his life as a padawan and Obi Wan had obviously not yet fully figured out how to be a good master for his young student. There was no distance or formality between them that there should be between a padawan and a master. They were more like two brothers who fought often. Obi Wan was pushing Anakin very hard to teach him basic things as soon as possible, and Anakin was always managing to drive Obi Wan crazy with his smarty-pants attitude.

He could also sense how the younglings at the temple felt about him as he began to learn how to use the force. Although none of them were directly mistreating him or making a rude remark, Anakin would sometimes catch their gaze. There was displeasure in those looks, obviously his presence disturbed them. A child who appears unexpectedly becomes a padawan without training in the temple and becomes the center of attention of the entire Jedi council... The other younglings must have felt unfair. But one day, he met a young girl who looked at him differently than others: You.

With your bright smile that could light up the whole galaxy and your compassionate gaze, you extended your hand to him and introduced yourself, telling him that he could always come to you if he needed anything. They said you were 9 years old like him, but it was so hard for him to believe it.

You were different from all the other children Anakin had met at the temple, with your confident demeanor and room-filling presence. Your surprisingly mature attitude and wisdom gave those who saw you the impression that you never made mistakes and that you always knew what was right, causing them to respect you.

Moreover, you were beautiful, very beautiful. Even your messy hair waving in the wind, your face dripping with sweat, and your loose-fitting uniform couldn't prevent Anakin from seeing this beauty. When his eyes met your beautiful, understanding eyes, he immediately looked away and wanted to run away. There was no doubt that you were the angel the pilots who came to Tatooine were talking about. However, he could not find the courage in his heart to admit this to himself or to tell you. He felt so small, so helpless in front of the being that he wanted to get away from it as soon as possible and think about what this warm feeling that filled his heart that he had never felt before was.

Yes, he wanted to run away from you when your eyes met. But ironically, this was the first time he didn't want to return to Tatooine to his mother.

For the 3 years after you met, you had no communication other than chance encounters at the temple and furtive glances at each other. Even a life form without eyes could easily understand that you wanted to be closer to each other, but you had neither the time nor the courage to do so. You were very busy with your studies. In the future, you wanted to be a female Jedi as respected as Shaak Ti, or even more so, and you were working very hard to achieve your goal. Anakin, on the other hand, began to go on missions given by the council with Obi Wan, and the difficulty of these missions was increasing. You were so close to Anakin, yet he felt like you were hundreds of light years away from him. You were unreachable to him.

Anakin heard that you were accepted as a padawan by Plo Koon when you turned 13. According to rumors in the temple, the Jedi knight from Dorin noticed your great potential and volunteered to train you. Maybe you weren't as good at using a lightsaber as the other padawans, you might not have been as strong or as durable, but you were smart, very smart. Your dangerously high intelligence level, combined with your composure, easily compensated for your other weaknesses, making you a promising Jedi knight candidate. Even the council had high hopes for you. That's why they didn't interfere with Plo Koon's training style and allowed him to take you out early on missions that could be considered at least partially dangerous.

It was thanks to one of these missions that you came together again. The Senate thought that a small newly established weapons factory on one of the republic's planets was making some irregularities and put pressure on the Jedi to resolve this situation. The council assigned you and Plo Koon to inspect this factory.

It didn't sound that difficult, actually. You would make a short journey to reach the planet in question, tour the factory, talk to the engineers, examine some documents and intimidate the managers.

What could go wrong with such a simple task? To be honest, you weren't known for being lucky, and as usual, trouble had found you.

Anakin and Obi-Wan didn't even need to contact Plo Koon to realize that the Senate was right about the factory producing weapons for Mandolorian terrorists. Less than a day after you arrived on the planet, you reached the council and reported that the factory was completely abandoned, saying that you were trapped and surrounded by thousands of droids and asked for help. The council also assigned Obi Wan and Anakin, who had returned from a mission to a nearby planet, to support Plo Koon and you. Anakin still remembered Mace Windu's explanation word by word when he explained the urgency of your situation to his master Obi-Wan. And how those words filled his little heart with fear.

"You must reach the weapons factory as soon as possible, Master Kenobi." Mace Windu said in a stern tone. "Or it might be too late to save them."

Even if these words had not been spoken, the more serious expression than ever on Mace Windu's face would have been more than enough for even the most primitive creature in the galaxy to understand the situation.

As the spaceship they were on made a sudden return to your planet by order of his master, Anakin was wondering why he was so worried about a girl he had only talked to a few times. While he could keep his cool even during missions where his own life was threatened, why did the idea of ​​you in pain make his heart beat faster and his head spin? He was trying to breathe to calm down, but even his breathing was so irregular that Obi Wan felt the need to turn to him and reassure him that everything was okay. How could Anakin explain to his master that he was afraid for you, not himself? Would he understand if he told him?

While the young padawan was in these thoughts, the ship entered the atmosphere with a sudden jolt and landed near the factory. As the deafening noise of explosions and droid weapons filled his ears, he got off the ship and started running without waiting for his master's command. He could hear Obi-Wan calling to him to stop, but he didn't have the time or patience to wait. This was not a scene they were unfamiliar with anyway. When all this nonsense was over, he would happily hear Obi Wan's scolding and humbly accept his punishment, but right now wasn't the right time to think about that. The only thing that mattered at that moment was saving you, and he was going to do it no matter what it took. Because it was his heart, not his brain, that told him to do this, and Anakin was not mature enough to resist his heart. With a swift move, he pulled out his lightsaber and sliced ​​the first droid he encountered in half.

When he heard the sound of your footsteps mixing with the sounds of the battle droids, he realized how close he was to them, but he didn't even slow down for fear of being late for you. He was destroying all the war machines in front of him, clearing the way and moving towards the direction where he sensed your presence.

When he and his master, who finally managed to catch up with him, arrived at the production facility where you were fighting the droids, he started looking around for you, without even bothering to check how Plo Koon was doing. Plo Koon was one of the most powerful Jedi, someone like him could survive without the help of a padawan, but not you. He could feel with all his being that you needed help, but no matter how much he looked around, he couldn't see you.

While Anakin was looking around the burning production facility to find you, he saw two silhouettes in the smoke. One of these silhouettes, the one leaning on the ground and cowering against a wall, belonged to a young girl. The other was the silhouette of an armed droid, as tall as a human but as skinny as a skeleton. Moreover, this droid's gun was pointed at you and was about to be fired. Anakin knew his feelings were not wrong. You were in a difficult situation and needed his help.

He was sure that he wanted to run towards you, save you by smashing that droid into thousands of pieces, and then kick its ugly metal head and throw it to the farthest corner of the galaxy. But he knew he didn't have time for that. So he did something even he didn't expect and threw his lightsaber towards you, hoping you could catch it in time. He knew that this move was madness. What kind of maniac would give up the only weapon he had among thousands of battle droids and leave himself defenseless? Especially if he doesn't know the other person well?

But Anakin had never regretted what he had done, not even for a moment. He saw you pull the thrown lightsaber with force and catch it, then slice the droid in half before he could fire to you. Yes, you were safe, but that safety was only for a brief moment. He had no time to relax, otherwise he knew you would be open to attacks from other droids. Without wasting any time, he followed the green lightsaber shining among the smoke and reached him. You were finally in front of him.

To be honest, your situation wasn't looking so bright. You were seriously injured and your body was covered in blood. Anakin had knelt down next to you and gently held your face between his fingers, afraid of hurting you even more. He could feel the warm drops of blood running down your face, flowing from his fingers to his wrists, but he didn't care about anything other than your safety at that moment. "Are you okay?" he asked, trying to hide how worried he was. Just by looking into your eyes, he could see how much the conflict you were experiencing had worn you out, but you put on a brave and determined expression and nodded, trying not to let the pain you were feeling reflected in your voice, "I'm fine." you muttered. "I'm fine, but I think my legs are stuck and I can't move them."

"Don't be afraid, I'll find a way to get you out of here."

He could see a shattering mass of metal pinning your legs. He took the lightsaber from your hand, carefully opened it, and held it up to the metal plate. "I'll try not to cut off your legs," he said, trying to smile to calm you down, and then added. "At least one of them."

You must have liked Anakin's little joke, too, because your lips turned slightly to the side despite your helpless situation. "Don't worry." you said, laughing. "They will break off on their own anyway, even if you don't cut them."

After receiving a sarcastic approval from you, he began to cut and separate the metal pieces with great patience. He made every move carefully and attentively, afraid of hurting you. When your legs were finally free, he took a deep breath and looked at your face again.

"It's not safe here. We have to get out of here."

"But my master is still fighting." Even though you tried to object, Anakin did not accept it. "He can take care of himself, and the support sent by the council is on the way."

His tone and expression were so determined that you gave up and surrendered to Anakin. You didn't have the strength to resist even if you wanted to. He wrapped his arms tightly around your body, stood up and started walking towards the factory exit. To be honest, you were a little heavier than you looked, and your blood was staining his clothes, but as long as you could rest your head on his chest and he could feel the warmth of your body, nothing else mattered.

Your next meeting was in the infirmary at the Jedi temple. 3 days had passed after your unfortunate duty at the factory and you had just regained your consciousness. During this time, Anakin began to help Jocasta Nu in the archives, upon his master's orders. It could not be said that he was very happy with his situation, but he still considered himself lucky that the punishment for his disobedience during duty was so small. Besides, even though organizing the archives was a tedious task, it kept his mind busy, and he definitely needed it.

Every moment he wasn't busy with something, he was thinking about you and what happened at the factory that day and trying to make sense of what he was feeling. That strange feeling that he thought he had forgotten years ago was back. Why did his heart beat faster and his face turn red every time he thought of you? Were these normal? His master had told him that a Jedi should not become attached to anything, but he should also be compassionate. Anakin could not understand this contrast. He was also afraid of being attached to you. But this was very illogical. Could one person become so attached to another person in such a short time? All these questions confused little Anakin more than ever. Finally, he realized that he could not bear these questions any longer and decided to visit you in the infirmary at the end of the 3rd day. Besides, he also had something that belonged to you, and he had to return it to you as soon as possible.

When he came to you, he saw that you were much more cheerful than he expected. You still looked very weak and you were obviously going to be in the infirmary for a while longer. Still, without letting this demoralize you, you were patiently waiting for your recovery, and in the meantime, you were trying to pass the time by reading the war history texts you took from the archive.

Still, you smiled so widely when you saw Anakin that he was convinced you were glad to see him, too. Trying to suppress the uncomfortable feeling he felt in his stomach, he put on a confident expression and quickly walked over and sat on your bed.

"You look better." he said with the light of hope appearing in his eyes.

You smiled warmly at him. "Thank you, Anakin." you said. "I feel better too."

After a brief hesitation, he pulled a lightsaber from under his cloak and handed it to you, "I think this is yours." he said. "I found it at the factory."

Just seeing the familiar blue color of the lightsaber brought peace to your soul. You happily took the saber from Anakin's hand and began to examine it. "God, thank you so much Anakin. I thought I had lost it."

"My master always tells me that the lightsaber is a Jedi's life and they must protect it at all costs."

Even though you lost your lightsaber for reasons beyond your control, what Anakin said made you a little embarrassed. "Of course, I'm not trying to justify my irresponsibility, but what happened that day was unexpected. I must have dropped it during that chaos."

"To be honest, I've lost my lightsaber too many times."

The confession of the padawan in front of you made you smile a little. Actually, what you should have done was to politely thank Anakin for saving your life, and when the time comes, pay him back at all costs. However, owing your life to him placed such a heavy burden on your shoulders that you felt crushed under this weight, no matter how humble the attitude of the boy in front of you. Before you even thought, the words were coming out of your mouth. "Master Kenobi says that our lightsaber is our life, right? So, according to the master's logic, you entrusted your life to me in the factory, and you also saved mine by finding my lightsaber."

Anakin looked at you in surprise, not knowing what to say at your words. Yes, your reasoning based on his master's words was correct, however, he did not expect you to approach the subject from this perspective. Fortunately, you continued talking without a long pause, and he was spared the trouble of finding an answer to give you.

"I am grateful to you for saving my life, Anakin, and I swear that one day I will repay you. Please give me your lightsaber until that day, and you can take mine."

"So you want us to surrender our lives to each other?" Anakin asked with mixed emotions. Wouldn't this agreement create a commitment between you? Anakin could not comprehend the depth of this devotion.

You nodded decisively in response. "Yes. So we can remember this promise between us for the rest of our lives. These sabers we exchanged will be a symbol of our friendship and trust in each other, and one day I will repay my debt to you. Until then, I want to remember the promise I made to you every time I look at your saber."

Then you added timidly, "If you want too, of course."

Anakin thought for a few seconds, then without a word, he handed you his lightsaber and accepted this pact that would bind your hearts and bodies together forever. Thus, a very special bond was formed between you that will never be broken again. Who knew that this innocent bond established between two children would one day bring disaster to the galaxy...

[evilminji]

I Am? Still? Thinking?? Of My Hive Mind Crechelings Au? (Prev <-)

The Creepy Crechelings? My Fuuuuckin POSSESSED Lil Babies (absolutely affectionate and full of love)?

I CAN'T STOP, man. It's the SOFTEST and WARMEST Epilog? Just... fuck, I wanna cry. It's SO FULL OF LIGHT? So content and happy and "then... our Hero gets to REST. No more struggle. No more pain. Just golden sweetness and simple days."???

The Tragedy Of Darth Vader WAS, ultimately, utterly and completely, because Anakin Skywalker was a GOOD MAN.

Because the Dark took something GOOD and twisted it. Made it MONSTROUS. Killing his soul with ten thousand cuts of doubt and fear. Anger, arrogance, and unwarranted pride. He had COMPASSION. So much love in him he could barely stand to BREATHE.

The world BURNED for how great his Empathy, made the weight of all the universe's suffering, upon his shoulders.

He was GOOD. Could STILL be good. And? The Force DOES work in mysterious ways. It just needs... an in. Someone, ANYONE, to ask the right question. At ANY point. Because it CAN NOT push upon them the answers. Fix for them all life's woes. The Force is not a God... it simple IS. And though it wishes to help, loves them dearly, it can only OFFER what is ASKED for.

And, yes, there are loopholes. Visions and gifts it might give. Technicalities it might work off of. That gut feeling? Well... your INSTINCTS want you to survive. Surely THEY are asking? Are they not? "How do we survive?" They ask. Endlessly. So the Force may answer.

And SURELY, The Force knows, the you of 20 seconds from now, would ASK them to warn you not to eat that fruit. It is poison. That is definitely in line with what you would ask! It can see it. Because Time is simultaneous to the Force. Why, it can even use this to justify, too itself, the Visions! SOMEONE is asking! It can even tell you whom! And when!

It WON'T.

But it COULD.

Yet! Let us focus! Anikin Skywalker!

Do YOU remember how he was born? Oh, sure, we are all PASSINGLY familiar. Born to Shmi Skywalker. "No Father". Etc etc? BUT!!! Details MATTER! And in science? In HEALTH? "Spontaneous Baby" is NOT GOOD ENOUGH.

How. What, SPECIFICALLY, made UP the spontaneous baby? From WHERE? Was it air? Energy? A clone? A hypothetical child of Shmi and some long dead individual she could not possibly have met?

These are important questions! Specifically, important to understand WHAT ANIKIN'S SPECIES IS. Cause "humanoid" is NOT a species! A race! Stewjoni and Naboolians are subtly different! Yes, both human variants. But that's the THING, isn't it?

They. Are. VARIANTS.

As in DIFFERENT. Divergent from one another. Perhaps not A LOT, but enough that their unique medical needs might be significant! Different environmental strains, different diets, different evolutionary paths for thousands of years. In SOME cases? They might no longer be COMPATIBLE anymore! Or barely! A tiger and a cat are both feline, but you'd be blind to mistake them as the same thing.

Then we have Anikin.

Who is haaaaalf??? What exactly?

Well, "The Force" according to research. By means of Sith meddling. But! And for the purpose of this ramble??

He is birth was "a work of the midi-chlorians".

.......let that sink in for a second. The Force channeling, HIVE MINDED, symbiotic micro organisms inside Shmi? Were instructed or guided to? Just take energy? Food and DNA. And... 3D print a baby into existence. They did, obviously, it was easy. But CONSIDER WHAT THAT MEANS.

It MEANS?

Anikin is HALF MIDI-CHLORIAN.

(At least in this AU.)

It's WHY he is so, SO fuckin desperate to connect. So ungodly powerful. So destabilized by not having "attachments". His brain is structured by organisms and half IS, of a sort, the sort of organism that REQUIRES an interconnected system. To offload the massive amount of sensory input the Force gives him. To regulate Big Emotions. To form councils and crunch through problems.

To get those good, good Soul Hugs.

Anikin? Not doing so hot. He's been SURROUNDED by what FEELS like a hive? But they keep EXCLUDING him and he doesn't have the words to explain why that upset him. Why he wants to crawl inside their brains an just... just hang. Not touch anything! Just... just nap! Maybe get a hug? P... Please?

Why does EVERYONE HATE HIM?!

But they don't. They just have different boundaries. Are NOT Hive Minds. THEIR Midi-chlorians? Are not at such a high concentration that it affects their thought patterns.

Unlike? The Creepy Crechelings.

Who absolutely doooooo. THEY are still in the We/Us phase. Boundaries? What Boundaries? We're crawling through each other's brains and on the ceiling! Full of light, love, and horrifying prophecy! Eating sand! Many thoughts, head full! We can taste TIME!!! :D

And it takes a SPECIAL breed of Creche Master with VERY strong shields to interact with them. Mind tricks are both accidental and daily. Poker face of kindness is a must. Good emotional regulation. So when one sees Anikin losing his shit again?

They sigh. Put down their muffin. And go deal with it.

Probably not even awake.

They just feel *Overwhelming Power* and hear upset noises and go "Ah, starting early, today is." Then wander over. And effortlessly defuse the situation. Flop their Force presence on Anikin like a weighted blanket. It would be UNSPEAKABLY rude and invasive to most anyone else? But Obi-Wan just...? Watchs his ex-padawan go BONELESS against this Crech Master he's never met? Like :O

T-teach me. Please, for the love of the Force, teach me to do that.

Next thing you know? They are talking, Obi-Wan getting a crash course in Super Powerful Younglings™ that honestly he should have gotten YEARS ago, but was run too ragged to. And Anikin? Blissed out, high as a kite, at the bottom of a Youngling pile. Mmmmm, lumpy pillow. We gonna sit and sleep and climb all over you, Master Skywalker.

*adoring, emotionally gooey voice* Okay.

He volunteers. Fuck it, he practically LIVES out of that Creche. Padme! Padme, we're adopting. He wants to be a stay at home dad. Build droids. Everything is Beautiful and nothing hurts. *war is still happening* ah. Shit. Right. THAT™.

Okay! New plan. AFTER the war. He has discovered his calling. Is suddenly bonding with Jedi he's never even talked to before. Is that Plo Koon? Plo! PLO! Hey, thanks for lending me that youngling development module! You got any others you recommend?

Him and Obi-Wan? Suddenly getting along better then they have in YEARS. His Master seems genuinely THRILLED he has a clear goal he's working towards and is supporting him ten thousand percent. Openly bragging. Consulting with him. AND? Is so much more OPEN! That Creche Master really helped him Understand how Anikin's brain works!

Which? Leads to Anikin getting healthier. More and more stable. The babies fuckin sneaking aboard. His Men LOSING THEIR SHIT because WHY ARE THERE TUBIES, SIR?! Babies! Infants! Smol, itty bitty, BABY CHILDS!!!???

And? On one hand? He has never felt so clear head and stable as when they are with him. Interconnected. US and WE and THE HIVE. The Force is With Us and We are The Force.

Buuuuuut on the OTHER hand? He is an adult. He CAN seperate what HE wants from what is good for his lil baby friends. This isn't safe. They could get HURT. Die! It... honestly? It makes him think about his mom a lot. He thinks he finally GETS it. Hates that he does. Is in AWE of how strong she was. Hopes he can take the lessons she taught him and live up to them.

Because it's not about what HE wants. It's about what's best for these kids.

They have to go back.

.....except the man he THOUGHT was his friend? THOUGHT was a GOOD MAN? Won't let them LEAVE THE FRONT LINES. Won't even authorize an emergency shuttle. There are vulnerable children. On the FRONT LINES. And Shee-...no. Supreme Chancellor Palpatine, won't let them GET THEM TO SAFETY?

Is THIS what over a decade of friendship means to this man? Is THIS what his "sympathies" are truely WORTH? Empty words and no action? Saying what you want to hear then sitting in his fancy office while CHILDREN are shot at?

Anikin wants to put his fist through a durasteel WALL.

Through some careful maneuvering, some Ships on the way back are are able to pick up the VERY In Trouble kiddos. It'll be about five ship hops. But they'll get there. And in the mean time? The entire GAR now knows where the Chancellor's priorities lay.

But? What to do, what to do? The kiddos are GONE! Anikin's head is gonna start getting crowded. Fuzzy. Crushed up and too small! He literally, physically, NEEDS people. For his mental and ultimately physical health!

"Well... you DID say Midi-chlorians are in every living thing, didn't you? It's just that most Sentients don't have enough to reach the threshold of Force Sensitive. Right?" Says Anikin's medic.

Anikin raises a finger. Opens his mouth to respond.

Considers this genuinely.

Puts DOWN his finger and closes his mouth. Nods. Yes. Yes, they DO. Why? Where exactly are you going with this? Medic taps a message to the GAR in ship message board. Please. You know EXACTLY where he's going with this.

Yeah.

Yeah, Anikin does.

And the Vode? Gotta admit. Having their General curled up like a comm system in the back of their brains? Kiiiiinda weird at first. But he's not? Actually? Touching anything? It's kinda like having someone follow you around, hanging off your shoulders in a hug. Because they feel needy and desperately need the contact. Little awkward? Yeah.

But we move on.

And the General respects boundaries. Politely pulls back and out/away when they want "personal" time. Something he had practice doing cause he's in a relationship. And there are Thoughts and Feelings you DO NOT want to share with younglings. It apparently helped him learn to shield. Quickly. Very, VERY quickly.

They only laugh at him a little bit.

He imagines throwing pillow blocks at them.

But THEN? One of them gets a head wound. Nothing to terrible. But bad enough that the midi-chlorians flow up to the area, to help speed up and properly regulate the healing. Because their's have become more active. Not STRONGER mind you. Just... more ACTIVE.

And they can fucking FEEL their General mentally screech to a full stop. Perfectly, utterly, FURIOUSLY Blank. Like the dead silence before the blaster bolts start flying. Like just after the flash but before the blast hits. A terrible, TERRIBLE silence.

Something is Wrong.

"What Is That?"

What is... WHAT? Sir?

And then things move very, very quickly. All things possible, through the Force. A baby created. Chips UN-created. It really is? Just directing the Midi-chlorians all ready THERE to do what you want them too. Offering up some extra energy, if needed. A Leader to guide the hive.

One deep enough meditation, reaching though-out "HIS" sprawling body? Really, what is the difference between purging a chip from your thigh in THIS body? And being over there? Or over there? What are "walls" or "distance" or this silly concept of "other"?

We Are One With The Force, And The Force Is One With US.

He is every Vode on the Ship. He is Anikin Skywalker. He was a Slave. But now? NOW both he and they and US? Are FREE. He will suffer no slaves in his presence. No more chips or collars with bombs. Time to free the others. Free everyone. Demand ANSWERS.

And they do.

The epilog? Oh THAT I can not stop thinking of.

Padme in the senate. Fierce and accomplished. A storied carrier fighting for the people of the galaxy. Anikin a Creche Master for the POWERFUL kiddos. The strange ones who need someone sturdy.

Who can handle their Us/We phase with grace. Who learns and grows, honors and remembers Shmi Skywalker every time one of them one of them starts to pull away. Starts to develop boundaries. Barriers. Starts to want to be their OWN person. Has not just grown strong in shielding but old enough to develop a defined personality, seperate from their friends.

The twins growing up with a whole Creche of siblings. Because their parents LIVE at the temple. Their mother works at the senate! They wave bye-bye every morning. And spend the day with dad. Not separated, not quite living with them fully either. Not after infancy at least. But the Order is changing.

Vode everywhere. Kids born of Jedi. The Corps withdrawn back to the temple to help handle the influx. Lots of debates about Tradition and Change that Anikin care not a lick about. HE'S taking his Crechelings to the Naboolian Embassy's Spring Festival. Does everyone remember how to be polite? Say "hello"! *various smol children chorus Hello in Naboolian, badly but very earnestly*

Just? Field trips. Droids and Vode dropping by to say hello. Padme being the LION of the senate while her retired kindergarten tearcher equivalent, war hero husband cheers. Adorable but freaky children popping out of the vents. Anikin treating his tiny squad of Tiny Anti-christ Acting Babies as though this were TOTALLY NORMAL and just how children act.

SOFT AND FLUFFY EPILOG~☆

@legitimatesatanspawn @babbling-babull @hypewinter @hdgnj @spidori @tiredafel

[des8pudels8kern]

Okay, but Obi-Wan wearing trooper blacks under his robes? The Negotiator is stocked with underwear and undertunics for one Jedi and the equivalent for several thousand clones, and I'm pretty sure Obi-Wan gets into the kind of trouble that leaves his clothes in a state beyond saving more often than normal people.

How much time did Obi-Wan spend walking around the Negotiator wearing just blacks and his coat (hinders movement = not worn into battle and shrugged off before fights, ergo longer life span than his robes and leggings)?

How many heart attacks has this given Cody?

And what do you want to bet he gives Obi-Wan some of his own laundered blacks rather than a new set when he picks him up from medical, even though it makes the heart attacks worse?

Also, the robe drop when they do go into battle - yes, shiny, we know our General is hot, we know blacks without armour leave little to the imagination but sadly the only way to get him to wear that is to put it on him while he's unconscious. Please avert your eyes, focus on the battle, and see the self-help group on deck 12 later for advice on how to proceed from here. Also, don't ever let the Commander catch you looking at the General's, ahem, assets.

[hypewinter]

The Young Justice learns about a new experiment going on at Cadmus once again involving cloning and decides to go rescue the clones. They expertly break into the facility avoiding all alarms only to find out that they trigger anyway. Instead of a voice coming on over the intercoms announcing intruders though, it instead announces an escape. What?

The team continues navigating the base until they come across two kids. The older boy can't be older than 8 while the girl being tugged along behind him looks around 5. The boy narrows his eyes and his body tenses up.

"You're definitely not guards. Who are you?" He questions.

It's Superboy who steps up and says "We're the Young Justice. We came here to rescue you."

The boy doesn't seem to believe them but the girl immediately gets excited. Apparently she couldn't wait to meet real life superheroes. Especially Superboy. That means whatever Cadmus was doing with the kids, they'd already implanted knowledge of the outside world in them. That didn't bode well.

The team decides to push that to the back of their minds for now and focus on the mission. They manage to convince the boy (with the help of the girl) to come with them and they get the two out of the facility. Of course this is after they take all the information they can from the servers (Thanks Robin).

As they get both kids to the medical wing on the Watchtower, the boy introduces himself as Danny and the little girl as his sister Ellie. Connor's never seen clones with such a close bond before and he can admit he's a little jealous that he and Match don't have that kind of relationship. Still he's just happy they rescued the two.

Now to find out who they're clones of and what Cadmus wanted to use them for.

[ghostofskywalker]

Almost Lost You

Anakin Skywalker/Reader

Fictober 2024 Day 27 of 31

Words: 1,211

Summary: Injuries on the battlefield lead to a quiet moment between lovers.

Anakin Skywalker Masterlist

This was how it ended, you supposed, lying on the wet ground and feeling the cold start to seep through your clothes. The blaster wounds in your legs and abdomen had hit the most inconvenient places, because not only were they incredibly painful but they had also immediately removed you from the battle. And with no active combatants around, the blaster you loosely gripped while sprawled on the soil was downright useless. 

You could hear the sound of the battle raging across the woods, but your comm device had been knocked from your grip, now resting too far away for you to grab it. This is what you get for volunteering to act as the perimeter spy, despite the fact that you were not usually a talented sniper. Thankfully all the nearby battle and commando droids had been called to meet the 501st in combat, so there weren’t any more enemies for you to worry about. 

If you could just get to the comm, you could reach out to Rex, tell them the situation and plead for a transport to take you back to the Resolute. The med-droids and clone medics there might be able to take care of you before it was too late, if you could make the call in time. 

If the battalion had to make a hot exit, would they even remember you? 

No, it was no use thinking like that. Determined to at least try to contact your allies, you heaved a sigh as you pushed your arms forward, trying to move closer to the comm. What followed would not be pretty, but it might just mark the difference between life and death, so you were willing to make the sacrifice. 

Dragging your body forward like a baby rancor, you used every ounce of available strength. The muddy ground of this planet made things a little more difficult, but you persisted, a determined look on your face as more mud caked the cloth of your Republic-issued uniform. 

Would the dirt stop the bleeding, or would it just make things worse?

You caught one of your wounds on a particularly sharp rock, and a whispered swear left your mouth as tears welled in your eyes. Blinking them back, there was nothing you could do but move forward with slightly more caution. 

You really needed to put in some kind of official recommendation that all personnel carry some kind of emergency medkit on their person, because it sure would have been useful right now.

When you finally reached the device, you knew that if you couldn’t reach anyone, that you would have to remain here. With everything you had, you pushed the button and tried to reach out. 

Maker, your wounds hurt. 

“-ex!” your voice cracked as you spoke for the first time in a while. “Come in, Captain!” 

Thankfully it connected, because you could hear the telltale sounds of blaster shots and what you believed to be lightsaber movement in the background. “Yes? What is it?” 

His voice was cutting in and out, and you hoped that he was able to hear your full message. “In the forest to the east,” you said, gasping as the pain suddenly flared up. “I got hit, can’t move.” 

Thankfully, it seemed that the captain understood what you were trying to say, even though his voice completely cut out halfway through. “Send your coordinates! No, we’ll track-” 

When you tried to hit the button to comm him again, nothing went through. Resting back with your head against the cold, wet ground and fighting to keep your eyes open, you knew there was nothing left to do at this point but hope. 

As the world began to leave your focus and your eyes began to close, you could have sworn you heard the sound of a lightsaber moving through the air, and someone’s voice as warm hands rested on your face. 

***

When you first opened your eyes, the immediate brightness had you momentarily wondering if you truly were dead. Your mind felt fuzzy and unfocused, and it seemed as though your surroundings were swaying back and forth for a good couple moments. 

However, as the medbay of the Resolute came into focus, you were grateful you weren’t actually dead, because that would have been a real inconvenience. 

Still sluggish and tired, you could feel pressure at the sites of the blaster burns, and the injury on your abdomen brought a dull stinging pain to the forefront of your mind, likely the results of whatever anti-septic they had used  to clean your wounds. 

Picking your head up, you could see Anakin asleep, sitting on one of the (very uncomfortable) chairs they kept here, his head slumped over and resting on the side of your bed as he snored. His eyes flew open the moment you shifted, and he didn’t even check to see if anyone was around before he had thrown his arms around you. 

“Anakin!” you hissed as his lips made contact with your forehead. “What if someone’s looking?” Despite the fact that he’s the one at risk if your romance was discovered, he never seemed to be the one worried about getting caught. 

“I don’t care if some droids see,” he said, reaching down to take your hand in his. “I thought I lost you.” 

“I also thought I was a goner,” you admitted. 

Anakin’s arms pulled you into another hug, and you selfishly initiated a quick kiss with your lover. Despite the battle that had just been fought, the medbay was surprisingly empty, void of even the clone medics you had come to be friends with in your time on the flagship. 

“You’re so strong,” he whispered, pressing kisses in quick succession to your forehead. “But I never want you to leave my sight again.” 

You laughed, even though it came out more like a croak the first time around. “I think we’d have a harder time hiding things if that happened.” 

“I don’t care,” he said, and the smile that crossed his face clued you in to the fact that he was joking. “Half my men already know about us.” 

“What?” Your eyes were wide as you pulled slightly away from him. 

“Relax, they’re not going to say anything,” he reassured you. “If we ever wanted to get away for a couple rotations, I think we’d have an entire team of operatives covering for us.” 

You breathed a sigh of relief as you smiled. You had been working with the 501st for quite some time now, and you’d be lying if you said they hadn’t wormed their way into your heart. “I could do with a vacation.”

Anakin laughed as he leaned down and gently pressed his lips to yours. “Once you get better, then we’ll do some planning.” 

Your eyes started to droop as you spoke, likely from whatever kind of painkiller the droids had administered to you when you were out. “What about a beach? Or-” you dozed off in the middle of the sentence. 

When the medbay was filled with nothing but the sound of your soft snores, Anakin just smiled as he kissed your forehead one last time. He needed to make some plans, and none of them had to do with battles or strategies.

- the end -

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[crosshairlovebot]

birthday revelations / crosshair x gn!reader

pairing: crosshair x gn!reader (no y/n). reader has a nickname.

description: crosshair discovers it's your birthday, and in an effort to try and understand birthdays, he gets you a gift.

word count: 3,793

warnings: none. crosshair ovethinks a lot

Another request! Maybe not technically a request, but @starrylothcat sent in an ask for an ask prompt and said it would be nice to see me write a fic where crosshair buys a gift for the reader for their birthday or christmas and it's been stuck in my head since! so here you go! i hope i did it justice!

also posted this on ao3. feedback is welcomed, reblogs are appreciated <3

Crosshair didn’t like crowds. He gritted his teeth as he walked alone through the market on Sorgan, sidestepping people as they entered his path. It was noisy, but that didn’t bother him so much. Vendors called out to passersby, promoting their various goods for purchase with enthusiasm. Voices chattered and laughed. The smell of food wafted through Crosshair’s nose and his stomach tightened with hunger. Rations were poor choices compared to the sizzling of flavourful meat on grills, but he didn’t have enough credits to buy himself something to eat.

He only had enough to buy something for you.

He had been helping Tech with cataloguing files when he saw one on their nat-born medic. You had joined Clone Force 99 just over half a standard cycle ago with your plucky yet kind attitude, falling into the group dynamic easier than Crosshair had thought. Sure, it had taken some adjustment for him and his brothers to become used to another presence they had not grown up with, but it was inevitable you would eventually find your place in the team. You were hardworking, strong and compassionate. You paid attention to each of his brothers, giving them your undivided focus during conversation and indulging them in questions about what they were doing or their chosen skill. He had watched you talk with Tech about data decryption, Wrecker about proton-based explosives, Hunter about tracking strategies, Echo about ARC trooper training, and of course, him about sharpshooting.

He recalled the way you sat next to him for the first time on his bunk during their time in Hyperspace. He had disassembled part of his Firepuncher rifle, readjusting the scope and the barrel after it had unexpectedly jammed on their previous mission. He’d been annoyed – his prized weapon never faltered, and he was trying to figure out why it had failed on him when the thin mattress dipped next to him, and you asked what he was doing. When he’d given a particularly surly response, you nodded and then just continued to watch him. His eyes had slid to you.

“Can I help you with anything else?” He hadn’t meant it to sound so icy, but he had been frustrated with this rifle, with himself.

“Can you…explain what you’re doing?” you had asked hopefully.

He had looked at you sceptically. “Why?”

You just shrugged. “It looks interesting.”

He had studied your expression, trying to discern if you were being genuine. But you were. You always were with things like this.

So, he explained what he was doing, answered your questions and by the time his weapon was fixed, he didn’t even really remember his initial annoyance. You had smiled at him, your mouth stretching in a way that made your eyes light up. He felt a little flicker of something in his stomach before it was promptly extinguished.

Since then, you have spent time with him like that more often. Not just when he was cleaning his rifle, but other things. Like throwing Lula back and forth across the bunks as you both talked, joking about things that happened on missions. Sharing looks over briefings. Stealing Wrecker’s snacks.

But his favourite time with you was drawing on your datapad and trying to guess what the other was drawing. He had learnt you liked to draw and enjoyed drawing out something other than a medical diagram. He felt a sense of pride in making you laugh so hard you cried with his silly caricatures during long hyperspace trips. Exaggerated doodles of his brothers, tookas and the like, a portrait of you with a funny expression. You liked to draw him with a smile too big for his face, chuckling as you drew and then collapsing into laughter when you showed him. It always made the thing in his stomach flicker.

He really liked having you around.

So, when he came across your file when helping Tech, he couldn’t help but open it. You had told them all any information they had asked for, and information they had not. There wasn’t really anything you kept secret. But when he saw your ID holo looking particularly embarrassing: with wide eyes and a half-formed expression – like you were taken off guard by the photo, the corner of his mouth twisted up in an impish smirk.

He had intended to tease you about it; set the holo to the show on every Marauder screen so it was everywhere.

He opened the file to take a copy of the holo when he spotted details about your age and date of birth.

He frowned at the date. “Tech, what is today’s galactic date?”

Tech looked up from his datapad, adjusting his goggles before rattling off the date. “Why?”

He said your name before telling him, “It’s their birthday tomorrow.”

“Oh.” Tech blinked.

Age and birthdays were almost foreign concepts to clones. With accelerated aging and growing in a capsule, they didn’t really matter to them. Awkward to calculate, they weren’t celebrated. Crosshair had no idea when he had been ‘birthed’ or decanted, and if the Kaminoans documented such dates, then it was classified information. He knew his chronological age, but his biological age was a little murky. He knew he was a “mature clone”, however with the accelerated aging, he didn’t know where exactly he stood. None of their brothers knew any of these details. It was normal for them.

He read the date and your age. What would it be like to be so sure of something like that? To be sure of the parts that made up who you were?

Crosshair cleared his throat and closed the file without even copying the ID holo. He frowned to himself. Maybe he should’ve asked you about it before, but birthdays weren’t a part of his world, so he hadn’t thought to. But they were important to nat-borns, weren’t they? At least that’s what they’d all been told during their training modules.

When he lay in his bunk that night, he circled his mind for all he knew about birthday traditions. Gatherings. Food. Gifts. Would you like all that? Did you like all that? You seemed like you would. He didn’t know if it was something he would enjoy if he had a birthday…it didn’t really seem like his thing, but maybe he would. He would never know. He thought that Wrecker might be the only one who would enjoy a birthday. Maybe Echo too if you did it right. Same with Hunter.

But you hadn’t said anything about your birthday.

He had tossed and turned. You were part of their squad. You cared. Listened. Laughed. Did you not feel you could share the date with them? He didn’t know, and a part of him felt a little hurt that you might not feel you could. Were you not friends? Crosshair didn’t have many friends, but he knew they were supposed to tell each other things.

He turned again, crossing his arms against his chest as he faced the wall. Why did he even care? If you didn’t want to tell him it was your birthday, fine. He wouldn’t mention it.

He squeezed his eyes shut before sitting up on his elbows and craned his head to see you sleeping in your bunk. Through the darkness, his enhanced eyes saw you curled in yourself, and your nose twitched as you breathed deep and evenly. Something in his chest pinched. He sighed before laying back down and pulling the thin blanket over his head.

Now, as he found himself in this market the next day, he wondered what he was even doing here.

Once they had landed on Sorgan, they completed their mission easily with no complications. But Crosshair was still distracted by your birthday. You hadn’t even said anything when everyone woke up this morning. Just acted like it was any other day. You had just smiled at him as you tucked into a ration bar, saying good morning before throwing one to him to eat.

It puzzled him.

When you all started walking back to the Marauder after the mission, Hunter could tell something was up with him, nudging his shoulder.

“You alright?”

Crosshair had scowled at his brother. “…Yes.”

“You look deep in thought,” Hunter pointed out, falling into step with him.

Crosshair broke his gaze and looked away, back towards where they came, to the village they had just liberated. The thought had barely formed before he said, “Do we have time before the next mission?”

Hunter’s surprise showed in his voice. “We have a couple of hours, why?”

“I’ll be back later,” Crosshair walked off in the direction of the village before Hunter could say anything. His long legs carried him to the marketplace, where he stood now amongst the bustling bodies.

He just couldn’t get your birthday out of his stupid head; that you hadn’t said anything because clones didn’t celebrate birthdays. Just because he didn’t understand them, doesn’t mean he couldn’t try…for you.

He started combing through the vendors, most of which were finishing up resetting their stands after they fled suddenly several days prior. He moved from stall to stall, gazing at the different items over people's heads. Kriff, what were you even supposed to buy people for birthdays? Something they needed? Something they wanted? It was all a little overwhelming. And Crosshair didn’t get overwhelmed.

“Looking for something in particular, my friend?”

Crosshair startled and looked up to see the vendor, a greying man with a wrinkled face, horns protruding from his forehead and curled up in an elegant spiral shape.

Crosshair frowned, clearing his throat. “It’s…my friend's birthday today.”

The man’s face lit up. “Wonderful! Birthdays are special.”

Crosshair’s mouth tightened as the man continued to speak. “What were you thinking of gifting them?”

The hairs on Crosshair’s neck stood up with nerves. “I…I don’t know.”

The man’s face lit up. “Perhaps I can help.”

The man then went through the different items at his stand. He held up scarves, strings of beads, and handmade pottery. Crosshair thought they were all nice enough, but he wasn’t swimming in credits. And none of the items really felt like you. The vendor was patient, more patient than he should’ve been. Either he really wanted to help or was desperate for a sale in a competitive marketplace.

After many minutes and many items, Crosshair felt himself gradually stiffening, becoming more and more on edge and uncomfortable. He felt so out of his depth. He was always so sure of everything, and trying to do this thing he had no experience in, made him more vulnerable than he had in a long time. It was not a feeling he felt comfortable with. Never had been.

And as much as he liked you, maybe this was all a stupid idea. You hadn’t mentioned your birthday for a reason. He shouldn’t bring it up. If he did, he’d have to explain how he found out…and he didn’t want to go through that awkwardness. He was about to open his mouth and tell the over-enthusiastic vendor: thank you, but he wouldn’t bother with a gift, when the vendor clapped his hands loudly, making Crosshair jump.

“I may have something back here, hold on,” he said as he turned away to rifle noisily through a crate behind him.

Crosshair felt his fist curl at his sides, and this should’ve been his opening to slide away unnoticed until he looked down and saw a brown leather book. Crosshair halted and lifted a gloved hand to the soft worn cover, running his fingers over the engravings in the bound leather. He opened the cover, seeing it was a blank notebook, and it had a writing implement tucked into the spine. Not many people recorded things the traditional way anymore; datapads were much more efficient and stored more information than the pages of a notebook. He flicked through the pages, fanning them with his thumb. The dust drifted up and it was a smell he didn’t recognise, but he supposed it was the smell of paper.

“That’s a good choice.”

Crosshair retracted his hand as if he was a cadet being scolded, and looked up at the vendor, who held an oversized pot that would break the second it came aboard the Marauder.

“That would be a perfect gift,” the vendor continued, nodding at the notebook.

Crosshair looked at him before picking up the notebook – more surely this time, and turned it over in his hands. He imagined you in your bunk, scribbling in it at night with a torch in one hand. He imagined you keeping it under your pillow for safekeeping. He imagined you doodling in it, showing him your drawings with that smile on your face. He imagined drawing in it with you. The corner of his mouth twitched upward.

“How much?” Crosshair asked.

“It’s yours.”

Crosshair’s head snapped towards the vendor. “What?”

The vendor waved him away. “Take it.”

Crosshair blinked, confused. “…I have to pay you.”

“No, you don’t. I’ve been trying to sell that for years. You’d be doing me a favour.”

Crosshair furrowed his brow. “…Isn’t the customer supposed to be right?”

The vendor barked out a laugh. “Not this time, my friend.”

Crosshair dug into his pocket anyway and pulled out half the credits. “For your patience…at least.”

The vendor chuckled and took them. “Thank you. I hope your friend likes it.”

Crosshair didn’t respond as the man turned away, placing the pot down before calling out to other marketgoers, trying to entice them.

Crosshair walked back through the market, the notebook feeling heavy in his hand. Leaving the village, he made his way back to the Marauder, thoughts swimming in his head.

Kriff, what if you hated it? Or thought it was stupid? What if all his knowledge on birthdays was completely inaccurate and you would think him strange for giving you something? Or what if you just thought he was weird for getting you something at all?

Crosshair’s grip on the notebook tightened. He just wanted to do something nice. Like you always did for them. But this is why he avoided it. It was so vulnerable being nice. Being nice left you open for hurt, open for aching. It was much easier to keep it at bay, to restrict it. To hide it behind actions inconspicuously where it wasn’t out in the open. Being so open with it for you…he wouldn’t admit it out loud, but it scared him. The doubt crept in. Crosshair had conviction and confidence, and he wasn’t used to it wavering like this.

He was just about ready to throw the notebook into a bush and never speak of it again when he heard your voice ring out from the steps of the Marauder.

“Crosshair!”

You placed your datapad down and ran over to him. He hid the notebook behind his back with both hands, gripping it so hard he knew his knuckles would be white as you approached him with a smile.

“Hey,” he said, hoping he sounded normal.

“Where’d you go? You disappeared after the mission.”

“I was just…looking for something,” he said carefully. Dank farrik, how was he supposed to do this? He thought he might just leave it on your bunk when you were distracted with a little note written inside the cover saying, ‘Happy Birthday’. That way he could avoid your reaction when you saw it. He didn’t even know how to get into the Marauder with it now that you were here in front of him.

You tilted your head with a quizzical smile. “Looking for something?”

Crosshair nodded. “I couldn’t find it,” he lied.

“Oh…okay,” you looked at him weirdly. Would you look at him like that when you saw his gift?

Crosshair nodded to the Marauder, desperate to get on board and stow the notebook away until he could leave it on your bunk. “Should we go inside?”

You looked at him, narrowing your eyes. “What are you hiding?”

“I’m not hiding anything, meshurok,” he lied, his grip tightening again.

“Yes, you are,” you sidestepped him to look behind him and he leapt out of the way. You grinned. “You are! What are you hiding, Cross? Why can’t I see?” you tried to chase him around, but Crosshair kept angling himself away. Kriff, he had never felt so stupid in his whole life.

“It’s nothing. Get your meddling hands away from me, you di’kut,” he walked backwards in a circle, his face and neck hot.

“Crosshair,” you chided, smiling at him. “Come on, is it really that bad?”

“Go away,” he grumbled, hands aching from holding the damned notebook so tight.

“Crosshair,” you said his name again, and your face was stretched in that playful grin that he’d unwillingly memorised. That thing in his stomach flickered again.

Then he remembered how you didn’t tell him about your birthday. And how you were friends, but you didn’t say anything about it. And how he had this unexplainable feeling he couldn’t name sitting in his stomach that compelled him to go to a village market and pick out a stupid gift for a birthday tradition he didn’t even understand just to do something nice for you the way you did for him and his brothers.

Crosshair’s expression flared and he shoved the notebook at your chest. You startled at your hand came up to grab it, sliding against his like a searing snake. He pulled his hand back and balled both at his sides as he gritted out, “Happy birthday.”

All he saw was your eyes were wide before he stalked off, almost stomping his way to the Marauder. His face burned, and embarrassment flooded his body. He felt so stupid, and he hated feeling stupid. He hated the feeling of being on the end of someone’s judgement. He hated knowing that he’d just been forced to make himself vulnerable. But mostly, he hated the feeling of you not trusting him with what was supposed to be the important parts of you.

“Crosshair!”

Your voice came from behind him, but he didn’t turn around. He was already planning different ways he could avoid you. He was going to lock himself in the ‘fresher until the next mission and make sure Hunter placed him on watch at opposite times to you. Whatever it took. His heart panged. You were one of the only people outside his brothers he liked. He would mourn the shared jokes and laughter, and time spent with you, knowing it couldn’t happen anymore.

“Crosshair, wait.”

He felt a hand on his arm pull him back. He swayed backwards, but he let you stop him. He avoided your gaze, scowl burning an outline in his brow as he stared off into the middle distance. Your hand stayed on his arm, and he felt it through the plastoid wrapped around his forearm, squeezing him there. It felt like part of him, and that made him feel both warm with content and spiked with anger simultaneously.

“Cross, please look at me,” your voice said quietly, and his heart squeezed. He slowly moved his gaze, looking down, then sliding his eyes to your bare hand on his arm before they lifted to your face. Your brows were slanted downwards, looking at him with such softness in your eyes he felt the flickering in his chest again.

“How did you…” your voice was soft and trailed off, notebook in your other hand.

“It doesn’t matter,” he dismissed with gritted words.

He felt your hand flex with your grip. “It does to me.”

He studied your face carefully before saying, “…I was helping Tech with cataloguing his files. I saw your birthday in yours.”

You continued looking at him with an indecipherable gaze and moved your hand slowly from his arm to his wrist, your bare fingertips brushing his gloves. You gently grazed his fingers as you let his hand drop softly. He watched you as you inspected the book, hands turning it over, fanning through the pages. He studied your expression, trying to discern what you thought, feeling anxiety grow in his stomach, his throat tightening. He felt something hot poke inside him as he watched your mouth turn up into a smile as you gazed at his gift.

“I’ve been so busy this year that I forgot about my birthday.”

Crosshair hoped he hid his surprise. You not telling him about your birthday…it was never about him. Of course, you had forgotten. The past six cycles had been a whirlwind for you trying to adjust to a soldier’s lifestyle, countless missions and trying to fit in with his brothers. His face burned again. He was a fool.

You looked up at him, a smirk itching the corners of your mouth. “Been too busy keeping you boys in line.”

Crosshair scoffed lightly, letting a puff of breath out of his nose. Your smile widened.

“This is a beautiful gift, Cross. Thank you for getting it for me,” you place your hand on his arm again, squeezing gently to show your appreciation He felt his heart lift and his cheeks redden, but this time, not in embarrassment.

He nodded at you. “I’m…glad you like it. I don’t have much experience with birthdays.”

Your smile touched the edges of your eyes. “That’s what makes it even more special.”

You reached up on your tip toes and wrapped your arms around his neck, embracing him. Crosshair stiffened in shock and surprise before he slowly wrapped his arms around your torso. His fingers grazed your sides, and there was something wildly comforting about holding you like this. He could feel the side of your face pressed into his neck, just below his ear, and your breath tickled the sliver of open skin not covered by his blacks. You were so warm. He felt you squeeze him gently and he didn’t stop himself from squeezing back.

You were his best friend, after all.

You pulled away, but not before you cupped his face and placed a kiss on his cheek. Crosshair flinched and his eyes widened as you lowered yourself back down on flat feet with one of the most joyful smiles he’d ever seen gracing your face. The action had surprised him more than anything else had.

“I’m going to show everyone what you got me,” you said before running off towards the Marauder.

“No, don’t, they’ll—” Crosshair started but you were already halfway up the gangplank. His brothers’ teasing was going to be ruthless.

He sighed, shaking his head before following you, that thing flickering in his chest. He didn’t understand it, but he didn’t try to extinguish it.

banner art by @vimse

mando'a / meshurok = gemstone thank you for reading! i did find this one slightly challenging bc it's very much crosshair in his head and i tried to write him how i thought he would react to a situation like this, but if it's a little OOC, i apologise! but i think he would react like this if someone he cared about didn't tell him something important about them; someone who was his friend and who he liked very much. i think he'd be kinda mad and hurt but he cares too much to not do anything at all. i have more gen requests on the way, so stay tuned if you're interested! <3

tags @starrylothcat @sinfulsalutations @moodymisty @nahoney22 @freesia-writes @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius @bobaprint @crosshairsnose @jesseeka @thegalaxys-edge @snarky-mans-gf @chopper-base @wenalena @shredderwest @leavingkamino @rexamongthestars @r2d2staser @bluebird-dreams @pb-jellybeans @a-streakofblue @theawkwardartist12 @mylifeisactuallyamess @padawancat97 @littlecrowtime @jedipoodoo

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[awkward-tension-art]

Darkness on Umbara Chp.1 (Rex x Reader)

Hey everyone! guess whose in too deep!? me! I've clung to these fictional copy-paste men so much, you can call me a fucking LEECH!

Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 6. Chapter 7. Chapter 8. Chapter 9. Chapter 10. Chapter 11. Chapter 12. Chapter 13. Epilogue

Landing on Umbara

cw: Rex x Reader, Reader is a medic, incorrect military procedure, graphic descriptions of injuries, blood, swearing, death and battle, Spoilers for the Umbara Arc, reader insert, reader is gender neutral, no use of (Y/N), if i miss a tag LMK

This is very briefly proofread so I die like a man

Minors DNI, even if theres no smut

Umbara was dark. From what you gathered, it was extremely fucking dark. 

You prepared your supplies with Kix. As medics, you both needed to double and triple check every pack, case and box. 

Kix would be on the front. His expertise was more front line first-aid rather than your position behind the forces. He would keep the men alive long enough to get to your hands where you’d focus on the more intense medical care. While you would be armed to defend yourself, it was better if you stayed out of the line of direct fire.

Your safety and position were tied to the status you were given. As a natural born human in the GAR, your life was inherently seen as more important than the clones. This thought process was something you were vehemently against. You and your fellow soldiers were on equal ground. You’ve always tried to treat them with respect, kindness and patience.

On several occasions nat-borns would disrespect or belittle clones in your presence, which usually resulted in a verbal lashing from you. Much to the joy of your General Anakin and his padawan Ahsoka. 

And the affection of a certain Captain Rex.

You peered up from looking over the medical supplies you were supposed to carry. Currently your secret lover was across the hangar meeting with the Jedi generals, ARC troopers and commander of the 212th. 

Despite being in his helmet, you knew you caught his eye. Rex didn’t give anything away except a small movement of his hand. Something Fives didn’t miss, who gave you a small wave.

He knew of your relationship with Rex. So did Anakin. But other than those two, it was secret. All for his protection, as clones were forbidden from romantic partners.

There was a surge of energy in the hangar and you looked around. Your eyes met Kix’s before you nodded to him, “Showtime.” The first wave was loading up ready to get to Umbara’s surface. 

“I’ll keep Rex safe until you touch down.” Your medic friend winked at you before he stood, got his helmet on and got to his transport. 

Scratch that, Kix knew about you and the captain too. 

Several of the gunships lifted, flying from the hangar down to the planet below. The first wave of troops, including ARF troopers, were being sent down to clear the field. From there, a second wave of back-up, your wave, would join them. Your command was temporary. All you had to do was get them to the ground before they took orders from Rex and Anakin.

You adjusted your gauntlet with the communicator on it. T-minus 5 minutes. Your fingers danced over your supplies, double-checking everything you had. 

Bandages, tourniquets, laser cauterizers, laser scalpel, bacta, patches, emergency suture kits…

“Ready, doc?” A trooper, Ringo, took you out of your thoughts.

With a nod, you lifted your pack and stepped up onto the gunship, “Ready. Let’s load up.”

Others followed your orders and soon, you were in the sky above Umbara. 

Despite the first wave’s efforts, chaos still reigned. Almost immediately your gunship was assaulted by artillery fire. A shot exploded next to you, shaking the entire air vehicle. A ship to the west of yours burst into an explosion of flames.

In response, your second hand shot up for stability. A trooper had their hand on your shoulder to help keep you steady. After a moment, the transport stabilized and you let go, stepping to the back where a crate of supplies waited.

“Dare, how close are we?” You chimed on your communicator. Hopefully you didn’t startle the pilot.

“Landing in 30, I can’t get to the landing site, so you’ll have to walk some to the staging area,” he responded.

“Play it safe,” You commanded, “Land where you can. And try not to crash, I like living and I'm sure the other men do too.” A couple of clones snickers in their helmets. Your little quip helped ease the atmosphere it seemed.

You prepared a speeder. The small vehicle had been modified to carry a patient and allow you to transport extra medical supplies. It was outfitted with some extra armor and protection as well, so in an emergency you could activate a rayshield at the cost of the vehicle's speed.

“Doc, landing in 10.”

“Good job.” You spoke into your communicator before getting on the speeder. You counted down in your head, and just as you got to 1, the doors opened. 

The troopers unloaded, guns ready. Shots were fired, though it didn’t seem as concentrated. Explosions were going off, but at a relatively safe distance. Seemed the first wave did a better job than you originally thought. Your speeder got to the ground, and you made your way to the staging area with the rest of the men.

The battalion had established some trenches, allowing a brief moment of rest and preparation for everyone. You stopped right at the small medical area Kix had skillfully established. Already there were injured in the double digits. Without pause, you got to work.

“You nearly missed the party,” Kix snarked, handling a blaster burn on the thigh of a shiny.

“I’d call this fashionably late,” you quipped back, getting your hands on a different soldier. Blood was seeping from the bottom of his damaged helmet, staining his blue and white chestplate in red. Your mind kicked into training, “What's your name?” You asked, voicing a kinder tone. 

The poor clone was clearly in agony, responding with a tremor to his words, “S-Stag.” He swallowed, trying to control his mental state.

These damn soldiers liked to pretend everything was fine. 

“Alright Stag, I’m gonna remove your helmet.” 

He didn’t argue when you pulled it off revealing the extent of the damage. 

Severe blaster burn. Missing eye. Jaw visible. Shrapnel from the helmet had pierced his cheek and temple. Concussion possibly. 

His remaining brown eye looked wildly at you. You recognized fear. terror.

So, you gave him a reassuring soft smile, “Not too bad, I’ve dealt with worse.” Your fingers quickly wrapped around an injector filled with painkillers, “Here, I’m gonna give you something to help with the pain.” Your words seemed to have a positive effect because he nodded and let you treat him.

You worked quickly and efficiently, stemming the bleeding and getting him stabilized. When you were finished, he had calmed down considerably. Once Stag was stable, you moved on to the next trooper. 

By the fifth, you realized one of them couldn’t be saved.

He was a shiny. Barely off Kamino you guessed. The plastoid of his chest piece looked to be shattered and singed from a bolt to the chest. His breathing was shaky as he leaned against the dark trunk of a glowing tree. 

“I need a trooper.” you called taking the soldier’s hand in your own. You learned quickly into the war that the clones always wanted to die with a brother near them. A reminder that they weren’t alone.

“I hope I’m good enough.” 

That voice. 

“Rex,” Your head turned, looking up at him. You wished you could smile, but you had to keep your excitement under a mask. Plus, the situation didn’t call for it.

His warm eyes were on yours as he pulled off his helmet and knelt. There was clear sadness, knowing that this was the end for one of his men. So the only thing he could do was offer comfort.

“Fyre.” The captain spoke softly, “You did well.” He put one armored hand on the dying man's shoulder. 

Wordlessly, you gave Fyre a shot for the pain and held his hand, “Everything is alright now.” you whispered to him. This wasn’t uncommon, when you or Kix were too late to save someone. 

At the beginning you would burn through supplies trying to save everyone, only to fail and lose them anyway. Over the course of the war, you knew to recognize when all you could do was ease their pain and let them slip away. 

It was the grim reality of the war. You couldn’t save them all. 

Fyre coughed and squeezed your hand. His eyes closed and the clone took his last breath. 

“Damnit.” you swore, checking his pulse. You only felt stillness. He was gone.

Rex sighed, “You tried. So, thank you,” He stood and helped you stand. He couldn’t let his grief from the loss overwhelm him, “I wish you stayed on the ship.” The clone captain admitted, “I get the feeling Umbara is going to be brutal. More so than previous battles.”

“You can’t get rid of me so easily,” Your eyes quickly scanned around. No one seemed to be close enough or paying attention to the two of you, “My darling.” you added, interlocking your fingers.

Your lover looked around quickly before he responded quietly, “Mesh’la, be careful what you say.” Despite his warning, he made no move to pull away. In fact, he stepped closer, “For now, at least.”

Of course, you knew the two of you had to reign in your love and affection in front of others. On the battlefield he was the captain and you the field doctor. Trying to push those boundaries would stress him out. Afterall, if his romance with you got to Kamino, they’d call for a decommission. Something Anakin would never go for, but better safe than sorry.

However, he warmed to small touches and brief moments whenever the situation allowed. 

Your lips had a small smile, “I’m glad you're not hurt.” you raised one palm to stroke the side of his helmet. The battle wasn’t even an hour in and already his armor was dirty.

“Promise me you’ll be careful.” Rex murmured, keeping his voice down, “Please, ner kar’ta.” He was being protective again. Normally the captain was better at prioritizing. He was the leader of the battalion first and your lover second. But right now he seemed…spooked. Were things getting bad already? 

Umbara must be getting to him. After all this assault was much different than other battles.

“I’ll promise if you promise,” Your lips quickly pecked his visor. It was chaste and fast, so no one could see. Just a sweet kiss between the two of you.

He was about to respond when his communicator went off. 

“General Skywalker,” Your lover pulled back and raised his wrist up. 

“Come find me, I need the status of our men.” Anakin’s voice sounded on the other end, “and tell our good doctor I said hello.” 

You snorted.

“Right away, General.” the clone captain said, returning to his professionalism. He looked at you one more time before stepping away to find the jedi.

You sighed, “Back to work.” Without waiting a second, you found another injured soldier and began to treat him.

Your eyes glanced at the shadowy sky for a moment, unable to shake the pit in your stomach. It felt like something was deeply wrong.

The darkness on Umbara must already be getting to you too.

[thedarlingdearestdead]

Bedrest:

Summary: Anakin has been running himself ragged over the months of the war, but he persists, because he is a Jedi. However, when you try to join him on the front lines he gets angry, the two of you need to work out your overworking issues...

Warnings: Violence, angst, fluff.

Word count: 1,880

“What are you doing here!” Anakin yelled over the din of battle. He was sheltered behind an outcrop of rock, had paused to catch his breath, lightsaber still turned on and poised for attack when he saw you. A few metres behind him, talking hurriedly to one of the clones behind a similar structure. 

You looked up shocked. “Anakin?” He should not be here. You were about to give him a right telling off when an explosion hit one of the space crafts to your left. You duck for cover and hear him yell over at you. Running in his direction, you use his angry voice as a guide through the smoke and sand. 

“Over here! Force, get down!” He pulls you by the sleeve, just in time for a blaster projectile flung through the air at the space where you had been moment ago. You coughed for a moment and he surveyed you for any serious injuries before jamming his elbow into your ribs. “I thought you were doing a diplomatic mission on Naboo? What do you think you’re doing here!?”

How dare he. “Me? I got a message not two days ago that you were disposed to the hospital wing because of a serious head injury! I was sent in as a reinforcement. What could you possibly be thinking coming out here!” 

It was true that Anakin had been badly hurt and was currently running on adrenaline, two hours of sleep, and a copious, possibly dangerous, amount of pain medication. But he was a General, he needed to be here. And his Padawan was out there too. He looked down at you, the anger and stress he was feeling radiating off him in waves.Rather than scare or intimidate you however, you only felt yourself get more frustrated at him. For years you had known eachother, grown up together, fought together. And all that time he had pulled stunts just like this one. And he would get away with it. He always got away with it. But at what cost?

"Who went and told you that I was with the healers?" He asked grumpily, sending a quick look over your shelter at the battle ahead of you both. 

"Who do you think?!" 

He groaned ducking back down, "Damn it Snips..." He thought for a moment. "Look it doesn't matter now, we'll talk about it later-"

You started to protest but he cut you off, "What we need to focus on is getting to the control tower. So you wait here and I'll go-"

"Shut up Anakin." You rolled your eyes, endlessly annoyed with his selfish, protective, recklessness.

"What?"

"If you really think that I'm going to let you go out there by yourself then you're more hurt than the medics said. Come on, let's go."

"But-"

"No."

He glared at you for a second but you held his gaze. Finally he relented, sighing and looking up to the sky - or what you could see of the sky through the chaos and fumes.

"Alright, fine." He conceded and you smirked a little, standing up and moving to the next safe place to shelter behind, before he could change his mind. You heard him stand and follow you...and then stop.

"Oh great." You turned around and saw him bent over, trying to catch his breath. Hand clutching at his head for a moment, before falling back down. He shut his eyes for a moment, clearly gathering his strength, separating his mind and body so that he could continue. "Don't say a word." He said dangerously coming back to the battle, his stance fixing itself immediately upon opening his eyes again.

The conflict was long and hard but the two of you infiltrated the line and made your way to the control centre and cut off the power grid, there was a communications black out for the enemy and in the confusion your forces had taken the base. Anakin hadn't stopped moving the entire time and had been limping for about an hour now on and off. He had been walking on his bad leg for a while now though because of his various meeting with the other generals and the Jedi council, not letting them see his weakness, or see to his injuries. The idiot.

"Anakin." You caught up to him, grabbing his arm as he finished the evacuation discussions with Commander Rex. You pulled him away into a quiet hallway.

"What?" He hissed down at you, moving from diplomatic to surly in seconds, he was in pain. His whole body was stiff and you knew from experience that he was barely keeping it together.

"I need you to stop. Just for a minute. Master Che is free, we should go see her!" You pleaded with him, your own body was exhausted from the fighting, you hadn't slept in nearly two days. But you were nowhere near his condition.

"I'm fine." His voice was cold and stubborn and you knew what you had to do to get him seen to. 

"Ok well I need to go to her, please come with me." You talked through gritted teeth, hoping that he'd interpret it as pain rather than frustration. He paused for a second, watching you, and you could almost feel his mind whirring as he debated whether or not to follow you. He finally relented. 

"Fine, but if I'm called I can't promise to stay long." 

"Of course Ani, let's go."

"You what? You can't call me that."

"Yes I can."

"No you can't, not in public at least."

"We're not in public we are alone in a hallway"

He stopped and looked down at you. A cheeky grin playing on his lips now. "We are, aren't we?" 

"Don't even try that with me right now." You say, and you march in front of him, ignoring his childish huff.

As you make your way to Master Che's room, you can't help but feel a sense of unease. The war was taking a toll on everyone, and Anakin's behaviour worried you. You had always known him to be reckless, but now it seemed like he was actively seeking out danger. You had to do something, but you didn't know what. The battle was over, and you had both made it out alive. But luck always runs out. 

You pushed the thought out of your mind as you arrived at the temporary medical room. It was not the most crowded one you had seen, a smaller number of casualties had been listed on this occasion than many of the other battles you had served in lately. Master Che was just standing up from the side of a cot in the corner when she looked and and saw the two of you enter. Her look was nothing short of livid, full of disapproval and anger. But she swallowed it, walking over slowly to where Anakin had already planted himself on a bench - not a bed, he would not be staying long. 

“General Skywalker. I believe my instructions was rest?” 

She picked up a scanner unit and started to examine the wound on his leg. Tutting under her breathe all the while. It was a pretty nasty blaster burn by your reading of the scans, one which would require weeks of healing and care. But Anakin was already leaning forward to on of the medical trays, grabbing a handful of pills and shimmying off the remains of his trouser leg, leaving his leg bare from the knee down. “Bandage me up and I’ll be on my way. I have things to attend to, and you have more injured men than me.” 

Master Che sighed heavily, but you could see the resignation in her eyes. She knew there was no point in arguing with Anakin when he got like this. "Fine, but those pills will only get you so far. When you arrive back at the temple you must rest, one week will stop you from harming yourself permanently but I would recommend at least a fortnight. And I mean it, Skywalker, or else I'll have you confined to the medical bay for the remainder of the war.”

Anakin nodded curtly, and Master Che began to tend to his injury, muttering to herself about Jedi who never listen to instructions. You stood awkwardly by the side, unsure of what to do. Anakin's demeanour had changed completely now that he was getting medical attention - he seemed almost relieved to have the chance to sit down and take a break. You wondered if he had been pushing himself too hard, too often.

As Master Che finished her work, she turned to you. "And you, young one?” Her eyes scanned up and down your body but you hadn’t been so unfortunate as your companion. “Let me stitch that up.” She gestured to your head and you hand instinctively reach up to the space above your eyebrow, it came back bloodied. 

“I hadn’t noticed. Yes, please.” You sat down, ignoring a look from Anakin. He was brooding now. You hadn’t noticed. Blood was pouring over your forehead and all you could do was nag him about a burn? 

When she finally finished you both got up quickly, relieved. Master Che surveyed you both. “I don't want to see either of you back here anytime soon.”

You nodded, and helped Anakin to his feet. He was still limping, but he seemed to be moving a little better now. As you walked back to your quarters, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease. You knew the war wasn't over yet, and you had a sinking feeling that things were only going to get worse.

Anakin seemed lost in thought, his brow furrowed at you. He didn’t acknowledge you hands on his arm, steadying his walk. You were certain he would reject it if he did. 

“It scares me when I think of you in battle. It’s hard for me to watch.” He said quietly, lowly. 

“It’s my job Anakin.” This was a well worn argument between you two.

"I know that, but it doesn't make it any easier. I worry about you." Anakin's voice was soft now, almost vulnerable. It was a side of him that you didn't see often, and it made your heart ache.

"I know you do, Ani. But you know I can take care of myself." You squeezed his arm gently, trying to reassure him. He looked down at you, his eyes filled with a mix of emotions that you couldn't quite place. 

"I know… I know I just can’t help it… I don’t know what I’d do without you.” He leaned down, his lips brushing against your forehead. It was a gentle gesture, but it sent shivers down your spine. It was far too intimidate and action and so close to the other soldiers but you allowed it. Basking in his warmth, his smell. It was smoky, and sweaty, and a little bit bloody. But when wasn’t he these days? 

You take a quick glance either side of the corridor and give him the quickest of kisses on the lips, he leans forwards into it preventing you from getting away. You grin into him but do pull back, “Come on General, bedrest has been ordered.”

[catscidr]

i was thinking about dottore when i woke up again (shocker) nd then thought about what his shaving habits would be like. dont ask how my brain works cw: crack if you rly think about it. also mentions of dead ppl and some blood but it’s nothing major i promise this is just silly

dottore’s facial hair doesn’t grow back that fast because of how often he’s had chemical substances explode in his face. not that his entire face has chemical burns on it (he does have scars, they’re just more in the upper area of his face), but with how long he’s been working with chemicals, accidentally creating explosives was bound to happen.

it all worked out well for him though, because he did not want to rock any kind of facial hair and look like a messy, mad scientist (even if that’s… technically what he was)– he prefers to be clean shaven (i mean have you seen those crisp sideburns on his in-game model?)

and of course, because he’s a doctor, he has steady hands.

…which leads to him occasionally shaving his face with a medical-grade scalpel. his logic, the first time he attempted it, was that scalpels are just straight razors meant for cutting people open– and if he used it to shave his face, it would just become a fancier (and bloodier) straight razor.

(he could probably cut a man open with a straight razor too, anyways. so really– what’s the difference?)

since this man is always so busy he doesn’t have time to leave the lab to go shave and take care of that kind of stuff– and he didn’t really want to, either. his time is precious and deadlines can’t wait.

and since he’s so familiar with the dips and curves of his face (he’s made countless clones of himself, after all) he can simply sit at his desk, toss his mask off of his face, grab the scalpel he’d use for non lethal purposes this time, and look off in the distance to focus on the space between the tips of his fingers prodding at his face, the blade, and his skin to shave off his stubble without nicking himself.

it’s probably the only time you would be able to catch him off guard (if you’re even able to step into his office in the first place), but you would, most likely, be the one caught off guard instead.

what are you even supposed to do when you step into his office and see The Doctor himself with a straight, dead expression, head tilted up with a rusty scalpel to the underside of his jaw? scream, probably.

and the scream you scrumpt was enough to make him jolt from surprise. fortunately for him he didn’t cut his head off, but unfortunately for you, you had made him nick his face.

just a smidge.

a tiny dot of blood trickled down the lower part of his left cheek, curving down his jaw. you’re both staring at each other- while you had a multitude of questions begging to be spoken out to get answers (because what the fuck was he doing), his own mind is eerily quiet. all he does is… stare at you.

funnily enough, you felt miles more intimidated being stared down by a considerably more casual dottore; his face unmasked, expressionless red eyes boring holes into your face, patchy stubble on his face (from him not having finished shaving), and gloveless hands frozen in the air- one holding the scalpel, the other in the same position as before but now stunted below his jaw.

(one particular observation that bubbled up to the forefront of your mind was, stupidly enough, “so minty blue really is his natural hair color?”)

he kicks you out of his office with a flat glare and a wave of his free hand so he can finish his job.

[astheforcewillsit]

Clones get so lost in the argument of whether or not the Jedi partook in their treatment and I wanted to talk about it, because in an interesting way it mirrors how canon treats the clones.

They talk about them and their benefit to the galaxy, but they don't talk about them.

And whether or not you believe the Jedi had any responsibility in what happened and continued to happen to the clones, arguments to defend the Jedi use the clones as canon fodder just for the purpose of proving the Jedi did nothing wrong.

Even arguments to show how bad of a General Anakin is (which are thinly veiled to show that the Jedi didn't harm the clones), the focus is never the clones and the dehumanization they go through for that purpose.

The purpose of their pain is to either benefit the argument that the Jedi are good to them (ie: the senate is actually the one who treats them badly, not the Jedi), or to benefit the argument that Anakin is a bad leader compared to the rest of the Jedi.

This is consistent in every argument I've seen.

In a conversation about a group of men being dehumanized, the spot light is never on them or their needs. It's on the Jedi and why this is unfair to them. It's about the Jedi, who will always have it significantly better than the clone troopers.

And that's always so disturbing to me in these arguments.

Like regardless of what you believe about the Jedi's role in what happened to the clones, they (the Jedi) can go home at the end of the day, go out with their friends whenever, take a break from the war, leave the Order, have bodily autonomy and medical consent, question the teachings of the Order. Their children get to be loved and cared for by their superiors. They are not brainwashed or forced to fight on the field against their will.

The Jedi have so much freedom compared to the clones, and all arguments defending the Jedi don't pay attention to this aspect nearly as much as it should.

None of the arguments defending the Jedi discuss this aspect in detail, or even mention how uncomfortable this is. It's as if this fact is lost in the argument completely.

They are not and will never exist on the same level or in the same sphere of oppression. And the Jedi are absolutely mistreated by the senate, and I think to some extent oppressed and used. I think we see this the best through Mace, who's constantly at a position where he's realizing that his Order is losing power and the Senate is backing him into a corner where he is unable to do anything.

(also Mace & Plo are the best Jedi to the clones, i'll stand by that)

But not it will never be comparable to what the clones experience.

The clones do not have the same freedom the Jedi have, and I think this should be discussed more often in these arguments.

If a clone tried to tell a Jedi they did not want to fight or do their job, the chances of them being left alone would be very low.

Ahsoka left the Order because she was betrayed by them. The Republic betrays Rex everyday, and if he left he'd be arrested.

I wish in the arguments about how great the Jedi were to the clones, we took a moment to focus on just why we're having the arguments in the first place.

And I think in pointing out the inequalities and the sheer power imbalance between the clones and the Jedi, we can start to understand that the Jedi have at least some fault in what's going on, even if it's a little bit.

And maybe that's why the clones aren't focused on in depth during these arguments. Because why to the Jedi get to live the way they do while the clones cannot even make their own medical decisions?

Anyway this is never me saying the Jedi are an evil organization that is 100% behind the clones enslavement. Truth is imo they're not even the main cause. They were put in a shitty situation where it was very difficult to say no, and nearly impossible. And they put some policy in place so that the clones were treated better, and are arguably the best people to have them aside from the clones themselves. t's what they do with the decision to accept the clones that i have thoughts on.

This also isn't a post to argue on what or what the Jedi didn't do, it's just more to point out something I've noticed. So please don't make it that.

[vodika-vibes]

Until The Stars Go Cold

Summary: You thought that you and Kixx had something special with how he kissed you, how he held you, how he looked at you. But one day, he and all of his brothers vanished, and you were left behind with nothing more than one of his shirts to remember him by.

Pairing: Clone Medic Kix x F!Reader

Word Count: 1873

Warnings: Angst, but there's a happy ending

A/N: So, I was in a Kix mood, and so this was born. The AU here is that the clones figured out that they were created as weapons against the Jedi and fled the Republic, down to the youngest Tubie, without telling anyone.

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You pull your knees up to your chest and lay your cheek on your knees as you stare, unfocused, out the window at the lights of Coruscant.

It has been one year and three months since the clones vanished.

A year and three months since the last time that you saw Kix.

Since the last time you felt his warm hands on your face, saw his broad smile, and heard his comforting voice.

You curl the sleeves of the shirt you’re wearing into your fists and bury your face in the collar. Your shirt, Kix’s shirt, no longer smells like him. Hasn’t smelled like him in months. But if you close your eyes and pretend, you can almost smell his body wash on the material of the shirt.

You thought, with time, the hurt of being left behind would fade.

But it hasn’t.

Every day is harder than the one before. And, at this point, you don’t leave your house anymore. You have your groceries delivered, and you work from home. Only your oldest friends still visit, though you insist on cooking for them rather than going out.

Hell, even your parents don’t visit anymore.

Your mother claims that you depress her, and she can’t deal with it.

That’s fair, you suppose. You depress yourself at times.

A lot of the time.

You wish you knew where he was, where he went. You wish you knew if he was safe. If he was happy.

You wish a lot of things, these days.

A heavy sigh falls from you and you slowly uncurl from the couch when your alarm goes off. It’s gotten to the point where you have to remind yourself to eat, and to go to bed.

You’re pathetic.

No wonder no one wants to spend time with you.

You drag your feet as you head into the kitchen and absently grab a box of noodles. If you make enough, you’ll have enough leftovers for several nights worth of dinner.

Sure, eating the same meal several nights in a row can’t be the best for you, but so long as you’re eating something, you don’t think anyone will give you too hard of a time.

You grab a pot from the dishwasher, fill it with water, and set it on the burner to wait for the water to boil.

While you wait, you lean against the counter and pluck a picture off the fridge.

It’s a photo of you and Kix.

He was your plus one to your sister’s wedding. Your brother-in-law bought him a nice outfit to wear to the wedding, one that matched your bridesmaid dress.

And, while the pair of you were dancing, your mother snapped a quick picture of the pair of you. In the photo, Kix is staring at you with a bright grin on his handsome face, and you’re laughing at something he said.

The both of you look happy.

In your darkest moments, late at night when you’re tossing and turning in bed, you can’t help but wonder if Kix was just pretending. If you were just a placeholder for someone better.

Something better.

And the more time that passes, the harder it is to ignore those thoughts.

You place the picture back on the fridge, next to the other pictures that decorate it, and focus your attention back on the pot of water.

It’s not boiling yet, but you reach out and turn off the burner anyway.

You don’t feel like eating anymore. 

You don’t feel like doing anything.

You just want to sleep.

Maybe tomorrow will be better.

“Not a bad place to set up shop,” Kix glances at his older brother, who isn’t looking at him, but rather peering out the window to look out across the decently sized city that is swiftly growing outside the clinic that they, and all of their other medic brothers, run.

“It’s not half bad,” Kix agrees, his fingers gliding over the pale blue ribbon wrapped around his wrist for a moment before he focuses his attention back on the files he’s meant to be organizing.

“Meaning it’s not half good, either?” his brother asks with a wry twist of his lips, “Come on, even you have to admit that this is a better setup than we ever would have gotten with the GAR or the Jedi.”

Kix rolls his eyes, “The Jedi did their best with what they were given.”

“You can’t tell me that you miss Coruscant.”

Kix leans back in his chair and finally looks at his brother, “No. I don’t miss Coruscant.” His gaze slides away from his brother and settles on the simple picture frame sitting on his desk.

It was taken at a park, his beautiful cyare’s head tucked under his chin, and his arm secure around her shoulders, while he snapped a selfie of them. They’re both drenched in the picture, a sudden storm surprising them both, but she made the best of it and danced with him in the rain while laughing.

Kix reaches out and picks the picture up, a small smile crossing his face as his thumb brushes her face, “No. I don’t miss Coruscant at all.” He repeats, a pang of loneliness making his grip tighten around the picture.

“You know,” His brother leans over his shoulder and plucks the frame from his hand, “You can call her.”

The laugh that falls from Kix is surprisingly bitter, “Yeah? And say what? Hey babe, sorry for up and vanishing on you and not telling you where I was going, but I’m here now.” He snatches the picture from his hand and sets it back on his desk, “No. She probably hates me now. And I don’t blame her for it in the slightest.”

“So…what? You’re going to just sit here and pine over her?”

Kix scowls at him, “Go and get yourself a girlfriend, and then we can talk about pining. Jerk.”

“Hm…what’s her name?”

“...what?”

“Her name? What’s her name?”

“I’m not answering that.”

His brother eyes him for a moment, and then he smirks, “I bet Jesse knows. I’m going to go ask him.” He pulls away from Kix and heads towards the door, “I’m going. Here I go—”

“Di’kut!” Kix flings a datapad at him, “Why do you want to know her name anyway?”

“Uh, so I can call her and get her to tell you to stop being pathetic.”

“Well, now I’m definitely not telling you.” Kix counters dryly, “Don’t you have paperwork to do?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah. Probably. I’ll be back in a bit.”

And then he’s gone, and Kix is left alone with a pile of datapads that still need to be sorted and filed. A loud string of curses falls from him as he realizes that he’s been left alone with all of this work.

Several hours later, he gets word that Rex and several other Captains have left New Mandalore (working name in progress), though Kix doesn’t think much about it.

Rex has a good head on his shoulders, and if he’s leaving their new home it’s probably for a good reason.

Besides, it’s the end of the workday and he just wants to go home and talk to his picture of his cyare and tell her about his day, and about New Mandalore.

Force, he wishes she was here. He wishes he could hear her voice, and feel her gentle fingers against his skin. 

He’d sell his arm for the ability to pull her into his arms and kiss her until she’s giggling and breathless.

He just…he misses her.

But he made his choice, and there’s no walking that back.

As he flops back on his bed, his gaze locked on her blinding smile, Kix feels his heartbreak.

He’s probably lost her forever…and the only person he can blame is himself.

Slowly Kix lowers the picture so that it’s pressed against his forehead, regret burning in his chest, “I’m so sorry, mesh’la.” He whispers to the empty room.

Three weeks later, Rex’s ship returns.

Kix isn’t there to greet them, he’s too busy. It’s easy to forget his heartbreak when he’s working, after all.

However that all changes when there’s a knock on his office door, and then Rex opens the door. He has a small smirk on his face, and Kix can’t help but lean back and eye him suspiciously.

“What did you do?”

“Me? Nothing. I’m innocent.” Rex replies with a growing grin, “Although, you do have a visitor.”

“A visitor? Did someone get hurt on your mission?”

“Not quite.” Rex moves to the side and motions to someone in the hallway.

And then Kix stops, his breath catching in his throat.

His cyare is standing in the doorway. Her hair is shorter, barely brushing her chin, and she’s nervously rubbing the back of her neck and she won’t look at him properly.

Ironically, the first two coherent thoughts that run through Kix’s mind are “she’s stunning” and “what is she doing here?”

“Cyare—” Her gaze lifts from the carpeted floor, and it’s like a punch to the gut. Her face is thinner than it should be, and she has dark circles under her eyes.

She looks about as tired as he feels.

She smiles at him, but it’s a weak, uncertain, smile, “Kix,”

He stands and crosses his office in two large steps. Kix presses a hand to Rex’s shoulder and shoves him out of his office, “Get out.” And then he tugs his cyare further into the room, his hands immediately moving to cup her face after he smacks the button that will lock the door behind them.

“Cyare,” His thumbs lightly caress her cheeks under her eyes, “You’re here. You’re actually here.” His sounds almost breathless, and he really should get ahold of himself, but he had convinced himself that he was never going to be able to touch her again, so he’s giving himself a pass.

“Rex insisted,” She murmurs as she leans into his touch, “Kix, I missed you.”

He leans in and presses his forehead against hers, “I missed you too. I’m…so, so sorry for leaving without saying anything. I should have warned you.”

She shakes her head, her eyes closed, “Rex explained. The safety of you and your brothers is so much more important than my hurt feelings.”

“What did Rex say?”

“That there was something inside you all that would force you to turn against the Republic,” She opens her eyes, “He wouldn’t go into detail, but he did make sure that I knew that you were all safe to be around.”

Well, thank the maker for small mercies, Kix thinks as he leans, heavily, against her.

“I am. We are.”

Her hands, so much smaller and so much softer than his own, come up and brush against his cheeks, “I would like to stay with you…if you’ll have me?”

Kix doesn’t dignify her question with an answer right away. He doesn’t have to, as his lips crash against hers. “Of course, you can stay,” He mumbles in between frantic presses of his lips against hers, “Please stay.”

She leans heavily against him, “Always. For as long as you want me.”

“Forever. Until the stars go cold.”

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

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

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

@yoitsjay @liz-stat @cc--2224

[lonewolflupe]

Let Me Fix That For You (One-Shot)

I might have accidentally written this whilst trying to finish three WIPs #writer's struggles

Summary: when you start having a panic attack, medic Kix can only think of one last treatment to calm you down Rating: Teen and up Tags: light angst (battlefield/injury/panic attack), hurt/comfort, fluff (kissing), SFW Words: 917 Pairing: CT-6116 Kix x gen!reader Read this one-shot here on AO3

It was hard to sit down still and motionless with all the action going on around you. Your instincts made you cower your head whenever there was an impact near your position, you shot upright when a squad of clones made it past you towards the battlefront and you fidgeted with your comm device the moment it made a static sound, ready to receive new orders.

Kix carefully examined your arm, slightly turning it to see what exact angle the small piece of shrapnel was making in order to get it out by hurting you as little as possible. Luckily, it hadn't been a direct hit, or it would have been much worse. The shrapnel had bounced off from some debris before it had hit your arm.

“Let me fix that for you,” he said gently, his comforting smile lost behind his helmet before he got to work. He took a tool from his medpac and placed a firm grip on your arm to steady you. But you were all over the place, a sensory overload from everything that was going on around you and the need to return into battle, to keep up with your responsibilities.

“Keep still,” Kix urged you sternly when you kept shifting nervously at every unusual sound, the gaze through his visor not averting from your wound. “Yessir,” you shot at him, trying to make it sound light-hearted, but you winced when he pulled the shrapnel out with one smooth, sudden movement.

“That was the worst part,” he said in a comforting way, but that didn't make the remainder of his treatment a pleasant experience. The bacta spray stung in your wound, and you pulled back your arm in a reflex. 

“Keep. Still,” he shot at you, slowly to make the words sink into you more clearly. “I-I don't have time for this,” you muttered, trying to get up, but he pulled you back down. “Oh, there will be plenty of clankers left when I'm done with this, don't you worry,” he chuckled at you, trying to lift the mood to make you feel better, but his intentions were lost on you.

“They need me out there!” you shot at him, a strange, frantic look in your eyes, and he instantly knew you were starting to have a panic attack. “Focus!” he called at you urgently, as your chest started heaving from heavy breathing.

Without thinking, he took his helmet off, his brown eyes piercing into yours. “Focus,” he repeated, this time softer, as he gently took your face between his hands, forcing your gaze to his in hopes to calm you down.

But it seemed like you were looking straight through him, your eyes hollow and your breathing shallow. There was one last remedy he could think of; something he had wanted to do for some time now, but he had never imagined it would be in a situation like this, as a last option.

He leaned forward and landed his lips on yours. Your eyes widened in surprise and a gasp left your lungs, but it had the intended effect: you calmed down immediately, solely focussing on this tender moment.

At first, it was just to grab your attention, to distract you so you would stop panicking. But since Kix had been looking forward to this moment, he started putting more feeling into it, giving in to his own emotions and desires.

His hand slid to the back of your head, holding you gently and keeping you steady as his lips explored yours. And slowly but steadily, you indulged in the kissing, answering his unusual treatment by returning the favour. Your lips brushed against his, and he could feel your breathing steadying against his skin.

You caught him off guard when you lunged forward, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling yourself close against his chest. You tilted your head in order to reach him, to taste him, to let him know you had wanted this for some time, and he was all too glad to receive you.

When the two of you finally cooled down, you could feel Kix chuckling softly against your lips, which made them curl into a smile. Your chest was heaving again - but this time from excitement. You pulled away, but Kix’s hand was still on the back of your head, his thumb caressing your scalp.

“You good?” he checked on you, a caring smile on his face, but you noticed a flicker in his eyes. “Yeah, never been better,” you replied smiling, sliding a hand through your hair before you noticed his shoulder piece was shifted out of place - probably caused by your sudden lunge towards him.

“Let me fix that for you,” you repeated his earlier words before readjusting the piece of armour. He chuffed in the most endearing way; he had been sure you hadn't processed those words during your starting panic attack earlier, and here you were, using them on him.

When you finished fixing his shoulder piece, he gently put his hand on top of yours and squeezed it. “No more injuries, alright?” he kindly urged you, and you granted him a quick nod and another ‘yessir’. He smiled and stroked your cheek before he put his helmet on again.

“See you when it's over,” he said to you, getting back to his feet and offering his hand. You gladly took it, and he pulled you up. “I'm counting on it,” you smirked at him, before emerging into battle again.

[bleedingintogold]

Teammate's hand laid gently on his captain's sternum, trying to provide some comfort. There was something truly terrifying about seeing his captain like this. A strong body that was trembling from blood loss and strangled, struggling breaths pulled from smoke damaged-lungs. Maybe it was the way his captain eyes were drooping as they tried and failed to focus on the ceiling of their truck rather than the medic working on him.

For a moment, the captain's eyes met with Teammate's, reminding him that despite his higher rank and experience, his captain wasn't much different from him. Barely a few years older and as much as cannon fodder as he was. Eyes that once held a fire that kept them all going now looked so defeated, scared.

Young.

They should have lived different lives. Full lives where they could have chosen their own paths and made their own choices. Instead, they were thrust onto a battlefield for the sin of being born.

A small choked sound escaped the young man on the stretcher as a bloodied, shaky hand reached to grasp Teammate's wrist. Teammate clasped his fingers tightly around his captain's, firmly squeezing calloused palms together.

"You're going to be alright, brother. We're right here,"

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Heavily inspired by the clone troopers from Star Wars : The Clone War